Autumn

by Lisa Ann Brown

  “Take that with you,” she said.

  Eli offered up one of his slow as honey, sweetly dominant smiles.

  “And if I mean to stay?” he questioned softly, gazing deeply into Arabel’s widening blue eyes.

  Arabel felt her heart flip over in her chest. Did he mean it? she wondered excitedly. Would he stay with her tonight? Arabel’s heart raced. Would she let him?

  Eli leaned in and his persuasive lips found Arabel’s skittish pulse. He kissed her hand, softly, caressing her fingers lightly; his casual tone belying the intensity of his desire.

  “I love you,” he said simply.

  Arabel stared at Eli, her heart leaping and her mind going completely blank. For all of the times she’d asked Eli to stay with her and he’d refused, she found herself now taken aback and hesitant when his position changed to reflect her wishes.

  “I almost lost you,” Eli continued, his tone soft and easy but resolute with conviction, “and I realize now there’s no time for hesitation when everything I need and want and desire is right in front of me. I want to be with you. We are two halves of one glorious whole and I couldn’t love you more, Arabel Spade. I need you and I love you and I can no longer sleep for the madness of wanting you.” Eli dotted each statement with a kiss to Arabel’s dainty white wrist.

  Eli closed his eyes briefly, waiting for her decision, and Arabel saw the strength of his love for her pouring out through him in great, golden waves of shimmering light.

  Arabel leaned in toward Eli and kissed his shuttered eyelids.

  There was no actual choice to be made, Arabel thought now, and the realization made her giddy and excited and delighted, all at the same time. The decision had been made lifetimes ago, she realized; they were just re-negotiating the terms.

  “Stay with me,” she said.

  Arabel smiled as Eli opened his eyes and gazed deeply at her. The fire crackled and spat out a slight shower of sparks, mirroring the heated exchange in the room. The expectant tension was sublime and Arabel drank fully of the energy. Inside of her head, Arabel heard the primal beat of the Gypsy drums and in her veins she felt the seductive and age-old call of female to male.

  Arabel offered her hand to Eli. He took it and their fingers laced easily together. Arabel saw the colours; they danced and spun all around her and she was alert to the glowing excitement they proffered. Arabel saw that Morna was not in the kitchen after all but had stationed herself in the hallway by the stairs. As they passed her on their way up to Arabel’s bedroom, Arabel summoned her most grown-up, mistress of the house demeanour.

  “I am retiring for the evening, Morna and I will see you in the morning.” Arabel spoke decisively, struggling to keep both nerves and laughter out of her voice.

  Morna’s face was a mask of shocked pleasure and impudence and she answered Arabel in the same manner.

  “I shall wish you both a good night, then, missy,” Morna replied, hiding her upturned mouth, and heartily emphasizing the word ‘both’.

  Arabel and Eli brushed past Morna without further comment and continued up the long stairwell. When they reached Arabel’s bedroom they entered and shut the door firmly behind them.

  A cheerful fire lit the room and chased away the autumn chill. The windows were carefully shuttered and Arabel pulled the curtains across as well. She lit a long tapered candle by her bedside and then turned to Eli, feeling suddenly gauche and nervous. She did not know what to expect.

  Eli was sitting on Arabel’s bed. Lounging, more aptly. He reclined in a half position, watching her with his engaging eyes. He lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “You set the course,” he assured her, sensing her vulnerability, and sharply feeling his own.

  Arabel moved toward him and sat on the bed gingerly. Her slight weight did not disturb the bed whatsoever. She tucked her feet under herself and stared into Eli’s loving eyes.

  “It’s always been you,” she said slowly. “Right from the start, it was you.”

  Eli didn’t reply. He waited for Arabel to continue, knowing instinctively she had more to say.

  “I felt you before I met you, as an energy; I know I did. And I used to wonder why I felt that energy – you – and I wondered if I would ever know what it was.”

  Arabel smiled as her eyes pooled in sudden emotion. “I have waited lifetimes for you.”

  Eli pulled Arabel to him and covered her body with his as his lips sought to reassure her and his arms sought to warm her. The moment heated instantly, intensified, and Arabel felt herself drifting away on a wave of pleasure, but then suddenly, a loud banging downstairs interrupted their embrace. Loud voices followed but Arabel could not discern what words were being spoken.

