by C. J. Archer
"Good morning, Mr. Myer," Sylvia said as we drew up behind him.
He leapt up and spun around, his face a picture of surprise and horror. "Come no further!" he snapped, his hand out to stop us.
"Why? What is it?"
"Go back to the house."
"Why?" I asked.
His gaze flittered about, not focusing on anything in particular. It was as if he were searching for an answer that we might believe. "They've been looking for you. Gladstone and Langley."
"Has something happened?" Sylvia asked.
He didn't answer and my uneasy feeling grew. "What are you hiding, Mr. Myer? What's in that hole?"
"Nothing!" he cried. "Go! Please, ladies."
Beside me, Cara stiffened. Her hand wrapped around mine and her gaze focused on a point just past Myer.
"What is it?" I asked her.
"A spirit," she whispered. "There, rising out of that pit."
Myer jerked around and stumbled. "Where? Where?" He fell into the soil heap and scrambled back from the hole.
Sylvia sidled closer to me on my other side. "Will it hurt us?" she whispered.
"It can't," Cara said.
"Is it a monk?" I asked her.
She shook her head. Her hand tightened around mine. "Not a monk or a king's soldier. His dress is quite modern. Indeed, the fashion is from about twenty years ago."
I pressed a hand to my throat where a lump had formed. I found it difficult to swallow. "The missing men," I whispered. "We found them."
"We found their bodies."
CHAPTER 13
"My name is Cara Moreau. I'm a spirit medium." Cara's voice sounded steady enough. It would seem her concerns had vanished now that she'd seen only a single spirit.
"Miss Moreau!" Myer appealed to her as he scampered to join us. His hairline was damp from sweat and he was filthy from head to toe. "Don't speak to him. You shouldn't converse with strangers."
"She is not a child," I told him hotly.
Cara seemed not to have heard him. She was listening to the spirit. She held up her hands after a moment and said, "Slow down. I don't understand."
As she listened again, I pulled away. I wanted to see inside the pit Myer had dug. When he realized where I was going, he grabbed my elbow.
"Stay here, Miss Charity."
"I agree," Sylvia said, a deep frown scoring her forehead. "Stay back where it's safe."
"It is perfectly safe," I told her. "The spirit could only harm me if he were possessing a live body." I wrenched myself free of Myer and cast him a withering glare. I was not afraid of him. "Don't touch me again."
"But Miss Charity!"
I ignored his protest and stepped up to the pit. Oh God. Bile surged and burned my throat, but I forced myself to continue looking. Lying at the bottom of the shallow pit were two skulls and a collection of other bones and decomposed rags. Hollow eyes stared back at me and fleshless mouths formed macabre grins, or perhaps they were grimaces. Or screams. One hand, placed near a skull, had curled into a claw. I was about to look away when the tip of something poking out of the soil caught my eye. I tugged on it and a small wooden tube pulled free. I tucked it up my tight jacket against my side then stepped away. If it was associated with the ruins in any way, Myer shouldn't find out about it.
"I stumbled across them," Myer said. He still stood with Cara and Sylvia, as if afraid to get any closer to the skeletons, or the spirit. He couldn't have seen the tube I removed. "I didn't know they were there. I was looking for something else and I found them."
"The spirit's name is Mr. Garrett," Cara said.
"One of the missing men," Sylvia whispered. "The other skeleton must belong to Mr. Owens."
Cara suddenly stepped back. "Please calm down, Mr. Garret," she said to the spirit. "I want to help you, but I don't understand what you're saying."
"Probably mad," Myer said. "Don't listen to him." It seemed he'd chosen to discredit the ghost rather than hypnotize us into walking away. The fear of Samuel's wrath and Langley's banishment must have been strong enough reasons for him to restrain himself.
"He's frightened." She cocked her head to the side and frowned. "How can a book kill you?"
Myer's head snapped up. "Book? Does he know where it is? Ask him."
"Mr. Myer, please," she begged. "You're frightening him. He's very agitated. You're not in any danger," she assured the spirit. "You're dead. Do you understand me, Mr. Garrett? You're here in spirit form. I want to help you cross over to the afterlife, but first you must tell me how you died."
