The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker (15 page)

“All right, I’ll do it. I’ll teach her tomorrow.” Alexi paused. “Stop staring at me, I said I’d do it. You’ve never bothered me before. Is the sole purpose of your afterlife to
meddle in my affairs? Or is it Miss Parker to whom you’re so drawn?”

Constance simply gave an enormous smile.

“You shouldn’t, you know,” Alexi grumbled. “Meddle. It’s dangerous.” No one knew better than he.

A stone gave way, and from a gaping hole in the Southern Hemisphere spirits floated free, amazed and gleeful, hellbent on trouble. Their eyes were gleaming. The Groundskeeper giggled as each emerged. “Come on, come on!” He gestured them onward. “We’re about to undo the wall between! If we can’t find her, we’ll shake the whole world till she tumbles out!”

Watching from across a portal, Lucille turned to the impatient Darkness, who rumbled, “I want you to kill them.”

“What would be the point? They’ll just inhabit new bodies. They always do. Don’t you understand? This will never end. This vendetta of yours will never be settled until an allout war is waged. You realize that, don’t you?”

“But. Where. Is. She?”

Lucille took a deep breath. “I do not know.”

Thunder crashed. “Break all the seals! Shred them! War!”

Lucille’s eyes burned with emotion. “Not yet, my lord. Listen to me. It will all come together. We will find her. When I have them in my hands, she will follow.”

The thunder turned to a hopeful whisper. “She will?”

Lucille reached out a hand. The long, thin fingers of Darkness reached back.

“There now. At last. Trust me, for once, would you? They’ve no idea the surprises that await.”

Alone in the scientific library, her bone white fingers absently tapping the table, Percy bent over a tome of Italian mathematics. She could not concentrate. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a man enter the room, meander halfheartedly to a shelf and begin poking at a few spines. After a moment he procured an armful of books. Evaluating his cargo with great disdain, he moved to sit opposite her.

Percy looked up in her usual meek manner. The finely dressed gentleman, incredibly lean and sharp-featured, bowed his head in acknowledgment. His eyes went wide as he took in her coils of snow-white hair and spectral appearance, yet this was his only reaction. Percy returned to her work. The gentleman, casting one last sideways glance, did the same.

It was not long before he tired and rose from his seat, books balanced precariously in his arms. He moved past Percy to return the volumes, one by one. On the fourth pass, his last book fell from his hands and an irritated sigh escaped his lips. She felt his eyes dissecting her.

“Here, sir,” Percy offered, bending to pick up the volume.

“Thank you, m’lady,” the man replied.

As he took the book, their fingers brushed. Percy felt something overwhelming sweep through her, as if a thunderstorm broke open her veins. The two gasped in unison, and the gentleman’s eyes clouded and his face contorted as if he’d seen something horrible.

It was best that the kind yet protective Miss Wilberforce had gone, lest she imagine an impropriety was taking place.
Percy removed her glasses. The man seemed to be reeling from the odd moment, and reeled again from the vision of her irises. “Oh, my,” he exclaimed. “Allow me to offer an apology, Miss…”

“Parker,” Percy supplied.

“You are…quite unique.” It was a failed attempt at flattery.

“So I’ve been told,” Percy remarked. “Now, if I may ask: who are you, sir, and what did you just do to me?”

The man blinked, confused. “Well, my name is Withersby. Lord Withersby. And I…touched you, Miss Parker. Accidentally.”

“Lord Withersby, accidental brushes do not cause such…palpable shock.”

“Ah. Yes. Well. That was rather odd, wasn’t it?” He seemed at a loss.

“Indeed. So I must ask: was it you or was it me?”

“I’m afraid it must have been my doing. Unless, Miss Parker, you are in the habit of such exchanges…?” The man’s eyes narrowed.

“No.”

The two considered each other for a long moment. Withersby finally said, “The incident was entirely my fault. Do forgive me.” With a bow, he turned to depart.

“But Lord Withersby,” Percy called. “What
happened?
”

He halted and turned. “Have you, Miss Parker, ever witnessed someone burn to death?”

Percy recoiled, horrified. “N-no. Not that I recall!”

“No, no. Of course not. My mistake.”

“Is that what you saw?” Percy pressed. “You touched me and saw
that?
A vision?”

“No, no,” he said. “Nothing to trouble yourself about. Now, if I may…?” He held up a hand, intending to take his leave.

“Wait, please,” Percy begged.

He huffed. “Yes?”

“I have dreamed of fire, Lord Withersby. You see, the strangest things have happened all my life. Things like this. I yearn to find others who might be able to explain. I believe one professor here at Athens—Professor Rychman—might be just such a man. Do you know him? Is that why you are here?”

An odd look crossed Withersby’s face. “As a matter of fact, Miss Parker, I
have
heard of him. I hear he’s a mean old codger. And yes, he’s why I’m here.”

