by C. J. Archer
Quin shook his head. "It's the otherworldly blade that destroys. It doesn't matter who holds it."
It was rather a lot to take in, and the thought of taking away someone's afterlife chilled me.
"What hour is it?" Quin asked, picking up the clock on the mantel and turning it on its side.
I plucked it out of his hands and returned it to mantel. "You must learn to tell the time on this visit. Why do you need to know the hour?"
"I want to know if I've missed dinner."
I laughed. "There's another two hours before we dine. Are you hungry?"
"I can wait."
His response brought out the hostess in Hannah. "Would you like an appetizer?"
"An appetizer would be very nice, Mrs. Langley. Thank you."
She tugged on the bell pull while Quin turned slowly to observe the room. I could see him noting the subtle changes that Hannah had already introduced, mostly in the uncluttering of the table surfaces.
He had hardly turned much at all when I leapt off the chair with a gasp. "Quin!" I stared wide-eyed at his bare back. The two long scars still crisscrossed the broad expanse, but now there were more. Many more. They sliced horizontally between his shoulder blades all the way down to the band of his leather pants. Unlike the old white ones, these were red, raw, the flesh raised into ridges. "What happened?"
He spun around, obscuring his back from my view. "It's nothing for you to concern yourself with."
"But I am concerned." I gripped his arm near his shoulder and tried to turn him around again, but he wouldn't budge.
He folded his arms and scowled at me.
"What is it?" Hannah asked. "Is something wrong with his back?"
"He just has one or two more scars than last time." I couldn't ask him more questions while others were present. Quin's answers—if he deigned to supply any—might give away too much about the realm he'd traveled from, and I didn't want them to know he was from Purgatory.
I let him go and sat down again, feeling a little sick. The footman arrived a moment later, and too late I realized we hadn't informed the servants of our guest's arrival. The new ones had not been present during Quin's last visit, so it was easy enough to explain that he'd arrived on foot and we'd spotted him through the window and let him in through the garden entrance. Of course, he'd lost his luggage and had his suit stolen. Whether the footman believed the fanciful story wasn't clear from his shocked stare. He left with orders to bring some cheese and fruit. No doubt he would delight in gossiping about Quin belowstairs.
"Perhaps we should have waited for the shirt to arrive," Hannah said.
Jack sighed. "We'll have a devil of a time convincing them to believe that story, Cara. Did it work last time?"
"Yes, but there were fewer servants last time and all of them were used to strange goings on at the house. We'll need to tell them that Quin didn't leave England after all, to account for his reappearance after such a short absence."
Sylvia returned with clothes, Tommy, and her uncle, wheeled by Bollard. The three men clasped Quin's hand in greeting and seemed pleased to have him back. Their obvious enthusiasm must have eased Jack's mind. He sat for the first time since Quin's arrival.
Quin didn't leave the room to put on the shirt and waistcoat, but threw them on where he stood. He left off the tie, much to Sylvia's displeasure. The ensemble looked out of place on him and he looked uncomfortable wearing it. He would hate donning a jacket at dinnertime.
"You need to go down to the ruins first and remove Malborough's ghost," Langley said after we explained why we'd summoned Quin. "He's disturbing the stones, and the gardener is beginning to grow suspicious."
"We told him it must be village children, come to poke about on a dare," Hannah said. "But I think he's been watching carefully and hasn't seen anyone, and yet the stones still move."
"We can do that this evening." I looked to Quin. "If it's only the one spirit, we ought to be safe enough. It's meeting the pack of them in the Tudor house that has me worried."
"Tonight," Quin said without moving his heavy-lidded gaze from me. "As you wish."
I swallowed and looked away. The promise in his voice spoke of more than mere ghost hunting. "We'll go as soon as you've eaten something."
The footman arrived with the fruit and cheese, and Quin wolfed the selection down in a few moments. Either he was starving or he wanted to get to work quickly.
"I'll come with you," Jack said as we rose to leave.
