Wow, he noted. When Tillie sends someone to help, she doesn’t do things by half.
He saw Annabella’s smile, but she was still deeply involved in untangling all the lume-noirs and compulsions from his heart. He truly appreciated it so didn’t distract her, especially since it was the only way he had a chance of getting back to his actual self.
Still, it was difficult to wait. Being a spirit was really disconcerting. Especially when his body was still fuming up on the bandstand with his evil great-grandmother inside it.
Who’s Nemesis? Kitty asked, as Annabella had apparently given her mental access to them. In some ways, Armand was ashamed he hadn’t thought about that for himself.
Stop that, Annabella directed him, as it clearly wasn’t helping her efforts to untangle his heart. There’s a difference between admitting your failings and using them to inspire you to do better and just getting stuck on berating yourself.
Really, he agreed, so, as much as he could, he answered Kitty.
She’s the goddess of justice. I really only know the old mythology, so I suppose she’ll have to tell us the rest.
He left the “assuming we can get out of this” silent, as it wasn’t like he yet saw an avenue to ridding them of the demon or getting his body back—but more doubts wouldn’t help.
Annabella gave him a look, and he sighed. “Sorry, my love.”
Even if it might not seem like it, he was trying to believe in his worth and undo Beatrix’s compulsions. He wasn’t even certain whether she’d instilled them when he’d been supposedly working for her or whether they were some sort of inherited legacy, but it didn’t much matter. Either way, they had to be left behind.
Trying to rebuild was slow but had started with the vague recognition that Kitty and Annabella cared for him. Now, he felt their full love and was trying to work up to the level of simply understanding that the things he did had value on their own, with or without their approval.
He’d never before quite realized how difficult a struggle that could be.
While he waged it, and Annabella unwove Beatrix’s twisted spells, the confrontation between Nemesis and the demon was waged in the weirdest way.
First, Miriam came in, and her two children lost their red eyes immediately to run into her arms, screaming, “Mum!” and “Mommy!” as she caught and clasped them tightly to her and kissed their heads and faces, again and again.
Then the entire historical society came congaing into the room.
It was only at that moment he realized that the music had shifted to follow their beat.
He couldn’t say that he’d miss “Charade.” It was going to be a long time before he could listen to a Henry Mancini song without shuddering. Even he, in his spirit form, couldn’t see the band, though.
Soon, the historical society’s dance line broke up, and they started to greet the ghosts. Even the ones which had been fighting on the side of the demon seemed strangely charmed by having someone not only see them but fascinatedly ask them about every detail of their experience.
Through all this, the demon’s rage grew till he was screaming, an oil-like black smoke rising from him.
“You think you can undo my work, puny goddess? With all these ghosts and their grudges feeding me?”
“They don’t look very vengeful right now,” Nemesis noted.
And it was true, even the least friendly ones now chatting away to the society members, many of whom raptly took notes.
Ignoring the demon and staring up at the wraith she had impaled, Nemesis sighed and tapped the spear again, and spear and wraith together shrank down and down into a small, crocheted rabbit pin, which she finally hung from her shawl.
The demon, quite literally, fumed.
“I will not be banished by these shenanigans. This ship wants me here. It too has a grudge. It’s been neglected and left to rot, chained down and kept from even traveling the oceans anymore.”
The demon smiled horribly—its attractive white man’s face now something terrible.
“I will nurture that grudge into a hate and then into vengeance. Then I will take that vengeance and spread it not only on this vessel but throughout this state, then this country, then this world!”
Beatrix was obviously about to speak—supposedly to back him up but more obviously to stake her own claim in this game—when he pointed at Armand’s body once. Then, horrifyingly, his mouth disappeared and became just smooth skin.
Armand winced. Although he felt her fighting it, Kitty screamed, but that only seemed to give the demon more power.
Armand glanced down, hoping Annabella was nearly finished freeing him. They had work to do.
“I should thank all of you for freeing me from that attic,” the demon’s voice shook through the room. “Charleston was too small a place to fully contain my spirit.”
He seemed to be growing taller by the moment, was losing his previous disguise. Now, he was about ten feet tall and was taking on the more traditional look, with goat legs, red skin, and two giant ram’s horns growing from his head.
“I will own and use not only the world but all of heaven and hell, as well!”
Although Annabella was removing the last bits of Beatrix’s compulsion from his heart, she sent him a small flash of an insight she had had previously. Apparently, there was even more Kitty knew.
Armand glanced over to his ex-cat, who looked terrified but—Hecate bless her—wasn’t running. Kitty, quick! Is this what the ship wants?
He felt her confusion for a second, continued prodding.
You have to speak for it!
For a moment, he saw Kitty blink and then take Brutus’ hand. Even with a giant demon towering over his head, the dogman looked to be in heaven.
Armand gave Hubert a desperate look which he hoped the man would interpret correctly.
He did, throwing up a screen of protection around the two ex-pets, just as Kitty started speaking.
“You’re twisting it! You’re twisting what it wants!”
Confused, the demon stared at her.
