Ghost Girl

by C. J. Archer

  "Is it possible to see them? There's one in particular that we're interested in viewing. Mr. St. Clair is a historian, you see, and he's come all the way from Melbourne to find a particular book that we know was compiled by Lord Alwyn's ancestor."

  The priest's gaze widened. "I know the one. There was a very rare book in that collection, most likely written by a de Mordaunt. A beautiful and very old item, it was, and probably quite valuable. Mr. Ludlow from Hatchard's was excited to find it and learn more about it."

  "Hatchard's, the bookshop on Piccadilly?"

  "The one and only," he said with a smile. "Mr. Ludlow had heard of Lord Alwyn's collection and commissioned me to approach him and broker the purchase."

  "Why you?"

  "I'm an expert on old and rare religious texts. He wanted me to verify that the books in Lord Alwyn's collection were indeed genuine, and to value them. I was happy to confirm their authenticity and Lord Alwyn eagerly accepted the price, even for that particular book. I admit to being surprised that he didn't want to keep it in the family."

  I glanced at Quin, slumped against the church wall. He gasped out labored, shallow breaths and sweat beaded along his hairline. He folded his arms over his stomach and closed his eyes as another wave of pain hit him.

  "Thank you, Father," I said quickly. "You've been most helpful."

  "You're welcome." He approached Quin and rested his hand on his arm. "Go to the doctor, sir. And may God bless you." He formed the sign of the cross and muttered a short prayer in Latin.

  Quin grunted like an injured animal and bolted for the coach. He climbed inside, unassisted, and slunk into the shadows on the far side.

  "You really ought to get him some medical help," Father William said to me, with a worried shake of his head.

  "I will. Thank you again. You've been most helpful." I hurried to the coach and the footman assisted me inside before shutting the door.

  "I do hope you find your book before it's sold," Father William called out.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Mr. Ludlow had a buyer in mind when he commissioned me. I believe it was this buyer who brought it to his attention in the first place."

  I thanked him again and sat back against the seat as the coach rolled forward. Beside me, Quin groaned. He doubled over, his head cradled in his hands. His body shuddered again and rocked against me in time with the coach's motion. I took him in my arms and stroked his hair until his shudders subsided. He remained there and I listened as his breathing slowly returned to normal and he no longer felt dangerously hot.

  Without thinking, I kissed the top of his head and gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at me. He leaned away and his gaze met mine, wary, as if guarding himself against a barrage of questions.

  "I won't ask you why that happened." I forced my voice to remain steady when my heart was jumping madly in my chest. "I know you won't tell me. And anyway, your answers aren't important. What is important is that you appear to be better." My determination to remain stern with him faltered, and a sob escaped. I pressed my lips together to hold myself in check, and managed not to let any further tears escape.

  "Cara," he whispered gently, his eyes soft. He reached for me, but lowered his hand before making contact.

  I slid across the seat and caught him in my arms in a fierce hug, impropriety and answers be damned. I just wanted to hold him and know that he was well again. "Don't do that again," I said on another sob. "If we have to go to any more churches, we'll send Jacob. I won't risk it."

  He circled me in his arms and held me as tightly as I held him. It was difficult to tell who comforted whom, and which one of us needed the contact more. He buried his face in my neck and breathed deeply. He felt warm, but not hot, and so very, very good.

  Neither of us spoke for several long, glorious moments. I didn't want to shatter the sweet peace or end the wonderful embrace. We sat entwined on the seat, gently swaying with the coach, and I had never felt so happy, as if I were exactly where I should be. In Quin's arms.

  But the moment didn't last. We rounded a particularly sharp bend and Quin drew away, as if he'd suddenly realized he was doing something wrong. He leaned as far away from me as he could and did not meet my gaze.

  I shifted along the seat and rested my hands in my lap. I studied my fingers and wondered if he had felt what I'd felt—a deep, strong bond that connected us as surely as the thickest rope. I didn't dare ask.

