The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker

by Leanna Renee Hieber

  “Indeed,” Percy squeaked, her already slender waist further tapered and her curves made voluptuous.

  Madame disappeared somewhere behind the bustle and made a few adjustments. Reemerging with a small pair of scissors, she flitted about clipping threads, stood back and clapped her hands. “Finis.”

  “Madame!” Percy could not stop staring. “How can I thank you? Do stay for the wedding!”

  “No. Weddings make me anxious. Promise me only that you will come by and let me experiment with your white face in other colours. And bring that eerie man of yours. I see him always in black. I make him a cloak of bright orange.”

  Everyone laughed before Josephine said, “Percy, I’ll return for you at half past. I must go make sure Alexi’s kept his head and the chapel is presentable. Oui. Allons-y, madame.” The two women then disappeared in rustles of fabric and French mutterings that Percy understood as Madame Sue’s surprise that such a sweet, pleasant girl was to marry such a brooding man.

  Percy and Marianna simply stared at each other.

  “Marianna, I cannot believe this is happening.”

  “Nor can I. Most certainly not after your first quarter!”

  They giggled. It was rather sudden, but Percy wasn’t at liberty to explain.

  Josephine entered Alexi’s office to find him pacing. “Alexi.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Has your suit arrived?”

  “What? Suit? Oh, yes. Just now.”

  “May I see?”

  Alexi pointed to the alcove where a long, exquisite suit coat hung beside a silk cravat of pale blue.

  “Oh, Alexi, how lovely—and you even got the blue correct!”

  “Give me a bit of credit.”

  “Constant black aside, you’re always well-appointed, yet I’m impressed. Now, you’d better—Alexi!”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop pacing, you’re driving me mad.”

  Alexi moved to his desk and sat with unusual obedience that came only from distraction. “What were you about to tell me?”

  “Dress yourself. You never know what strange delays may occur. You had better tune the chapel, too. Heaven only knows what might erupt.”

  “Ah, yes. I suppose none of us has any idea.” He tapped a quill incessantly upon the desk. Josephine had never seen him fidget.

  “Alexi, I am sure this must be overwhelming for you.”

  “Yes.” His low voice was slightly strained. “It is, a bit.”

  “You needn’t be nervous. Besides that this has been foretold nearly all our lives, I daresay you can do no wrong. The girl’s absolutely mad for you.”

  Alexi stared straight into Josephine’s eyes, and then she saw the strangest of all sights, a foreign image to which they would all have to grow accustomed: his wide and genuine smile. “Yes. She is, isn’t she?”

  Josephine returned his smile and masked the ache within.

  Jane was clad in her finest dress, still relatively plain but it would have to do. She found the headmistress staring out her office window, Frederic upon the inner sill, absently stroking his feathers. Quite smartly, in a bit more colour than her usual custom, Rebecca was dressed in a fitted purple jacket and mauve skirts. A cameo at her throat, lace cascaded between the double-breasted folds of her jacket. It was clear she had taken great care.

  “Good morning, m’dear,” Jane said at the open office door. “You look stunning.”

  “Hello, Jane.” Rebecca beckoned her in, her smile strained. “May I offer you tea?” She placed Frederic outside the window with a piece of bread and closed the casement.

  During the business of preparation, the two women were silent. Cup in hand, Jane asked, “Has he been by at all this morning?”

  “No. That’s best, isn’t it?” Rebecca’s gaze was particularly sharp.

  “It will grow easier. We’ve had such a shock. We all must mend. But she’s a sweet, dear presence—”

  “Of course she is,” Rebecca snapped. “And I will care for her, as we all must. I trust you to leave me to that; trust me in that.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.”

  “I knew that none of this would be easy,” Rebecca murmured, and a strained pause followed. “Only, I wish he wouldn’t have—”

  “What?”

  “I shouldn’t speak of it.”

  “To me, you may.”

  Rebecca looked up, surprised. Her friend wasn’t one to speak volumes or make overtures; she had always been detached, and Rebecca loved her for it. This admission could be made to no one else: “When Alexi first admitted feelings for Miss Parker, I…pressed him on it, made my own confession, like a fool. He told me if we’d been born to another fate that he might have made me his wife.” Bitterness drew down the corner of her lips.