“The ship does have a grudge. It wants to be remembered. It likes it when people come on board and stare in wonder. It likes it when people dress up in old clothes and pretend they’re on a voyage. It likes it when people make pilgrimages to it.”
Everyone stared, as she turned.
“These people . . .”
She pointed toward the historical society and Eveline and Teena and Miriam.
“These people are the ones it loves. It wants historical organizations and admiration societies and clubs and balls and dances. It wants shipboard intrigue and romances and two people spotting each other across a crowded ballroom. It wants to be the center of drama and love and hope.”
She smiled at all of them, even the demon, and then around at the Grand Salon, and she was somehow giving her own love to the ship.
“Don’t you see? You haven’t fulfilled the ship’s desires by murdering people. It doesn’t want people to be afraid and stay away and whisper its name only in terror.”
Letting go of Brutus’ hand, she held her arms up, spinning around.
“It wants to be a destination people get excited just thinking about. It wants its people . . .” She gestured at the ghosts. “. . . to be happy and add to its mystery. It wants them to bring more people to the ship to show their love.”
During all this, Armand saw Ivan the imp come in and take up a spot on Nemesis’ shoulder. Much more cautiously and worriedly, Detective Chamberlin followed him, staring around in wonder.
Clearly, Kitty didn’t notice, shaking her head at the demon.
“You haven’t made it happy.”
Uh oh, Armand told Annabella, as she pulled the last bit of the compulsions free from his heart.
For a moment, she didn’t understand, until she too obviously noticed that Kitty’s eyes had begun to glow.
“You haven’t made us happy.”
The ex-cat’s eyes glowed brightly.
�
�You weren’t invited here at all.”
With one small gesture from Kitty, every ghost in the room—besides William, who still held onto Teena—took off in a flood which soon drowned the demon, Armand’s body, and the sailor’s ghost.
Although he was fine with the demon being defeated, Armand winced. His body had apparently already lost its mouth. He feared what the spirits might do to him next. And that said nothing of whatever was happening with Kitty.
He could see that Annabella was about to destroy the compulsions she held.
Don’t, he begged. They’re the one connection to my body I have left.
Although she didn’t seem happy, she didn’t argue and handed them to him.
On the bandstand, the spirits were having everything their own way, although he suspected that Nemesis might have had a small hand in that. The demon had not only shrunk back down, but was now a small, weeping child—probably to try to garner sympathy and get them to stop hitting it. And he saw with delight that they had pulled Beatrix out of his body.
Less delightedly, he noticed that they had basically cut a line across his face where his mouth should have been to get to her.
As worried as he was about these disfigurements, he knew his one chance when he saw it.
Giving Annabella one look to warn her, he ran back as quickly as his spirit could manage to his falling body and jumped inside.
His last thought was that he really hoped he made it in time to save what was left.
Chapter 25
Annabella
Only with the strongest amount of control did Annabella manage not to scream, as she saw Armand running. Instead, she was right behind him, praying that they weren’t too late.
Thankfully, the spirits let her through enough to get to him. Even not concentrating on them, there were so many that they were hard not to see.
Still wanting to shriek, she witnessed Armand diving into his body with its disturbing Glasgow smile and then saw it start to fall. As he collapsed onto the stage, she only reached it in time to catch his head on her lap.
Still, Kitty and Hubert were there only a moment later, Kitty holding his hand and Hubert sending whatever protection spells he could think of to him. Kitty’s horror at Armand’s collapse had apparently also freed her from whatever possession the ship had had.
For a moment, Armand didn’t move. Annabella could feel Kitty’s terror shaking through her, only adding to her own.
When his eyes did open, they were terrified. And when he tried to speak, it was only sounds not words.
Lips really were important for forming those.
But, in that moment, her terror turned to a concentrated, determined rage. This wasn’t anything she’d let continue.
Stop, she ordered. And be calm, my love.
Then, she leaned down and started to kiss him.
Beginning at one end of that horrible gash, she kissed him repeatedly, working all her love into the wound. Eventually, she felt it start to heal, the skin of his cheek knitting back together into normal flesh.
Despite the horror she could feel from him, she moved on, and once she got to where his mouth should be, she saw the tears running from his eyes, felt his intense torment through their bond. As he was basically growing a body part, it wasn’t surprising it was excruciating.
But it didn’t matter. For his sake alone, she would have him whole.
Taking his hand and letting him squeeze hers to the point of pain, she continued kissing and healing him, while, all around them, the spirit and demon battle raged. Given her intense need to repair him, she barely noticed Hubert sending out a very powerful protection spell over all of them, so Beatrix couldn’t break back through and do more harm.
Annabella had no idea how long it lasted, hating every second of Armand’s torments. Finally, when she felt the last bit of flesh heal, she kissed him—and knew that everything would be okay when he kissed her fully back.
But she couldn’t let the kiss go on, as it had another reason. A moment later, her mouth pulled the start of a long line of thick, black, oil-like lume-noirs, until she was tugging all of that evil out of him, Armand choking all the while.
Eventually, it ended, Armand starting to cough violently, until he broke away from all the people who held him and spit the last bit of the lume-noirs out onto the floor.
