Elizabeth composed herself then thrust both of her hands forward. A stream of light with flecks of the emissary’s energy and hers collided with the psychic debris around Rachel’s mind. It disintegrated bit by bit until it dissipated into the passageway as if it had never existed. With the trinity knot exposed, Elizabeth reached out her hand and placed it in the center again.
She assumed the emissary would leave her at this point, but when he didn’t, she thought little of it. Their bonding brought her a sense of completeness she had never felt with Samuel.
She focused on the trinity knot and Rachel as her mind slipped from the passageway and into the medium’s psyche. It was quick and painless . . . but what Elizabeth saw through Rachel’s eyes horrified her. Slaughter, vandalism, and anarchy raged through the streets. The kidnap victims had become a mob and laid waste to whatever and whoever they came across. Even Rachel, who led them, took turns kicking and beating a man who curled up on the street with his hands protecting his head.
Elizabeth called out to the medium to try and make her stop, but Rachel wouldn’t listen. It was if the part of her psyche that controlled empathy and compassion had been locked away and all that was left was the rage born of decades of mistreatment toward the Irish and those beneath the boot of the Great Houses. Shame overwhelmed Elizabeth as she searched for a way to stop Rachel and the mob.
“Elizabeth.” A voice echoed through her as though she was a hollowed-out shell.
“Is that you? The one I call the emissary?” she asked.
“I see you, Elizabeth.”
It wasn’t the emissary; it was Leland Tillenghast intruding into her mind.
To stop Rachel might mean killing her, and Elizabeth didn’t want to do that. Instead, using the combined power of the emissary and her own, she carefully but firmly imposed her will on Rachel and took over her body. Subconsciously, she apologized for the harsh intrusion, but she had to find Leland.
She craned her neck around, but there was nothing to see but increasing chaos. The mob surged forward, taking her with them as they split apart into smaller groups, now directionless and meandering. It occurred to Elizabeth that Rachel had been their focal point, and without her they were leaderless. Though she had disrupted Leland’s hold on Rachel, the medium still functioned as a beacon to these poor souls. Leland must have planned it this way so the mob wouldn’t follow him but a South Sider, one who was a powerful medium in her own right.
“Let’s play hide and seek, Elizabeth,” Leland taunted her.
Elizabeth kept Rachel’s head down as she walked forward searching for Leland. To her surprise, the thought of killing Rachel to stop this madman now simmered in her like water about to boil over. Gentle nudges from the emissary urged her toward that violence. But she had a better idea.
She wasn’t going to kill Rachel; she was going to kill Leland Tillenghast.
The emissary flooded her mind with confidence. He agreed with her plan.
The mob reformed and ran in the direction of a steam-powered police carriage Terrified that they might kill the unfortunate men inside, Elizabeth forced Rachel’s body to move though a rib was cracked and there were bruises up and down her sides where Leland’s flunky had beaten her. She pushed and shoved her way through the crowd that pressed against her, fleeing in the other direction. By the time she caught up with the mob, they had taken hold of both sides of the carriage and were rocking it back and forth like a teeter-totter.
Two police officers were dragged out of the front seat. They pulled out their billy clubs to fend off their attackers, but they were quickly overwhelmed. The mob descended upon them like piranhas and there was nothing she could do to stop them.
Elizabeth scoured the crowd looking for Leland, knowing he couldn’t be far. His ego wouldn’t allow it. He’d want to be there to watch this disaster he’d created unfold. Elizabeth knew those like him. She’d dined and danced with them and understood the mindset of one born to a Great House—one of her own.
Laughter echoed nearby. Real laughter. Not in her mind or coming from the spirit passageway. Leland was behind her.
“There you are, little bird,” Leland jeered. “I was hoping to meet you again. Though, I must say the body of the real Elizabeth Hunter is much more attractive than this old Irish hag.”
“Let these people go.” The words Elizabeth spoke came out as a croak in Rachel’s voice.
He smirked as he leaned forward with his hand to his ear. “What’s that, little bird? I can’t hear you.”
Elizabeth took complete control of the medium’s body and hoped the woman would forgive her. She shook out her arms and stood tall and confident.
“I said—” Her voice carried authority. “—release these people.”
“Oh, look at you. Pretending to be like a man. It’s so cute,” he mocked her, feigning a serious tone. “Release these people. Blah, blah, blah.”
“This makes no sense. All this just to destroy House Weldsmore?”
He put his hands on his hips. “Yes. This will prove to my uncle that I belong in his inner circle and not left to be treated like a poor relation begging for scraps at his door. When he sees what I can do . . . what I’ve accomplished . . .” Leland rubbed his hands in glee. “I almost did it earlier by manipulating some poor drunken sop to throw the bomb at your father’s car. But this is much better, and I’ll finally have what I deserve. A seat at the table.”
“All this death and destruction just to impress your uncle, Alfred Tillenghast? Are you mad?”
“I’m quite sane, little bird. The bonus is that with you dead or a vegetable, your father will pine away into nothing. Or die. Unless I kill him first,” he crooned. “Uncle Alfred will be more than happy to hand over control of House Weldsmore to me.”