  Hastily Arabel and Eli broke apart and Arabel rushed to the door, Eli close behind her. Arabel ran down the stairs and followed the noise; she recognized one of the voices as belonging to Morna. The commotion was coming from the front hall so Arabel quickly made her way there.

  Morna was visibly upset and standing with two of Chief Constable Bartlin’s officers.

  “What is it?” Arabel queried anxiously. “What has happened?”

  Morna turned to Arabel with tears in her eyes and she clutched at Arabel’s arm fearfully.

  “They’ve found her, miss! Your granny, Miss Amelia!”

  “Where is she? Is she alright?”

  One of the officers, a tall, burly man with black hair answered solemnly.

  “She was found outside of the Priory, miss; she is most unwell. The doctor is looking her over now and will likely bring her home if he clears her as fit to travel.”

  “You are most welcome to come with us and see her now, if you’d like, Miss Spade,” the other officer broke in.

  “Where is she? Is the doctor with her at the Priory?” Arabel wanted to know.

  The first officer nodded. “Yes, she’s at the Priory.”

  Arabel turned to Eli. “We must go straight away,” she said and Eli nodded.

  Morna quickly brought Arabel and Eli their outerwear and the maid twisted her hands together nervously.

  “Oh, poor Miss Amelia!” she wailed.

  The officers did not elaborate on the finding of Amelia Bodean and Arabel could not bring herself to speculate as to what state she might find her grandmother in. Arabel felt tendrils of fear winding their way throughout her system and she searched in her mind for a link to her grandmother. Arabel felt, faintly, a pulse, a sigh, a sad whisper of something.

  And then nothing.

  Arabel and Eli rode with the officers in their efficient carriage to the Priory. Ira flew staunchly overhead and Arabel was glad of the bird’s presence. The sun had set and an inky blackness took its place. The air was cold and Arabel felt certain it would snow. She glanced at Eli; his eyes were hooded and Arabel knew by the grim set of his jaw that he was worried at what they might find. Arabel took hold of Eli’s hand and was reassured by his strong fingers linking with hers in solidarity. Eli squeezed Arabel’s hand and she smiled tremulously at him.

  The officers seemed disinclined to offer up further information and Arabel realized if she wanted details, she was going to have to ask for them. She wondered at the officer’s secrecy and the worry gnawed at her with a sharp, unrelenting bite.

  “Can you tell me, sir,” Arabel directed her inquiry to the first officer, “what my grandmother was doing at the Priory? She has been missing for days!”

  “Can’t rightly say, miss,” the first officer replied. “Mrs. Johnston’s not been coherent and I reckon the doctor gave her something for the pain.”

  “For the pain?” Arabel repeated blankly. “What sort of pain is she in?”

  The second officer answered her with an apologetic look. “She’s been hurt mightily, Miss Spade. Multiple stab wounds.”

  Arabel’s eyes filled with incredulous tears as the grief and shock of his response sunk in.

  “Stab wounds?” Arabel turned to Eli, her eyes swimming with emotion. “Stab wounds?” she repeated.
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  “Do you know what happened?” Eli asked quietly, placing his arm squarely around Arabel’s shoulders. He was disconcerted, although not surprised, to feel Arabel shaking slightly.

  The officers shook their heads. “No witnesses, no arrests. A salesgirl found them when she was on her way home.”

  Arabel latched onto one word. “Them?” she asked quickly. “Who was found with her?”

  “We haven’t identified her, miss.”

  “Why not?” Arabel asked the question but realized as she did that she dreaded the response. She knew, surely, it couldn’t be welcome news.

  The two officers exchanged glances. The first one finally answered after a short, tense pause.

  “She’s deceased, miss. No identification.” The officer’s eyes rested on Eli momentarily. “Looks to be a Gypsy though so the Chief is calling in a representative to identify the body.”

  Arabel felt a cold sweat break out upon her skin. Was the dead woman Paloma Porchetto?

