The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker (19 page)

He looked horrified, retreated behind the familiar boundary of his marble desk. “I would not dream of it, Miss Parker. I’d never punish you for my mistake.”

“‘Mistake,’” Percy repeated.

The look he turned on her was paralyzed and pained, but his voice was hard. “I dare not allow myself any other such indulgence…” His tone softened. “Thrilling as it was, I dare not cross such a line again. Not until I can be certain.”

“Certain of what, Professor?” Percy asked. When he opened his mouth and closed it without reply, she pressed, “Until you are certain of
what?
You owe me some insight, Professor. You spoke of a number, a prophecy even. What do you mean? A prophecy for whom? And, where did you go after the ball? You know how mad I am for answers regarding my—”

“You will have to remain mad for the time being, Miss Parker!” he barked, staring deep into her eyes as if willing her to understand. “I…I beg your patience.”

Percy touched her lips. “And what of this?”

“I suppose you’ll have to keep quiet, my dear—out of respect for both of our places here,” he snapped.

All Percy’s happiness vanished.

Alexi’s shoulders fell, and he sighed. “Blessed creature with such a gentle heart…” He skirted his desk and dared approach her, took her arms in his hands. “Miss Parker, Persephone, my dear goddess of a girl—however I am to address you. Look at me, please.” She did as requested, but a tear fell from her eye, and Alexi drew his fingertips across her cheek. She leaned into his palm, but he drew back again, as if he could not trust himself to touch her. “Please listen. There are forces at work upon my life that are beyond my control. I know you, of all people, can empathize. Have you strength enough to bear with me until I see the signs I need?”

Percy blinked. “I don’t understand, but I’m in your hands.” She gave him a radiant smile, praying he understood the faith she was putting in him. As she moved to touch his arm, however, he turned away, and her breath hitched in her lungs.

“There is much to make us cautious, Miss Parker. I have a duty toward you; that much is clear. But do not ask too much of me or think too much of me—not yet. Those beautiful eyes of yours say so much, and I simply cannot…This is all rather sudden, untoward, and more than a little upsetting.”

“For us both,” Percy agreed, noticing how laboured his breath had become, how white his knuckles on his chair. She took a step closer. “However, I—”

“Get out,” he demanded. “Get out of this office before you drive me mad,” he begged. “Have mercy upon me, Persephone. I do not trust myself.”

“I trust you,” she said.

He smiled, and there, in the weariness of his smile, she saw years of loneliness and the toll they had taken. He said, “You trust the man who just set upon you? You are as foolish as I.” Gently he turned her away and gave her a slight push. “Go, beautiful creature. Until next time.”

“Alexi,” she insisted, reaching for his hand.

“Percy,” he echoed. But he drew his hand away.

“Alexi—”

He placed a finger upon her lips, hushing her. A thrill took her, and the bones of her corset were a sudden prison. He commanded, “Elsewhere you must call me ‘Professor.’ And—as I am still your professor, here and everywhere on these grounds—do as I say: get out of my office. And keep your silence or all is lost. More than you can possibly know.”

“But—”

“I shall silence you by any method necessary,” he finished, staring wistfully at her lips.

“Is that a threat?”

He smiled sadly at her breathy, hopeful reply. “Out. Mercy, I say. I’ll call for you soon.” Stepping out the door, she turned, but he waved her on and she could see the battle in his eyes. “Sweet dreams, sweet Persephone. Sweet dreams.”

A tall dark figure burst into the headmistress’s office, muttering to himself, and Rebecca jumped, her pen scrawling across her paper. “Alexi—dear God, knock, will you? Your presence is startling enough as is.”

Her friend crossed to the window, brooding.

“What is it, Alexi?”

“Prophecy,” he breathed.

Rebecca rose anxiously from her chair. “Did you see the sign? Was there a door?”

“Not exactly,” Alexi admitted. “I…I need to clear my mind. But there’s an answer here, timid as she is,
unexpected
as she is. But, must I not wait? This admission is just between us for the moment, Rebecca. Until I have more proof, until I have—”

“You’ve been speaking with Miss Linden?”