  Jane granted the statement a necessary, gracious few moments. “And I’m sure he meant it. He cares for you. You’re close—”

  “Were close,” Rebecca muttered. “I cannot imagine the tenor of our acquaintance will continue.”

  “Of course it will; don’t be absurd. There is no threat imposed upon the betrothed by your presence. You are Alexi’s dearest friend.”

  “He has a new confidant.”

  “We all do. I have this strange feeling she’ll take all our confessions before the year is through,” Jane stated. “I’m sure she’ll know my secrets soon.”

  “Your secrets, Jane?”

  Her friend grinned. “Certainly. But, Rebecca, think of it: you’ve always been in Alexi’s shadow, the both of you scowling away the hours. Now you must come into your own. You’re too powerful to allow this to weaken you. You’ve had years to prepare.”

  Rebecca exhaled a long breath. “I’m glad you came this morning, Jane. Thank you. I suppose we’d better survey the chapel. Surely Josephine has thoughts on the arrangements.”

  “I must confess,” Jane murmured, “I am looking forward to the few days Our Lord and Master will be out of town.”

  Rebecca raised an eyebrow, and saw a most mischievous light in her friend’s green eyes. “Why do you say such a thing, Miss O’Shannon Connor?”

  Jane escorted Rebecca out the door with a mysterious smile. “A bit of work to be done, Headmistress.”

  The chapel was a small white wonder of light and warmth, the stained-glass angels ablaze from within. Rebecca and Jane found Josephine in a flurry of movement, singing a French ballad and telling Elijah where to place several bouquets far larger than his head. Lord Withersby followed orders, grumbling and sneezing as she said a few pointed words about weddings.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to do this madwoman’s bidding, would you?” he asked pathetically at the door.

  “No, watching you is far more entertaining,” Jane replied.

  Michael emerged from the sacristy in a white robe and a cleric’s collar, a Bible in his hands. Rebecca moved down the aisle and declared, “Well, aren’t you the picture of priestliness, Vicar Carroll.”

  He chuckled, flushing, opening his arms to gaze down at himself. “We ought to have some measure of formality and godliness, shouldn’t we?” He flashed his winning smile.

  “With Elijah Withersby present in a chapel?” Josephine called, having disappeared behind the altar. “We must take all precautions.”

  “A stroke of lightning might as easily smite you, my darling,” Elijah called from behind an armful of lilies.

  Josephine reemerged, candles in her hands. “Please elucidate, Lord Withersby. Do.”

  Elijah balked.

  “Might we set discussion of sin aside for the moment, for Miss Percy’s sake?” Michael begged wearily.

  Every sill bore a candle and every pedestal a bouquet of lilies, the scent pervasive and welcoming. Once all was in place, as if on cue the chapel door was flung open and all candles burst immediately into flame. Alexi strode down the aisle, more compelling than ever, particularly elegant in his wedding attire. His hair was as neat as could be and his eyes were particularly stirring. When
his companions remembered to breathe, they greeted him warmly.

  “The man of the hour,” Elijah said with good cheer and a sneeze.

  “Hello, my friends.” Alexi eyed the chapel. “Marvelous. Simply marvelous. Thank you.” He offered Rebecca a lingering glance. She returned it with a smile. Jane squeezed her hand in silent encouragement.

  “While you tune, Alexi, I’ll be off to prepare your bride,” Josephine said, and she darted down the aisle, shimmering and rustling golden taffeta. Elijah could not help but watch. When he saw Jane smirking at him from the pew across the aisle, however, he scowled.

  Alexi drew a meaningful relic from his breast pocket—a thick, pale feather—and, with the powerful grace unique to him, moved to each window and tapped its stained-glass angel. Each glass seemed to vibrate, a soft hum rose, an invisible choir: the chapel would now allow no unwanted visitors.

  Michael had disappeared but returned, opening wide the door for a woman in dark green. She advanced her wheelchair into the aisle, and Alexi darted forward, sweeping his sister up in his arms and carrying her up the aisle to seat her in a front pew. “Alexandra, my dear!”

  The woman observed the room with wonder, knowing there was something inexplicable, craning her neck as if to hear with better ears. “What news, and so sudden!” she exclaimed. “You made no hint of it a few days past, when the two of you visited. Surely this surprised Miss Percy as much as I!”