  The Priory stood in the moonlight, eerie, despite the diverse crowds of people swarming the area and the multitude of officers Chief Constable Bartlin and his cohort, Mayor Aldritch, had brought with them. Arabel noted dully that Ira had flown to the top of the Great Torch, and from there, the bird surveyed the chaos and would wait for her. Arabel and Eli were guided away from the masses to the interior of the Priory, which was brightly lit with candles and torches and warm from the many large stone fireplaces.

  Their steps echoed on the marble floor and Arabel felt colder by the second. Under her cape she began to shiver. Eli rubbed her arms gently, to warm her, but it did not help. The chill seemed to be coming from outside of Arabel and being rendered warm again seemed an impossible task. They crossed by the large flower store Arabel loved to visit and the tea and scone parlour where she’d spent many an hour gossiping with Shelaine. These sights and memories did not bring any comfort to Arabel however; her steps were wooden as she mentally prepared herself for the spectacle of her injured grandmother.

  But nothing could have prepared her for the image which greeted her eyes.

  Arabel gasped in horror as she caught sight of Amelia Bodean as she lay upon a pallet, ashen faced, still as death; Amelia Bodean had been most gruesomely attacked. Her face was covered in great, gaping gashes, her gown had been ripped across and shredded and she was covered in wounds. Blood was everywhere, soaking through the material of her grandmother’s gown in a heady spread and already doing the same with the sturdy blankets which covered her lifeless-looking body.

  Arabel uttered a short, sharp cry of horror and ran to her grandmother’s side. She sank to her knees beside the pallet and she clutched at Amelia Bodean’s hand, noting the coldness of it as she felt her own chill intensify in reaction.

  Arabel knew immediately that Amelia Bodean was going to die.

  Tears streamed down Arabel’s face and she was scarcely aware of the presence of Eli beside her or of anyone else in the room. Her tears fell on her grandmother’s hand where they mingled with her blood and Arabel’s head fell forward in grief.

  Regret was swirling through her; regret she hadn’t found more compassion when it could have made a difference, and that now, she’d have no such opportunity to let her grandmother know how much she loved her. Because love Amelia Bodean she did. Arabel felt the weight of it now. Her grief was silent and all-encompassing.

  The doctor, a stout man in a double breasted waist-coat rushed toward Arabel.

  “Arabel Spade?” he asked and Arabel nodded.

  “These wounds are not human made,” the doctor said hurriedly, without bothering to introduce himself.

  Arabel glanced at him in surprise, shocked out of her regretful reverie.

  “Not human made?” she echoed. “Whatsoever do you mean, doctor?”

  The doctor glanced around, as if he did not desire his words to be overheard by a great many people. He leaned in closer to Arabel and Eli. He gestured toward Amelia Bodean.

  “The gashes on her arms are clean and disinfected. That sort of cleanliness only comes with magical attacks. Her entire body is similar. It’s as if the very air did this to her! The Gypsy woman, too, sustained identical wounds. There’s no human component directly, or physically, involved.” The doctor ended his short speech on a wondrous note, as if his mind was bending at the sheer level of mastery this brand of tortured magic would require.

  “Is she in pain?” Eli asked quickly. “Is it likely she’ll regain consciousness?”

  The doctor shook his head. “No pain,” he said, “and I reckon she will not awaken.” He looked at Arabel and gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry, miss. Best say your goodbyes now, young lady.”

  Arabel did not reply. She was deep in her mind, searching telepathically for Amelia Bodean. The link had to be there, somewhere, she knew. Arabel massaged her grandmother’s hand lightly and brushed her hands lovingly over her blood-matted gray hair. As if from far way in the distance, Arabel heard Eli thanking the doctor and saw that the officers who had brought them to the Priory had returned to speak with them further.

  “We’ve identified your grandmother’s companion, miss,” the first officer spoke to Arabel. “The deceased has been identified as one Mrs. Paloma Porchetto, lately of Ravenswood Glen. Can you tell us what your grandmother’s involvement with this Gypsy woman could possibly be?”

  “I’m sorry, officer, I have no idea what my grandmother was doing with her,” Arabel replied wearily, shielding her eyes from their astute gaze and focusing again on finding a telepathic link to Amelia Bodean.

  “Can you tell me, miss, what enemies Mrs. Johnston might have had? Or anyone she’d recently been arguing with?”

