Chapter 12

To: The loveliest girl in all of New York

From: Her paramour stranded in a mess of demons’ making in London

My dearest Natalie,

By the time you receive this, I’ll already have thrown myself on the swiftest ship back and will see you soon. London is grayer than ever. Everything here is dreary and downright odd. And cold. I’m very cold even though it’s summer.

I’ve taken detailed notes. While I’m not the diarist you are, I hope I do my tale justice.

Mrs. Northe’s solicitor friend, Mr. Knowles, is a man of letters and law, and a lifesaver. I owe him much. The moment I walked into his fine office in North London, he gave me a hearty handshake and a stiff bourbon. A sharp man with graying hair slicked back, he sat across a great mahogany desk, with glasses low over wide gray eyes above a long nose. His office was fastidiously organized.

“Lord Denbury,” Knowles began, “while I never met your family, I know all of you were highly regarded. I deeply regret the tragedies that have befallen you. I assure you, your being here remains secret.”

Mrs. Northe had told him every last mad detail.

“All the documents I’ve gathered pertaining to your affairs are in a file in your quarters. I’ve good friends at the deeds offices. Always make friends with clerks, I’ve learned. Peruse the documents at your leisure, though, I warn you, they’re not pleasant.”

He then bade me to come back in the morning and gave me keys to rooms he’d procured for me across the street. “Though I am sure you would like to get back to your family’s town home, let’s not make you—or any property of yours—obvious, shall we?”

He led me out and down the front stairs, gestured toward my rooms, and disappeared under a wrought-iron arch into an interior courtyard and was lost to the night.

The street was lit sporadically by gas lamps. Not a soul walked along it. It was not too far from great King’s Cross station, and there were rumblings in the distance. It was a comfort to see discernable life moving in the city. Even if I was alone on the street, I was not alone in the world. I did search the shadows for anyone following, but there was no one there. No light, no aura, no movement in the shadows. Only the sound of trains. It made me think of our time alone in those cars, and I ached to be next to you again.

I’ve yet to see your signature green-and-violet light elsewhere, Natalie. You remain unparalleled, while a white light flashed around Knowles, similar to what I see flicker periodically around Mrs. Northe.

As I stepped into my rooms where no one greeted me, the lamps were trimmed low. I drew the shades on all the windows. Tea and a tray of sliced meat and cheese were laid on a table by a large armchair. The wide fireplace across the room would normally be unnecessary in late summer, but I was chilled to the bone. I took to the whole spread and lit a fire.

Across the room on a writing desk sat a green folder: my evening’s task.

I wouldn’t step foot onto the Greenwich estate this trip if I could help it. It had been a prison once, and I’d not be locked onto its grounds again, painted or real. I wasn’t ready to again take up my title, not with servants likely to shriek and faint upon seeing me. I’d had enough of being a fright, and all I’d see down those halls were the ghosts of my parents: Father in his favorite armchair and Mother fussing about with the meticulous energy I inherited. I missed them too much to see the home we’d all lost.

That the first document on the pile was a deed was both a relief and an insult. The Denbury estate had been sold at auction. A freshly wealthy merchant, his wife, and their two children had taken up residence in my home.

Monies went to “the Society,” according to the letter, which was on fine stationery designated by a coat of arms of no family I recognized. The center escutcheon was not divided into quarters but was a single golden crown, with red dragons rampant on either side. Red and gold: the colors that crackled around my foe when his magic was strongest. I swore I even saw a shimmer of those sparks flutter across the page. Perhaps that was just a trick of my angry eye, but regardless, clearly the Society was my enemy.

Tomorrow I’ll confront them and write you immediately thereafter. I send this so it will make this evening’s final post, and I’ve booked my return ticket. So be comforted that by the time this reaches you, I’ll already be close on its heels in Atlantic waters.

I’ve more documents to read, so I leave you with a kiss and my love.

Yours,

Jonathon

P.S. It would seem I’m still connected to your dreams, darling, at least in part. I do recall you dreamed of Nathaniel. I’m glad you chose me, but really, Natalie, I mean it. Don’t be cruel.