CHAPTER TWENTY
BRIAN SIGHED. His skin, now so pale it looked translucent, accented the veins showing at his wrists and purpling under his eyes. He looked tired beyond the extreme, and I knew he wanted nothing more than to be at a home, any home, preferably resting and reading. We both wore empty shopping satchels over one shoulder, in case we could actually retrieve something.
Yellow plastic tape wavered a little in the early evening breeze, a welcome bit of coolness against the heat and humidity. Summer to come hung in the air, hot and heavy, with a tang of maybe a sprinkle of rain in the next day or two, but it would be a warm rain. I patted Brian on the shoulder, hoping to interrupt the thoughts that held him in place.
He looked at Hiram. “I don’t think the foundation will hold him.”
Hiram wagged an eyebrow. He leaned over and put his palm down on what was left of the solar porch across the back before nodding to Brian. “You’d be correct. The fire has left little of the bones of this place.”
“Okay, just the three of us, then.”
“I will stand guard.”
My mouth opened to tell him we wouldn’t need one, but then I closed it. Stranger things had happened and probably would happen again. Frankly, I expected Remy to be a half step behind us. Or ahead of us.
Hiram nodded to me. “You’ll be the easiest on the ruins.”
“Weight, right.”
“That, and other considerations.”
Steptoe and Brian traded looks but said nothing. Great. I stepped forward and bent under the tape cautiously, my shoes sending up a puff of loose ash. I moved cautiously over wood eaten away by fire damage, the whole porch leaning drunkenly to one side, the screening gone, while my memories of rushing in to try and find the professor filled me.
Behind me, Brian gave out a small noise and I imagine some of the same memories filled him. Had it been painful to burn as a phoenix? Did he fear going through it all over again? I slowed and put a hand out behind me. He caught it and held on tightly.
I smiled encouragingly at him over my shoulder. That confidence that had been the professor and eager innocence of young Brian no longer rested in his blue-green eyes. Something important ate away at him, or perhaps it was a lack of that something important, and every day he looked lesser.
He looked through the burned-out doorway and into the interior of his ruined former home. “I’m hopeful there will be some things we can salvage here.”
“There might be smoke and water damage, even if there wasn’t any burning.”
“I understand. Forward, then.”
Steptoe stepped onto the porch behind us and even though I didn’t have the senses of a Broadstone, I could feel the home giving way. I quickly hustled inside, hauling Brian in at my heels.
Inside, the smoke smell still hung on the air so thick it became difficult to breathe. I could, but my nose and lungs seemed to fill with the pungent aroma. My shoe soles crunched over char and debris, and the water damage made things here and there very squishy. Once completely inside, Brian released my hand and made his way quickly to the threshold of his library.
Steptoe’s source had spoken true. This room stood almost inviolate of the fire itself. Water had permeated the first three or four feet beyond the door, but the rest of the room looked untouched, except for the smoke itself. These books would all hold the scent of a campfire cookout unless sprayed with something that smelled cleaner, maybe pine or cedar or eucalyptus, to be bearable. Years might filter the cloying scent away eventually without help.
Brian stood running his hand over a shelf, but when he pulled it back with a book in hand, it literally melted in wet clumps, falling to the ground at his feet. He pulled another out, and it too collapsed in a soggy mess. I’d never seen anything like it. He let out a stifled cry.
“That can’t be normal.”
“Normal or not, it doesn’t matter, it’s in ruins.” He stood and spun slowly about in a circle, hands extended. “All ruined.”
“Never say never, guv,” Steptoe remarked as he moved in. “That lot on the far wall seems dry enough.”
“Seems is the operative word.” I steered Brian to the desk, which had char marks on one side as if the fire’s tongue had entered the room just long enough to give it a lick or two before the wards stifled it. Steptoe’s eyes had glittered a little too brightly as he’d spotted the desk and its relatively untouched condition. I didn’t expect any of the truly important relics or artifacts to be in any desk drawers, for how hidden would that be? But I didn’t want our dubious friend to be close enough to go hunting. He’d come just to hold the bags once filled and knotted closed. Brian said he could “lock” the bags with a personal ward, or thought he could. If not, I’d play pack mule.
I tapped the desktop. “Search here and I’ll see how bad the damage is in this bookcase.” Brian nodded numbly.
Unfortunately, I could see most of the tomes in the case were relevant to his years as a professor and doctor on campus. At least ten had been written by him, and he might well want to keep them, but they could wait. I knelt on one knee on the floor to look at the lowermost shelf. It looked ordinary but slightly out of kilter. I blinked at it. The alignment moved even as I stared at it. Just a hair’s width or so, and just a degree offside, but . . . very odd. I rubbed one eye. Was it the smoke hanging in the air that blurred my sight?
