The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1) (33 page)

Jacob waved the
piece of wood at Blunt's head. "Tell him he'd better leave London before
sunrise or I'll haunt him until he does."

I repeated the
order to Blunt adding, "And don't think you can intimidate or harm any of
your charges again. I have contact with every ghost up there and they don't
like people like you. They'll find you wherever you are, I can promise you that."

Blunt nodded
quickly.

"Well done,"
Jacob said.

George pulled me
aside. "Aren't we going to call the police?" he whispered. "We
can't just leave him here, unpunished."

"No,"
I whispered back. "It's likely
I'll
be arrested, not him. Besides,
I think the warning is punishment enough for his involvement, don't you? I
doubt he'll try anything like this again."

George, his gaze
on Blunt cowering on the bed, nodded.

Mrs. White
moaned at our feet. Her eyelids fluttered and opened. George and I helped her
into the kitchen where we explained everything. All of it. She needed a cup of
tea before she could make a coherent sentence but she appeared to understand
what we were saying, and, more importantly, accept it.

Jacob hadn't
joined us. I had no idea if he was still at the school, in the Waiting Area or
if he'd gone to find Finch. I prayed he hadn't. I didn't want to think about
what could happen if the demon attacked him again. He might have held it off in
Belgrave Square but could he do so again? The thought of the demon removing his
soul...it made my bones cold and my heart sore.

When I finished
telling Mrs. White all I could, I asked her the question I needed to ask. "Did
you have anything to do with this business?"

She lowered her
cup. It tilted too far and tea spilled over the side. She didn't seem to notice.
She was too busy looking offended. "No, I did not. Miss Chambers, I've
been here for five years now, longer than Blunt, longer than most of the
children. I came here after my husband died and I've not regretted a day since.
I have no children of my own, no family that need me. This school has been my
life, my sanctuary those five years." Her eyes filled with unshed tears
and she carefully put the cup down in the saucer. "I'm never idle here and
I've always been valued, by the children as well as the other staff. I'd never
risk what I've found at this school, not for anything."

I breathed a
sigh. "I'm very glad to hear it, Mrs. White. I'm sorry but I had to ask."
The woman who'd sold Celia the amulet remained a mystery. Perhaps I would never
learn her identity.

George cleared
his throat and jerked his head toward the door. I didn't need to be told twice.
With Mrs. White settled and promising to call the police if Mr. Blunt hadn't gone
by the morning, George and I left.

Outside, he
hopped up beside the driver. "Get in," he said to me. "I'm going
to ride up here, keep watch." A glint of steel shone in the wan light. The
pistol. It was our protection from whatever we might come up against in
Whitechapel, both human and demonic.

I clamped down
on my fear and climbed inside only to find Jacob seated on the far side, his
arms crossed over his chest, his face in shadow. It wasn't a pose to invite me
to sit close so I sat opposite. The separation didn't make me want him any
less. He could have the most forbidding expression and I'd still want to be
near him.

"Where did
you go?" I asked, jolting as the carriage rolled forward.

"To Dwindling
Lane to see if Finch is still there."

"And is he?"

He nodded.

"Good,"
I said. "We'll sort—."

"There's no
'we'.
You're
going home."

Jacob certainly
had a lot more to learn about me if he thought I'd leave he and George to go on
alone. "It would seem the carriage is heading towards Whitechapel, not
Chelsea."

"Tell
George to take you home."

I crossed my
arms. "No. I know you think it's the best thing for me—."

"It
is
the best thing for you, Emily, I don't even need to think about it. Go home. It's
too dangerous for you."

"It's just
as dangerous for you, Jacob," I said quietly.

He leaned
forward and stared at my mouth as if he wanted to kiss it, or bite it. It was
hard to tell what mood he was in. "I'm already dead." His words
hummed across my skin like a caress. If he was trying to addle my wits in an
attempt to gain some sort of control then it was working. Almost.

"But you
still have a soul worth losing," I said.

He made a sound
of disgust in the back of his throat. "Are you sure about that?"

I switched sides
to sit next to him. I felt rather than saw him stiffen. "Jacob, what happened
tonight? At your parents' place? Tell me what was going through your mind."

He tilted his
head back and blinked rapidly up at the padded ceiling. "I can't," he
choked out. "God, Emily, stop being so stubborn for once and
listen
to me. Go home. Stay away."

"From you
or from Finch?" I snapped.

"Both of
us! Damn it, don't you see?" He rubbed both his hands through his hair
then drew them together at his chest, as if he were praying, or pleading. "What
happened at my parents' house should have warned you that you need to stay
away. It was dangerous for you there and Whitechapel will be ten times worse. Finch
will be expecting us now and I...." He swallowed hard. It was dim in the
cabin but the shadows around his eyes were darker than they should have been on
a ghost. "I can't...be sure how I'll react."

I felt the
heaviness of his words on my shoulders, my limbs, my heart. They dragged me
down until I thought I'd fall through the floor onto the road below. "I'm going
with you, Jacob," I said through my tight throat.

His body
shuddered and he wrapped his arms around himself. "Please, Emily," he
whispered, "I need you to stay away. Don't put me through that again."

"Through
what?" I slipped closer along the seat and reached for him but he shrank
back as if my touch would burn. I clasped my hands together to stop them
shaking and tried to look as if his rejection hadn't shattered me. "I have
to come, Jacob." The steadiness of my voice surprised me. I thought it
would be as broken as I felt inside. "I'm the only one who knows the curse
to send the demon back. You'll be too busy fighting the demon to snatch the
amulet from Finch and George...well, I'm afraid George may not be all that
helpful when the crucial moment arrives."

