Chapter 13

Drowning in anxiety, I felt as if the day passed on pins and needles. I had no way of knowing what had happened to Jonathon in that viper’s nest. I knew steamers traveled to and from New York and England daily carrying mail along with passengers, so there was a chance that if he had written the next day, that post would reach me soon. But with so many miles between, there was no guarantee it would arrive at all. I tried to write, to draw, to mend, but I kept throwing things aside and pacing.

I would’ve gone to the museum and worked with the acquisitions team, but they were off at a board meeting I hadn’t been invited to. I took up the journal Mrs. Northe had given me and saw the markings I’d inscribed. I needed to tell her about them.

My restlessness found its way to her doorstep. I unburdened all my anxieties in one babbling rush. I opened the journal to show the runes I’d glimpsed upon my arm. “They could be hallucinations,” I offered hopefully.

“Or it’s likely lingering magic,” she replied. “You came back too soon.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I protested.

“That was merely a statement, not an indictment. Come, let’s decipher.” She led me into her library, where books were immaculately kept in glass cases from floor to ceiling. She shook an elegant silver set of tiny keys down her thin wrist and into her palm, fingered the correct key without looking at it, unlocked a glass case, pulled out a volume in Swedish full of her translations, and opened it to a runic alphabet. I turned my journal to the page where I’d taken down the marks from my sighting.

“They appeared as if they were carved into my arm,” I explained. “There was a burning pain, and then they were gone.”

“Did you do anything? To break the hold?”

“I…think I renounced it. Like in the liturgy, when you deny evil.”

“‘I renounce thee.’ Yes, good. That’s good. From the characters, it would seem that the markings read: ‘I am.’”

“I am?”

“Well. At least it’s self-actualized magic.” She chuckled. I blinked at her. “Sorry. It isn’t funny. It’s also an incomplete message.”

“Lovely,” I muttered.

“Don’t let dark energy keep hold of you. Do as many positive things as you can. Spend time with that wonderful father of yours,” she exclaimed. I couldn’t help but notice how her face lit up at the mention of my father. Before I could inquire further on that count, she continued: “Now, Natalie, I need you to be prepared. My dearest friend is ailing in Chicago, and I must go to her side. I have the crushing premonition that I’m meant to go west.”

I panicked. “You can’t go. Not until Jonathon—”

“I’m not saying it will be tomorrow. But soon, and I want you to be prepared. These are to my house and library.” She handed me a set of keys. I stared at them.

“You’ve placed an awful lot of trust in me,” I said quietly.

“And until you prove unworthy of that trust, you have it,” she replied. “When Lord Denbury returns, he will be staying here. If for some reason I am indisposed, I’d like you to let him in and introduce him to the staff. Rachel too. She should stay here, not near the hospital. Now, there’s someone I want you to meet. I’m not about to leave this city without making sure you have a spiritual guardian on your side.”

I knew better than to do anything but follow her. We had strolled a few blocks uptown before she volunteered where we were going.

“Reverend Blessing is a supply pastor who serves several congregations in the city. He’s also become somewhat of an exorcist,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Ah, yes, of course,” I murmured. “Catholic?”

“No, Episcopalian like me.”

Really, I wasn’t sure what many denominations meant. I didn’t know what Presbyterian meant either. As a Lutheran, I recognized that the denomination’s name was an obvious derivation from the name of Martin Luther. Regardless, here I was, a Lutheran, beside an Episcopalian and off to see an exorcist.

“An exorcist,” I breathed. Not that it was any stranger than what we’d already encountered. “Could he have gotten the demon out of Jonathon’s body?”

“Perhaps in part, but then making sure Jonathon re-inhabited himself and trapping the demon to keep him from inhabiting others, that was a task for you and the counter-curse. Your situation was new territory. We may be in for any number of things. Hauntings, possessions, poltergeists, you need to be ready for anything.”

“His name is Blessing,” I said with a smile. “Really?”

I fell quite silent and didn’t dare question his name when Reverend Blessing opened the door.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing in a fine, dark suit with a crisp, white cleric’s collar, his skin gleaming brown-golden. As soon as he saw Mrs. Northe, his stern look turned into a wide smile. I don’t know why I should have been surprised at first glance that the priest was a man of color, but then again, Mrs. Northe was a woman of many friends. Besides, the church claimed it was a place for all peoples, and the Episcopalians seemed to have at least attempted a modicum of equality. I wondered if they’d ever let a woman in the pulpit.

A fond chuckle erupted in the reverend’s throat. “Mrs. Northe, to what do I owe this sudden honor, and who have you brought with you?”

“Gail in the diocese office told me these were your calling hours, and while I’m sorry to disturb you, I’m never sorry to see you.” She embraced him briefly. At this, Blessing took a step back. Mrs. Northe turned to me.

“This is Miss Natalie Stewart. She’s been through quite a lot.”