Rubbing didn’t make staring at the lower shelf any more focused. Finally, I grinned. “Professor, you’ve got a secret bookcase. Or shelf.” I began running my hands about the side and foot molding of the case, looking for a release or latch.
Brian joined me while Steptoe hummed. The tune seemed to be out of the chimney sweep songbook of street ditties, and it jarred my thoughts a little. I shot a look at him.
“Stop that.”
“Stop wot?”
“Look, you and I both know you’d sneak back here to find what we couldn’t if we don’t, so stop trying to magic the search.” Words tumbled out of me before I’d thought them through but they sounded accurate, so I let it stand.
Steptoe’s apple cheeks got a wee bit redder and he immediately dropped the tune. “Righto,” he said, and made a little hand gesture. “Sorry.”
I turned back as Brian found the right carving and depressed it. A click rewarded him, and the bookshelf swung ajar. He carefully finished swinging it open and behind it, a solitary lineup of very old-looking books met our eyes.
“That is cool.” I put my hand out. “We want these, right?”
“Right. Sadly, they can’t fix my current situation but they are invaluable for study later on. It never hurts to relearn important lessons. And I may have to do it the hard way.”
I filled my shopping bag, and Brian pinched it shut with three muttered words. The top of the canvas bag fastened tightly and did not answer to my attempted tug. “Good job.”
Dryly, “Thanks.”
We both stood, and oddly, Oliver Twist filled my first thoughts. Pickpockets and cutpurses. The top of the bag seemed secure but anyone with a sharp knife, and who moved fast enough, could cut the bottom out. I secured my burden closer to my flank. Brian put the swinging door back into place with a solid click.
“Anything else?”
“A few papers in the desk, probably.” He moved to it and began to open doors and such, his hands riffling through old possessions so quickly and confidently I knew the professor was in charge again. He came up with a few items, including a checkbook, which he stowed away in his bag. He scanned the study. “In light of the water damage, I think we’ve found all we can. Drying fans might or might not help what’s left. I can’t depend on that.”
Steptoe cleared his throat. Brian arched a brow at him.
“Oh, right. He wanted something.”
Brian looked at me briefly. “What?”
“I don’t know. Ask him.”
“What?”
Steptoe quailed a bit under our combined stare. “A small book. A pamphlet, actually, even if the water got to it. Just to read, understand, mate. But I might be able to save it.”
“And that book would be . . .”
“Chaos and How to Tame It.”
“Taming chaos? And you reckon that would be a small, insignificant pamphlet?”
“To you, perhaps, but not to such as myself.”
“I know.”
“She offered it, but I know she ’asn’t got the right, so I’m asking you. I ’ave been a help, haven’t I?”
Brian stood silent for a very long moment. Then he nodded. “You have. Without our asking. You offered.” He waved across the room. “If I still have it, it should be over there, I think I remember. Not certain.”
Steptoe started in that direction. Stopped. “May I?”
“Yes.”
Beaming, he went to the indicated bookcase, running his fingers along spines. He came to a book, a massive book, and pulled it forth carefully. Damp, it dripped slowly on the floor, but did not disintegrate into pulp.
“Insignificant?” I repeated.
“Wait an’ see.” Steptoe returned to the desktop and opened the book carefully. Within, three smaller books nested in relative safety. He plucked the middle one out, showed the title to both of us, and then tucked it away in his suit coat. “Clever.”
Brian took the other two without a word or revealing their subjects and titles. Equally as carefully, he placed them in his sack and locked them away. “Cleverer than I obviously recall. I shall insist they dry this room out, if they can, and return to explore more such options.”
“Good idea, guv.”
Brian and I traded looks behind Steptoe’s back. How did he know what the professor hadn’t remembered, about three books hidden inside the greater one? I doubted we’d get any answer, let alone a straight one if we asked.
Outside, Hiram reported no skulkers or problems, but he took guard behind us as we walked home. We hadn’t been inside long, and the sun lingered in the sky as it did in late spring. It wouldn’t be dark until nearly eight o’clock. My stomach growled a bit. Not nighttime, but definitely close to supper. Mom’s car sat in the driveway, so she probably could be found fussing in the kitchen. I heard the pots, pans, and key rack rattle lightly as I walked in, and she poked her head out.
“Full house?”
“Yup, please.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Where on earth have you—oh, you went to the professor’s house.”
“I know, we all smell like an old fire pit. Except for Hiram. He stood guard.”
“Any trouble?”
“None, and a patch of success, too,” Brian told her as he took up a kitchen chair. He liked watching people cook and had even learned to pitch in with setup and cleanup. With the Broadstone family attending, that aid meant a great deal. I dropped my bag in his lap.
“Do I smell fried chicken?”
“You do, and I used Mamaw’s recipe.”
