The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1) (27 page)

Art? Now there
was a word I'd not thought to hear in the same sentence as demonology.

"What a
shame to lose it from your collection," Price went on, "but I fail to
see the connection to myself or Blunt."

"I suspect
it was stolen by my new maid who was sent to me from Blunt's school. I wondered
if she perhaps overheard your conversation with the schoolmaster before she
left. He suggested you might remember when exactly you had the conversation."

"He did,
did he?" He appeared to think about this for a moment, then said, "No,
sorry, I can't recall. Memory's not what it used to be. Could have been last
week, could have been a month ago." Price picked up a piece of bread from
his plate but didn't eat it. "What does it matter anyway? I assume the
girl's long gone."

"She is but
we'd like to find her."

Price frowned. "Does
the book really mean that much to you?"

"It's not
so much the book." George glanced at me.

"What then?"
Price prompted and popped the bread in his mouth. He had not so much as offered
us a cup of tea. Not that I would have agreed to one—I didn't want to stay any
longer than necessary—but it would have been polite.

"A demon
was summoned from the Otherworld during one of my séances," I said. "It
was unwittingly done but it appears to have been orchestrated by someone intent
on doing harm to others. The only lead we have is the stolen book."

We waited while
Price chewed then swallowed. His frown grew deeper and darker as his mouth
worked slowly. "You think the girl is using this demon for her own
nefarious reasons?" he eventually asked.

"Yes,"
I said quickly before George could tell him we suspected she'd been ordered by
others to steal the book. Thankfully he didn't counter my answer. "But we
wouldn't like to blame her if she's not responsible. So if you could remember
when you had that conversation with Mr. Blunt, we would be most grateful. Indeed,
if you could remember anything at all...you could be saving lives."

Price rubbed his
beard, dislodging a few crumbs, then reached for the newspaper. He flipped it
open to a page and pointed to a small article with the headline DOG ATTACKS
SERVANT. "Read it only this morning. It says the police think the footman
was mauled to death by a stray dog. He sustained terrible injuries that killed
him a few hours later. Do you think that's your demon?"

"Probably,"
I said without reading the article. "So you understand we need to find out
as much as we can. The police can't do anything in this situation. It's up to
us."

He nodded,
stroking his beard again as he re-read the article. Then he suddenly folded the
newspaper and placed it back on the tea table. "Sorry, Miss Chambers, but
I can't recall the exact date of my conversation with Blunt." His freezing
gaze shifted from me to George then back again. "I do, however, remember
that he asked some very precise questions about demons."

"What do
you mean?" said George.

Price suddenly
stood and pressed a hand to his temple. "I don’t like to tell you this as
it might get the man into trouble."

George and I
exchanged glances. "Go on," I urged Price.

He sighed and picked
up the pipe from its little stand on the mantelpiece. He put it into his mouth but
didn't light it. "Blunt wanted to know how to summon one," he mumbled
around the end of the pipe, "how to control them, all the different kinds
of demons, that sort of thing."

"You didn't
think his questions unusual?" George asked, incredulous.

"Of course
I did, boy!" He pulled the pipe out and pointed the end at George. "I
told him about you and your library and I said if he wanted to know anything,
you were the man to ask." He sighed, and folded his long, thin arms over
his chest. "I even told him about that specific book you mentioned. I said
it was a good place to begin."

George groaned
and I closed my eyes. It was looking more and more like Blunt was involved. But
if that was the case, why did he tell us about the conversation with Price at
all? He must know Price could turn the suspicion back on him.

"And no one
else overheard you?" I asked.

Price shrugged sharp,
angular shoulders. "They might have. I don’t know, do I?" He strode
to the door, reaching it in two giant strides even though he had to avoid
George's chair and a pile of books stacked beside it. "Anyway, it's not my
problem, I didn't summon the bloody thing." This he directed straight at
me, as if it were my fault my sister had accidentally released the demon. I
suppose it was, in a way. "Give my regards to Blunt."

George stood but
instead of leading the way out, he confronted Price. "I say, you don't
seem too perturbed by the fact there's a shape-shifting demon loose in the city
and that you might be partially responsible."

"I am not
responsible, partially or otherwise." Price grunted and popped his pipe
back in his mouth. His gaze flicked to me, cool and assessing once more, then
back to George. "The death is a tragedy of course," he said with a
nod at the newspaper. "But I don't see how I can help. Demons are your
specialty, Culvert. Of course if there's anything I can do to help, I trust
you'll let me know."

Dismissed,
George and I had no alternative but to leave although George hesitated for a brief
moment in the doorway. Once outside, we climbed back into his carriage just as
the clouds parted above and let the sun shine through. It didn't last long and
the gray clouds had swallowed up the beams by the time we reached the end of
the street.

"He's not a
particularly nice gentleman," I said. We sat opposite each other, our
knees almost touching. Fortunately the bench seats were covered in padded
maroon velvet cushions or it would have been a terribly uncomfortable ride. The
carriage traveled fast along the wider, emptier outer-suburban roads and we
were jostled about like beans in a pot of boiling water.

He sighed. "I'm
sorry I subjected you to his rudeness. I should have come alone."

"Nonsense. I
found it quite beneficial."

"Oh?" George
pushed his glasses up his nose. "In what way?"

"It gave me
a chance to form an opinion about him and I now think he had something to do with
the release of the demon."

The spectacles
slid down his nose again and he peered over the top of them at me. "You've
made that assumption on the basis that he's not particularly nice?"

When he put it
like that it didn't sound like a very convincing reason. "And because he
didn't seem shocked at the damage the demon has caused."

