The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1)

by Archer, CJ

  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."

  George swiped at his sweaty brow and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "He's already dead."

  I stared at him in horror. "He may not be alive but he exists. He has thoughts and feelings just as if he were alive. If the demon extracts his soul he'll be nothing."

  He shook his head. "There must be another way."

  Jacob shouted again. Then he became silent. His mouth fell open in an empty scream and even in the darkness I could see him writhing on the ground, the demon's hand buried inside his chest. Everything around me went still. My mind cleared. I felt like I was floating in a bubble, not quite part of the world anymore but still able to see it, feel it. I had the most startling, amazing clarity all of a sudden.

  I knew what I had to do.

  I grabbed the pistol, aimed and fired. Finch fell down. Dead.

  "Jesus," George muttered. He crossed himself.

  The demon sat back on its haunches and looked around, its hand still buried in Jacob's chest. Jacob kicked out, toppling the demon. He got to his feet but his shoulders sagged. He rubbed his chest.

  "The amulet," he rasped as the demon righted itself. "Hurry."

  I ran to Finch's body and rummaged through his pockets, trying to concentrate on my task and not look at the blood pooling around him. I pulled out a few coins but nothing else. I rolled the body over and tucked my hand inside his shirt. My fingers touched sticky, warm blood and the cool metal of the amulet. The brass felt heavy and solid, reassuring.

  "Anytime soon," Jacob said then grunted as the demon slammed its fist into his stomach. He doubled over, clutching his middle.

  I pulled the amulet out but didn't remove it from Finch's neck. There was no time. I began to chant the curse Celia had taught me. As if I'd struck it, the demon stopped fighting. A strangled growl bubbled up from its throat. Then it ran towards me.

  I paused.

  "Don't stop!" Jacob shouted.

  The demon kept running, straight at me. I could just make out the dark swirls of shadow where it should have had a face. It still wore the servant's livery but the clothes were ripped, the torn fabric flapping uselessly. I kept chanting.

  The demon ran right past me and I groaned in frustration. If it got away the curse wouldn't work. It needed to be close. How close, I didn't know.

  Jacob swore and began to run but he was either in pain or exhausted and couldn't catch it.

  The demon passed George and I just hoped he would shout a warning to his driver to get out of the beast's way. He didn't. He dove at the creature and together they tumbled to the ground. George grunted a loud oomph as his shoulder connected with the stones.

  I uttered the rest of the curse and prayed I had it right, prayed the demon was near enough for it to be effective.

  A strong breeze whipped at my skirts and monetarily separated the thin curtain of fog only for it to re-settle around us when the wind died. George sat up, blinked. His glasses had come off and his eyes were huge. He was alone.

  "Is it gone?" I asked.

  Jacob came up beside me. "Yes." He looked worse than the last time he'd fought the demon but again his clothing quickly returned to the way it had been before and his skin healed, erasing all evidence of the fight. He grasped my shoulders and turned me to face him. "Are you all right, Emily?" He looked down at me with an intensity I was now used to.

  I nodded. "You?"

  "Of course." He let me go and strolled over to George, still sitting on the ground. He looked dazed, the poor thing. I suppose reading about demons is quite different to encountering one.

  Jacob searched the immediate vicinity then found what he was looking for—George's hat and glasses. He held them out. George stared for a moment then accepted them.

  "Thank you," he said. He stood and brushed himself off then slapped his hat on his head. "Shall we go?"

  "Gladly." I glanced back at Finch's body. "What shall we do about him?" I didn't want to leave him there for the rats to eat. Ugh.

  "I'll have my butler contact the police when I get home," George said. "They'll take care of it."

  "Good idea but have him do it anonymously," I said. "None of this is your fault and there's no need for you to become involved any more than you are."

  "You'll get no argument from me," he said on a heavy sigh.

  The three of us made our way back down the lane to the carriage. The driver still sat on the box, the pistol in his hand. He looked immensely relieved that his master was alive. No doubt Mrs. Culvert would have dismissed him if George had wound up dead from this adventure. He hopped lightly down to the ground and opened the door.

  George took my hand to help me in but I removed it and turned to Jacob.

  He wasn't there.

  The most awful feeling of dread swamped me. The demon was banished which meant Jacob had finished his assignment. There was no need for him to see me anymore.

  It might even have led to his finally being able to cross over.

  No, Jacob, please. Not yet. Don't leave me.

  Somehow I didn't cry as I climbed into the carriage. It was as if my body couldn't make any tears. It was too empty. It felt like I'd just lost a part of myself. A big part. The best part. The most vital part.

  And I hadn't even said goodbye.

  CHAPTER 15

  I managed to sneak back into the house and return to bed without waking Celia or Lucy. Already the sky was turning gray as dawn crept up on London with its usual stealth. I lay in bed for what felt like an eternity before my room finally lightened. I spent every single one of those minutes thinking. Waiting. Hoping Jacob would do his old trick of suddenly appearing in my bedroom.

  And then he did.

  "Jacob! Thank goodness." I tumbled out of bed and threw myself at him, not caring how I looked or what he thought of my unladylike display. I was just so blissfully happy to see him.

  He caught me and circled his arms around my waist, holding me tight as if he would never let me go. The hard muscles in his shoulders and chest shifted, flexed. Then loosened. He pushed me away and held me at arms' length.

  "He was in bed."

  It was not what I'd expected him to say. Not even close. "Who? Finch?"

  His hands dropped to his sides, severing all touch entirely. "No, Blunt. When I arrived at the school last night he was asleep."

  My chest clenched. My mind reeled. This was not the conversation I wanted to have with him. I wanted to find out what happened now, would he leave, and what was troubling him. I wanted to know what was in store for us. Did we have a future?

  But those questions would ha
ve to wait. Jacob seemed keen to tell me something about Blunt so it must be important.

  "I, uh..." I gave my head a little shake to clear it. "It is a little strange now that you mention it. Surely he must have suspected we would be coming for him after what he witnessed at Belgrave Square. Unless he was very certain of Finch and the demon's victory."

  "Nevertheless, if I was him I'd have left London immediately and destroyed all evidence linking me to the demon."

  I twisted a strand of hair around my finger, thinking. It only made sense if... "What if it wasn't him at your parents' house?"

  He nodded but said nothing. He didn't seem surprised by my conclusion.

  "Who could it have been?" I asked.

  "I don't know. Are you sure you saw someone?" He shrugged. "The light was poor, you were afraid... Could it have been a spirit?"

  I sighed and brushed the end of my hair over my lips. Jacob's gaze followed it. "I suppose so. I don't know. Oh Jacob, what if we're wrong? What if Blunt wasn't to blame?"

  He licked his lips and lifted his gaze to my eyes. "Don't think it, Emily. We were right. He confessed and all evidence points to his involvement. He's guilty. But..."

  "But there might have been someone else," I finished for him. "Someone with a deeper involvement."

  He nodded. "I think Blunt orchestrated the thefts, using Finch and the demon. He targeted the servants and the houses, gathered the information, but I don't think it was his idea. He doesn't seem cunning enough to me."

  "He doesn't seem to want to get his hands dirty where the supernatural is concerned. That explains why he got Finch to control the demon. But if there was another involved, then who was it?"

  He shrugged. "With Finch dead and Blunt gone, we won't learn the answer to that." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin. "And I've been wondering about one other thing."

  "What?"

  "My family was home when the demon entered the house. For the first theft, the house was almost empty. If I was organizing a burglary, I would ensure no one was home first, especially the family themselves."