by C. J. Archer
The night before we left, however, my plans changed. A telegram arrived from Jack Langley, begging either Emily or myself to travel quickly to Frakingham. The telegram didn't specify why, but it must have been a ghostly problem for him to ask only for us.
Emily agreed that I could go without her, since she wanted to be with the children. I caught the first train out of London and arrived in Harborough in the afternoon. My telegram had been received and the Langley coach was waiting for me, along with Jack and Hannah.
"Thank God you're here!" Hannah threw her arms around me in a more exuberant embrace than I'd ever received from her.
I arched my brows over her shoulder at Jack. He gave me a grim smile. "I'm sorry, Cara, but we'll have to travel onto the house later. This ghostly problem needs immediate attention." He picked up my valise and strode off to the coach.
Hannah grabbed my hand and dragged me along in her wake. I trotted to keep up, my free hand clamped down on my hat to stop it falling off in the rush.
"Is the ghost a violent one?" I asked as we climbed into the cabin.
Jack gave the driver instructions then shut the door. "Violent, mad, or simply mischievous, it's difficult to tell. It throws things around, smashes windows, plates, whatever it can get its hands on."
"Constantly?"
"No. Just every now and again. As soon as we think all is quiet and it has left this realm, it'll toss something about. It's almost as if it wants to remind us that it's still there."
"At least it's not too destructive."
"Tell that to the building's owner," Jack muttered.
"But that's not the greatest concern." Hannah blinked her dark blue eyes at me. "The problem isn't so much the ghost creating a disturbance, although that is troubling enough. It's that it can move about freely."
I narrowed my gaze. "That's impossible."
"Are you sure? Because this one can come and go from the building at will. It has even been up to Frakingham House and around the ruins. There have also been reports of disturbances here in the village."
I blanched. "That is very unusual. Are you sure there isn't more than one spirit?"
They exchanged a glance. "There could be, but you've never noticed a spirit at Freak House before."
"True."
"And nobody has died there recently. Aside from Lord Malborough, that is."
"He died down at the ruins," I reminded her. "If he decided to haunt this realm, he would be confined there."
"Perhaps he's the one who moved the stones at the ruins then," Jack said more to Hannah than to me.
Hannah nodded. "It's possible. I'm afraid you may be quite busy, Cara, if there is more than one ghost. It would seem Harborough is infested with them."
"Then it's fortunate that we're starting immediately."
We left the village and drove down a country lane so narrow that two coaches would have had difficulty passing one another. A wooded forest stretched along the left hand side of the road, and a low hedge of hawthorn lined the right. Shards of sunlight pierced the forest canopy, spotlighting a small bush here, a fallen trunk there. It was a pretty but remote scene.
I was about to ask how far we had to travel when the endless line of the hedge was finally broken to accommodate a rusty gate. Beyond it was a garden that may have once been pretty and neat but was now overrun with knotty brambles, wild roses and weeds. But it was the house being devoured by ivy that caught my attention. It was a large red brick Tudor building with a steeply pitched roofline and several chimney pots shooting into the blue sky. The windows were small, the panes either broken or missing altogether, and one boarded up entirely. Some of the roof tiles were in a similar state and I hated to think what the weather had done to the inside.
"It's been abandoned for twenty years," Jack said, opening the coach door for me.
Jack ordered Hannah to stay back with the footman and driver, but she merely snorted in answer and followed us. The first prickle of apprehension slithered down my spine at the sound of a surly male voice coming from inside the building.
"Someone's here!" he shouted.
I glanced at Jack and Hannah. "Did either of you hear that?" I whispered.
They shook their heads. So my ghost was inside. I blew out a breath and reached for the doorknob.
The door swung open before I touched it and a blur of white flew at me. Jack's hand whizzed past my face, knocking the object against the wall where it shattered. The pieces clattered onto the stoop where they disintegrated into even smaller shards on the stone. It had been a dinner plate.
"Bloody hell!" I cried, hands on hips. If there's one thing I've learned from being a medium, it's to show the spirits that you're not afraid of them. Sometimes they only wanted to instill fear. Many had not, after all, been particularly nice people when they'd been alive, and their characters hadn't improved much upon their deaths. If I were to convince them to cross over, I needed to gain their respect. "What did you do—?"
I stopped. Stared. The spirit of a giant red-bearded fellow glared back at me, his pose just as defiant as the one I was attempting. I lowered my hands to my sides, no longer feeling brave, or defiant, or anything except confused. There wasn't one spirit staring back at me.
There were dozens.
They perched on the thick, black ceiling beams that spanned the width of the room, swinging their legs in the air. They sat on filthy mattresses on the floor, idly rubbing the broken skin at their throats. They stood on the central table, stuffing entrails back into their bodies. They were mostly men, all adults, and wore different styles of clothing that covered centuries of fashion. They stared back at me with dead eyes.
Then the red-bearded one grinned, revealing stumps of rotting teeth. "Ye can see us, can't ye, lass?"
One of the spirits jumped down from the beam and landed awkwardly on his knees. The leap would have broken a living man's bones, but he got up and snapped his crooked leg into place.