I was too shocked by the two of them embracing to pay much attention to my introduction. New York may long have been a free state, but prejudices still run deep. In another state, that embrace could have gotten the reverend killed. Then again, Mrs. Northe was never one for convention. I didn’t have time to assess further for I felt a small, wet something on my hand and I drew back with a start.

Two heads poked curiously out from the reverend’s suit coat, one on either side. They were two tall and elegant dogs, greyhounds by the look of them, one beige and one a gorgeous gray, nearly blue. They sniffed the air and sized us up, but did not bark. What I’d felt on my hand was a nose. Blessing chuckled again.

“Ah, pardon my fearless guard-dogs, Bunny,” he put a hand on the beige creature, “and Blue,” then on the gray-blue one. “Shall we show our guests in?” He guided the lean creatures back. “We can’t stand long in the doorway lest they tear out of the house and down the sidewalk. They’re racing dogs, you know, not the best fit for the city, but I’m fostering for the moment. Don’t worry. They’re as friendly as can be.”

It was true. The dogs wagged tails and sniffed around us but did not jump up. Instead they circled us closely, lean bodies shaking with excitement. Bunny managed to lean her head up into my hand, as if the sole purpose of a hand was to pet her. I laughed and scratched her between the ears.

“Amazing, resilient creatures, dogs,” Blessing stated. “They were built to love humans. When they sense kindness from you, they will return it tenfold. If only humans were the same.”

As we filed into the entrance foyer of polished wood and religious iconography, I heard other barking from the rear of the house. Were there more dogs? And what was that from the other room? The squawk of a bird? I saw a cat dart across a banister. Then another one.

The reverend laughed. “Welcome to the Blessing zoo.” It was quite fine and clean for a zoo, and I wondered what sort of menagerie the rest of the house held. “Stewart,” he added, gesturing for us to sit in his parlor, which continued the theme of crosses and saints. “How do I know that name?”

“Gareth Stewart is in acquisitions at the Metropolitan Museum of Art,” Mrs. Northe offered.

“No…was your mother—”

“Dead,” I murmured.

“Ah. Yes,” Blessing said quietly, bowing his head a moment. “Helen Stewart. Taken from us too soon. I met your mother once. She offered to translate our tracts and give lectures to German congregations. Our cause spread like sweet wildfire, I’m proud to say.”

I must have looked a bit stunned or confused, for Mrs. Northe explained: “Reverend Blessing worked closely with Mr. Bergh and his American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. It’s thanks to their efforts that there are any laws at all about child and animal abuse.”

“I don’t meet many people who knew Mother.” I said, blushing, trying to explain my surprise. “Though it seems she was infamous. Father fully supported her causes but couldn’t bear to take them up or associate with her circles after her death. It was too painful. He saw her everywhere.” I stared down at my hands. “I wish I did. I wish I could listen to the city and hear her echo.”

“She was a force of nature. A force for good in many causes,” Blessing said. “When she died, there was a void in every project she touched.”

I looked up into Blessing’s warm dark eyes and resolved to take up some of Mother’s noble causes myself, once all of Jonathon’s affairs were sorted out. I could learn to be a force of nature. For good.

“Are these rescue dogs?” I asked, watching as Blessing’s large, dark hand scratched fondly behind Bunny’s ears.

“Yes,” he replied. Bunny closed her eyes, blissful. “We managed to get them out of a coursing run where a horde of dogs was being mistreated. I volunteered to house them here until a new family could be found…and then I grew fond. Animals are such pure souls that they’re hard for me not to get attached to. I take the liberation of every innocent soul very seriously, human or animal.” Blue repositioned herself to stare at me, as if sizing me up or judging my character. “Blue here wants to know, as I do, what we can do to help, Mrs. Northe. What’s the trouble?”

“Well, it’s more that I’m being preventative, Reverend. I want to make sure you’re someone Miss Stewart can turn to. I’ve been her…spiritual consultant on a manner of dark things that befell her and her suitor. But I may be called away to a friend’s deathbed. We have two dear friends who we believe are in danger…and not the sort that normal channels of authority would believe. If I’m out of town, I can’t leave her to fight her battles entirely on her own.”

“What sort of battles?” Blessing asked calmly, as if they two had dealt with supernatural goings-on before.

“Well, we’ve seen a strange manner of possession by dark rituals and séances gone wrong. I’ve a sinking suspicion we haven’t seen the end of it. So while I’ll be leaving Natalie here in charge, I don’t want her to be without recourse.”

My mouth fell open. “Who said anything about my being in charge? I don’t want to be in charge!” I sputtered awkwardly. Blue turned then to stare at Mrs. Northe, as if she was following the conversation and expected a retort.

“I just want to be prepared,” Mrs. Northe said honestly.

“I am at your service, Miss Stewart, in whatever ways you need.” As if to prove his point, Blue put her head on my knee. My anxiety vanished in the face of this lovely creature. I thought of Jonathon having hidden stray, starving dogs in his room. My heart ached for him.

