Immortal with a Kiss

by Jacqueline Lepore

  She threw him a caustic look, one I would not have guessed the pleasant woman could manifest, then glanced at me. I suppose she was thinking of propriety. The dear woman was attempting to serve as chaperone.

  “My cousin and I are quite thirsty,” Sebastian insisted, stressing the relation.

  “Very well,” she muttered, and walked off in a huff.

  “That got rid of her,” Sebastian said under his breath.

  “You were being beastly,” I countered.

  “Hush, now, Emma. When you see who is inside—”

  I cut him off with a nervous laugh. “What do you have in there, a three-headed beast?”

  I had never seen Sebastian as doleful as he was now. “No, darling. A ghost.”

  Chapter Eight

  The interior of the room was dimmed, the heavy woolen draperies drawn against the afternoon light so that I felt like I was entering a cave. The air was pungent, smelling of an apothecary, and chilled with a cold that somehow seemed deeper, thicker, than the air outside.

  The grate in the fireplace was dark, a sullen pile of barely smoking ash. Sebastian muttered a curse and hurried past me to fix the fire. I looked about, seeing nothing but shadows crowding the room, but I heard a rustle to my left and was shocked to see someone stirring on the bed.

  “I told you not to close the curtains,” Sebastian said as he stoked the embers to life and fed the fire from a supply of faggots piled on the hearth. “I’ve brought Emma.” To me, he said, “Open the drape. Let some light in here.”

  I went to the window and did as he commanded. When I turned to the bed, I peered curiously at the person tangled in the bedclothes. I had no expectation, and yet when I recognized the figure, I actually stumbled back a step, my shock was so great. It was Father Luke.

  He was so changed! Had I seen him on the street, I would have taken him for a beggar. Except perhaps for his eyes. How they blazed, hollowed out and haunted—there I saw my friend, the priest who had nearly sacrificed himself to aid us in Avebury.

  When he spoke, the sound was that of sand against rusted metal. “Let in the light, Emma. Isn’t that why you’ve come? Sebastian brought you to send me to the light, having dragged me like a screaming demon out of the dark.”

  He paused. I tried to say something, but I could not find words. Sebastian had been right; this was a ghost.

  He nodded, as if he had expected as much, although I could see it pained him to see my reaction. “I am a wretch, I know. You should go. Suffer me no more humiliations.”

  “You would not be so much a fright if you would eat,” Sebastian said simply, whipping off his green cape with a flourish. He might have been chiding a child for complaining of a stomachache after consuming too many sweets.

  Father Luke smiled ever so slightly. “You see Sebastian here is my good friend, and my chief tormentor.” Easing his head back among the crushed pillows, he allowed the smile to deepen. “Perhaps merely my just penance.”

  “Well, then, you should have behaved better,” Sebastian said without rancor.

  I found my voice. “What is the matter with him? It is clear he is suffering. Should we call in a doctor?”

  Sebastian snorted but it was Father Luke who answered. “No doctor. Sebastian is doing the right thing. It is I who am the beast.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if to gird himself. “Sebastian, you have overreached yourself this time. This is no place for Mrs. Andrews.”

  I glanced to Sebastian. “Should I go?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “It is up to you. If you cannot bear it.”

  “It is not that.”

  “I want nothing from you,” Father Luke bellowed, suddenly surging up off the pillows, “except that you leave now.”

  “It is not a question of what you want,” Sebastian said, stepping forward to take the brunt of Father Luke’s rage, “but what you need.”

  “You should have left me where I was!” Father Luke croaked, his hoarse voice rising to the level of fast-moving thunder. “Why did you bring me here at all—for this, to show me to this woman and complete my devastation?”

  Sebastian hardly twitched an eyebrow. “You are feeling stronger, I see. Enough to bellow rudely at me. Ah, well, I suppose it is a good sign.”

  Father Luke’s lips peeled back from his teeth. They were still strong, white, shining out from his ashen face like a bay of lights along a granite wall. He was about to reply when some kind of pain or convulsion gripped him, and he stopped, his voice choking in his throat.