Myer began to pace as Cara listened. "Well?" he prompted her after a mere few seconds had passed.
"He said the book didn't kill him, but the demon summoned from it did. No, that's not quite right. An incantation from the parchment was spoken out loud and a demon arrived. It killed him and Owens."
"Good lord," Sylvia said on a breath. "Lord Frakingham and Mrs. Gladstone failed to tell us they summoned a demon."
I could see why. If opening the portal had caused the deaths of these men, they would feel responsible. They and Myer must have agreed to keep the secret all these years to protect themselves and their reputations. If the bodies had been found at the time, the police would grow suspicious. None of the influential families would want the scrutiny that would inevitably have followed.
It would seem Myer, at least, hadn't known where the bodies were buried, or he wouldn't have unearthed them now.
"He wants us to close the portal," Cara said. "But it is closed, Mr. Garrett. Look around you. The abbey is at peace now. There are no demons here."
"Where is the parchment, Garrett?" Myer asked, cautiously approaching Cara.
"Please, Mr. Myer!" She put up her hands, warding off the spirit perhaps. "Mr. Garrett, calm yourself. I want to help you, but I can't unless you help yourself. Be assured that the portal won't be opened again."
"Have you got the parchment?" Myer asked again. "What about the book? Have you found it?"
Cara put out her hands, one to either side, as if attempting to keep the two men away from one another. "Mr. Myer is not going to harm you!" she said to the spirit. "Come now. It's time to cross over. You'll be at peace there."
"Don't cross yet!" Myer swatted at the air as if he could grab hold of the spirit. Even if he were anywhere near it, his hand would have gone right through.
"Mr. Myer!" Cara cried. "Mr. Garrett is very upset and you're making matters worse. He thinks you're going to re-open the portal. He doesn't seem to understand what I'm trying to tell him."
"Mad. I told you." Myer dragged his dirty hand through his hair. "Damnation and hell."
"I don't understand what you're saying," Cara said to the spirit. "What language are you speaking?"
She listened and we waited, but she said nothing more.
"Cara?" I prompted. "Is he still there?"
She nodded, frowning hard. "He's glaring at Myer—"
"Me!" Myer cried. "Why me?"
"He doesn't trust you. He says this is your fault. Yours and Lord Frakingham's. Now he's speaking a strange language. I don't understand the words, but I suspect he's speaking to you, Mr. Myer. Did you two ever converse with one another in a foreign tongue?"
"No! Bloody hell, I don't see how any of this is my fault. I'm not the one who opened the portal."
Cara pressed a hand to her head and swayed a little. She looked as if she might topple over.
"Are you all right?" I asked, slipping my arm around her waist.
She nodded. "It must be the sun."
But the sun wasn't terribly strong and she'd been living in a warmer clime until recently. England's sun must be pathetic by comparison. "This exercise has taxed you. Let's go back inside."
She offered me a weak smile. "He's gone."
"Gone!" Myer rounded on Cara. His eyes flashed. We both stepped back with the force of his anger. I'd never seen him so agitated before. "How can he be gone? We hadn't finished speaking to him."
"He said his piece i
n that odd language and then he just disappeared."
He swore loudly and strode over to the pit. He knelt, reached down and pulled out one of the skulls. With a growl, he threw it against a nearby stone block. The brittle bone shattered and scattered among the grass licking at the low wall.
"Mr. Myer!" Sylvia stared aghast at the bone shards. "That was quite uncalled for."
He stood, snatched up his jacket and stormed off in the direction of the house. I blinked after him, wanting to know why he'd desperately been seeking answers from Garrett, yet not wanting to go anywhere near him while he was in such a temper. A man as powerful as Myer was best left alone during moments of extreme emotion.
"What a tantrum," Sylvia said, hands on hips.
"He seemed very keen to find out the location of the parchment and book," I said. "At least now we know why he's been down here. Did Mr. Garrett tell you anything that you didn't tell Myer?" I asked Sylvia.
She shook her head, but the action seemed to pain her. She winced and pressed her fingers to her temples. "Nothing else. If he knew the location of the parchment or book, he didn't tell me. He was quite mad, I'm afraid."
