Chapter Twenty-Five
Evidently, the British agent Mister Brinkman was just across
the street, awaiting a signal. I suddenly felt that, at any minute, any number
of persons could descend upon us from unseen corners. The intimate, singular
horrors that the Society had perpetrated upon Jonathon and me were now becoming
a crowd sport.
Knowles palmed a small, hand-held lantern that had been
sitting as a lit globe upon his desk. He moved to stand before the narrow, tall
window to the side of his bookcases, putting a hand to block the orb's light
and then removing it three times. A minute later, I heard a key turn down the
hall, then the front door open and close quietly and then not a sound until an
uncanny apparition was seen in the doorway: a distinct form in a black cape.
The man set his hood back upon entering the room. Brinkman.
I wondered how intently the spy had been watching us.
Reading lips through binoculars, perhaps, poised and on sharp alert to all
tells and ticks? When he crossed the room in a few measured strides, his eyes
went right to us as if he'd known our positions. He made me feel as nervous as
he did safe. I watched Jonathon's face as he stared at the man, I assumed
gauging his aura. As Jonathon remained cool and composed, the man's aura must
have remained positive…or at least neutral to us. I took a moment to thank
whatever magical offsets had granted Jonathon that ability, as it was one of
the more useful supernatural traits our situation could have afforded.
Brinkman could see me examining his oddly handsome face,
trying to get a read on him. So many years of mutism had made me uncannily
adept at reading moods, bodies, intentions, and more, just by look and
physicality. This man was a compelling, blank slate. He simply smiled
enigmatically at me, giving nothing away but that he was a man not to be
trifled with. A consummate spy. I was no less nervous. But I was just a little
bit impressed.
"Miss Stewart," he said, bowing his head to me. I
inclined mine in turn.
Knowles busied himself at a vast cherrywood credenza, making
sure all the gentlemen had snifters of bourbon.
Brinkman turned to Jonathon. "From what you said upon
our return ride from the Society office, it seems you laid the groundwork well,
Lord Denbury. I'm hoping this little party
will allow me to collar Moriel and his two top cronies. I'd like to cuff his
whole cabal of six, but it would seem all the 'Majesties' are hardly ever in
the same country, let alone the same room. Hopefully, the Society will fall out
from under the top tier once we topple them."
"What brought the Society operatives together in the
first place?" I asked.
"The only consistent factor is that they are very old
aristocracy from three different country's traditions. Each of their line was
at one point disgraced and remains relatively forgotten, with little money.
However, they've gained traction in property."
"Making a deal with the devil for a return rise to
importance?" Knowles asked, taking his place at his desk.
Brinkman shrugged. "That's the only thing I can figure
about their aims."
I heard a key in the lock down the hall and then Lavinia's
voice speaking in a pouting tone.
At the sound of movement at the door, Jonathon stalked out
of the room and met them, lingering there at the mouth of the hall while
Lavinia's voice continued, getting closer as she said: "You do realize how
much I've given up, Nathaniel, back and forth with you across the pond. I truly
needed just one normal evening with
my lady friends. Must we strategize at this hour?"
"We'll address your sacrifices in time, dear,"
Nathaniel murmured as they neared Knowles's office door. "But that isn't
for here and now, with lives on the line. Everyone is here. Please appear as
sensible as I know you are capable of being."
Whatever Lavinia was feeling, she put on a calm and brave
face when she entered Knowles's now-overcrowded office.
The solicitor gestured to a decanter of some sort of
rose-colored cordial and raised an eyebrow at Lavinia and me. Lavinia set her
jaw and pointed to the bourbon instead. Knowles grinned and despite the
departure in custom, included us both in the gentleman's drink without
question, a small courtesy that made us feel involved and respected. These were
not times of common propriety. No one was looking to drown their sorrows in any
substance; such behavior would not help our cause. But having something to hold
and busy one's hands with was a tiny comfort to take the edge off the tension
in the room.
"I never thought I'd be grateful for anything that has
befallen me," Jonathon said as he reentered the room, stalking over to my
chair and standing behind it to voice what I'd been thinking when he examined
Brinkman. "However, the ability to see the lit aura, the incorporeal
traces of any of my potential enemies is very useful. It would seem no one
followed you here. I see no spark in the shadows outside."
"I told you I'd be careful," Nathaniel replied.
Jonathon nodded at his friend.