  I made a step to aid him only to be halted by Sebastian. “Leave him, Emma. It is the opium, or lack of it.”

  My God! I could have been tumbled by the strength of a kitten’s breath. Opium? Frozen on the spot, I could only gape at the paleness of the man, the skeletal remains of the robust, imposing picture he’d once made.

  Sebastian nodded. “I found him in an opium den in East London. Ah Sing was not too happy to lose his very good customer, and I nearly came to blows with the man.” To Father Luke, he said, more loudly, “Do you know what trouble you caused me?”

  “You should have left me there,” Father Luke gasped, shaking harder now. “You fool. You silly, stupid fool.” Another shudder wracked him and he tucked his chin in, rolling his back as if to brace for a great wave to break over him.

  “Oh, bother, he is going into a seizure.” Sebastian sprinted forward, grabbing the priest around the shoulders and holding tight.

  “What should I do?” I cried.

  “Just—see to the fire for me. There is nothing we can do to stave it off. It is the disease, it must run the course.”

  Father Luke struggled to speak. “Please, make her go. This is no place—”

  “There is no time. Ah, damn, keep your back turned, Emma.”

  “I’ll wait out in the hallway—”

  “Just stay, damn it all, and get the fire going strong!” Sebastian bit out as he grappled with the priest. Under the grinding devastation of his opium hunger, and in the wake of the terrible things that drug had done to his body, Father Luke was much weakened, but still muscled and broad in the shoulders with legs like tree trunks and a neck the same. He had been a warrior priest once, trained both spiritually and physically to do battle. Sebastian was a wisp next to him, but he held on tightly to his patient. Father Luke’s grip had to be crushing, his clammy body sour with the hours spent despondent on the bed, but Sebastian never flinched.

  I backed into the corner, the fire forgotten. A knock at the door sent me jumping.

  “The wine,” Sebastian ground out roughly. “It’s Mrs. Danby. Do not let her in.”

  I nodded jerkily and scrambled to the door before the innkeeper grew impatient. I opened it, only wide enough to peek out at Mrs. Danby.

  “That room needs a good airing,” she told me, trying to peer around me as I plucked the tray from her arms.

  I positioned myself to block her view into the room. I had no doubt even her kind nature would be tried at the sight of the convulsing invalid on the bed in the arms of another man. “Indeed. But if you would be patient with my friends a while longer, it would be so helpful.”

  Her gaze was concerned. “There’s sickness in there? I am used to tending the sick, you know dear.”

  “How kind of you to offer, but we are fine for now.” I stepped back quickly and shut the door, hoping she would forgive my rudeness. My arms cramped under the heavy weight of the tray and I hurried to lay it down. She had brought us wine and a pile of biscuits, as requested, as well as an assortment of sandwiches.

  “And you are going to eat,” Sebastian said crossly to the now spiritless priest, all gentleness gone.

  “Has it passed?” I asked anxiously.

  He was grim as he straightened. “For now. Lud, look at me.” He pulled his waistcoat smartly into place and began to smooth the expensive fabric.

  I skirted around him, intent on the figure lying on the bed. Father Luke did not move. I took one of the sandwiches and tore off a piece.
“Take it,” I said to Father Luke. “Or Sebastian will have your hide.”

  His face was parchment-white, glistening with sweat. He only ignored me for a moment before relenting, taking the shred of food from my hands and putting it into his mouth.

  While he chewed, I grabbed the basin of water and wet a cloth, then sat on the edge of the bed and began to sponge off the priest’s face and neck.

  “You do not have to show me compassion,” he murmured. “I brought this upon myself.”

  “Hush.” I paused to hand him another fragment of the sandwich. His great chin squared stubbornly in refusal.

  “I lost faith,” he whispered, still not meeting my eye.

  “Yes. I remember.”

  He turned from me and shortly fell into a restless sleep. I remained beside him for a time, partially as an act of kindness and partially to give myself time to steady my emotions.

  Sebastian handed me a cup of wine when I rose. We crept softly to the other end of the room where we might whisper without disturbing the sleeping priest.