Alexi turned. “No.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “No? After everything I’ve alerted you to, in more than one infuriating conversation? Who do you think it is, if not her? The rest of us are sure she’s the one! Placed in our path as she was…Didn’t you
sense it? Why else would you send her into the tavern? What in the world are you on about?”

Alexi scowled, dropping into the seat opposite.

Rebecca sighed. “Alexi, come now. Elijah spoke of how Miss Linden looked at you at the gala—as if she’d come home. I knew from the first that there was something powerful and fateful about her, but you’ve been nothing but rude. When you disappeared she was crestfallen. She said you seemed distracted. Where
did
you wander the night of the ball? If not Miss Linden, who in the world—?”

Alexi warmed at the thought of Miss Parker’s face by moonlight, and foreign sensations wrestled in his stomach. “I was waltzing.”

Rebecca snorted. “Ah, yes, that’s right. With whom?”

“A girl far too unique to feel comfortable in that gaudy, flighty crowd. A girl who forsook the frivolous sparkle of chandeliers for the simple moonlight of the upper foyer.”

Though Alexi attempted to remove the poetry from his voice, Rebecca was not fooled. “How popular you’ve become, Alexi. Who could have imagined?” She took a long breath and spoke through clenched teeth. “And so you yet place your bets upon Miss Parker.”

“You should have told me about her the moment she stepped through our doors, rather than leaving me alone to think we’d enrolled a ghost,” Alexi reproached. “We should have used all our gifts to glean her information. Did your instincts not cry out when you met her?”

Rebecca shrugged, unable to look at him. “A bit.”

“A bit?” Alexi cried. “And you didn’t tell me? Rebecca, can I not trust you?”

“For the love of God, did we not set boundaries?” she defended herself. “Need I remind you
once again
that she is a student? I don’t like this, Alexi; it is surely a trap as your goddess warned. And, how am I to keep this school running if you fail to obey the rules of propriety? I ought to fire you and expel her!”

“Rebecca—”

“You’re threatening everything we’ve worked so hard to create!”

“I’m doing nothing but trying to determine Prophecy. It isn’t me who now has a problem talking about things—it’s you! There are forces that press our boundaries, however carefully and sensibly we might have placed them. Do you know Miss Parker’s full name, Rebecca?”

“I do not recall. Shall I find out?” the headmistress asked, exasperated. “So you may send a bouquet?”

“Persephone,” Alexi replied. “
Persephone
Parker.”

“Persephone,” Rebecca repeated blankly.

“Yes. Don’t you find that interesting?”

“What, are we now looking for the bride of the underworld?”

“Yes, since she was the one who appeared to us all those years ago.”

Rebecca looked dubious. “You believe this because of all the references to the spirit world? You believe that is the reason we are here at
Athens
Academy, because a Greek goddess has entwined us in her mythology?”

His friend was trying to make it sound absurd, but Alexi would have none of it. “Yes, of course—because it makes perfect sense! She bears our clue in her very name. That, and the phoenix pendant she wears about her neck.”

Rebecca leaned back. “A phoenix?”

“A pendant that burned her at the very moment I cried out for a sign the other night,” Alexi explained.

Rebecca bit her lip. “It burned her? Couldn’t that be a sign of the opposite, actually warning us against her? And these coincidences, Alexi, however uncanny, are nothing. Not if there isn’t a door—the one definite we were given in a host of damnable ambiguities. Aren’t you the one always counseling patience? I tell you, Alexi, we need more than a myth, a pale face and a pendant. And…the others are sure it’s Miss Linden.”

“It isn’t up to the others.”

“Alexi, we’re all in this—”

“She’s mine to find!”

“And ours to agree on!” Rebecca cried in response, her face reddening and her pitch rising. “Does Miss Parker know about any of this? About our work, and about the danger? Does she know that you’re pinning your hopes on an untried girl who’s a…On an untried
girl,
Alexi!”

Alexi shook his head, glowering. “I’m more cautious than that. You of all people should know my code.” He rose and hovered over her. “But, Rebecca…she knew our incantation. She sang it to me. It came to her in her mind. She’s the one—our seventh. You’ll see that I’m right!”