  He cleared his throat. "We should go to the bookseller's."

  "Yes, of course." I pulled down the window and gave instructions to the driver then leaned back again. I still could not look at Quin. I didn't want to see regret in his eyes.

  Besides, I didn't dare let him see that Father Ignatius's words troubled me. The spirit had been afraid of Quin and called him the devil. What if he'd been right?

  ***

  Mr. Ludlow was not in the bookshop. We left a message for him then returned to the Eaton Square house in silence. I could tell that Quin was frustrated by Ludlow’s absence as much as I was, but it went further than that. He was troubled. By what, I couldn't say. He wouldn't have heard the spirit of Father Ignatius call him the devil, but from my half of the conversation, he perhaps knew what the nature of the discussion had been. He refused to look at me and focused his attention on the view out the window.

  Tommy and Sylvia arrived at the house at the same time as us. They were a welcome distraction from the tension emanating from Quin. "We've been to the office of The Times," Sylvia said in answer to our question. "Our advertisement for staff will appear in tomorrow's edition."

  "Do you think you'll get many wishing to move to Frakingham?" I asked as we walked arm-in-arm to the drawing room. Tommy peeled off to inquire about luncheon and Quin followed behind us.

  "They will if they don't know the house's history. And how can they, if they're not local? I do believe we'll have our pick of applicants." She sounded very pleased with herself.

  "Has Tommy come to terms with not being promoted to butler?"

  Tommy had wanted to fill the position of butler, but Langley and Sylvia had insisted he learn from a more experienced servant first. I didn't see that it was necessary, since he already performed all the jobs required of a butler—and performed them well—but Langley in particular wouldn't be swayed. He was determined to employ the best butler his fortune could buy.

  "He says he has."

  "What a pleasant outing you both must have had together. It's such a lovely day." I admit I was fishing for information on their relationship, but she gave nothing away.

  "Very pleasant. Ah, here's Emily."

  Emily joined us, along with the children, and we played with them as we discussed the implications of the book now being at Hatchard's. I didn't mention Quin's mysterious illness and he didn't speak much at all. He was too occupied with giving Gabe and Lizzy rides on his back while little Matthew clapped his hands and watched. I needed no more proof that Quin wasn't the devilish character Father Ignatius feared.

  George Culvert arrived after luncheon, along with Jacob. We all retreated back to the drawing room, the children having gone upstairs, Matthew for a nap and Gabe and Lizzy to their lessons. George seemed unable to contain his excitement over something, but Jacob seemed guarded and a little uncertain. I caught him watching Quin from beneath lowered lashes several times.

  "We found it!" George announced as soon as he'd greeted each of us.

  "Yes," I said. "It's at Hatchard's."

  He pushed his glasses up his nose. "What?"

  "The book. We know it's at Hatchard's."

  "It is?"

  "George didn't find the book itself," Jacob said. "He found other books referencing it."

  That got Quin's attention. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What did you learn?"

  "It is not all spells and incantations. That's why it took me so long to find information about it. I was looking for references to an ancient book of spells, but I believe the book is pr
imarily a treatise on the various realms. It is, however, very old, as you thought, St. Clair. That's why I disregarded those references whenever I read them over the years. I assumed it was long lost and therefore not helpful to my research. I'm damned annoyed at myself, let me tell you."

  "Don't be too hard on yourself," Emily said. "You weren't to know it would be become important."

  "That may be so, but I wish I'd taken more notice whenever I came upon a mention of it. It would have saved me some time now." He wrinkled his nose to keep his slipping glasses from sliding all the way down. He managed to stop them half way. "As far as I can tell, the book describes using the portals to travel between realms as well as the incantations that must be used to open and close them. It discusses demons and warriors too."

  I frowned. He seemed not to be speaking to Quin at all, but to everyone else in the room. Jacob, however, continued to watch Quin with a wary gaze, as if he expected him to make a sudden movement.