“You fool! Tillenghast would never hand over House Weldsmore to you,” she snarled at him. “And you’ll never be able to kill my father!”
“Really? How long do you think it will take this mob to make it to Beacon Hill?” he asked as he loomed over her. “I will make sure they burn your house to the ground and everyone in it.”
A fiery rage consumed her. She would not allow this Tillenghast minion to kill her father, Samuel, and everyone she loved, even if it was by proxy. He was not worthy of being in the same room as her father or Samuel, let alone the same city. Elizabeth reached her mind out to the emissary and found he was still there, watching and waiting.
“I would kill this man, emissary,” she declared.
Elizabeth sensed his intense joy at her request. At first that bothered her, but a surge of power filled her entire being, thrusting away any concern. She felt invincible as every part of her body tingled as though an electrical current ran through it.
“What’s happened to your eyes?” Leland asked, his confidence wavering.
Elizabeth grinned, though she wasn’t sure if it was her or the emissary. “You’re pathetic. Did you really think you could kill a Weldsmore?” Without thought, she reached out with her mind and forced it into Leland’s without ever entering the passageway. Some small portion of her mind was astounded that the combined psychic power of her and the emissary allowed her to do this. But it was quickly forgotten in the task at hand. What she found in Leland’s mind was what she expected: a bully masquerading as a charming man.
Leland grabbed his head, writhing in agony as he lurched back. “No! How can you do this?”
The mob had gone quiet and now staggered about unsure of what to do as Leland’s power over them faded. He attempted to wrest his mind away from hers, but Elizabeth matched his brutality. With a snarl, she imagined her fingers were red-hot pokers as they skewered his brain. But it wasn’t enough.
“Fire,” her voice croaked. Her psychic fingertips flared and burned away his eyesight, then his hearing, and then his ability to speak.
Leland opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. He fell to the ground, writhing like a worm. Elizabeth sauntered around him, enjoying his agony. She could
feel the emissary relishing every moment as their bond deepened.
Finally, Elizabeth decided to end it. With no more than a flicker of thought she reached into the center of Leland’s brain and squeezed it until his consciousness was nothing but mush.
Drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, Leland gaped like a fish gasping for air. His eyes remained open, but he saw nothing. He breathed, but only a shell of the man remained.
Elizabeth heard a child wail. She turned to watch as each of the people Leland had held in thrall regained control of their minds and bodies. Realizing it was over, the survivors assisted the injured. Several of the bystanders saw a chance for revenge on the poor souls who had been controlled by Leland and attacked them. Being that she was dressed like the mob and was their leader, they came for Rachel first.
Her first instinct was to lash out at the attackers, and it took all of her strength to stop herself. The joy it gave her destroying Leland’s mind was heady, and she wanted more. But it was the thought of what Samuel and her father would think of her that brought her to her senses. She was better than this, and her work here was done. Leland could not harm anyone ever again. Her bloodlust abated just as three men carrying makeshift weapons approached her.
Elizabeth did what any intelligent person would do; she ran.
Bottles, bricks, and cobblestones were thrown at her as she darted through debris and fallen bodies. She heard yelling as a new mob formed. She hadn’t gotten far when she saw Abigail, the girl from her visions, standing in the middle of the street crying for her mother. Elizabeth swept her up in her arms and ran behind a trash barrel as a gang of angry citizens sprinted past looking for their assailants.
“Shh! Abigail. You must be quiet,” she begged the girl.
She heard sirens in the distance. Hoping they were safe, Elizabeth darted out of their hiding place grasping Abigail’s hand.
“There she is,” a rough male voice yelled. “She’s the one who led them.”
Five men, each holding a makeshift weapon, bore down on them.
“Please, we mean you no harm,” she pleaded with them.
“That’s rich,” said a stout man wearing the clothes of a longshoreman. He headed an unusual mix of lower-class and Middle District workers, all of whom were bloodied and angry.
“None of these people meant to hurt you. They were forced.”
“Forced! I don’t see anyone holding a gun to their heads.”
The men grumbled and moved in on her and Abigail.
Two trucks swerved in behind Elizabeth, blocking any escape. Her heart sank as she realized they had nowhere to run. She had a choice: return to her own body and let Rachel deal with these men or stay and fight. Elizabeth crouched down and crushed Abigail to her chest.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart.”
The bloodlust she had contained bubbled to the surface of her consciousness. Elizabeth could hear the emissary’s voice like the faint echo of a faraway stream. It was time to release that power once again.
Footsteps drew closer. A shot fired.
“Back away and leave the woman and girl alone!” Samuel’s voice bellowed from behind her.
Samuel’s voice shot through her like a jolt of electricity. Her desire to kill these men diminished with the memory of his unconditional love for her. The emissary and all her emotions connected to him seemed to vanish. Elizabeth’s eyes snapped open to see her husband pointing his pistols at the men who threatened them. Two nondescript trucks sat behind him with Weldsmore guardsmen piling out.
“How can you protect them?” The longshoreman demanded.
“I have no problem shooting you where you stand. Now back away!” Samuel ordered again.
The men hesitated then backed up a few steps.
