[Anthology] The Paranormal 13- now With a Bonus 14th Novel!

by Dima Zales

  "I don't want your money, Lord Preston. I don't want anything from you."

  That stopped him momentarily. "Why are you here?" he asked after a long pause in which he watched me through narrowed eyes.

  "To give you all some peace. He wants me to tell you that he is dead and that he's happy—."

  "Happy! How can he be happy if he's dead as you claim?" Lord Preston had a way of bellowing rather than talking. It was quite deafening. "Get out of my house or I'll have you thrown out."

  I gritted my teeth. I couldn't afford to ruin this one chance. "I am not a fraud, Lord Preston. And I would appreciate it if you'd refrain from judging me until you've heard what I've come to say."

  He bristled, straightening to his full height. "I do not like your tone, young lady. Your boldness does you no credit. No son of mine would ever communicate with the likes of you, whether he was alive or dead."

  "The likes of me? As I said, I am not a fraud and I'll—."

  "I wasn't referring to your so-called occupation."

  I felt the impact of his words like a slap to the face. He was referring to my un-English appearance or my lowly birth or perhaps both. There simply was no argument to either of those facts so I said nothing and glanced at Lady Preston then Adelaide.

  The former remained standing at the window, unmoving, but the latter had lowered her gaze to her lap. I couldn't see her expression. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she no longer tried to defend me. I had no allies in that room.

  Jacob had been right. It was wrong of me to have come.

  Oh Jacob. I'm so sorry I couldn't help them.

  I glanced once more at his mother. She was terribly thin. I'd never seen a waist so tiny or a neck so delicate. A big sneeze might snap her. She moved but only to reach out to the window and slide a finger down the glass as if caressing it. What did she see out there? Did she hope to see Jacob strolling past? Would it be so awful if she knew he was dead?

  "You used to sing These Rolling Hills to him when he was young," I said to her.

  She spun round so fast it caught us all by surprise. No one else spoke, not even Lord Preston to chastise me. "How do you know that?"

  "He told me."

  "Jacob?"

  I nodded.

  "Enough!" Lord Preston strode to the door and called for the butler. "You'll disrupt this house no more with your lies, Miss Chambers."

  But I wasn't watching him anymore, I was looking at his wife. She came towards me, slowly, almost gliding across the floor the way people who can't see ghosts expect them to move. "How do you know that?" she asked.

  "She made it up of course," Lord Preston blustered.

  "She can't have."

  "She must have heard it from someone. Paid a servant, Jacob's old nurse … someone like that. Don't fall for her lies, my dear, she's a fraud."

  "A fraud who doesn't want money?" Adelaide scoffed but her flare of defiance dampened beneath her father's glacial glare.

  "You stopped singing it to him after he left for school," I went on. "And you never sang it to him when he returned for the holidays even though he wanted you to." I tried my hardest to direct all of my attention onto Lady Preston but it wasn't easy to ignore her husband, looming beside me like a beast ready to pounce. "He wanted you to sing it to him again but you only did once, when he was ill with a fever and you thought he was delirious. But he heard you."

  Her own eyes glistened with a kind of fever as she sat down slowly on the sofa, never taking her gaze from mine. Her lips parted and she pressed her thin fingers to them. "No one could possibly know that," she said in a small voice. "No one."

  "A servant," her husband said.

  "None were there."

  "Outside the sick room. Or Jacob mentioned it to this girl before he … disappeared." He nodded, seemingly satisfied with his own explanation.

  I ignored him. Both his wife and daughter did too. Their full attention was on me.

  "Jacob told you this?" Lady Preston asked. "Please, please don't lie to me, Miss Chambers. If you have any compassion in you … tell me the truth."

  Tears sprang to my eyes. How could anyone lie to such a fragile creature about the one thing that could break her entirely? "I would not lie to you. Jacob told me, Lady Preston. At least, his g—."

  "Where is he?" She was off the sofa and kneeling beside me in the time it took to blink. "Where is my boy?"

  Oh God, she still couldn't see! "He's dead, Lady Preston. His ghost speaks to me." My frustration made me speak a little too harshly.