“Thank you, Reverend Blessing. If nothing else, I think it might do my…suitor’s heart good just to see these ladies,” I said, smiling at the dogs. “I hope we won’t need to call on any of your other talents. No offense, but I hope this all doesn’t come to an exorcism.”

“You and me both.”

“I confess, I’m surprised. I thought only Catholics did exorcisms. As a Lutheran, I’ve never heard the rite spoken of.”

Blessing shrugged. “Well, when someone gets asked to banish spirits, appease ancestors, cleanse houses, and perform exorcisms and all manner of spiritual interventions from up in Harlem to down in the Five Points, the church has found it useful to have a man like me around. And I come from New Orleans. Now talk about a haunted city and a lot of different beliefs.” He whistled. “It was a good training ground for this mess of a city. Of course, here I need my wits about me for every sort of battle, spiritual or social. You never know what you’ll encounter. My family down in New Orleans is all Catholic, but while I knew I was called to be a man of the cloth, I just couldn’t manage the idea of a life without a wife and children. I always saw that in my future.”

“And how is that coming along, Reverend?” Mrs. Northe queried with a smile. “Any prospective leading ladies?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t found the right blessing to make a Blessing out of. And you? Shall you always remain a widow?”

Mrs. Northe shrugged nonchalantly while I knew better. But she didn’t put either of us on the spot about her potential place in our family, and for that I was thankful. She rose. I followed suit. “Well, Natalie, let’s allow the reverend his hours for others. Thank you as always for your time.”

“Always. And Miss Stewart,” Blessing stared me down. “Keep your faith. It seems to have gotten you this far.”

“Yes, sir, it has,” I said earnestly.

“Promise you’ll call on me if you or yours are in distress,” he said.

“I promise,” I said, feeling my anxiety calm. I needed to feel I had blessings on my side. Now I did, literally.

The dogs escorted us out, and I felt a small lick on my hand at the door. Blue was looking up at me, and it almost seemed as though she smiled, her mouth hanging open slightly from her long snout.

“Girls, no.” Blessing steadied them, long fingers looped around their collars as they saw the great racetrack of a New York City street and their long legs strained to leap forward. “I promise you a long run in the park. After my calling hours,” he said. With a chuckle, we waved good-bye.

Mrs. Northe and I walked in silence for a long while.

“Why didn’t you ever meet my mother?” I asked finally. “You’re a philanthropist, fond of causes. Wouldn’t your paths have crossed?”

Mrs. Northe set her jaw and offered an apologetic grimace. “Wealth segregates, too, my dear. I once moved in an exclusive, limited echelon. After Peter died, I gladly changed that routine but too late to have met your mother. We’d surely have been dear friends in life. Not just acquaintances in death.”

The reminder that Mrs. Northe heard more directly from my mother than I did drove a knife’s point further. And here she stood poised to take Mother’s place…

“It isn’t that I wouldn’t trust or enlist Reverend Blessing’s help,” I began, suddenly eager to change the subject. “But you can’t leave town. You have to hear what Jonathon has to report, and I’m very worried about Rachel.”

“One day at a time, my dear. It’s all we can do.” She took my hand. “If I must go, you’ll be fine. You, Denbury, Rachel, and Blessing, that’s a team I’d trust with whatever may come.”

“What do we do next?”

“Preston. It all hinges on Preston.”

“In St. Paul, he mentioned other doctors in other cities. What if what he’s up to is being replicated elsewhere?”

“All the more reason for me to check in with my associates in Chicago.”

I sighed. Without Jonathon or Rachel to help navigate the lay of the land, I felt helpless.

I met Father at the Metropolitan and we all dined together pleasantly, but the small and meaningless talk of the day’s events passed around my head like birds flitting about, with nothing really landing. Mrs. Northe mentioned she’d taken me to visit a man of the cloth, one of her spiritual confidantes, but left out any talk of exorcisms.

While trying to solve the mystery of Jonathon’s curse, I remembered how much I disliked the waiting between finding the pieces of the puzzle.

***

My dream that night was hazy, with few details. All I recall is that a collected, chanting whisper grew in volume, a common theme in my dreams since we’d banished Jonathon’s demon.

I was again in the darkened hallway of my mind, and this time the corridor was lit by red candles dripping scarlet wax, like the kind used in state seals and other rites. The corridor was blackened, as if entirely burned. Wax pooled into misshapen heaps below the iron holders that kept the tallow in place, like mineral deposits that grew into spikes in caves over time. The other end of the corridor was in shadow, but I could vaguely make out a silhouette whispering to me seductively—a low, rich male voice set apart from the monotone chorus of chants in Latin or some other ancient tongue.

It was beckoning for me, the silhouette in a suit. That was Jonathon calling for me, wasn’t it?

Waking, I reassured myself with that fact until I found a letter on our entryway table downstairs. Concern for my dreams was supplanted by news about Jonathon’s confrontation with those who had attempted his murder.