"Pretty girl, you are." He licked bruised and cut lips. "Come for some fun, eh?"
"She alive or dead?" asked another man with pock marks on his face, neck and hands.
"And what about them? They dead too?"
"Let's see, eh?" said Redbeard. He picked up a sword that I hadn't noticed on the table beside him, bared what was left of his teeth, and ran at me.
Jack pulled me behind him and slammed the door shut. The sound of splintering wood had us jumping back and my heart leaping into my throat.
"Go!" Jack shouted, grabbing our hands and pulling us down the steps. We streamed through the garden and I lost my hat to an overhanging branch covered in thorns. We reached the coach just as a knife flew past my head.
I scrambled into the cabin and Jack shoved Hannah in after me in a most unladylike manner that sent her sprawling on the seat opposite.
"Drive on!" he called out as he jumped inside. He helped Hannah to sit up as the coach sped away.
I hazarded another look out the window and saw Redbeard and three others standing at the gate, doubled over with laughter as if they'd never seen anything so amusing. The hedge soon obscured them from view.
I blew out a breath and regarded my companions gravely. "We have a very big problem."
"Perhaps mischievous isn't the right word to describe that spirit," Hannah said grimly.
"No. Nor is spirit."
"Pardon?"
Jack leaned forward, his intense gaze on mine. "What do you mean?"
"I mean there isn't one spirit, there are many. Perhaps thirty or more."
"Bloody hell. Where did they all come from?"
"And why are they here now?" Hannah chimed in.
"I can't do this on my own," I told them.
"Agreed." Jack went to pull down the window to speak to the driver. Fresh country air blasted my face and teased the hair that had come loose from its knot during our flight. I regretted the loss of my perky little black hat with the half veil. "We'll return to the village and send a telegram to Emily."
"No. Shut the window, please, Jack."
He did as I asked and sat back to wait for me to elaborate.
"We're not going to contact Emily. There are too many, even with two of us, and they're too dangerous. Besides, I suspect they won't be easily convinced to cross over. They're having too much fun."
"Then what do you suggest?" Hannah asked.
"We need to summon Quin."
CHAPTER 4
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sylvia hadn't stopped frowning at me since we informed her that Quin would be summoned. However, she had dutifully retrieved the parchment upon which the spell to summon him was written and brought it to us in the sitting room.
"Of course it's a good idea," I said. "We discussed it on the drive from the village and it was decided. Now, may I have the parchment, please?" I held out my hand, but she didn't place the wooden tube containing the rolled up page on my palm.
"Actually, you decided," Jack said. "I think it requires further deliberation."
I curled my fingers and pulled back my fist. "Why?"
"We know so little about this fellow."
"I know a great deal about him, as it happens. I understand your hesitation, Jack. You haven't met Quin. I assure you he's a gentleman in every sense of the word."
"He's a knight," Sylvia said, as if that made a difference.
Hannah looked impressed. "A knight. How intriguing."
Jack scowled at his wife. "Why?"
"I've never met a genuine medieval knight."
He humphed. "Isn't he dead?"
"In a way," I said, somewhat vaguely. If they knew Quin was from Purgatory, they'd think again about summoning him. "He's been assigned warrior duties and comes to this realm, and perhaps others, when summoned. He's only summoned when necessary." I held out my hand again to Sylvia. "I think a tribe of dangerous spirits is a valid reason to summon him."
"Can he send them back?" Jack asked.
I had no idea. He was more than capable of battling demons, but he couldn't see ghosts and certainly couldn't communicate with them. What, in fact, could he do?
I dismissed my own question. Surely he could do something to help. We would find out when he arrived. "We really shouldn't waste any more time. Sylvia, tell Jack and Hannah that Quin was no trouble at all."
"It's true," she said as she pulled out the aged parchment from the tube. "He's a good fellow and proved very useful. You should have seen him fight off the demons! He's better than even you, Jack, and you're quite good."
"Thank you," he said wryly.
Hannah smothered a smile.
"The spell, if you please, Sylvia." I held out my hand once more. This time she placed the parchment on it, but did not let go.
"You seem to be mistaken about my warning," she said, lowering her voice. "I wasn't asking whether summoning him was a good idea for us and the situation we find ourselves in. I was asking if it were a good idea for you."
I swallowed and tightened my grip on the parchment in case she decided to withdraw it. "Thank you for your concern, but I'll be all right."
I didn't look to Hannah and Jack, but I had the distinct feeling they were glancing at one another. I tugged on the parchment roll and Sylvia released it. The words to summon Quin were out of my mouth before anyone could question my motives further.
A whisper of air swept through the sitting room, rustling the pages of Sylvia's fashion journal. I held my breath, suddenly afraid that he wouldn't come, or that he'd be angry that I summoned him for this.
Then he was there, in all his semi-naked glory, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his sword strapped to his hip. His dark hair fell raggedly over his forehead, stopping just above his eyes. His direct, uncompromising gaze settled on me, making my blood throb and my head giddy. I breathed. Breathed again.
He was here.
I smiled and was immeasurably relieved to receive a crooked one in return. "Good afternoon, Quin. Welcome back."