"No!" I cleared my throat and thanked my ancestors for a skin color that didn't show blushes. "It's quite all right. Thank you, Jack."
Hannah rested her hand on his arm. It looked innocuous enough, but when her knuckles went white and his eyes widened at her, I realized she was squeezing rather hard. Her glare connected with his, and finally he seemed to understand what she was silently telling him. He glanced at me then at Quin and gave a resigned shrug. He must have been glad he wasn't my guardian.
I shrugged on my jacket and gloves for the stroll down to the ruins. It may have been summer, but the air had cooled considerably after the sun went down. At least there was no mist, and the circle of light cast by my lamp kept the darkness at bay. I made sure we were out of earshot of the house before I spoke.
"How did you get those scars?"
"I wondered how long it would be before you asked." He smiled at me. Smiled!
"Quin, this isn't funny. Your back is covered."
"Is it? I can't see."
"Stop avoiding the question and tell me. Was it the administrators?"
"They are the ones who mete out punishment."
I stopped and grabbed his arm. "You were punished? For coming to me?"
"Not precisely. I was allowed to help you, but not allowed to seek the book for my own reasons, and especially not to use it to leave Purgatory."
"How do they know that was your motive for coming?"
His lip curled into a sneer. "They know everything."
I took his hand in my own and his strong step faltered and slowed. "So they whipped you."
He gave a single nod. "It's only flesh, Cara. I have no need of it anymore."
No, I suppose he didn't. He had no need of any earthly things. "Quin, I'm sorry—"
He stopped abruptly and rounded on me. His fingers dug into my shoulders. "Don't. Don't apologize for not giving me the book. It was the right thing to do." He let me go. "It would have been far worse for me if I had succeeded in gaining the book but failed to escape."
And if he hadn't failed? What then?
He could not have come back to me here, now. He would have gone on to his afterlife, unable to return to this realm.
There were so many things I wanted to ask him and tell him, but I knew from past experience that he would only grow angry with the questions and not answer anyway. Besides, it seemed strange to admit that I'd been researching him in history books.
Instead, he asked me questions about my family's health and what I'd been doing in the last few weeks. I was about to tell him that the book had gone missing, but thought better of it. I couldn't be certain what sort of reaction I'd receive, and we had arrived at the ruins anyway.
"Can you see anyone?" he asked.
I held up the lamp, but its weak light didn't reach beyond three feet in any direction. "It seems quiet. Lord Malborough!" I called. "Are you here? If so, please reveal yourself. I'm a medium and wish to speak to you."
Silence.
"I know the circumstances under which we last met weren't ideal."
Quin grunted out a soft laugh.
"But I do hope we can look past that and discuss your future."
"I don't have a future!" came a voice from the shadows. "Leave me be."
"I can't. You're upsetting the…ladies." I almost said servants, but a snob like Malborough wouldn't care about the staff.
"You think I give a damn about women?"
It would seem I'd overestimated his chivalrous streak. "What am I to do to convince him?" I
whispered to Quin. "He won't even come closer."
"Leave it to me." He withdrew his sword.
"You're going to destroy him now without even a warning?"
"I don't plan on using it on him. Yet." He held the sword at arm's length, point down. "Malborough! I'll let you have one swing at me."
"Quin! What are you doing? He'll hurt you, perhaps even kill you."
"Will he?" His idle words matched his smile.
"You told me so yourself. You're mortal here. Even if he doesn't kill you, a wound could turn septic. Unless the rules have changed since you were last here?"
"The rules never change."
"Then give me the sword." I went to snatch it from his hand, but he moved it out of my reach. I leapt at it again, and he moved it again, catching me as I stumbled. His firm grip across my middle felt warm, familiar.
I touched his hand and glanced up at him, only to see him staring back as if he were surprised at what he'd caught. Then his gaze turned smoky and his thumb inched up to my ribs and rubbed through my clothes.
"Very well," interrupted a limp voice.
