Autumn (14 page)

             
Eli felt staggered by his feelings for her, humbled by the blaze of desire within his body and hungry to love her in all manners of the word.

             
“I‘m in love with you, Arabel Spade,” Eli said softly, smiling, tracing Arabel’s lips with a lazy finger. His eyes filled with a faintly incredulous reflection of wonder as he spoke his heart to her. “I know it’s sudden, but it’s true. I love you.”

             
Arabel’s pulse skidded through her veins, erratic, jumpy, and every nerve sat on edge, but in a fantastic way that made her feel bold and strong and wanton in the most delicious sense.

             
“You are my heart,” she answered, leaning in and kissing him fervently for another long, delectable moment.

             
Eli reached out and tucked a strand of Arabel’s hair behind her ear. He found he could not speak. She had enchanted him so completely that he could no longer articulate how breathtaking he found her beauty, how much he treasured her, and how earnest he was in his adoration of her. But somehow, he knew she knew already, had always known, and would always be aware.

             
Eli’s eyes were so dark with passion that to Arabel they seemed almost black in the candlelight. She could feel the strength of the connection between them, but a part of him held back. As in his dream, Eli knew he would not complete the act of physical intimacy with Arabel this evening. The kiss and the declaration of love stood on their own as monumental realizations, and he needed nothing more now than the warmth of her smile.

             
Arabel awoke to the sound of shouting and an insistent knocking upon the door of a room down the hall from hers. She stretched out lazily, wrapping herself in the memory of Eli’s kiss, determined to ignore the intrusion and stay dreamily within the world of sublime, tactile sensation for as long as possible this morning. Unfortunately, she noted somewhat sulkily, the shouting outside in the hall was getting louder, not quieter. It was not reaching completion; it was instead becoming decidedly worse. Arabel sat up to listen more closely.

             
“They’ve found a body!” a man seemed to be yelling. 

             
Arabel jumped out of bed and quickly dressed. She unbolted her door and made her way into the hall. The air was cool; it was very early morning and most others were asleep, although the frightened man outside in the hallway was extremely loud and Arabel wondered that anyone could continue to slumber throughout his insistent yelling.

             
“Sir!” Arabel called to him now as she moved down the length of the hallway clutching her black cape more firmly around her throat for warmth. “Sir!” she repeated as the old man in an even older cap and boots knocked again upon the door of the room down the hall.

             
“They’ve found a body!” the man cried, turning to Arabel, his face pinched tight with worry.

             
“Whose body? Where did they find it?”

             
“Indra! It’s Indra, I just know it!” the man exclaimed as large tears welled within his eyes.

             
“Indra?” Arabel repeated blankly, the name sounding familiar, but not yet placed. As Arabel searched for a clue of remembrance of a man named Indra, an actual image of Indra from the old man’s brain permeated her consciousness, and she started involuntarily in fresh horror.

             
In Arabel’s mind, a fearful image formed. It revealed to her the features of the grey eyed man, the man with the brown hair and a slight bump upon his nose. The man whose cold features and evil energy had haunted Arabel since even before the defiled body of Alice-May Marpole had been found draped wickedly across the base of The Great Torch on the night of Lost Souls in Crow’s Nest Pass.

             
The old man moved to Arabel quickly, closing the space between them and grabbing her arm with a claw-like grasp, desperate to be heard.

             
“They found him face down in St. Martin’s Bog! I’ve been trying to wake Sully here.” At this the old man pointed to the room whose door he’d been so insistently knocking upon. “But he won’t wake, or maybe he’s already down at the stables. I don’t know, miss, I just don’t know.”

             
The man sank to his knees in dull shock and Arabel sat with him to comfort him on the hallway floor.

             
Mr. Hill, the proprietor, rushed up to them. “Mr. Akings,” he said, motioning to the old man in the cap urgently, “if you will accompany me please!”

             
The old man sprang up instantly to his feet and Arabel followed him down the hall and outside to the stables where Mr. Hill briskly led them. Arabel wondered briefly where Eli’s room was and if he was awake yet. Arabel smiled to herself, delighted with any thought of Eli. Despite the currently tragic situation occurring in The Corvids, Eli was now the brightest spot in Arabel’s life, and all thoughts of him warmed her.

             
Mr. Akings was led to a mount and helped to alight by a solemn young stable boy. Arabel reunited happily with Ira as the crow swooped down to land upon her shoulder the second she appeared out of doors. Arabel ran her finger affectionately down Ira’s shiny black tail feathers. The crow cooed and chortled at her in adoring response and perched solidly upon her shoulder, its beady eyes scanning everywhere and everyone. Ira’s sharp claws dug into Arabel’s shoulder slightly through her thick black cape, but she didn’t mind.

             
A rotund man in a greasy bib and overalls appeared, his eyes quickly sourced out Mr. Akings.

             
“Sully!” Mr. Akings cried out upon seeing the man. Sully lurched forward and practically pulled Mr. Akings off of the horse he’d just barely managed to get onto, in a loud and clumsy embrace.

             
“Poor Indra!” sobbed Sully, wiping at his large, florid face with a decrepit looking red hanky. He reluctantly released his tight grip on Mr. Akings, who straightened up again in the saddle.

             
“Sully will need a horse too, Mr. Hill,” Mr. Akings requested, quietly tearing up again.

             
The proprietor marched away to seek out a stable boy to put in the behest and Arabel was left alone with the strangely odd grieving duo.

             
“Who is Indra?” Arabel inquired of Mr. Akings, not wishing to intrude, but needing to know, and already involved in this strange situation by his own inclusion.