"Friends," Jonathon began, addressing all of us. "Let's
get to our points. The Society shall arrive at the estate at six tomorrow. I
explained to Moriel that I would leave the proverbial 'bait,' the tokens, bound
in the dining room." He squeezed my shoulder over the back of the chair. "Do
forgive me, my love, for referring to you as such—"
"I understand, Jonathon. That's how they might refer to
me. Not you. You will both have to play the part," I reassured, even while
I shuddered at the thought.
"They seem to be interested in blood tokens,"
Jonathon said, clenching his jaw. "If you are bound at the table, my brave
ladies, don't worry what will befall you. Nathaniel schooled me in some sleight
of hand. I don't want you dreading anything that will be mere show, but please
do react accordingly as though you've been affected."
Lavinia nodded. She was used to this sort of thing more than
I; surely, one of Nathaniel's vampire bits on stage had her prepared for
necessary theatrics. I swallowed hard and tried not to look ill.
Jonathon continued: "Nathaniel and I will meet the
company at the door and lead them in, as it would be best they not find us all
fraternizing in the dining room when they arrive. Tomorrow morning the Society
said they'd return the staff to the premises to prepare the meal."
Jonathon turned to Brinkman to explain in a bitter tone: "Moriel
confirmed, laughingly, that the staff they retain are possessed bodies. The
family that overtook the estate per the Society's coaxing is now enslaved to
it. Moriel has taken those poor wretches on as his personal cook, footman, and
the children as veritable slaves."
"And their poor souls are trapped in the dining room
portraits," I added. "Before any arrests are made, we'll need to
invoke a countercurse to return souls into bodies and trap the demons. It's not
something I'd trust to leave to the average police officer. With all due
respect."
Brinkman nodded and tried to act as if the directives were
commonplace, but his halting speech revealed his discomfort. "If you say
so. I trust, then, that... you'll handle the...countercurse?"
"We will, you must leave that to us," Jonathon
replied. "Natalie, I'll trust you to later explain the principles of the
countercurse to Nathaniel and Lavinia."
I nodded again. I sipped the bourbon, and its sting was a
nice offset against nerves.
"I'll need a cue for my men to pounce," Brinkman
stated. "I don't want it to come too early, but also not too late. I don't
want these bastards to try anything."
"Or to let their magic build," I added. "We
can't know just how many demonic forces they have, truly, at their disposal.
Those we've seen have been embodied, but what about those awaiting a host?"
"We can't allow anything in," Jonathon murmured. "We
don't know exactly where these demons come
from. How they summon them. If you've ever had a faith, now is the time to hold
to it. We must not give those wretched, soul-sucking entities any room for
entry."
I nodded and thought of Maggie. I wondered what on earth
could have happened to her. "Maggie's gone missing, Jonathon," I
murmured. "No one knows where she's gone. Mrs. Northe wired Mr. Knowles
here to tell us. If she or Karen has any clairvoyant indications about what
went on, we don't know."
"Well, she let the beasts in, Natalie," he replied
with a harshness I understood but didn't expect, "and allowed the forces
that tried to kill us to grow stronger by her reverence and favor. We can't
help her any more than we did. I can't worry what's become of her now. Not
right now."
I looked at the edge of Mr. Knowles's fine desk and clenched
my jaw, knowing Jonathon was right but still wishing there was something I
could have done months ago to prevent her disappearance now. I said a prayer
for her soul.
A slight movement of Nathaniel's hand caught my eye, and I
saw him clutching a beaded length with a crucifix in his palm, something he'd
wound around his wrist, perhaps a rosary. Anglican England still utilized
Catholic-associated tokens as they were very similar in structure, just as
Reverend Blessing owed a great deal to the Catholic Rite of Exorcism. Every
denomination, at its root, directed back to the same governing principles.
Symbols of faith were the touchstones of our own retaliatory magic. Ours was a
different color and weight, but no less powerful than the breed the Society
perpetuated. I had to believe we were as powerful as demons, so long as we
stood up to them.
Brinkman's face was pinched; a slight crack in his facade
indicated his own trepidation. I could empathize that a man like Brinkman didn't
appreciate supernatural variables in a carefully calculated plan. "My men
will be instructed to wait for my whistle," he stated, "but I can't
cue immediately. Not until there's a bit of dirt under Moriel and company's
nails, otherwise we may not have as flush and solid of a case as we need to
ensure their downfall."
"If we're drawing out their plan," Jonathon piped
in, "someone must be stationed to record what is said for evidence. If we
place your men in my secret passages as we discussed, there is a pipe that's
perfect for listening in."