I turned to see the doughy form of Malborough waxing and waning in the low light. I gagged and covered my mouth with my hand. He was a gruesome sight, thanks to the demon attack that had ended his life. The flesh hung off his body in long, pulpy strips, and he was missing both ears, a hand, and a chunk of his scalp. I imagined other bits had come off him too, but his bloodied clothing covered the rest of him. Bile burned my throat and I had to swallow heavily to force it down.
"He's here," I told Quin.
He let me go and held out the sword again. "My lord?" He bowed, lowering his gaze.
"What trick is this?" Malborough asked.
"No trick," I said. "He will allow you one lunge with his blade."
"What's the point? He'll step out of the way."
"It may make you feel better. I know you harbor some ill will against him, considering the role he played in your death."
He turned cold, fathomless eyes on me. "I suppose you're going to tell me it's my fault."
"You did summon the demons that killed you."
He gave a humorless laugh. "And you think taking one swipe at your warrior will soothe my anger enough that I'll leave?"
"It's worth a try. If there's anyone else you'd like me to fetch here for you to speak to then please tell me. Your father, perhaps?"
"I've already been to see him. Fool. He was terrified out of his wits. Had no clue it was me come to haunt him."
"Oh? Has your father been here?"
"No."
"Then how did you haunt him?"
"I went to his London home. You are a silly twit, aren't you?"
I held up my hand, slowing him down. Quin edged closer to me as if he sensed something was wrong. "But you died here, and spirits can't leave the place where they died."
He shrugged. "I feel a stronger connection to these ruins, it's true. But I've been all over the place since I was called back. Here, London, my house." He nodded at the manor.
"That's impossible."
"What's he saying, Cara?" Quin asked.
"That he is not confined to a single place since his death."
"No," Malborough said with a huff of impatience. "You're not listening, stupid girl. Not since my death. Since my return. After my death, I haunted the ruins for a day or so and realized there was no point. So I went to the waiting area and crossed over, when they finally decided where I should go." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked nervously about. "But I was called back here recently."
I relayed what he'd said to Quin, then added, "Spirits can't come back from their final resting place. Once they've crossed, they've crossed."
"Clearly you know nothing about the afterlife," Malborough said. "Because I'm not the only one who came back."
"How many others?"
"Dozens." He shrugged. "We didn't perform a roll call."
"Was one of them a big fellow with a red beard and Scottish accent?"
He nodded. "Bloodthirsty barbarian, that one. Glad I didn't have to stay with him and his lot."
I shook my head, over and over. It didn't make sense. Spirits who could wander about was one thing, but dangerous spirits was quite another, particularly if they didn't want to return to…where? "Malborough, you said you crossed. Did you go to, uh, that dark place?"
"Hell?" His laugh held the high pitch of madness and the cold steel of cruelty. "You could call it that."
I glanced at Quin and nodded gravely.
"When did this happen?" Quin asked.
"Time has little meaning for me," Malborough said. "Perhaps a day or more."
I repeated his answer for Quin's benefit then turned back to Malborough. "You have to return," I said. "You don't belong here."
"You want me to go back to hell? Willingly?" He snorted.
"Lord Malborough, please. Be reasonable. The good people here are frightened."
"They have every right to be. And they are not good people." In a blur of motion, he snatched the sword from Quin and sliced it through the air so fast, I had no time to scream let alone dive out of the way. I could only put up my hands as the blade plunged toward me.
CHAPTER 5
Malborough was fast, but Quin was faster. He shoved my shoulder and I tumbled out of the way, landing on my side on the soft earth. I managed to hang onto the lantern and mercifully it remained lit. The sword glinted in the light as Quin dodged its blade in a move far smoother than the one I'd just executed.
I opened my mouth to warn Quin that he couldn't fight a ghost, but shut it again. He knew his fists would sail right through Malborough, and my talking would only distract him. Ordinarily, Quin could easily trip Malborough or grab his wrist, but none of those techniques would work on a spirit. All Quin could do was keep out of the blade's way until Malborough dropped it.
