The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1) (30 page)

"No thank
you, Lucy."

Her face fell. "But
I made it 'specially. Mrs. White says my jellies are a marvel."

It did look
rather delicious. "Very well. Bring me some to my room, please." I
tried to smile because she looked upset. "Thank you, Lucy."

She bobbed a curtsey
that sent the jelly sliding. Luckily she righted the platter and continued into
the dining room without mishap.

I ran upstairs
and changed into my nightgown then flopped on the bed, suddenly too tired to
sit up and read like I usually would.

I was woken by Jacob
in the deepest, darkest part of the night. I began to scold him but the look on
his face stopped me. By the light of the candle he carried, I could just make
out the dread imprinted on every exquisite feature.

I sat bolt
upright. "What is it?"

"The demon
has attacked Forbes."

The name sounded
familiar but I couldn't place it. "Who's Forbes?"

"My
parents' butler."

The full
implication of his words took a moment to sink in to my sluggish brain. But
when it did, I felt ill. "Is he...dead?"

Jacob nodded
once and looked away but not before I saw the shine in his eyes, reflected by
the candlelight. "He'd been with us for years."

"Oh, Jacob,
I'm so sorry."

He shook his
head and once more turned to me. His eyes had hardened again, the moment's
vulnerability completely obliterated. "I need your help, Emily."

"I'll get
dressed." He looked away as I put on a black dress, gloves and a long
black cloak. I didn't bother with a hat and left my hair down. Usually I tied
it into a braid before bed but I'd been too tired to do anything with it.

Jacob and I
didn't talk. My mind was fully awake now, my thoughts tumbling over themselves,
until one became very clear. Lord and Lady Preston were about to be burgled—and
we had our best chance of sending the demon back to the Otherworld.

We left quietly,
me with my boots in one hand, Jacob carrying the single candle. I had him wave
it at the face of the clock in the entrance hall—it was three o'clock. Before
we left, I found the amulet that had originally summoned the demon and hung it
around my neck. I tucked the six-pointed star inside my bodice and glanced back
up the stairs. All was silent. Hopefully we'd be back by dawn—I didn't want
another argument with Celia. I felt bad enough about our dinnertime squabble.

Outside I put on
my boots and together we set off down Druids Way. Oddly for our street, there
was no wind. Not even a puff. Without a breeze to blow it away, the fog congealed
around us, its damp fingers caressing my face, tangling my hair. I hated to
think what my curls must look like with all the moisture in the air.

"It's very
late," I said to Jacob. My voice sounded strangely disembodied in the
thick night, our footsteps equally so. The feeble glow of the street lamps
barely lit up the tops of their poles let alone us far below them. It was a
strange feeling walking along the empty, fog-shrouded streets with a ghost at
my side. My sense for the dramatic thought it the right sort of night for the
dead—ethereal, silent, lonely. "When would your family usually arrive home
after an evening out?"

"They're
already home. I checked. That's why I woke you."

"To warn
them," I finished for him. The cold dampness seeped through my clothing to
my skin, all the way to the bone.

I started to
run.

Jacob easily
kept up but the candle extinguished. He tossed it away. I would have taken
several wrong turns in the soupy miasma if it hadn't been for him guiding me. We
half walked, half ran and reached Belgrave Square quickly.

At first I
thought the house was silent, safe, but then I heard it.

A scream. High,
nerve splitting, and filled with terror.

"Adelaide!"
Jacob disappeared.

Lights came on
inside the house. Adelaide screamed again. Another, higher scream joined hers—Lady
Preston's?

Oh God oh God
oh God
. I raced down the stairs and banged on the
servants' door, praying someone was in the service area, hoping they heard me.

"Open—!"
A hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my shout. I was wrenched back up the
stairs to street level, my attacker dragging me. My heels scraped against the
stone steps as I tried to stand. Then I was shoved against the wall of the
house. My head hit the stucco and a jolt of pain ripped through my skull. The
night turned blacker for a moment but I fought against the fog trying to cloud
my brain. Someone held me upright with an iron-clawed grip, stopping me from
sliding to the ground.

My vision
cleared. A face loomed over me like a moon in the murky night. I didn't
recognize it but it was familiar nevertheless. He had the same drooping eyes
and small mouth as Maree Finch.

Tommy.

"Let me go,"
I said. "Please."

Finch laughed,
baring two rows of crooked teeth like old headstones. "Who's gonna make
me? You?" He leaned in, his wide, white face close to mine. His breath,
hair and his very skin reeked of ale and cigar smoke, sweat and something worse.
I retched. That only made him laugh harder. "This the girl who can see
ghosts, eh?" Was he talking to me or someone else? I tried to look past
him but he was too big and the night too dark. "Looks like a mad thing."
He sniffed my hair. And he thought I was the mad one.

Suddenly the
sound of glass shattering filled the air. Finch pulled back, glanced up. "Christ,"
he muttered.

I followed his
gaze just in time to see Jacob and a man dressed in servant’s livery of scarlet
breeches and coat falling from a high window. They were locked in battle and
they fell together amidst a shower of glass, hurtling towards the footpath.

My heart leapt
into my throat. I screamed. More screams echoed mine from inside the house.

It took me a
moment to remember Jacob could not be harmed by such a fall. But his companion
would not be so lucky.

I was wrong. The
two hit the ground as one. Their impact sent a shudder along the pavement and
cracked it open like an eggshell. Jacob sprang up immediately and to my
surprise, so did the other man. It was as if they'd not just fallen several
stories onto stone.

That’s when I
noticed Finch muttering behind me. I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying
even though his mouth was right near my ear, but I didn’t think he spoke
English.