"I'll be sure one of my best court recorders takes
notes," Brinkman said eagerly. "If the paranormal aims of the Society
are to be believed, we'll need as much in the form of a confessional as
possible, the madness and desire for chaos expressly stated so that the threat
to queen and country cannot possibly be denied."
"Jonathon," I murmured, a dreadful detail
resurfacing. "What about the cellar?"
He swallowed hard.
"What about the cellar?" Brinkman queried, looking
from one of us to the other. "I thought you said the estate was empty?"
Jonathon took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "There's
also the possibility of a reanimate corpse as evidence. Be advised that the
infernal magic the Society uses to reanimate the corpse makes the creatures
very difficult to endure. There's a terrible mental strain, an inner sound of
screaming, as if they creatures are built to rip apart the very fabric of
sanity. A horde of ghosts is tethered to a body to make it come to life. The
ghosts are the animate spark."
Brinkman's lips curled in disgust. "How horrid. Ghosts
as Doctor Frankenstein's lightning?"
"I suppose. I've never seen anything like it before
Doctor Preston's work in New York New York
"The unexpected is all we can count on, it would seem,"
Brinkman replied bitterly. "We'll all have to play it very safe, moment to
moment, and very close to the vest." He bowed to us all and moved to the
door, his tone allowing for a slight weariness. "Until morning, my motley battalion."
We stayed the night in London
Nathaniel, being familiar with the flat, led Lavinia off
somewhere. I wondered if they'd separate as propriety would dictate or if
Lavinia would indeed come away from this a fallen woman. It wasn't my place to
judge, she could make her own choices, and I hoped Nathaniel was man enough not
to pressure her either way. Women were given little leverage in our world, and
a girl's modesty was not something to be given or taken lightly, and men would
do best to always keep that in mind.
As I sat upon one of the lavish divans in the main room, I
had no idea how in the world I was going to sleep, but Jonathon seemed prepared
for that, having stoked a small stove in a rear kitchen and returning to me
with teacups in hand.
"Have some tea. It's... powerful tea," he said,
handing me a warm cup and saucer.
"What's in it?" I asked, catching a whiff of a foreign
scent.
"Some opiates and sedatives. I just took a draught
myself. Else I'll never sleep. You and Lavinia can take the far room. Nathaniel
is taking my room."
"You may have to untangle them—"
"I'm counting on Miss Kent
"Where will you rest, darling?"
"On this very divan, dear. While the draught calmed my
nerves, if I need to pace in the middle of the night, I'd best do it away from
those I hold dear. You need your rest to be sharp."
"As do you..." I set down the cup and ran my
fingers down the sleeve of his magnificent frock coat.
"When I was saving lives in my London
"You're very brave," I murmured as he trailed the
fingertip down my neck.
He set his own teacup beside mine before moving closer to
press his lips to where his fingertip had been. After a slow, languorous kiss
he murmured, "Didn't I tell you I learned bravery from the best?"
"You were brave long before me."
"But together..."
He kissed me again.
Together is how our fates were determined. The course of my
life, since the Denbury portrait had entered into it and I was granted a
peculiar magic and agency to save this dear soul, was inextricable with his.
Whether brilliant or doomed.
That night, in a lovely guest room done up in a soothing
pale blue, grateful for a fresh dressing gown in which to sleep thanks to
stores Lavinia brought for us, I tucked a bible under my pillow.
Lavinia, to my chagrin, had no trouble falling asleep across
the room, not even bothering to change. She just curled up like a black-winged
bird upon a lush velvet chaise and drifted off to some uncharted inner waters.
I wonder if she'd been drugged harder. Or if Nathaniel had managed to distract
her into bliss that powerfully.
I lay back and murmured what had been my mother's favorite
psalm, number twenty-three, over and over again until the opiates finally took
hold, first of my body, and then my racing mind.
--
(End of Chapter 25 - Copyright 2013 Leanna Renee Hieber, The Magic Most Foul saga - If you like what you see, please share this link with friends! Tweet it, FB, + it! The Magic Most Foul team really hopes the audience will continue to grow and it can only do so with YOUR help! If you haven't already, do pick up a copy of Magic Most Foul books 1 and 2: Darker Still and the sequel: The Twisted Tragedy of Miss Natalie Stewart and/or donate to the cause! Donations directly support the editorial staff.
Cheers! Happy haunting! See you next Tuesday!)
I'm not sure I could fall asleep at all! I do hope things go well for them during this party!
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