“And drop your weapons!” Samuel glared at them.
One by one they dropped them. The clatter made Elizabeth wince.
Several House Weldsmore guardsmen ran forward and helped Elizabeth and Abigail to their feet. They escorted them to the back of one of the trucks while Samuel continued to hold off the men, who looked like they might grab their makeshift weapons again if given a chance.
Once Elizabeth and Abigail were safe, Samuel handed Sawyer one of his guns as he hurried over. One of the other guardsmen lifted Abigail into the back of the truck.
“Elizabeth?” Samuel asked, peering into what she knew he saw as Rachel’s eyes. “Are you in there?”
She nodded. “Yes. Did Father send you to help?”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Elizabeth, your father’s with us. His transport was attacked and we rescued him.”
“What? No!” She tried to shove him away, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“He’s fine. It’s time for you to return to your own body. I can’t imagine this has been good for you or Rachel. You need to go back. Now.”
Elizabeth craned her neck around him, trying to see her father, but Samuel refused to budge.
“Please come home.” He brushed her cheek with his hand and smiled. “I miss you.”
Although she desperately wished to see her father, Elizabeth realized doing so in Rachel’s body could cause complications. Frustrated, she gave in. “You’ll take care of Abigail and Rachel?”
“Of course.”
She stepped back. “See you soon.”
***
Rachel collapsed into Samuel’s arms, trembling and twitching.
“Rachel, is that you? You’re safe now.” Samuel lowered her to the ground, keeping her head up. “We’ll get you to the hospital.”
She gasped and grabbed on to his jacket. “Elizabeth . . .”
“She’s back with Andrew. He’ll take good care of her.”
“No . . . danger,” Rachel whispered right before she passed out.
22
Samuel picked up Rachel in his arms. Two of the guardsmen helped carry her inside the truck and set her down next to Jonathan. The look of apoplexy on his face would have amused Samuel if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire.
“Get everyone in this truck to the nearest hospital. I need the other one,” Samuel ordered.
“Samuel, what’s going on? What are these people doing in here?” Jonathan demanded as he winced from some unseen injury.
“I’ll explain later.” Before Jonathan could ask any more questions, Samuel slammed the door shut. “Go!” he yelled.
The truck sped off, and Samuel jumped into the driver’s side of the other one.
A young guardsman hopped in beside him. “Sir, do you need me to—”
“Hang on.” Samuel shifted the car into gear and accelerated.
The guardsman gripped the roof through the open passenger’s side window as they rushed through the city as fast as they could and not injure anyone else.
***
Elizabeth closed her eyes and imagined seeing the spirit passageway in her mind’s eye. She’d left Rachel’s mind hoping the medium was not too badly damaged after her ordeal with Leland. The darkness of the passageway surrounded her, but ahead lay a warm beacon of light. Elizabeth had no doubt it was Andrew.
As she approached it, the emissary detached from her and coalesced once again into an outline of a man filled with the amethyst-and-emerald green miasma. His presence now gone from her psyche, Elizabeth felt a wave of horror pass over her. She did not regret killing Leland, but the way she had done it mortified her on one hand, and on the other—she didn’t want to admit to herself how it really made her feel.
The emissary pointed to the beacon then to himself. He wanted to come with her! The idea sent a shiver of excitement through her mind. She was giddy at the thought. Think of what they could do together.
Then she thought of Samuel.
“No. You can’t. Not yet, anyway. But thank you for all your help. Perhaps you can give me an image of where you live. Then we can finally meet in person. I have so many questions for you.”
He reached over and touched her forehead. Images of fire, chaos, and
beings without form overwhelmed her mind. She backed away, terrified.
“I don’t understand. Where is that? Who are you?” Elizabeth chastised herself for her naiveté. Could she have been mistaken about his intent?
The emissary held his hand up. Inside the swirling miasma of his palm, an image formed. It showed Elizabeth and Samuel walking together in her mother’s garden. Then their bodies merged into a shapeless blob of the same miasma that his body consisted of.
“I don’t understand.”
He placed the same palm on her chest. It sent such a rush of power through her it made her psyche writhe in pleasure. The experience was so potent it brought her to the edge of ecstasy. She didn’t want to leave, but something pinged in her mind. Andrew’s beacon called to her.
She pushed away from him. “No, this isn’t right. I don’t know what you are, but I must go home.” Elizabeth turned and dove into the warm light of the beacon.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in her body and sitting in the loveseat. Andrew was kneeling before her clutching her hands.
“Ah, lassie, you were gone quite a long time. You be all right?” Andrew asked. His eyes were sunken from exhaustion.
“I think so. It was all . . . rather very frightening. My father? Is he all right? And Samuel? Is he back yet? Have you heard anything?” Elizabeth stood then sat down again from dizziness.
“Not a thing, but I’m sure your man Sampson will stay on top of it. And you should sit in case you fall over, lassie.” He put his hand on her shoulder to steady her.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell him about the emissary then stopped herself. Embarrassment and shame overwhelmed her. This was too intimate, too humiliating to share with the Irishman. Or anyone else.
Boston Metaphysical Society Page 24