Percy laughed. “Oh, the professor can be quite severe, it’s true. But he’s brilliant. He’s been so tolerant of me and…I owe him much. If you are here for him, may I speak to him of you?”

The man gave her an inscrutable smirk. “If you like, Miss Parker. If you like.”

“I do, Lord Withersby, and I shall. What do you call what you just did?”

“Well…” The nobleman shrugged. “I just call it a ‘cognitive touch.’”

“And this happens whenever you have contact with another person?” she marveled.

“Person or thing,” the man admitted, squirming. “But really, Miss Parker, we should not be having this conversation. It’s improper. In
many
ways.” Languidly, he waved a hand across Percy’s face and seemed to be waiting for something to occur. After a moment, he furrowed his brow. Percy blinked at him, equally baffled.

“Well, damn!” the man declared. Without another word, he turned and vacated the premises.

“Indeed!” Bewildered, Percy wandered along the shelves, glancing at the spines of the books he’d been replacing, wondering what to make of the encounter. How many were there in the world who had powers beyond explanation?

Passing a case wedged between the wall and a staircase, one she’d never before approached, she felt the air around her grow cold. The chill seemed to be emanating from a
moldy book, which Percy took down and opened to find old theories on biology. There was a note in the margin:

Constant is my care for you, sweet girl, my Constancy. All I ask is that you, for one blissful moment, put aside your obsession long enough to look into my eyes.—P.

Percy gasped, turning to the front. There she found a faded name: Constance Peterson. Another inscription was written next to a diagram of the human heart:

Can science explain everything, my Constancy, when my heart beats only for you?

On the opposite margin, there was a shaky reply:

Dear P., though you share my library table, I cannot commit any part of my heart, for I fear I do not have one to divide. The course of my blood flows toward science alone.—C.

“Oh, Constance,” Percy breathed. “Have I found your lost treasure at last?”

The doorbell echoed hollowly through his dark estate. Grumbling, Alexi rose from his study chair and made to answer. He was not expecting visitors.

“Well, well,” he remarked blandly, staring down at Elijah Withersby, who stood on his front stoop, smirking. “What do you want?”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Alexi turned and walked inside. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, inviting his friend to enter with a casual wave and then leading him to the library. It was one of the few rooms in the sprawling estate that he maintained.

Elijah smiled. “Some rare and exceedingly expensive sherry, perhaps?”

Alexi went to a cabinet and returned with a little glass filled with the precious liquid. “Here.” He placed it in Elijah’s outstretched hand, trying not to look as begrudging as he felt. “Enjoy.”

“Such a host.”

“You weren’t invited,” Alexi reminded him.

“I know.” Elijah sighed. “Auntie kicked me out of her parlor. I was driving her mad.”

“I can’t imagine,” Alexi muttered. “Tell me you did something useful today.”

“I did that research you assigned me. Ghostly dogs.” He dropped some parchment with a summary on a nearby table. Alexi noticed it was dreadfully short. “But while I was in the library, I met a student of yours. Ghastly pale girl.”

“Ah.” Alexi clenched his jaw and folded his hands. “Miss Parker.”

“I recall Rebecca mentioning something about her at La Belle, something at the start of term about a ghostly addition to your academy, and I—”

“Rebecca didn’t say a word to me about her then,” Alexi interrupted, grumbling. “I wonder that—”

“Well, I’m telling you now, Lord and Master.”

“Don’t call me that,” Alexi snapped.

“Your Royal Eeriness? Melancholy Minister of the Constant Sneer?”

“I do not sneer.”

Elijah snorted. “I beg to differ, Your Eeriness, but perhaps I alone see your disdainful glances.”

“Lord Withersby, I’d sneer at the devil to halt your endless flow of drivel.”

Elijah bowed, delighted. “Anyway, that student of yours,” he continued, “seemed awfully fond of you. I cannot, upon my life, understand why.”

Alexi shook his head. “Is that why you’ve come? Well, our friend Josephine suggested something similar, but I think you both daft. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Elijah looked taken aback. “Josephine? How did she meet Miss Parker?”

“In my office,” Alexi replied.

“Indeed? In your office. Beguiling your students in the evening hours? Alexi, I’m—”

“Elijah!”

The nobleman wouldn’t be silenced. Adopting a contemplative mien, he mused, “She’d be a fitting match for you, Alexi. Really, she’s suitably haunting. You’d make a pair indeed; dark and light, quiet and bombastic. But isn’t it forbidden to—?”

“There is nothing to forbid, and you are a lecherous fool!”

“Oh, but Alexi, you’re all riled up! We’ve been waiting years for any sort of fancy to sprout up in your cold and dreary life, and now this? What fun! Well, Rebecca won’t be happy.”