I took her elbow. "Let's go back to the house so you can rest."
Our slow walk seemed to help. By the time we reached the front steps, she seemed like her old cheerful self again, although her cheeks hadn't returned to their usual dusky tan color. She assured us, however, that she was feeling much better.
Mr. Myer hailed us from the side of the house. He must have gone around the back to the stables, either to prepare to leave or to wash up.
"Should we wait for him?" Sylvia asked.
"I do want to hear what he has to say," I said. "But I think we ought to speak with him inside, with Samuel present." I wasn't going to risk being hypnotized by him, or anyone. If he were furious enough, he just might risk it.
"Meet us in the drawing room," Sylvia called back to him.
We three quickly headed inside and were about to go in search of Samuel, when Tommy emerged from the arched door that led to the drawing room.
"There you are," he said, darkly. "We saw the coach return and wondered why you hadn't come inside yet."
"We wanted to speak with Mr. Myer down at the ruins," Sylvia said, shooting a glance at the front door.
"Now is not the time to go anywhere alone. Next time, come and fetch either myself or Gladstone."
Sylvia bristled at his tone, but I only smiled. The poor man was worried about us. Or about Sylvia, to be specific. He hadn't taken his gaze off her the entire time.
"Is Samuel about?" I asked.
"In the drawing room," he said. "There's news."
"We have news, too. Would you mind helping Mr. Langley down the stairs? He ought to hear this. You too."
He headed up the stairs just as Mr. Myer entered through the front door, breathing hard. He must have washed his hands and face at the stables, but his clothes were still filthy, particularly the knees of his trousers.
"Come with us into the drawing room," Sylvia said to him. "You're not going to leave without answering some questions."
"I don't intend to leave just yet anyway," he snapped.
She walked off, her chin and chest thrust out. "Be sure to remain standing. I don't want dirt on the sofa."
Samuel stood as we entered the drawing room, Bert and Lord Frakingham too. To my relief, Ebony wasn't there. The discussion we were about to have would be doubly hard if we had to contend with her doubts and disbelief. Mrs. Gladstone was present, however Lord Malborough was not.
"Sit down," Mrs. Gladstone scolded Samuel. "The ladies will forgive you if you don't rise for them today. His injuries seem worse," she said to us. "I don't understand why. I want to fetch the doctor but he refuses."
Samuel winked at me. I tried to scowl back and show him I was unhappy that his chivalry had cost him, but I'm afraid it didn't come across as serious enough. He smiled.
"How was your journey into the village?" he asked.
"Interesting," Sylvia said. "But we must wait for Tommy and Uncle August before we tell you everything."
"Tommy mentioned you had news," I said as I sat. Cara sank onto the sofa beside me with a long exhalation and Sylvia sat on her other side. Myer stood by Mrs. Gladstone's armchair. She leaned away from him as if he were toxic.
"We do," Samuel said. "Lords Frakingham and Malborough aren't leaving until tomorrow."
My jaw flopped open. I stared at Frakingham, sitting in another armchair with one leg crossed over the other. He did not meet anyone's gaze.
"Why not?" Sylvia asked.
"I spoke to your uncle," Frakingham said. "I begged for one more day in which to complete my search through your attic. I've given my word that Douglas will be on his best behavior."
"I mean no offence, my lord," Sylvia said, "but I'm not sure Douglas will care about your assurance. He seems like the sort of fellow who does whatever he wants."
"I'm equally concerned," Mrs. Gladstone chimed in. "I expressed as much to Mr. Langley."
"Samuel?" I asked. "You've promised to keep an eye on Lord Malborough, haven't you? Otherwise Mr. Langley would not have allowed them to stay on."
He nodded.
I clicked my tongue, and immediately regretted it; I sounded like his mother. "You shouldn't have to do this," I said. "Your injuries are troubling you and you clearly need some sleep. It's not fair to ask so much of you."