  "How will any of that cure Cara?" Emily asked, covering my hand with hers. "We don't care about accessing the realms, we just need to cure her."

  "Among the limited number of incantations, I believe the book mentions the three that we know of and several more, all relating to curses. These curses were supposed to be used on demons, and other supernatural creatures emerging through the portals, to control them, not on humans. Although I found no reference to the specific curse that has been inflicted upon Cara, we must trust Quin when he tells us that there is indeed a counter curse contained within the book's pages."

  We all looked to Quin. "You can trust me," he said. "I would not lie about something as important as Cara's life."

  A lump formed in my throat. Not only was hearing him say it reassuring, but hearing him say it with such rawness in his voice filled my heart.

  "You already knew most of what Culvert learned, didn't you?" Jacob asked Quin.

  He nodded.

  Jacob rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and stroked his top lip in thought. They locked gazes for a brief, charged moment, but it was Quin who looked away first.

  George went on. "The book is supposed to be guarded by humans of impeccable character who will keep it safe."

  "The spirit of Brother Francis told us his abbot was a guardian," I said. "What I don't quite understand is why he was a guardian when the book has been in the library of the de Mordaunt family and its descendants all this time?"

  "Because it hasn't been there all this time," Emily whispered. Her eyes brightened with feverish excitement.

  "Then where has it been?" Sylvia asked. "And how did it get back to Lord Alwyn's library?

  "Good questions," George muttered.

  "There is another one," I said. "How did Garrett get a hold of it? He must have seen that curse in the book or he wouldn't have known to speak it."

  Quin nodded. "If the book has been in Lord Alwyn's library in recent years, Garrett must have been given access to it."

  "Perhaps he learned of its location as master of the Society for Supernatural Activity and was granted access upon request. A small bribe would have been sufficient. Lord Alwyn didn't seem aware of the book's power and so wouldn't have minded giving him access."

  "That also means that Alwyn probably isn't the one who returned the lost book to his library, if it had indeed been absent at all," Jacob said. "It happened earlier."

  "Garrett may have found the same reference to the de Mordaunt family that Quin did." I looked at him. "He may have deciphered that same image and recognized Alwyn's family crest."

  "If Garrett saw the book, wouldn't he have made a record of where to find it?" Emily asked. "Perhaps even have made copies of the spells and curses for members of the society to study?"

  "It would seem he didn't," George said. "If Myer didn't know of its whereabouts, or the words of the incantations, then none in the society did."

  Emily's hand, still covering mine, squeezed. "Thank goodness Myer and Faraday didn't understand the symbols in that text you studied, Quin. If Myer knew you had a clue to the book's whereabouts, he would have made sure to follow you."

  I exchanged a glance with Quin.

  "He did," Jacob said before I could. "He sent Faraday to follow us to The Brickmaker's Arms last night."

  "And today to the church," I said. "There was a hansom cab parked a little behind us but nobody got out. I was a little distracted at the time and had forgotten all about it until now."

  "Aye," Quin muttered.

  "You two aren't the most alert couple," George said with a shake of his head. "Young people these days."

  "You're forgetting that Quin is quite old," Emily countered.

  "He's positively ancient," Sylvia chimed in.

  We told them about our morning at St. Etheldreda's Church, leaving out the parts about Quin's illness and the spirit's reaction to him. I finished by telling them we hoped Ludlow hadn't already sold off the book.

  "We must find out who the interested party is, regardless," Jacob said. "Nobody should have access to that text."

  "Including us?" George frowned.

  "I think we can be trusted," Emily said with a smile.

  George stayed for the afternoon, and joined in playing with his niece and nephew when the nanny brought them in. The two children were besotted with Quin, however, and demanded more rides on his back. Quin obliged, much to Jacob's irritation. His frown did not leave his face as he sat beside me.

  "There is something I need to tell you," he said quietly.

  From the way he was no longer looking at Quin, I suspected it was about him. Fortunately Quin was preoccupied and didn't notice.