  "No!" She clasped my hands. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "He can't be! He doesn't feel dead. You know where he is, don't you? Tell me!" She shook my hands.

  Adelaide came to her mother's side and gently gripped her shoulders. "Come sit down, Mother. And listen to what Miss Chambers is saying."

  "I am listening!" she screeched. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin onto the thick Oriental rug. "She knows where my boy is. She knows where to find Jacob."

  Adelaide struggled with her but Lady Preston wouldn't budge until Lord Preston took over. He drew his wife up then pressed her face against his chest where she sobbed uncontrollably into his waistcoat.

  "Quiet, my dear, the servants will hear," he said, patting her back. To me, he said, "See what you've done! Now get out. You are not welcome here."

  I was too dumbstruck to do anything except obey, so I left without saying another word. The butler waited for me at the door and escorted me out. I wasn't unhappy to leave—the scene had been truly a heart-wrenching one—but I was disappointed. Immensely. That poor woman. I had a feeling she might never find peace, no matter how many years she had left. She truly could not accept that her son was dead.

  Tears trickled down my face as I descended the steps to the pavement. It was raining again so I raised my umbrella and began the trudge home.

  "Wait!" someone called from the stairs leading down to the basement area where the servants worked. I looked over the iron railing to see Adelaide climbing the steps to the pavement. She was breathing heavily. "Come with me." She glanced up at the main door and took my arm. I tried to hold the umbrella over her head too but because she was so much taller than me, I ended up getting a little wet.

  Once around the corner we were able to huddle beneath the umbrella better and use the side wall of the house as a bit of cover. "Miss Beaufort," I said. "What is it?"

  "Please, call me Adelaide." She clutched my free hand and gave me a small smile. "Tell me, do you really know my brother? His ghost I mean?"

  Did she actually believe me? Was she prepared to give up on the idea that Jacob was alive somewhere when her parents were not?

  "Oh, forgive me," she said, "I should apologize first."

  "There's no need to apologize. Your parents' grief is affecting their judgment at the moment. Besides, I'm used to not being believed." Although not usually so vehemently.

  "It was still a horrible thing to sit through, wasn't it? I am sorry for the things my father said. He didn't really know Jacob, you see. Not very well."

  "Oh?" Here was my chance to finally find out more about him. I held my breath and gave her an encouraging nod.

  Adelaide glanced back the way we'd come. "Father doesn't know the sort of people Jacob liked, that's why his comment about you was so terrible and wrong. You are exactly the sort of girl that would have appealed to my brother."

  I stared at her. I think I made a small sound in the back of my throat. "Sort of girl?" I croaked.

  "Yes. Speaks her mind, is courageous, poised, pretty."

  I laughed. "I'll give you the point about speaking my own mind but as to the others, I'm afraid you're wide of the mark."

  She waved a hand and glanced over my head again. "There isn't much time. I snuck out while Father took Mother up to her room but he'll be looking for me soon. Tell me, is Jacob really … dead?"

  I squeezed her hand. "I'm so sorry but … his ghost visits me often." I decided not to tell her
about him being assigned to me because of the demon. It was much too complicated and she had enough to take in already. "He tried to visit you and your parents once a long time ago but it was too traumatic for him." I hoped that went some way to explain why he haunted me and not them.

  "I understand. Oh Miss Chambers I'm so pleased you came." Tears filled her eyes but didn't spill. I felt the responding sting behind my own eyes. "Jacob and I were so close, you see, and this wondering … hoping … " She shook her head and pressed her fingers to her nose.

  "It's been hard, hasn't it?" My words were almost drowned out by the rain drumming on the umbrella. It came down in heavy sheets, soaking our skirts and forming muddy little streams between the cobblestones. I let go of her hand and pulled my shawl closer then realized Adelaide had come out with nothing for warmth. I stretched one side of it around her shoulders, enclosing us both, and she gave me a grateful smile.