  “How did you find him?” I asked.

  Sebastian frowned at his reflection in a pier glass on the wall. “He came to me in Town for money. Just came to the townhouse one night. I was carousing, as you might imagine, and rather indecorously. Imagine my surprise to find a priest in my hallway. I thought at first he’d come to save my soul. I offered him some brandy—as a jest, mind you—and he accepted. Then I saw how bad off he was, and I was sorry for the fellow. I thought him ill. Stupid of me, but how was I to suspect? I gave him some coins and sent him on his way, with promises to meet for tea or coffee or ale or something or other. Neither one of us meant it and I barely thought of afterward.”

  “He must have shown up again?”

  He nodded. “And that time, I knew it was not ague that ailed him. His shaking hands, his sweating—he was nearly as bad as you see now. He begged money from me again, and when I suggested he go to a hospital instead, he grew agitated. I admit, it frightened me that he would become violent. You know, he is a formidably large man.”

  “He is indeed,” I agreed.

  “Quite right. So I gave him all the money I had and hoped he would leave me. He did, with such shame and remorse on his face that I knew—at once, I knew he was eating opium. That desperate look . . . there is no mistaking it. But he was gone, you see, and I was glad to be rid of him, glad he had not killed me.”

  Sebastian sighed, fussing with his cravat. Glancing at me, he appeared sheepish. “Then my conscience got me. Yes, indeed—a conscience. It appears I am actually in possession of one. Who knew? And it began to assert itself most inconveniently and so I set out to find him, which did not prove easy. The Ah Sings of this world like their customers without complications. They have men to deal with complications. Large men with disagreeable temperaments. Who can snap a delicate neck like mine with a flick of a wrist.” He shuddered.

  “So what did you do?”

  Sebastian smirked. “I hired larger men,” he said. “One of the advantages of frequenting the underworld, and being free with my coin as I am, is that you make the most unlikely of friends.”

  “Then you managed to take him safely away from the opium den?”

  “Three times, in fact. He kept escaping. Terribly determined, he is. Terrorized my staff and I almost lost my housekeeper over the whole affair. But even that old tartar couldn’t abandon the wretch.” Sebastian jerked his head toward the bed. “It was she who made me go after him again that last time. She told me to go into that disgusting, vile place once more, this time without the brawny fellows. And thus the priest would be forced to come to my rescue. She insisted the man would never allow harm to come to me after all I’d done for him.”

  I nodded. “She knew his heart was still good and sound.”

  His head whipped round and he snorted. “Heavens, no. She was quite wrong, as it turned out. The cur lay there insensate while I was mauled.”

  I gasped. “What? Then tell me at last, Sebastian, how the devil you got that man all the way up here in Cumbria and lying on that bed.”

  He lifted a boyishly lean shoulder. “I barely made it out of there with my life, and when I stumbled into my townhouse, I was just about to take a stick to Mrs. Oxney when he arrived at my door. A deplorably sloppy scene ensued in which he actually berated me for endangering my life for him. Imagine! Well, I tried to cast him out, as I had had my fill of the entire matter, but he was insistent on getting me to agree never to return to Ah Sing’s establishment, which of course I would not.”

  “Of course,” I agreed mildly.

  “He actually manhandled me! Tore my best surcoat, the ham-fisted oaf. You would think all of that opium would have made him weak. Then I informed him he would soon be quit of me, at least for a while, as I was leaving that very night to travel here to see you, and he suddenly changed at the mention of your name. He became calm and the next thing I knew, he had thrust himself in my carriage and would not budge when I ordered him out. He said nothing, only that he was determined to come along, and as I had no hope of moving him, I let him. The journey was grueling for him, as you might imagine.”

  I took a moment to digest this. “What do you plan to do with him?”

  “Get him off the drug. After that, I have not given a thought.” His head jerked toward me. “I do not expect you to help nurse him. That is not why I brought him with me. I simply did not have another place for him.”