Before I had a
chance to guess at the language, my attention was drawn back to Jacob. He and
the other man hurled themselves at each other like two beasts in the ring,
using their bodies as weapons. Their chests slammed, shoulders hunched and
heaved. Fists smashed into flesh. Flesh that wasn’t like any flesh I knew—it
didn’t smack like real skin and no bones crunched. No blood was spilled.

The servant dove
at Jacob, forcing him to the ground. Together they rolled into the circle of
light cast by a street lamp and that's when I saw his face.

No, not face...
faces
.
It constantly changed, forming and reforming into people I recognized and some
I didn't—Finch, Blunt, Jacob, Adelaide, Lady and Lord Preston...

It was the
demon, shifting shape as it fought.

Oh God, no
. How could Jacob defeat a demon? From my discussions with George, I
knew they were strong and that killing them was almost impossible and required
a special Otherworldly blade. I also knew that being a supernatural creature
meant the demon could tear Jacob’s soul from his body. It could destroy his
essence, obliterate him from this world and every other.

It could turn
him into nothing.

I tried to get
closer but Finch jerked me back. He was still muttering under his breath, the
strange, poetic words blending together, sliding off his tongue. He was directing
the creature—the demon—controlling it as it fought Jacob.

I struggled
against him but his grip was too strong. He hissed in between his strange
mutterings then looked over his other shoulder into the murkiness of the nearby
alley. Something moved in the shadows. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed
through the dense fog and I saw the flap of a coat before it was swallowed up
by the night.

Finch grunted
and bunched his fist into my cloak. He stopped chanting long enough to utter, "Soft-bellied
toff." Did he mean me, or the person from the alley? Had someone been
there or was it just a trick of light or my imagination?

Finch jerked me forward
only to shove me back against the iron railing separating the pavement from the
servants' stairs. Pain spiked down my spine as I almost toppled over the waist-high
barrier onto the steps below. He stood in front of me now, his fist still
bunching my cloak at my throat, but he was watching the fight. I followed his
gaze and cringed as the demon’s fist smashed into Jacob’s mouth. On an ordinary
human it would have knocked out teeth but it had little effect on Jacob.

Even so, I felt
sick to my stomach. My heart had stopped beating the moment I saw him falling
from the window and it felt like it had not restarted. If his soul was taken
tonight by the demon, I didn’t think it would ever beat again.

The demon
punched Jacob once more and he reeled back from the force. Steadying himself, he
ran at the creature as if he was still fresh and his fist connected with the
demon’s chin. How long could this go on? Would either of them tire?

I had to do
something. Had to. Before the demon destroyed Jacob.

The amulet! With
all the action, I’d almost forgotten about it. But Finch’s big paw at my throat
cut off access. I tried to pull away but my movement drew his attention and his
fist tightened in my cloak. He snarled, baring teeth, and his mouth twisted
into a gruesome smile.

With his focus
on me and not the fight, the demon slowed, allowing Jacob to get in three
quick, hard punches on the demon’s chin, sending it reeling back into the
shadows. He glanced at me for the first time since he'd fallen from the window.
His eyes widened. His features seemed to collapse in on themselves.

"Emily!"
His shout split the air.

Finch spun round
and spoke in the strange language again. The demon flew out of the shadows and
shoved Jacob back into the lamp post. The iron pole bent from the force.

"Jacob!"
I struggled against Finch but it was useless. I was so weak by comparison, so
useless
.
I couldn’t get to the amulet. Couldn’t get away. Couldn’t
do
anything.

"Emily?"
It was Adelaide. She and her father had emerged from the house, wrapped in thick
coats with fur collars. Lord Preston's attention focused on the demon and what
he thought of that I couldn't make out in the darkness. It must seem terribly
peculiar, the creature with its changing faces fighting an invisible foe.

Two footmen
joined them on the landing, pistols cocked. Lord Preston also held a long
sword, its blade gleaming even in the dull light cast by the lamp Adelaide
held. She seemed not to know where to look, first at me, then at the demon,
then at her father.

One of the
servants aimed his pistol at the demon.

"That won't
do anything," I said.

"Shut up!"
Finch slapped me across the face. It stung. I bit down against the pain and
shook off the dizziness.

"Father, do
something!" shouted Adelaide.

Lord Preston
turned to me, his face like thunder. But there was a hint of confusion there
too. He said nothing, gave no orders, and I decided he must be attempting to
make sense of what he saw or he'd have taken charge already. His fingers flexed
around the sword hilt. It was the sort of weapon found on library walls or
behind glass cabinets, all gold and shiny metal with a tassel hanging from the
hilt. It had probably never been used.

"Call the
police!" I shouted and kicked out at Finch's shins.

He slapped me
again. My head buzzed like a hive full of angry bees. I blinked away tears and
battled to stay upright as Finch moved. Suddenly he was behind me, his arm
around my waist. Something cold and sharp bit into my throat.

A knife.

"Emily!"
Adelaide screamed again.

Onlookers
emerged up and down the street, their lamps and candles glowing like faint
stars. In the distance I heard a constable's whistle but it was far away. Too
far.

"Unhand her!"
Lord Preston bellowed. Thank God he'd regained his sense of command although I
doubted it would do any good.

Finch certainly
didn't cower. The knife pierced my skin. His breath came hot and moist in my
ear as he chanted. I could feel his heart beating at my back, as rapid and
erratic as my own. But his hand didn't shake. His life depended on keeping
control of the weapon.

Off to our
right, everyone either watched the strange spectacle of the demon or had their
gazes on me. Adelaide, unaware that her brother's ghost was barely keeping a shape-shifting
demon at bay, grew frantic. "Father! He's going to hurt her!"