  “Yes, indeed. But it couldn’t be helped,” Alexi replied, his eyes glittering. “I’m very glad you’re here.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Alexi kissed his sister upon the temple and took her hand, sitting to anxiously await his bride. He noticed his favourite librarian, Miss Mina Wilberforce, duck into the chapel with an amazed smile, a bright white flash against dark brown skin. She’d long ago curried his favour by boldly having taken on the name of an emancipator rather than a master, and by proving she knew every book in the Athens catalogue. He hadn’t thought to invite her, so he supposed Percy must have, of which he was frightfully glad. He had a host of friends here after all, to share in his sudden happiness.

  Michael gestured to Jane, who fumbled beneath her pew for a fiddle and moved to sit with it in a chair at the altar.

  “Ah, good. Music,” Alexi stated.

  Marianna opened the door to Josephine, who found Percy sitting wide-eyed upon her bed as if she had not blinked in an hour. The German girl had swept up Percy’s hair into artful spirals.

  “Come, dear, it’s nearly time.” Josephine rustled in the garment box to reveal a pearl tiara, set with blue glass flowers, and a veil of pale blue. Percy gasped, as if it were the final touch of absolute reality. “Yes, my dear, he really is going to marry you,” the Frenchwoman promised softly. “He really is.” Marianna was quiet but smiled.

  The train hooked and the crowning veil set, Percy stared in the mirror and her eyes watered. She had applied just the faintest hint of rouge to her cheeks and lips, and had lined her white eyelids with the thinnest grey, which caused the ice blue slivers of her irises to jump forth. Feeling beautiful, she plucked her phoenix pendant out to hang not against her skin but proudly in the open, a mark of the fate-forged bond of long ago.

  The journey across the Athens courtyard was a spectacle of whispers and gaping mouths. Josephine and Marianna looked like proud family, escorting her. Percy could hear faint strains of a stringed instrument from inside the chapel, and fainter still, the ghostly trace of what she could only liken to an angelic choir.

  If The Guard wondered why none of the harmless, gamesome spirits of Athens had wafted into the chapel, it was because they were all clustered at the outside door, awaiting the bride. A living gentleman stood among them, a handsome youth with wild, curly hair and a dimpled grin, blissfully unaware of the floating dead nearby.

  “Oh, Percy, you are incredible!” said Edward Page, the young lad smitten with Marianna, who slid her arm onto his with unconscious ease. “Congratulations! As surprising as this is, congratulations on this most auspicious day!”

  “Go on, you two.” As Percy stepped away from view, Josephine ushered the young couple through the doors. Marianna turned to blow her friend a kiss, and they shared a familiar giggle—the last of their maidenhood.

  There was a box at the door, and Josephine opened it to place a cluster of perfect white lilies wrapped in blue satin in Percy’s trembling hands. Percy smiled at the bouquet, and at the misty-eyed Josephine, before returning her attention to the dead who’d come to see her wed.

  “Leave this to us, Percy,” said the boy with the soft brogue who usually kept to the main foyer chandelier. “We know you’ve no father to give you away, and so we wish to walk you down the aisle.”

  “Thank you all,” Percy murmured, her eyes glimmering with tears. “That’s very kind of you.” She turned to Josephine. “You may go on, thank you. The spirits wish to present me.” The Frenchwoman sighed in appreciation and slipped into the chapel.

  The spirits encircled Percy. While she felt the air around her grow freezing, she was lost in the excitement on their faces. Their entire spectral strength amassed, they were just able to manipulate the door. Percy came in full view, and the crowd was rendered breathless. A ghostly radiant goddess, she moved forward, floating in loving and spectral procession to the haunting sound of Jane’s strings.

  Percy and Alexi were stunned by the sight of each other, overwhelmed by the magnetism that seized their hearts. He stood awaiting her at the base of the altar, and energy surged between them as they took hands. Percy took her place opposite him and, to her, the rest of the chapel disappeared.

  They did not hear Michael’s Bible verses; they heard only the beat of each other’s hearts. They responded to the liturgy and made their vows, but it was as if their lips had not moved; they were each drowning deliriously in the sea of the other. They exchanged simple silver bands, and the gentle pressure of sliding rings onto each other’s fingers was an inimitable delight.