  "Mother and Father are both suffering," she said, "but in different ways. Father never speaks of Jacob anymore. Not a single word. He can't bear to hear his name spoken either except when it's to engage the services of an investigator. But Mother talks of nothing else except Jacob. So you see Father can't stand to be home now and Mother needs him more than ever. It's awful. Truly awful." I thought she'd cry but she drew in a shaky breath that seemed to rally her. "If you speak to Jacob's ghost then you must know what happened to him, where his body is. If we could find his body … " Her face contorted as the gruesome nature of what she was saying hit her.

  "I'm sorry, Adelaide," I said, "but Jacob doesn't know who killed him or why and he doesn't know where his body is. It's very odd." I wouldn't tell her that the mystery was possibly the reason why he couldn't cross over to the Otherworld. I don't think she was ready to hear it. Besides, I wasn't entirely sure if it was true. "All he's told me is someone tried to kill him."

  "Murder?" She gripped my arm so hard I could feel her fingernails through the layers of clothing. "No. No, no, not Jacob." A single tear tracked down her cheek but she swiped it away angrily. "Who would do that to him? He was so well liked. Adored even."

  Yes, he would be. Jacob was a very easy person to adore. "Was there anyone in particular who might have turned that adoration into something more sinister if the sentiment wasn't returned? A spurned lover?"

  I waited, not wanting to hear the answer but needing to know it nevertheless. The thought of Jacob with another girl was too horrible to contemplate. But then, so was his murder.

  "I don't think there was a girl," she said. Then she shook her head. "What I mean is, not one girl in particular."

  My insides twisted. There'd been more than one? "Perhaps that was the problem," I said weakly.

  "Jealousy?" She thought about that. "It's possible. He was the sort of person to inspire it."

  He certainly was. I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood. I would not be, could not be, jealous over a ghost. It simply wasn't possible, or right.

  "But if so then I can't help you," she went on. "I never met any of the girls in his circle and he never spoke to me about them. I think he was rather careful not to so we wouldn't take it as a sign of serious interest. Mother jumped to the wrong conclusion on the one occasion Jacob did mention a girl. He was only seventeen at the time and the girl was the sister of a friend and held no real interest for him. He learned his lesson after that." She grinned at the memory but it soon turned wistful.

  "If he never spoke to you about girls, how do you know they were jealous?"

  "I wasn't talking about females."

  "Then … Oh!" I stared at her so hard my eyes hurt.

  She laughed again. "No, not in that way. At least, not for Jacob. I'm talking about boys who were friends. You know what boys are like."

  "Not really. I don’t have brothers."

  "Well, sometimes they worship other boys. Bigger or older boys, clever ones, athletic ones, charmers." She shrugged. "Jacob was all of those so it's understandable some saw him as a hero. They wanted to be his friend, get his attention." She sighed. "And I'm afraid my brother didn't always notice them in return."

  George had said the same thing. "Why was that?"

  She shrugged. "I truly don't know. He was always kind to people, never cruel the way some boys can be to others, especially to smaller or weaker ones. But … " She sighed again. "But he just didn't notice them. I suppose that makes him sound selfish, doesn't it, and that's not really a fitting description either."

  I really hoped Jacob wasn't listening to this conversation from the Waiting Area. It wouldn't be fair on either him or his sister. "Self-absorbed?" I offered. "Not interested in other people?" It sounded nothing like the Jacob I knew but I asked anyway. He might have been different when he was alive.

  "Oh, he was interested in people. He had a good group of friends who did everything together. He was certainly interested in them. But everyone else … " She looked at me and there was sadness in her eyes, and resignation. "You're right. We can call it what we want but he was self-absorbed. Jacob had a power over people. He could charm them into doing anything if he chose to, but he never realized he possessed that power."

  I understood completely. I was drawn to Jacob as if he'd put me under a spell, and I could easily imagine other people being drawn to him too. But to then not have Jacob notice me in return … It certainly would be upsetting. I was lucky to be the only person alive who could speak to him or see him now that he was dead, but if I couldn't, if I was just like everyone else, would I be overlooked too?

  "He should have realized the effect he had on people," Adelaide went on. "He should have noticed them and not disregarded them simply because they held no interest for him. It was arrogant." Her voice grew quieter, more distant, and she began to cry again.