  I glanced at the bed. The priest slept. Where was the proper place for a fallen priest? I wondered. And what could I do besides offer kindness and comfort?

  “Have you heard from him?” Sebastian asked me. I did not need to ask to whom he referred. I knew he meant Valerian. I did not look at him when I shook my head.

  He muttered something softly, perhaps not meant for my ears. I pretended I had not heard, but I silently agreed with him. For his long absence and incomprehensible silence these past months, Valerian Fox was a bloody bastard.

  Darkness had fallen when I returned to Blackbriar. I was exhausted, my mind weighted with the day’s revelation, and had thoughts only of finding my bed. The sixth form girls had returned, I noted as I passed the dining hall, seeing they were seated awaiting their supper. My stomach had been sated quite sublimely by Mrs. Danby’s meat pies and dessert custard, so I did not join the others for supper but proceeded toward stairs, seeking the solitude of my room to mull over the day’s disturbing events.

  “Emma!” Eloise Boniface called to me. She must have seen me pass by the dining room and had rushed out to meet me in the hall. “I was looking for you all day. I hope it was all right to send that peculiar gentleman out to the garden to see you. He said he was a relative, but when I could not find you this afternoon, I grew worried.”

  “Oh, no, it was fine. Sebastian is my cousin by marriage, and a dear friend. I went into the village with him. I am just getting back right now.”

  She was obviously relieved. “I am so glad. Oh, and if you’ve a moment, I have been wanting to talk to you regarding what you asked me about the other day. I believe I have recollected something about your mother. Actually, once I remembered, I can’t imagine how I could have forgotten.”

  It was as if an electrical charge went through me. “That is wonderful!” I exclaimed, surging forward in excitement. “Please tell me. I am so anxious to learn anything I can about her.”

  “Come in to dinner and sit with me while I finish my meal and I will tell you about it. It was a terrible accident, you see. It was something of a scandal at the time, with what eventually happened with Alistair.”

  She was leading me into the dining room when a shadow passed, and I caught a vague movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look more closely at it and saw it was the floating smudge of soiled air I normally associated with the little witches. It darted across the ceiling, as a streamer might unfurl behind someone running. My nostrils flared, detecting an acrid, sulfurous smell that clenched my full stomach
in a terrible cramp.

  If I had not seen the dark mark, I would not have looked in the shadows at the end of the hallway. But I did and saw Vanessa there, stealing furtively and silently away from the dining room. She clearly did not want to be noticed.

  Eloise had seen nothing, neither the smudge, of course, nor the fleeing student. I was in a dilemma. I wanted desperately to hear what Eloise had to tell me of my mother, but I had to follow Vanessa who was obviously up to something.

  “I am so very sorry, but this is an inconvenient time. I am eager to hear your recollection, but perhaps another time?”

  Blinking in surprise, Eloise stammered, “W-why . . . of course. I suppose you are tired.”

  I was sorry, for she seemed disappointed, and I was anxious to speak with her, but my muscles twitched to be underway lest Vanessa get too much of a head start. “Yes, very. Would you excuse me?”

  I broke away and headed down the hallway as if to take the stairs that led up to the teachers’ quarters. Once I saw Mrs. Boniface had returned to the dining hall, I reversed my direction, going back to where I had last seen Vanessa, and slipped into the opposite hallway.

  I spied her at once. The long, willowy form threaded gracefully through light and shadow of the dimly lit corridor leading to the back of the house. When she reached the kitchens, she had no trouble stealing around a distracted cook to gain the back door. Without anyone else but me to notice, she opened it just enough to dart outside.

  Cook looked up when I passed through her domain. She nodded grimly at my smile, saying nothing as I went out the door to the kitchen gardens. I paused, scanning the warren of walled gardens in which cook oversaw the vegetable rows and thatches of herbs.

  Denuded apple trees stood in rows to my left. They appeared like ghastly regiments of the dead, I observed with a shiver. Against the starlit sky, their graceless branches were flung in wild, desperate angles. I heard nothing for a moment, then the faint sound of whispers beckoned me deeper into the orchard.