"Cara." My name rumbled from the depths of that impressive chest and rolled off his tongue. He crossed the room with a few long strides and knelt on one knee before me. That all-seeing gaze searched my face. "Are you unwell again?"
Jack, who'd shot to his feet the moment Quin arrived, came to stand beside me. Quin's nostrils flared, but he otherwise gave no indication that he was aware of Jack's presence.
"I'm well," I said. "Your wounds seem to have healed." The scratches and claw marks from the demons were visible as faint scars on his chest and shoulders, but there were none on his face.
"Earthly wounds heal faster in my realm. So if you're not ill…?"
"We summoned you for another purpose."
I was about to tell him our problem, when Jack thrust out his hand. "Jack Langley. This is my wife, Hannah."
Quin stood and shook Jack's hand then bowed to Hannah and Sylvia. "You are a relation to Miss Langley's?" he asked Jack.
"Her cousin, and nephew of August Langley. Hannah and I were on our honeymoon when you were last here."
"How long ago was that?"
"A few weeks," I told him, rising. "You really don't notice the passage of time, do you?"
One corner of his mouth kicked up. "No. If I did, I would have gone mad by now."
"Where is it you're from?" Jack asked.
"Another realm." Quin managed to hide his frustration at the question rather well, but I heard the edge to his response. "Something has happened here for you to summon me. Are there demons?"
"Only Jack," Sylvia said with a nervous little laugh. "He's half-demon."
"Sylvia," Hannah hissed.
"I already know what he is," Quin assured her.
"How?" Jack asked.
"I just do."
Jack looked as if he would ask another question, so I quickly said the first thing that came to mind. "How have you been?" Ugh. I sounded like an idiot.
"I am as I've always been."
"I see." I think he meant he hadn't been punished in any way. Although the administrators in Purgatory had allowed him to help me while I was ill, they'd not known he also wanted the book for his own purposes. Not then. I wasn't yet certain if they'd found out. I suspected they saw everything here and in other realms, but I couldn't be sure.
"You need some clothes," Sylvia said. "I think we have your suit from the last time somewhere. Mrs. Moore ought to know where it is."
"And someone needs to inform August," Jack said. "Sylvia, would you mind?"
"Why not you?"
He arched his eyebrows at her and jerked his head at Quin. Clearly he thought he needed to stay and chaperone. I refrained from telling him that I'd been alone with Quin on countless occasions last time, and I would be again. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but mostly I just wanted to be near him. If I had to sneak into his bedroom at night, I would.
Sylvia left, huffing and shaking her head in frustration. Once upon a time she would have done as her cousin asked dutifully. Now, she seemed more inclined to want to be part of the action. I couldn't blame her.
"How is Dawson?" Quin asked me.
"Tommy's doing as well as can be expected," I said. "It will be some time before he heals entirely, if at all, but there's been no infection and he's up and about."
"I'm pleased. I would like to see him again, and the silent one."
"Bollard is with Mr. Langley now. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you again too."
"There's little time for chit chat," Jack said. "We'll head back to the house immediately."
"What house?" Quin asked.
At the same moment I said, "Not tonight."
Jack chose to answer Quin first. "We have a problem with ghosts at a house on the outskirts of the village, as well as other spots nearby, including at the abbey. Is that something you can help us with?"
Quin's gaze slid to me. "There are too many for you, Cara?"
I nodded. "Too many and they're rather dangerous. One nearly sliced my head off with a dinner plate. I don't think they want to
leave."
"Then you were right to call me. I can help." He glanced out the window where dusk was casting its veil over the countryside. "We'll begin in the morning."
"Why not now?" Jack asked.
"I can do many things, but seeing in the dark is not one of my talents."
"Modest fellow," Jack muttered under his breath.
"We'll begin in the morning," Quin repeated.
"We?" Jack echoed.
"Cara must be with me. I need her powers as a medium. I can't see spirits, but I can fight them."
"Can you send them back to the waiting area?"
"No."
"What about speak to them and convince them to cross over?"
"I'm a fighter."
"I can bloody fight them!" Jack snapped.
Hannah looped her hand through her husband's arm. "Yes, but Mr. St. Clair is an otherworldly warrior. He can't be harmed as you can."
I lowered my gaze, not prepared to tell her that Quin was susceptible to the same dangers as any mortal on Earth. He was harder to injure, but he could still die or succumb to illness. It was only when he was in his own realm that he was immortal.
"What will fighting them do if you can't return them to the waiting area?" Jack said.
"They won't be returned," Quin said. "Their souls will be destroyed. They'll cease to exist."
Hannah gasped. I pressed my hand to my chest where my heart had been beating erratically ever since Quin's arrival. "That sounds very…final," she said.
"It is. You'll need to warn them first, Cara, and give them a chance to return to the waiting area. If they still choose to remain and cause harm to the living, I will act. You can only help, Langley, if you have an otherworldly blade."
"I do," Jack said with a note of defiance. "It's a knife forged in the demon realm. We won't need your sword then."
"My blade is longer than yours."
"I thought only otherworldly creatures could destroy a spirit's soul," I said quickly, interrupting their power-struggle. "That's what Emily told me."