He wasn’t acting himself, and they both realized the fact. Rebecca just shook her head and said, “Alexi, the hour grows late. We’ve no time for games.”

He sighed and, in a splay of dark fabric, collapsed into his chair. “Am I to have no support or encouragement from you? You, who are my oldest and dearest confidante?”

His friend shook her head, an ache in her voice that almost matched the uncharacteristic pleading in his. “Alexi, I do not mean to be difficult. I am simply frightened of mistaking Prophecy. Please, do not entangle your heart,” she added. “It only will make matters worse. You need to give Miss Linden objective consideration. Remember your obligation!”

“My obligation?” Alexi hissed. “What else have I ever thought of? Has there been a door?”

“No, not yet. But—”

“Then I’m not concerned. I believe what I believe.” A sudden frown furrowed his brow. “Rebecca, why are you so set on this woman when I’m so certain it is Miss Parker?”

His friend’s eyes flashed. “Because, Alexi, as I’ve said more times than I wish to recall, Prophecy has nothing to do with you
caring
for our seventh, and—”

He gave her a cold look and interrupted: “Yet I’ve always known it would.”

Rebecca glanced down at her desk, blinked and swallowed a few times before looking back up at him. “Alexi, why are you looking for love elsewhere? It has been staring you in the face since that day, forever ago, on Westminster Bridge.”

There was a horrible, embarrassing silence. Alexi stared deeply into the eyes of his dearest friend, his confidante…but not his lover. Never that.

“Aye,” he sighed. “There’s the rub. I’m sorry, Rebecca.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know already,” she said with a sorrowful laugh.

“I care for you, Rebecca. I always have. Perhaps if we had lived other lives, I could have made you my wife.”

Her face contorted. “Oh, thank you,” she said. “Thank you very much for that declaration of pity. Dear God—”

“Certainly not
pity,
Rebecca.”

“What, you cannot tell me…Do you love Miss Parker, then?” she hissed, almost inaudibly, staring at her desk.

Alexi made a face. “Rebecca,” he finally sighed. “I am doing my best. This is not easy for any of us. I need your help.”

“You had best make sure she stays quiet about whatever you have…done to her.”

“I’ve not ruined her, if that’s what you’re—”

His friend held up a hand, wincing. “I don’t want to hear it. Prophecy aside, we’ll lose everything here if the staff is proven scandalous hypocrites. I’d not hesitate to send either of you packing. I will expel her if this becomes a problem.”

“Stop threatening me,” Alexi barked. “I’ve insisted on secrecy. The dear girl will do anything I ask. Anything.”

Rebecca eyed him. “Don’t you dare be smug about that, Alexi. Not about that.”

He looked at her for a long moment before his expression softened. “I know you’re in a difficult position, Rebecca. In many ways. Trying times befall every mortal given our destiny. We are no different than any before us.”

“We know nothing of those that came before us,” she spat.
“I wish they’d have left notes and a guidebook. But I suppose you are right, trying times is our lot.”

Alexi smiled and gave her a tentative smile. “I would have hoped, after two decades, you might have learned I’m
always
right.”

Rebecca just groaned.

“Well, I’m off!” He rose quickly, exhibiting a youthful energy she’d not seen from him for years. He anticipated her calling him back, however, and so he turned at the door and leveled a stare at her. “Caution. I know, I know,” he promised gently. Then he disappeared into the hall.

Rebecca sat quietly, staring at the closed door. Finally, ignoring the pain searing her heart, she filed the documents she’d been handling and again cursed her life.

The crack began as a hairline fissure. The fissure then split. The window pane burst, and a shard of glass fell and struck Josephine’s hand where she was stacking dessert plates.
“Merde!”
she spat.

Walking to the front of La Belle, Josephine stared down the alley to see a glowing woman in rags who was tearing at transparent hair and throwing her head back in a silent rage; she floated several inches off the ground, and it was her wails that had destroyed the window. Josephine returned and found Elijah, and pointedly drew him away from his conversation with Miss Lucille Linden. “Lord Withersby—a word with you?”