He turned to the
window and stared out to the darkness beyond. He seemed calm, still, his
shoulders relaxed, his profile smooth.

But then he let
out a loud roar. The muscles in his cheek and jaw knotted, his hands clenched
and he slammed a fist into the cushioned seat between us. If it had been made
of wood or glass, he would have shattered it. I jumped and shrank back.

And then he disappeared.

I pressed a hand
to my racing heart and sank into the seat. At least he'd given up trying to
make me go home.

I was still
thinking about Jacob's outburst when the carriage rolled to a stop. It tilted
as George jumped down and opened the door for me. He juggled the pistol and
lamp in one hand and helped me out with the other.

"All right,
Weston?" he said to the driver.

Weston nodded
grimly from his position on the box. Metal gleamed on his lap. Another pistol.

George lifted
the lamp high. The opening to a narrow lane yawned between two crumbling brick
buildings nearby. Of course it would have to be a
narrow
lane. A thief
with a demon at his disposal would hardly live anywhere else, like a well-lit,
broad street for example.

"Perhaps
you should remain here with the carriage," George said. He let go of me so
he could hold the lamp in one hand and the pistol in the other.

"I'm not
sure the carriage is any safer," I said, glancing around. It was too foggy
to see very far ahead but I had the feeling we were being watched by dozens of
pairs of eyes. "Let's go."

Just as I said
it, a loud crash came from the lane. Someone shouted, another scream followed
it, and four small people ran out of the lane. They were children, barefoot and
dressed in little more than rags that hung from their thin bodies. They took
one look at George and his pistol, screamed again, and ran off.

"I think
the demon's still here," George said without moving.

"And Jacob
has already found it. Come on." I wanted to run but the lack of light
meant I had to keep near George and his lamp. But he was so slow, and Jacob
could be...

The stench at
the mouth of the lane made me recoil. The stink of urine, excrement and
degradation cloyed at my throat. I coughed into my hand. George retched and
buried the lower half of his face in his arm.

"God,"
he said, "how can anyone live here?"

Another crash
had me moving again. The fog hung in misty tendrils but through the veil I
could just make out the shape of two people fighting. "Jacob," I said
to George. "Come on."

But he caught my
arm and pulled me back. "Where's Finch?"

I squinted into
the farthest shadows and could just make out the figure of someone sitting on a
crate, his back against one of the high brick walls looming up on either side
of the lane. "There. Chanting probably."

"Giving the
demon the advantage in the fight," he murmured. "Fascinating."

"This is
not the time to be scholarly, George."

"Right. Of
course. So..."

I took the lamp
off him and turned down the gas. "Follow me."

I counted on the
fog and darkness covering us, and Finch having his attention on the fight and
not the entrance to the lane so that we could sneak up and knock him out. I
didn't want to use the pistol. Taking a life was not something I ever wanted to
do. Although I knew the dead still existed elsewhere, I’d spoken to enough
souls troubled by their death to know I didn’t want to send one to the Waiting
Area. The pistol would be a last resort.

My plan of
stealth would have worked if the demon hadn't landed a punch to Jacob's
stomach, sending him careening into the brick wall. I gasped. Finch spun round,
spotted us, but didn't stop his mutterings, merely intensified them. The demon
responded. It leapt onto Jacob while he was still down and slammed its big fist
against his chest. Jacob grunted in pain.

"Get him,
George!" I shouted. "Stop Finch!"

George didn't
move. Jacob roared again and I could just make out his hands clutching the demon's
fist, trying to push it away from him. But the demon was so much bigger, a
giant in comparison, and Jacob was in an awkward position to defend himself
from such an attack. Oh God, no!
No
!

I turned to
George. Even in the darkness I could see he'd turned white. A light sheen of
sweat slicked his forehead. He pointed the pistol at Finch but his hand shook
so violently the bullet could have gone anywhere.

"Forget the
gun," I urged him. My voice sounded shrill. "Good Lord, George,
attack Finch with your fists."

"My...um..."

There was no
time to convince him to be manly and fight. I ran at Finch myself, the lamp
raised to use as a weapon to knock him out. If I could only get him to stop
chanting, Jacob might be in with a chance against the demon. A scream tore from
him and I dared not look lest I see my worst fears realized—Jacob gone, his
existence extinguished forever.

I no longer
cared how I was going to stop Finch, I only knew I had to do it NOW. "Stop!"
I shouted at him. I raised the lamp.

He suddenly stood
and thrust something at me. The glint of steel was visible in the small circle
of light cast by my lamp. A knife. "Back," he said. It was all he
said. His chant came fast, the strange words tumbling out of his mouth. He
glanced between the fight and me.

But it wasn't a
fight anymore. Jacob was still holding the demon's human hand, stopping it from
digging into his chest but only just. Now that I was closer I could see his
face distorted with pain and exertion, his teeth bared as he used all his
strength.

He couldn't
last.

"No closer,"
Finch said to me.

I backed back to
George. He still held the pistol but it wasn't even pointed at Finch anymore,
but down at the ground.

"Give up,"
I shouted at Finch. "It's over. Blunt told us everything and the police
have him now." It was an outright lie but if it was enough to get him
wondering, pausing in his chants, it was worth it.

The news seemed
to have little effect on him. "Blunt?" he said, barely breaking his
rhythm. "You think he...?" He never finished the sentence but laughed
as he continued controlling the demon.

There was only
one option left. "Fire!" I yelled at George.

"I can't,"
he whispered. "It's murder."

"The
demon's going to take Jacob's soul if we don't."