Or so I thought. With only one hand, Malborough couldn't raise the massive sword very high, but he could use it like a lance, and he charged straight at Quin. Quin didn't move.
I screamed and watched helplessly as the sword bore down on him. At the last possible moment, he swerved to his left. The blade missed him, but the ghostly form passed through his body. Malborough's momentum propelled him forward. It was then that I realized Quin had positioned himself in front of one of the ruined walls. Malborough slammed into it with a grind of metal on stone as the sword hit the wall with him.
The collision with a solid, inanimate object wouldn't harm a ghost, but it did slow him down. While Malborough staggered to his feet, Quin wrenched the sword out of his hands.
"Blast!" Malborough cowered against the wall, his terrified gaze on the sword as it plunged toward him. He could have moved either left or right and not been seen by Quin, but he didn't. He was rooted to the spot.
"Wait!" I shouted. "We must inform him of his options."
But Quin didn't wait. Even in the semi-darkness the fierce gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. They held no mercy, no forgiveness, only fury. He thrust the sword into Malborough's chest, opening up a gaping black hole. The ghost's mouth opened in a soundless scream. His wide eyes watched Quin reach inside and pull out a dark, pulsing mass.
"What's that?" Malborough asked, his voice quavering.
"Your soul," I whispered.
Quin squeezed and the mass turned to dust. It filtered through his fingers onto the grass, forming a small pile. The spirit of Malborough followed, his final words garbled as he disintegrated.
I stared at the dust. My hands shook, rattling the lantern cage. I set it on the ground and pressed my hands together in front of me.
The sound of Quin sheathing his sword turned me in his direction. He blinked slowly at me, not at the remains of Malborough, and seemed unsure of what to do next. I felt the same way. What he'd just done was quite possibly the worst thing that could ever happen to a being. To be extinguished entirely, never to exist in any plane ever again…it was unfathomable.
He held
out his hand to me. "Are you all right, Cara?"
I stared at his hand until he retracted it. "Yes."
"He didn't deserve an afterlife."
I picked up the lantern and got to my feet. Quin took my elbow to assist me. "Not even in hell?"
"No. You're dismayed at what I did." It wasn't a question.
"Shocked is perhaps a more appropriate term. You didn't give me a chance to warn him. He might have chosen to return to hell, rather than become nothing."
"They never choose to return, and there was no time to explain. I had to strike before he moved or I would be at a disadvantage."
"Yes, but…" Perhaps Quin was right, but it still made me feel as though we'd murdered someone. Malborough wasn't a good man, but did he deserve nothingness? Did anyone?
Quin touched my cheek, sweeping back a curl that had come loose and tucking it behind my ear. The gentle gesture got my full attention, and our gazes locked. "This is what I do, Cara. I remove the black, rotten souls of otherworldly creatures, including spirits."
"It's just so…final. I would have liked to have warned him, given him a choice."
He dropped his hand to his side. A muscle pulsed in the unforgiving planes of his jaw. "I've told you before, I'm not always a good person. I have a temper and I sometimes act on it. He was a threat to us both, and I did what I had to do to remove the threat."
I sighed. "I know. Come on, let's go and tell the others then dress for dinner."
We walked back to the house in silence. My thoughts were troubled, but I couldn't feel sorry for Malborough. He'd hurt too many people in his life, and perhaps nothingness was better than an afterlife in the dark place where cruel souls were sent.
We told the others that Malborough was gone; body, spirit and soul. They didn't seem upset that Malborough had been destroyed.
We dispersed to dress and reconvened in the dining room some time later. I wore an off the shoulder gown the color of a heady red wine. It caught Quin's attention. I could feel his warm gaze touching my bare skin—until the food arrived. He tucked into the fish course and finished before most of us were half way through. He was about to wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve until he recalled where—and when—he was and used the napkin. At least he'd remembered to use both knife and fork.