“Yes, my dove?” he murmured, leaning across the counter.

“We’ve got a shrieker heading due south. My, there’s been a lot of them lately.”

Elijah glanced to the window. “I suppose you’ll make me replace that glass?”

“Tell Jane and Michael. What shall we do with Miss Linden?”

“I’ll wipe her.”

“Do you think she’ll take to it?”

“Almost everyone does. It was said Prophecy won’t have
exactly
our powers, so it should take. She didn’t come running when the dog was on the loose, remember? Or when I abandoned her at the gala, either! We’ll return with no time passed. Although, to tell the truth…would it be so harmful for her to see what we do? We have to address Prophecy with her, and soon. Let’s just show her—”

“Non.”
Josephine shook her head. “Only with Alexi’s blessing, Elijah. You know that.”

“But he’s never here anymore. I think something’s wrong with him. We may have to take matters into our own hands. Let’s just bring her along.”

“Elijah, do you want to explain to Alexi why you broke our compact without his approval? And Rebecca isn’t even here to ask.”

The impetuous gentleman pouted and eventually shook his head.

Jane, who had forsaken her usual solitude to spend a pleasant evening at the tavern with her friends, sensed both the spirit and the blood on Josephine’s hand. Rising from the table she said, “If ye’ll be so kind as to excuse us, Miss Linden?” She eyed the woman with caution, no matter her selfprofessed desperate circumstances and the other Guards’ approval. From the moment they met, Jane found Miss Linden a bit too nice and certainly too beautiful. But there was an unmistakable something about her, something to be learned, so she could not be dismissed outright.

“Of course,” the woman replied sweetly.

Carrying her teacup to the counter, Jane grasped Jose
phine’s hand, knowing which was bloodied without having seen it. Dragging a finger over the cut, she concentrated until the Frenchwoman’s skin closed over.

Elijah approached Miss Linden. “We’ll return in a moment, and you won’t even know we were gone,” he said quietly, staring deep into her eyes and waving a hand before her face. The beautiful woman stared blankly ahead, and the assembled company evaluated her.

“Is she out?” Josephine asked.

“Looks snuffed to me,” Michael chortled, rising from the table and bounding out the door.

They tore down the alley toward the tortured spectre in rags. In her wake, glass windows had cracked or burst. Running past, the group wheeled around to block the spirit’s departure. As they lifted clasped hands, sparks of thin blue lightning coursed between their bodies. The ghost stopped and stared at them, agape.

Random passersby approached, but Elijah sent them wandering off with a flutter of a hand and a sardonic smile. They wouldn’t remember a thing.

The four opened their mouths and a sweet, simple lullaby rose into the air. The spirit clawed at her hollow face, and her form flickered. One by one The Guard moved their hands toward the spirit, and Michael let loose a jovial laugh. The spirit blinked. She opened a sagging jaw as if to recommence her netherworld wailing, but the four placed their fingers to their lips and a soft “Shhhh” echoed down the alley. The old woman’s jaw closed and she hung her head. Her form slowly sank into the cobblestone street.

Lucille Linden watched all of this from the front door of the café with a wide smile. As the four made to return, she was quick to resume her seat at the table and play along for one last moment.

Laughing, the group walked to the bar, and Josephine began to pour glasses of wine. Elijah approached and snapped
his fingers in front of Lucille’s face. She looked up at him with a knowing smirk.

“Why is it,” she murmured, her eyes alight, “that spirits are always hanging about you and your friends, and you feel the need to go and play with them? I simply must speak with that professor of yours.”

Elijah Withersby stared at her, glanced at the others and squirmed.

“Why are you so quiet?” Marianna scolded Percy. The two were sitting at the courtyard fountain.

“Because I’ve nothing to say. Do you still think I wandered off with someone the night of the ball? Just because you and Edward were chatting until dawn and had to resort to all manner of trickery to sneak into your respective halls doesn’t mean I was so inclined.”