“Lord Withersby, you are—”

Elijah cut him off. “There’s one awkward thing, which is why I’ve come. I tried to get away before the girl asked me any questions, but…I brushed her by accident and, well, she sensed my power. I tried to wipe her clean of the memory but it did not take.” He braced himself for a reprimand.

Oddly, Alexi just smirked. “Miss Parker has talents unlike anyone I’ve ever met. She is a unique young lady.”

Elijah laughed. “Yes, she seems to fancy you, and that’s odd indeed.”

Alexi shook his head, disgusted. “Get out of my house.”

Elijah rose with a chuckle, drained the rest of his sherry and slipped toward the door. As an afterthought he added, “Oh, because I’m sure you’re yearning to know, when I touched the girl, I saw a figure in flames. I’ll be damned if I know what that means.”

“A figure in flames?” Alexi leaned forward. “Did it resemble a phoenix? Was there a door?”

Elijah furrowed his brow. “Oh. Are you thinking…?”
He shrugged. “While I admit she’s intriguing, she’s hardly a likely candidate for Prophecy. Didn’t Rebecca tell you? Our seventh is most certainly Miss Linden. We’re just waiting for the right sign. To that end, since you have neglected to visit us, I have been directed to bring her round to see you at the academy ball. So…dress pretty!”

Alexi’s expression was grave. “Please, Elijah. Tell the group. No jumping to conclusions until we see all the facts.”

“Yes, well, we’re sure.” Elijah grinned suddenly. “But why not? If you think our seventh is Miss Parker, why don’t you touch her and see what you find out?”

As the clock struck six, a familiar form burst through Alexi’s office wall. She fixed a gaze upon him until he gave her some acknowledgment: “I know! For God’s sake, I’ll teach her. Now leave me be.” He batted his hand at the spirit. Constance smiled, satisfied, and vanished as there came a knock at the door.

“Come.”

Miss Parker hurried in. She removed her scarf, causing her white hair to tumble around her shoulders, and removed her glasses. It occurred to Alexi that he had never seen her without her accoutrements outside of this room, and found himself pondering whether she was ever without them or if this ritualistic disrobing was alone for him and her bedroom mirror.

Perhaps she was conscious of being examined, for colour flooded her cheeks and she blurted, “A fascinating few days I’ve had.”

Alexi lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I met a man who brushed my hand and had a vision. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Once,” he replied, suppressing a weary chuckle.

“Really? Please tell me about it!”

“Sadly, I don’t know any more, Miss Parker. I only heard of it. Now, your lesson, if you please.”

The young woman sighed, riffled through her books and produced a paper. Each corner had a symbol scribbled upon it that Alexi noted with growing interest.

“A ring, a flame, a bird and a door? What are these? Surely not equations,” he stated, turning the paper on its end to study the absentminded sketches.

White hands fluttered out across the desk. “I’m sorry, Professor, my mind wandered. I—”

Urgency filled his voice as he interrupted. “If a ring, a flame, a dove and a door were variables in an equation, what would be their values? If you had to give a meaning to these, what would you make of them?”

Miss Parker blinked. “I don’t know that I could make anything of them, mathematically.”

“Do they mean nothing, Miss Parker?”

“Alone, the symbols are self-explanatory. Together…perhaps, components of a legend? They are symbols that have haunted me since birth, feel fraught with significance, and yet I do not know more.”

“Fascinating,” Alexi murmured. “Have you ever seen a door?”

“Pardon me?” She stared at him blankly.

“A portal. A void. Have you seen one, other than in your visions? Has one ever, say, opened to you—as if it were part of the wall one moment and suddenly, in the next, a gate to another realm?”

“Well, no, not like that. Why? Have you seen a door like that, Professor?” Her eyes were wide.

“If I did,” he reminded himself quietly, “it would be best not to enter.”

Miss Parker shifted in her chair, at a loss and a bit fearful. “Well. My equations—are they correct, Professor?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” He tore himself away from his reverie
to examine her work. “Let’s see. On the last five, your mind evidently was on doves and doors. If only we knew why.”

“Professor, I promise it’s no fault of yours.” Her shoulders rose and fell helplessly. “I’m past hope, I suppose.”

Alexi shook his head. “You know, Miss Parker, you are too intelligent to be so melancholy.”

Her eyes slowly rose to meet his. They glittered, pinning him with an unintentionally merciless stare. “Your contemporaries might say the same of you.” Her bold moment then faded. “B-but you flatter me, sir. You have seen nothing of my intelligence, only my ineptitude.”

“There are as many types of intelligence as there are sciences. That’s the reason I continue these sessions, as I’ve given up on you ever truly mastering mathematics.” Alexi paused as she gasped, having expected it. “Come now—don’t look mortified, little spectre.”

Her hands clenched. “Please, sir, I ask you never to call me such a thing. Never!”