  "Go on," I said.

  "I think I know which realm he's from."

  I twisted to look at him fully. My heart pounded once then stilled. "Oh?"

  He met my gaze with his steady one. There was concern in their depths and sympathy too. "Today when you went to the church, did he become ill?"

  I swallowed heavily and nodded.

  "In that case, I'm positive."

  "Where? Which realm?"

  "Purgatory."

  CHAPTER 12

  Purgatory!

  It was a Catholic concept, not believed by all Christian religions, let alone non-Christian ones. It was said to be the place between Heaven and Hell where sinners could redeem themselves and earn a place in Heaven. Souls that were sent there weren't deemed evil enough to go to Hell, but had committed sins that blocked their access to Heaven.

  Quin had said he was from a realm 'in between'. He'd been telling me all along that he was from Purgatory, but I'd not deciphered his meaning and he'd not been willing to explain it. I knew from my interaction with spirits that after death, souls entered the Waiting Area or could choose to remain and haunt this realm. Those in the Waiting Area were then sorted into categories according to the life they'd led. I wasn't able to communicate with souls beyond the Waiting Area so I'd never learned anything more about those categories. It would seem the concepts of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory were accurate. There was, however, one other thing I knew about Purgatory: souls committed there had to endure pain and punishment to purify them of their sins and become worthy of Heaven.

  Quin grinned as he scooped up little Matthew and tossed him in the air. I couldn't stop staring. Surely there'd been a mistake; surely he hadn't committed a sin bad enough to cause him to suffer in Purgatory for centuries?

  "Cara." Jacob's quietly earnest voice had me turning toward him. "I know it's a shock, but you mustn't let him see that you know. We can't fully trust him. Do you understand?"

  He was speaking to me like an adult to a child, but I wasn't outraged. At that moment, I did feel very childlike as I tried to take it all in. "I'll be careful."

  "Good. We have to be, not only for your sake, but for everyone associated with you." He glanced pointedly at the laughing children as they gathered around the man who'd done something so terrible that, upon his death, he'd been sent to Purgatory.

  His death.
Quin was most definitely dead then. Even though he'd said as much, I hadn't really believed it before. There was no way around that fact, and no coming back from it.

  Yet he didn't look dead. Everyone could see him, and he was as solid as me. It was all so confusing.

  "Cara," Jacob murmured, "there is an incantation I now know can be found in the book that might become useful."

  "What does it do?" My voice sounded small, lost. I tried to rally myself and fight through the fog in my brain but it was so hard.

  "It destroys the portal forever."

  His words slammed into me, blasting the fog away. I rounded on him. "No." I put as much ferocity behind my whisper as I dared. Fortunately Quin seemed not to notice, but Emily glanced our way. "We cannot use it. Quin will be trapped in…that place…and never be able to return." And visit me.

  "He wouldn't be needed here if the demons are also trapped in their own realm."

  A hot ball of tears clogged my throat. It was all too much. I wanted to question Jacob further, but the children's nanny arrived and collected them, relieving Quin of his horsey duties. He sat near me, oblivious to the explosive piece of news Jacob had just delivered. His eyes twinkled like bright stars and a small smile curved his lips as he told Emily that he believed Gabe would grow into a fine, strong man. There were no signs of his earlier illness. He looked every bit the fun, favorite uncle, and nothing like a soul trapped in the misery of Purgatory.

  ***

  I warred with myself for the rest of the day and finally decided, as I lay in bed that night listening to Sylvia snoring, that I had to talk to Quin. Jacob hadn't wanted me to say anything, but I couldn't not ask him. He ought to know that we knew he came from Purgatory, and have an opportunity to explain.

  I waited a little longer, until I was sure Tommy was also asleep, then rounded the screen. It had become a nightly event and Quin didn't seem at all surprised when I perched on the end of his bed.

  He sat up and I could just make out the shape of his shoulders and chest. I blew out a breath in an attempt to stay focused.