The German girl giggled uncontrollably. Percy hadn’t seen much of her friend now that Edward was around, but she did not take offense; there was plenty to preoccupy her. While she dared not even a hint, she was dying to rhapsodize about the joy of being so near Alexi, to be kissed by Alexi…but she couldn’t say a word and could only wonder if she’d ever be kissed again. She spent a great deal of time wondering that.

“Something is different about you. You seem less timid. Older, somehow.”

Percy only smiled, her tinted glasses obscuring what naked eyes might have betrayed.

Miss Jennings startled them. “There you are, Miss Parker! I’ve been looking for you. This was tacked to your door,” the bumbling woman blurted, eyeing the two girls suspiciously. Then she wandered off as if confused.

Percy and Marianna glanced at each other and laughed. “Poor old dear! Well. What can that be?” Marianna asked.

Recognizing the precise script, Percy took care to shield it from her friend.

To the pale nymph whom it concerns:

Our meetings must now commence more regularly. Tonight, wear something fine. Yours,

—A

Percy lost her breath, staring.

“Well?”

“Oh…Nothing at all. Reverend Mother wishing me well on an upcoming exam.”

“Truly? I saw a spot of colour rise to your cheek, right there.” Marianna poked her friend in the jaw.

“No.”

“Let me see the note.”

“Marianna, please,” Percy begged.

There was an edge to her voice that Marianna dared not question further, so the German girl said, “You are hiding from me. Perhaps you must. But I do hope, soon, you will trust me enough that no matter how strange, or forbidden—”

“Of course I trust you, dear heart,” Percy interrupted. “Just allow me my silence. There are certain things I am not at liberty to discuss. Not at present. Please forgive me.”

“You do seem older,” Marianna stated quietly. “Only, answer me this. When we first met, you told me your wish—to find someone or something that could explain your destiny. Have you found this?”

“I may have,” Percy admitted.

“Good, then.” Marianna nodded. “That is good.”

“Yes.” But as Percy looked up, past Promethe Hall, her blood chilled. The sky held a sparkling prismatic quality and also a new addition. Silhouetted horsemen rode the clouds. They were galloping in place between earth and sky, and she almost felt the distant beat of the horses’ hooves as if they were the pounding of her heart. She had no idea what the
shadows were, or what they could mean. Stranger still, she was surer than ever she heard dogs barking, deep growls and roars. She did not realize she voiced a whimper.

“What is it, Percy?”

Casting aside her weighty dread, she glanced to her friend and then again at the sky. The vapourous horsemen were gone. “Must have been a vision—something I thought I saw past those walls.”

Still, there was yelping in the distance. Something was closing in.

Hours later, Percy paced her room. As the clock chimed quarter of six, she looked at herself in the mirror to find delirious panic upon her face. She’d done the best she could: swept up her hair with filigree barrettes, applied a bit of colour to her lips and cheeks, donned a midnight blue dress—a bit of finery sent by Reverend Mother. She clasped her pendant higher up on her neck so that it lay just over and covered her fateful burn. With bell cuffs of lace, a scooped neck and a doubled skirt, Percy hoped she was “fine” enough for whatever adventure lay ahead.

A sudden thought made her quake. Did he plan to take her out somewhere? Was he prepared for how people would stare? She fought back a fit of worried tears and tucked a thin scarf and glasses into her reticule.

Throwing a dark hooded cloak about her shoulders, she sneaked out the back door of her hall and kept to the courtyard shadows, avoiding any exterior doors where guards would be posted. She scurried to the professor’s office and knocked.

Rather than bidding her enter, Alexi opened the door and drew her in. His hand on hers caused frissons through her body. “Good evening, Percy.”

“Good evening, Profess—ah, Alexi,” Percy murmured, her eyes huge.

His sharp features were inscrutable but his eyes sparkled.
With what Percy hoped was reluctance, he released her hand and moved to take her cloak. His firm hand lingered on her shoulder. She held her breath.

A fire and the candelabras were blazing. He moved to place her cloak on the coat tree where his professorial robe was draped. He wore a blousy grey silk shirt beneath a thick black velvet vest cut perfectly to fit his broad torso. Music crackled from the phonograph. Bach.