  When pronounced man and wife, Alexi lifted the veil to kiss her and she fell against him. Their kiss was of such fusion that they felt the ground tremble. The slight sound of angels grew into a bursting chorus. Rising from the candles and met by an aura of light from their bodies, white flame began to pool, merge and expand into a hazy, egglike form that grew as their kiss sustained. As it ended, the form burst into a great, bird-shaped sun. The avian form threw open expansive wings, and a wave of heat and deafening music blew through the chapel.

  The Guard cried out. A phoenix bathed in light, rising from the indomitable love within two mortal hearts—this was raw, divine power, their purpose and origin made manifest. Marianna and Edward squealed. Mina Wilberforce’s hands went to her face. Alexandra gaped, tears streaming down her cheeks. Many of the attendant ghosts breathed sighs and vanished, at last sent to their rest.

  Elijah turned to Marianna, Edward and Mina. He pointed a finger toward each set of eyes. “As beautiful as this is,” he began nonchalantly, “I’m terribly sorry, we’ll have to pretend that never happened.” Their gazes clouded, and soon only selective memories of a more mundane nature remained.

  When Withersby turned his fingers in the direction of Alexandra, Alexi stopped him. “No, Elijah. Let my sister keep this sight.”

  Alexandra eyed her brother with deepening wonder. “Thank you,” she murmured desperately.

  “Are we married now?” Percy breathed, amazed by the blue-coloured flame wreathing her beloved’s eyes and her own. A thin line of the same traced The Guard’s hearts, each to the other, a cord of light binding them fast. The phoenix pendant was a tiny sun around Percy’s neck.

  “By the gods themselves, it would seem,” Alexi replied.

  The couple walked down the aisle, arm in arm, unable to take their eyes from each other. Jane broke into a jig, and the assembled company bounced out of the chapel, Rebecca taking care to wheel Alexandra to safety as everyone embraced. Jane was lost to her music, a new s
pirit floating behind her. Aodhan’s hard, deeply masculine features wore affection, and his ghostly hand hovered just above her shoulder. Beside him floated Beatrice Tipton.

  Beatrice’s expression was almost threatening. Her voice was kinder. “Go on, my lady,” she said to Percy. “Enjoy what you’ve worked so very long to attain. Enjoy your mortal love and a bit of celebration. There’s time soon enough for the rest. But please take care. Remember all I’ve said.”

  Percy swallowed and nodded. She turned to behold Alexi, who was ignorant of all but her. She delighted in his thirsty gaze before turning back to find Beatrice and Aodhan gone.

  Michael, unable to contain his overflowing heart, swept Rebecca into a jig. She at first refused, but it was impossible to deny his joy for long and so she acquiesced with a chuckling sigh. It was Josephine’s giggle that alerted them all to the host of gawking professors and students eyeing first their dancing headmistress and second their most mysterious, brooding professor, clearly wedded to and infatuated with their strangest student. Rebecca simply laughed; there was nothing else to be done. Jane continued to play, relocating beside Alexandra, who from her wheelchair watched as if the world had been made far more beautiful.

  Alexi kissed Percy’s hands and moved to kneel at his sister’s side. “There is an ancient magic within us, Alexandra. I’ve never wished to keep secrets from you—”

  She placed her hand on Alexi’s shoulder and shook her head. “Thank you for what you allowed me to see. Oh, Percy. Goodness—Mrs. Rychman.” Alexandra beamed as Percy knelt at her feet in a rustling pool of blue satin. “You look incredible. The both of you…Alexi, what on earth made you finally allow someone close?”

  Alexi tucked Percy’s arm in his. “There was no way around this woman’s radiance. Now, we must be off. You shall dine at our estate soon. Michael has instructions to escort you home.”

  “Good, then, Brother. Thank you.”

  A huge smile approached, a white crescent against brown skin, and Percy jumped up to welcome Mina. Her friend reached out to take her ivory hand in a darker one, murmuring, “Congratulations, Mrs. Rychman. I never doubted your husband’s mind. What I doubted was that he could ever smile. How dear it is that you are the one to unearth such a miracle. Come find me after your honeymoon, I’ll give you presents—books!”