             
“Indra Northrup!  Our dear, dear friend! He works for me. He’s one of my finest traveling salesman! We come through here quite often. But he’s been missing, and now they’ve found him! Dead! Dead! Just like his lady love, Alice-May Marpole, dead!” The old man sniffed miserably as tears flowed down his face freely, setting off a further surge of emotion from the man known as Sully as well. 

             
“I’m sure it will be him!” Sully sobbed.

             
Arabel wondered what the connection between the two men was but immediately nothing came to her. Sully did not look like a traveling salesman, he was a tad too grubby, and Arabel hadn’t seen them amongst the group of salesmen in the lobby last night. Perhaps Sully and Mr. Akings shared a more personal bond? Arabel decided they were most likely intimate companions of some sort.

             
Arabel remembered the talk of Indra Northrup, the traveling salesman who had bought the pretty black dress for poor, doomed Alice-May Marpole. Had Indra been caught fleeing with Alice-May by her jealous husband and killed in the ensuing rage by the jilted man after all? If indeed this mysterious husband no one could find was even responsible for the deaths, and it wasn’t some random killer whose existence and identity no one had any inkling as to yet.

             
Arabel felt the chalky taste inside of her mouth. She could feel the prevalent sorrow lending itself to imminent, hypnotic danger. It was the same chalky taste and sense of danger she’d felt since this began, and the negative entity had always been identified by the grey eyed man, Indra Northrup. But how could Indra still be haunting her if he was now laying face-down-dead in St. Martin’s Bog?

             
“Has the body been identified for certain as Indra Northrup?” Arabel questioned Mr. Hill quietly.

             
The small man shook his head. “There is fulsome speculation it is he, but we require Mr. Akings to identify the body beyond a shadow of a doubt; then we will know for certain.”

             
“But you have ascertained, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was murder?” Arabel persisted.

             
Mr. Hill met her eyes with a sharply worried expression. “There seems to be no doubt, miss.”

             
A horse was brought for Sully and the two men left the inn with a stable hand leading them to the site of the body. Mr. Hill stood with Arabel, watching them go, his face contorted with anxiety momentarily, then resolutely wiped away with practiced care.

             
Arabel turned to him. “Can you tell me, please, in which room is Eli Frankel staying?”

             
The proprietor promised he would look it up and they returned to the lobby. Once Arabel had the information she needed, she went up to the third floor and knocked upon Eli’s door. She waited for a few seconds, but there was no response. She knocked again, and then turned and made her way down to the dining room, thinking Eli must already be up as well.

             
The words from the séance last night echoed in Arabel’s brain:

             
“He used his body to betray me and now he who loved me lies in water, face down, never to breathe again.”

             
Who had Alice-May meant? Who had used whose body to betray her? Her lover, Indra Northrup, now lying drowned in St. Martin’s Bog? He was the one reputed to have really loved Alice-May, but how could Indra be the grey eyed man and also be using someone else’s body to betray his lover? It didn’t follow any logic, rationale, or intuition either. It was both an insistently annoying puzzle and a very real threat to the safety of Arabel’s future. Her thoughts circled round and around in an endlessly fragmented loop, clarity eluding her.

             
Arabel perused the dining room. Eli was seated by a window, looking out over the autumn gardens. Eli instantly felt Arabel’s eyes light upon him and he turned to smile at her. He stood, and she made her way toward him. Eli kissed her cheek lightly in greeting and Arabel happily sat beside him. She felt the warmth rising between them and her heart fluttered a delighted rhythm, despite her attempts to remain graciously grown up and sophisticated in love.

             
The dining room was busy now and Arabel determined to have breakfast as soon as possible and then make their way to the site of the body. She quickly informed Eli of all that had just happened and his eyes narrowed in speculation. This news had not reached the general population of the dining room yet so he’d heard nothing prior.

             
“Indra Northrup is the grey eyed man? He was Alice-May’s lover, that much we know, but what association did he have with you? Why was he trying to kill you?”

             
Arabel shrugged. “Another mystery,” she said lightly, tucking into her breakfast and tea. Arabel then told Eli how she’d felt the threatening energy since the supposed death of Indra, which didn’t make any sense either.

             
Eli’s expressive brown eyes bored into Arabel’s bright blue ones. He sensed her annoyance, more than any sort of fear.  

             
“The sooner we see that body and find out whose it is, the better. I personally haven’t felt any further negative disturbances, but I only seem to know when he’s lashing out in groups. There’s no real connection between he and I except for our shared interest in you,” Eli spoke softly.

             
At this statement, Eli reached for Arabel’s hand and immediately with the contact, the colours burst in front
of Arabel’s
eyes. Bright, silky pink danced joyously with a pulsating indigo blue etched with flashing royal purple; they set her senses racing. Arabel sighed as her heart seemed to slam frantically in her chest and its beat increased three-fold.

             
Eli ran his hand over Arabel’s long, glistening black hair. He tangled his fingers in the thick, silky strands. He murmured softly into Arabel’s ear. “You’re a welcome sight this morning, Miss Arabel Spade,” Eli said, and Arabel instantly forgot all being annoyed.

             
Shortly thereafter, the news of another discovered corpse hit the inquisitive patrons of the dining room and Arabel and Eli hastened to the murder site. Arabel rode Whipsie and Eli paired with Jovah. Arabel was pleased to see the bold black stallion again as they headed in the direction Mr. Hill provided.

             
It was misty out and the air was close, rendering the horses a touch nervous. Arabel could fairly see the shimmer of The Corvids collective bated breath hanging expectantly in the air above them as they rode. They passed the bridge with the laughing stream and headed toward the far side of Magpie Moor, where St. Martin’s Bog lay.