My words seemed to have the opposite effect to what I'd hoped. His eyes softened as he watched me, and the corners of his mouth kicked up in a brief smile before disappearing again. "Thank you for your concern," he said. "I won't have to sleep outside his room, or yours. Lord Frakingham has suggested that we lock Malborough's door from the outside."
"You'll lock him in?" My stomach rolled. I didn't like the thought of locking anyone in a room, even an unscrupulous person like Malborough. The very thought made my fears well up again, even though it wouldn't be me that was trapped.
"Good idea," Sylvia said, oblivious to my distress. "I wish we'd thought of it before."
Samuel stood and limped to my side. He crouched before me, not caring that everyone, including his mother, looked on, shocked. He gently covered my hands with one of his own, and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles in slow, soothing circles. "Charity," he murmured. "I know you hate the thought of it, but this is necessary."
I swallowed. I knew it, yet the thought still sickened me.
"Will it make you feel better if you're in possession of the key?"
I nodded and almost managed a smile of thanks. He understood why I despised the notion and knew exactly how to make me feel a little better about it. "Thank you," I whispered. Thank you for understanding me. Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for being here, now, and holding my hand while everybody looks on.
"Why should she hold the key?" Myer asked.
Nobody else spoke, although I suspected more than one person in that room wanted to know the answer. Samuel stood and fished a key out of his waistcoat pocket. He hadn't worn a waistcoat for days, except at dinnertime. His hair was neatly combed too, and he'd shaved. He almost looked like the clean, cheerful Samuel of old, except for the shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes and the limp as he walked back to his chair.
"We've already done it anyway," Frakingham said. "Douglas ranted and raved, but he quieted after awhile. I've assured him it's only for today and tonight. His valet is allowed to come and go, but he must fetch the key from you now, Miss Charity."
"I'll supervise all visits," Samuel said, sitting down once more.
I wondered if he would still sleep outside our door, just in case. I hoped not, for his sake.
Tommy wheeled Langley into the drawing room and Sylvia wasted no time telling them what we'd learned from Inspector Weeks. "It would seem somebody paid him to lose the report," she added without looking at anyone.
Samuel wasn't so coy. He pinned first Frakingham, then his mother and Myer, with a stony glare. "Which of
you bribed him? Or was it all three?"
"Well?" Langley prompted when nobody answered.
Frakingham shrugged one shoulder. "Who says it was one of us?"
"The spirit of Mr. Garrett," Cara said.
All heads swiveled to look at her. Lord Frakingham tilted his head back against the chair and blew out a measured breath.
"Bloody hell," Bert muttered.
Mrs. Gladstone's eyes filled with tears. "You found him?" she whispered. "Where?"
Her response was telling. Her lack of a surprise proved that she knew the men were already dead. But it seemed she didn't know where Garrett and Owens were buried, and I believed Myer earlier when he claimed not to know either. He wouldn't have dug them up if he had.
So that left Lord Frakingham. He still did not look at us, but stared up at the ceiling, silent, still.
Cara didn't say anything further, so I told them how Myer had uncovered the bodies of the two missing gentlemen at the ruins, and that Cara had spoken to the crazed spirit of Garrett before he'd finally moved on. I did not tell anyone about the tube tucked up my jacket.
"Mr. Garrett accused Myer of opening the portal and releasing a demon," I added.
"You released a demon!" Bert cried.
"So that's what happened in sixty-seven," Samuel muttered.
"It's time to tell them," Mrs. Gladstone said to Frakingham and Myer.
Myer said, "No," but Frakingham tilted his head forward and sighed.
He looked much older than he had mere hours earlier, his face grayer, the lines deeper. "Very well. But we must agree that the tale goes no further than this room. If this gets out, we'll all be in a lot of trouble."
"Just tell us," Samuel snapped. "No more games. You were saying, Mother."
"You know that your father and I belonged to the Society for Supernatural Activity in those days, as did Mr. Myer, Garrett and Owens. Lord Frakingham came to the society one day, wanting to sell us an ancient scroll."
"I'd found it in my diggings down at the ruins," Frakingham said, taking up the story. "I was a keen archaeologist back then, and when I unearthed the wooden tube beneath where the altar once stood, I was ecstatic to have found something that wasn't rubble."