Handing her a glass of white wine, he did not seem to mind how she stared at him. “Thank you for coming, Percy. Of course, there’s no tutorial tonight.”

“What then, Alexi?”

“I thought I’d whisk you off to the opera. You look ravishing.”

“The opera?” Percy exclaimed. “What a grand surprise! To what do I owe this honour?” Her eyes clouded in a mercurial and unexpected panic. “Oh, Alexi, tell me this is not some game to you, some fleeting fancy that dares scandal and cruelty. I’m too fragile for such sport.”

“I dare much, Percy, but not cruelty,” he replied. “I wish to do nothing but what is meant to be.”

“So cryptic, Alexi!” she murmured.

“Forgive me, my dear, but I can speak no other way,” he replied.

Percy felt feverish. As he kissed her gently on the cheek, his lips lingered too long to be polite; then he broke away, anxious. Percy nearly stumbled forward, having melted all too easily against him.

“I’m sorry, Miss Parker,” he whispered.

“For what?” she asked, fisting her hands at her sides to keep from reaching out for him.

“For being unable to keep myself from touching you.” He spoke through clenched teeth and moved to lean against his great marble desk, gripping it as if to maintain stability.

“Oh, Alexi, please! I never dreamed a man would have such a problem with
me
.” She giggled in spite of herself.
“You can’t know how much…” She trailed off, because he looked pained. “Don’t apologize for what you’ve done to—
for
me.” She blushed. “I didn’t know life could be so thrilling until you first walked into my classroom.”

His expression was fraught with secrets, and they drove Percy wild. He shook his head and remarked, “I hardly believe that my walking in a room could have much effect.”

“Oh, but it did,” she assured him, laughing nervously. “You terrified me.”

“And do I still terrify you?”

“Always,” she whispered. But a smile twitched at her lips.

Alexi smiled broadly. Such a smile was rare and beautiful. Delighted, Percy returned it, feeling so radiantly happy that her face could never contain the beams. “Why, Professor, to see such an expression on your face! I thought you too cool a character.”

“Now is not the appropriate time to test my temperature, Miss Parker,” he murmured, and gave her a glass. “To the number seven,” he toasted, when they each held a libation.

“Whatever it may mean,” Percy countered, leveling a gaze at him as she carefully sipped, unused to tasting wine in any place save for Holy Communion. “Were it not for the strange things that have happened all my life, I might think you suggest something wicked.”

“You think me wicked?” Alexi asked, a small smirk curving his mouth.

“Captivating, cunning and, I fear, wholly above my grasp…” Percy stopped short, biting her lip. Perhaps she was going too far and there should be no discussion of grasps. She took a breath, leaned forward and continued, “You’re not the only one sensing fate, Alexi. I’m seeing new and terrifying things. Beyond your window, silhouetted horsemen ride the sky. I hear the dull pounding of their horses’ hooves and the terrible barking of dogs! Something is about to happen, Alexi. Something that I do not understand is
meant
to hap
pen. I feel it in my bones, and I must tell you that as delighted as I am to be here in your presence, I’m also frighten—”

There was a loud knock at the door. Percy jumped. She and Alexi looked at each other and Percy went to the desk without a word, plucking up her scarf and throwing it around her head, taking a book into her hands and placing the wine out of sight.

“Yes?” Alexi called.

Headmistress Thompson entered the room. Her eyes seized on Percy, who was attempting to appear studious.

“Ah,” the headmistress began, giving Alexi a wary glare. “Have I stumbled upon a tutorial…at this hour?”

“Yes.”

“But it is a weekend.” The headmistress eyed the lovely dress Percy wore, which was hardly attire for schoolwork. Percy’s heart pounded. They were surely found out, and she would be expelled!

“Miss Parker requires my assistance—as you know,” Alexi stated. “How might I assist
you?
”

There was a troubling strain in his voice.

“You have a visitor who wishes a word with you, Professor—Miss Lucille Linden,” the headmistress stated. Her voice was similarly strained.