  Besides me? Arabel thought sadly to herself.

  Out loud, she replied, “No, sir, I can think of no one with whom my grandmother was having a dispute.”

  The officers fell into a thoughtful and respectful silence as Amelia Bodean’s faint breathing became decidedly further shallow and it was obvious for all present to see she laboured for air.

  “Doctor!” Arabel cried out immediately.

  The doctor was a short distance away, speaking to some other officers but he ran over at once.

  “Has she worsened?” he asked and Arabel nodded anxiously.

  “I don’t want her to suffer,” she implored him.

  Arabel sent her grandmother a wave of love and asked for her forgiveness for their lack of understanding of one another. Arabel realized that she could not regret. Her heart was flooded with love for this woman who had raised her and Arabel kissed Amelia Bodean’s forehead in humble affection.

  “Thank you,” she murmured gratefully. “I love you, grandmother. I truly do, with all of my heart. I love you so much.” Arabel’s voice broke at the last of her sentence and she laid her head down beside her grandmother’s dying body.

  Blood began to saturate Arabel’s cloak and her hair but she paid no heed as Amelia Bodean drew her last breaths. One… Two…Three…

  And then, Amelia Bodean Johnston was gone, departed from the earthly realm and freed at last from her ravaged physical form.

  Directly in front of her, Arabel immediately saw five shimmering, vertical columns of invisible energy. It was her grandmother, she intuitively understood. The energy was a tangible presence in the room and it exuded ecstatic waves of invisible shimmers.

  Arabel felt the columns’ energy permeate her own energy field and fill her with delighted presence. Arabel felt the lightness and the surrender of Amelia Bodean’s tightly constricted and soured soul. Arabel felt fresh tears fall down her cheeks but these tears were symbols of gratitude that her grandmother was finally free of the sorrows and the curses that had haunted her.

  Peace had come for the dead. At least for one of them.

  Arabel glanced over as Chief Constable Bartlin approached her. To Arabel’s surprise, the Chief was accompanied by Xavier Cross. The Chief nodded to Arabel and mumbled a brief condolence and then got to the heart of the mat
ter.

  “I will require an interview with you, Miss Spade, before the night is through. Do not leave the Priory without speaking with me,” the Chief said quietly. He then strutted away to rejoin his men in interrogating whomever he decided looked suspicious.

  Xavier immediately came to Arabel’s side and knelt with her. He gave her a warm embrace and then did the same with Eli.

  “I am sorry for your loss, Arabel,” Xavier said solemnly as he watched the doctor draw the sheet up to cover Amelia Bodean’s corpse. “The Chief asked me to identify the body of Paloma,” Xavier explained. “I had not seen Paloma Porchetto except in memories, but I knew immediately it was she. “

  The Gypsy leader’s sky blue eyes were darkly clouded and troubled. “I believe her passing was quick, her suffering, minimal, your grandmother, as well.” Xavier paused. “That is something to be thankful for.”

  Arabel slowly rose to her feet, assisted by the strong hand of Eli, who rose with her. Xavier took hold of Arabel’s free arm.

  “May we speak privately?” he murmured into Arabel’s ear.

  “Of course,” Arabel replied instantly.

  As the morgue attendants lifted up the pallet holding the body of her grandmother, Arabel watched as it was carried away down the Priory’s vast hallway, where it would be taken to a service door and then transferred to a waiting carriage. From the Priory, the body would go to the morgue. Arabel shivered.

  “Goodbye, Grandmother,” Arabel whispered silently as the men bearing the pallet disappeared from view.

  Xavier guided Arabel and Eli down the hallway opposite where the body had gone and up a narrow flight of stairs. They came to a secluded room fairly high up which was painted with bright lime coloured walls and featured several tulip shaped chairs of rich, deep fuchsia. The room was a turret room and large window seats boasted a spectacular view of Crow’s Nest Pass.

  Arabel had never seen the room before but she gathered Eli had as he immediately went to a small oak cupboard and produced glasses and a jug of warm lemon water. Arabel sat at the window seat and waited for Xavier to speak. Her mind was blessedly blank, and she knew she was suffering shock.