George nodded
and once more pushed the glasses up to their rightful position. "True. He
was quick to turn the discussion back to Blunt and his possible involvement too.
You do think he's involved, don't you?"

"Blunt? Of
course he is. It's obvious."

"Yes, yes,
obvious." He gave me a grim smile but it vanished when the carriage turned
a corner and we both lurched to one side. Righting himself, George banged on
the cabin roof. "Slow down, Weston!" To me he said, "Apologies. The
driver knows I like to go fast but I don't usually have a passenger of the
female persuasion with me."

"It's quite
all right, George." I straightened my pillbox hat and hoped my hair had
managed to maintain some semblance of control. "And another thing about
Price," I said. "Blunt mentioned he was a generous benefactor, but I
cannot see how Price would have much money if his housing situation is any
indication." I pointed at the buildings through the window but we'd long
since left behind the rows and rows of identical houses. They'd been replaced
by the statelier, colonnaded, residences of old money and the occasional shop
that catered for their exclusive needs. "Price doesn't seem like he can
afford to be all that generous with his funds."

George nodded. "I'd
not thought of that. Well done, Emily."

"Thank you,
George."

He smiled at me.
I smiled back.

And then I
realized
why
he was smiling. He moved to sit beside me and covered my
hand with his own. With a squeak of alarm, I slipped it free and shifted to
where he'd been sitting so we were once more opposite each other.

His crestfallen
face told me he understood the meaning behind the maneuver. Thank goodness. I
thought he might attribute it to female coquettishness or some nonsense. He at
least was mature enough to realize I was rejecting him.

That didn't make
me feel any less horrible for doing it. "George," I said softly, "I'm
so sorry."

He waved a hand
and gave me a smile that was much too bright in its eagerness. "That's all
right. We're not really very well suited, you and I, are we?"

I wasn't sure
how to take that. Was it simply an excuse to cover the fact I'd hurt his
feelings, or did he genuinely believe we weren't a very good match? Why he
would think we weren't, I couldn't say. Perhaps deep down he agreed with his
mother that I wasn't good enough for him. Perhaps I was just
too
odd.

I shoved that
line of thought aside. George could think what he liked of me. It was Jacob's
opinion that mattered most. "We are still friends, aren't we?" I
ventured.

"If you'd
like to be." I detected a pout in his voice even though there wasn't one
on his lips.

I reached across
the space between us and took his hand. "I have so few true friends, but
I'd like to count you amongst them."

His face lifted
and brightened. "And I you. Let's forget all this, shall we?"

"Gladly."
I smiled but something inside me felt hollow, sad. I missed Jacob and it didn't
help not knowing when I would see him again. I desperately wanted to speak to
him, ask him more questions, and just hold him. But I could not.

How much easier
it would be to love a man like George. Dependable, sweet. Alive.

"It's
looking more and more likely Blunt and the Finch boy are involved," he
said as if the rather embarrassing interlude hadn't occurred. If he wanted to
pretend it never happened, then I was more than willing to go along with him. "The
big question is whether Price is in it too."

"What I
find odd is that Blunt asked Price about demons. If Price is to be believed,
Blunt's questions were entirely unprompted and were quite specific. If he was
indeed acting with Finch alone, then where did either of them hear about
demons? The idea to summon one must have been planted in their minds at some
point but by whom?"

"Price,"
George said. But then he shook his head. "It goes against the code of the
Society. None of us would intentionally bring harm upon another by using
supernatural means."

I wasn't
convinced by the gentlemanly rule of conduct but I didn't say as much. I got
the feeling the Society was important to George. It was probably the one place
he felt accepted by people with similar interests, and I didn't want to destroy
that security.

"There's
one other mystery in this too," I said. "Who was the woman who sold Celia
the amulet?"

"Mrs.
White?"

It was looking
more and more likely. I hoped I was wrong. I liked her. Lucy our maid liked
her. But if Blunt had orchestrated the demon's release, then she might very
well be involved. Drat.

"Shall we
go and confront them now?" I asked.

"Perhaps we
should contact the police."

"We can't
tell the police there's a demon on the loose! They'll never believe us, and if
they do then they're more likely to lock Celia and I up for releasing it, not
Blunt."

"You're
right." He sighed. "I'll drive you home then I'll go alone to the
school."

"Don't be
ridiculous. I'm coming."

George had the
good sense not to argue with me although he made a great show of scowling his
displeasure at the suggestion. "I think Jacob should come along too,"
he said. "He could scare Blunt a bit if need be. Throw something around or
create a disturbance."

I would have
loved to have Jacob with us but I wasn't sure he would see the benefit of my
presence. I wasn't sure he'd want to see me at all.

"I could do
much more than create a disturbance," Jacob said, suddenly appearing on
the seat beside me. He sat with his shoulder against the door, as far away from
me as possible.

"Jacob's
here," I said to George, jerking my head in the brooding ghost's
direction. I tried not to let his presence unnerve me in any way, but I failed.
My heart tripped merrily over itself at the mere sight of him and I ached to
get closer to him.

"We were
just talking about you," George said. He sat up straighter and pressed his
finger to the bridge of his glasses even though they hadn't slipped down. "Care
to visit Blunt with us?"

"You're not
going," Jacob said to me, ignoring George.

"I am so,"
I said. "And you can't stop me."

"It's
dangerous."

"Riding in
this carriage is dangerous." I crossed my arms but it wasn't because I was
making a point, it was to hold myself back from climbing into his lap and kissing
him. I didn’t think George would appreciate witnessing such a scene. Besides, I
was almost certain Jacob would disappear again if I did. His closed expression
with the shuttered eyes was a clear indication he didn't want to get into a
discussion about last night.