When she was going to call William over to get rid of them, as she’d heard that the evil magic was not as dangerous to those who were already dead, the revenant was already there, picking up the piece on the floor and then collecting the rest from her with a grimace.
“I’ll get rid of them,” he acknowledged, and, with one more look to Teena, left the Grand Salon.
As all Annabella could truly focus on was Armand, she barely noticed, still staring at him, as he turned back to her. Thankfully, except for a small scar on his cheek which only served to make him seem more dashing, he looked entirely like himself.
Are you all right?
He nodded, but she could feel how weak he was. To put it mildly, he hadn’t had a good day.
Taking her hand, he looked adoringly into her eyes. “I love you,” he said, and, although his voice was raspier than usual, it still sounded like him.
Although Annabella was relieved, it was clearly the last straw for poor Kitty. Weeping, she threw her head down on his chest.
With a slight “oof,” he caught her and stroked over her hair with a smile. “It’s all right, Kitty.”
Annabella smiled, as he kissed the top of the ex-cat’s head.
“I’m still here, and I still love you.”
Kitty only wept harder, but Annabella knew she was relieved.
So was she.
Through all of this, she’d had to trust those around her to keep the demon at bay. Thankfully, when she turned to look with Armand, she saw that the spirits had the sailor ghost, Beatrix’s essence and the demon thoroughly surrounded. The demon was still trying his “I’m just a poor little, scared boy” act, weeping in a child’s form.
As the others approached, Caroline and Max, Miriam’s children, glared at him—which did sort of bring back shades of being attacked by them. Still, they weren’t leaving their mother to do much of anything.
“He’s not a child!” Caroline yelled. “Make him take his punishment!”
“Yes, dear,” Nemesis smiled, as she passed her. “He’s going to.”
Annabella also noticed that Detective Chamberlin was leaning against the far wall, staring over all of this in shock.
The ghosts parted somewhat to let Nemesis past, and finally she stood on the stage, her face now more eternally middle-aged and knowing than old and insightful and her wings fully revealed. She still had on the fuzzy, crocheted shawl, though.
Ivan had jumped off to look after the detective, although it was uncertain how much he was helping.
When Annabella glanced back to it, she saw that the ship on the map mosaic was now sailed over toward the Earth portion again.
“Have you anything to say in your defense before judgment is passed?” Nemesis asked the three accused. Her look said that the question was not so much about whether they were guilty as whether they were capable of acknowledging even a part of how wrong their deeds had been.
All three spoke at once, but nothing they said was anything like an apology or admission of guilt—just more excuses for why they should still win.
“No, then,” she sighed, leaning down. “You’ll all be received in a special place of punishment to ponder your sins.”
In one hand, she picked up the squirming form of the demon pretending to be a child and, as she had with the dead wraith, shrank him down into a tiny, crocheted pin, this time a lamb. The lamb fretted and kicked, but it was still pinned quite securely to her shawl. The same procedure was followed for the sailor ghost, although she had a few final words for him.
“What was done to you was unfair.”
He started to shrink.
“But that’s not an excuse
for hurting others.”
This time, a crocheted kitten took its place on her shawl.
“Murder is murder, even if it is done by a ghost.”
That only left Beatrix. Even as a ghost, she raised her head and glared.
Nemesis looked at her sadly. “You’ve been around so long I don’t know what name to call you by anymore.”
Her gaze was firm, as she held her hand out.
“But I do know that you won’t be harming anyone any longer.”
Unlike her two companions, Beatrix did not squirm or scream at being reduced. Instead, she glared every second at each of them as though reminding them that they’d never truly be rid of her.
Once she was finally diminished into a crocheted pin, her defiance held out. Instead of the cute fluffies the others had turned into, Nemesis was now holding a glaring, upside down bat.
“Oh dear,” she sighed, looking down at her shawl. “It doesn’t fit the pattern at all. Still . . .”
Shrugging, she pinned it on and turned to Armand. “I’m glad to see that Annabella’s healed you. I can rid you of that small scar, if you’d like, but I think it’s kind of attractive.”
I have a scar? he asked Annabella.
Afraid so. I actually sort of love it.
Kitty nodded as well, backing up her assessment.
To help out, Ivan brought them a mirror, possibly on some signal she hadn’t noticed from Nemesis.
Armand examined his reflection and finally said, “It’s going to be a pain to shave around, but otherwise, I think I might like it.”
Annabella grinned and kissed him.
Nemesis watched for a moment before telling Annabella, “You got out of that trap much faster than I expected. It took me longer than I would have liked to convince the historical society to conga in the direction I wanted.”
Somehow, Annabella had suspected as much. “You’re the one who convinced the demon to use the past and side realities as a trap.”
“Well, not entirely,” Nemesis shrugged. “This ship wants to live in the past and has a terror of the reality you visited. They’re sort of ingrained in it. Given the fact that the demon and Beatrix never took you particularly seriously, it wasn’t hard to up those feelings into a sort of persuasion to put you somewhere else.”
Sorcerers, Spirits, and Ships Page 15