  "No, Adelaide, this is not the way you should remember him. If it was a flaw, it was a small one. We all have them. Mine is vanity." I tugged on a lock of my hair that had come loose from its pins to emphasize my point. "And a willingness to speak my mind, as you saw in there."

  She laughed and wiped her eyes. "And one of mine is timidity. I'll allow my brother his one flaw then." She suddenly stopped laughing and blinked at me. "Dear lord, I just thought of something."

  "What is it?"

  Concern carved out fine lines around her mouth. "It might not be significant. Indeed, it could mean nothing at all."

  "Or it could mean something."

  She nodded slowly. "A young man came here once, about a month before Jacob died. He said he was a friend of Jacob's from Oxford and wanted to see him. The butler, Forbes, said Jacob wasn't home and the boy got terribly agitated. I could hear his voice all the way from the library so I came to see what the commotion was about. The boy claimed he wanted to see Jacob and that he didn't believe he was out. He said Jacob cannot possibly always be out whenever he called, and then he accused us of lying to him."

  "Lying? Why would he think that?"

  "I don't know. But he said he knew Jacob was upstairs, deliberately avoiding him. I tried to assure him he was not, but he would have none of it. He grew terribly upset and his language was truly awful. I grew worried so I called two footmen and they coerced him into leaving. The situation stayed with me for a long time though."

  "Who was he, do you know? Did he leave a name?"

  "Only a first name, Frederick. I questioned Forbes later and he said the boy had claimed to be a friend of Jacob's from Oxford but I can assure you my brother never mentioned anyone called Frederick and we knew all his friends by sight anyway."

  "What did he look like?"

  "He was rather plain, not particularly one thing or the other. He had short, light brown hair, was about as tall as me and slightly built. That's really all I can recall. There was nothing very distinguishing about him, I'm afraid."

  "So was Jacob always out when this Frederick boy called?"

  She nodded.

  "Is that odd?"

  "Not really. Jacob was rarely home in those last few weeks bef
ore his death. He came to London from Oxford for the holidays but went out a great deal. I think he was enjoying the sort of freedom that comes to most eighteen year-old boys. He was old enough to go to clubs, taverns, races, that sort of thing. Beforehand he'd always been in Father's shadow but at eighteen he could do as he pleased."

  "Did you tell Jacob about Frederick's visit?"

  "Yes. He said he had no idea who he was and to make sure Forbes had at least one footman on hand whenever he answered the door. He was very annoyed and quite concerned. Do you think Jacob was lying to me and that he really knew him?"

  "I don't know. I can ask him when I see him."

  She smiled at that. "Yes, of course you can. Do you think you could say hello to him for me?"

  I couldn't help a bubble of laughter escaping. "I will. I could arrange a meeting between you if you like." Jacob might agree to it if he knew his sister wouldn't be upset by it.

  "Could you? How wonderful." But her face fell. "It might not be possible though. Mother is so careful with me ever since Jacob died. Or disappeared, as she thinks. She refuses to let me go anywhere on my own. It's so stifling."

  "It must be." I was allowed to go wherever I pleased—well, almost. I couldn't imagine what it must be like for Adelaide always having her mother accompany her. I gave her arm a sympathetic pat then told her my address. "If you think you can get away, send me a message and we'll come and meet you wherever you suggest."

  "Thank you, Emily." She leaned down suddenly and kissed my cheek. "I do think we shall be friends."

  I smiled. Of course we wouldn't be, but I didn't say so. Our paths were unlikely to cross again unless it was so she could speak to Jacob's ghost. There was nothing about our lives that would cause them to intersect.

  "Let me walk you to your door," I said, peering out at the rain still streaming down.

  "No, I don't want Father to see you. I'll be all right. It's just a bit of water."

  I laughed. It was almost the same words I'd spoken earlier to Celia. I squeezed her arm again, and fought off the melancholy that closed around me. I really would have enjoyed being Adelaide's friend. "One more thing," I said, turning my attention back to Jacob and his demise. "If you could press upon your parents the need to find Jacob's body."