“Wow! Thanks, guys. That’s a company-only menu.” Pleasure filled me at the thought. “I’ll start peeling potatoes if you’ve got the water boiling. Are the green beans simmering?”
“Yes, I do, they are, and you’re all set up in the corner.” Mom pointed with her tongs.
I began washing and peeling and doubled the amount we usually made for big holiday dinners after sizing up the expression on Hiram’s face. Like his dad, he looked to be a big eater.
Unlike his dad, he wore plaid suits that were a tad easier on the eyes, in soft greens and blues, rather than the oranges, yellows, and reds Morty preferred. And his forehead didn’t look like you could bounce a boulder off it, unlike his dad. I didn’t know where Goldie figured in his history, but she obviously hadn’t been his mother, as she was Mortimer’s second wife and he’d called her stepmother. So the first wife must have been Iron Dwarf too, from the looks of Hiram, or at least in the Dwarf family somewhere. It would be crass to ask what had happened to her, but if he asked about my father, we could trade misfortunes. He seated himself carefully as Brian stowed his precious cargo and mine under his chair.
The backburner smelled of bacon and onions and garden-fresh beans, simmered by now for probably a good hour or so and steeping over a very low flame. My mouth watered.
I looked around, peeled potato in hand. No sign of Steptoe. “Where’d Steptoe go?”
“Simon wanted to drop off his pamphlet. He may or may not be back.”
“He told you that?”
“No, but it stands to reason.”
Hiram intoned, “He will likely only stand with us as long as it serves his purpose. My father had little trust of him.”
“Well, I do.” I pushed my potatoes aside and reached for more. “I’d hoped for at least a good-bye.”
“You’ll get that, ducks, and more when I decide to move on!” Steptoe filled the doorway, doffed his hat to my mother, and narrowed his dark eyes at the others. “Rumors of my demise and resignation are premature.”
“Great. You’ll love Mom’s chicken.”
“It smells loverly.” He pulled a chair out and sat in it, rocking it back on its two rear legs and keeping it balanced somehow.
Even using a whole sack of potatoes, we almost didn’t have enough mashies for everyone to have seconds, but we managed after scraping the bowl. Brian jumped up to clear the table with me while the others retired to the living room. I could hear what sounded like a hushed argument, even with the clatter of cleaning dishes.
Then came a faint chime of my keys on the board in the hallway. I sighed. Mom glanced my way.
“It’s been really noisy the past few days.”
“I know. And what was that the other night?” Mom wiped her hands dry.
“When Joanna was here? I have no way of knowing, but it was spectacular. Almost as if our ghost didn’t like her at all.”
A hanging pot rattled off its hook and crashed to the floor between us. Mom swore. “Dammit. Another bent pot the lid won’t fit.” She hung it back up with a sigh.
“See what I mean?”
“I do, but I don’t understand it, and I don’t think I ever will.”
“How did the faculty meeting go?”
“Good.” That brought a tired smile to her face. “Really good. Word of my publication was well received, and someone had even obtained an advance review, and it garnered four stars out of four.”
“That’s great. I bet that set old Flankinshaw on his defense.” I held little liking for her department head.
“Yes, Flank was more than a tad disappointed.”
“Academia.”
She shook her head at the scorn in my voice. “Wherever you work, there is always a pecking order and rivalries that can seem petty or serious. It’s a fact of life. We’re all competitive.”
“Well, he should retire.”
“He doesn’t want to, if it looks like I’d replace him when I finish my doctorate. I think he’s trying to wait me out. He’s an old dinosaur with regards to women. I couldn’t replace him anyway, I haven’t the seniority.”
I poked a finger in her shoulder. “Don’t give him a choice.”
“I don’t intend to!” She wiped her hands on her apron again, an anxious tell. “I suppose they’re all staying the night again?”
“Probably.”
“All right. I’m going upstairs. I think I’ll read a bit and turn in.” She looked back in the kitchen at me. “Make some more sweet tea, if you wouldn’t mind.”
I nodded. Good thing tea is relatively cheap and easy.
Steptoe looked asleep in his corner, while Brian and Hiram sat practically nose-to-nose, quiet but intense.
I sat down on the coffee table. “What did I miss?”
“Hiram is of the opinion that Malender is not actually here but is projecting strongly. After some persuasion, I’m inclined to agree.”
“We were attacked by him.”
“Yes and no. He could have done us a lot of damage, but if he’d been at full force and habitation, he would have made mincemeat of us, I think.”
I watched Brian a moment before saying, “But Hiram didn’t see the attack.”
Hiram put his hand on my knee. “My father had the ability to transmit much of his recent history to me.”
“So you know what Morty did? How far back?”
His young face frowned a bit in calculation. “You would say . . . perhaps a decade?”
Wow. So Hiram might be able to tell me what Morty hadn’t! My pulse drummed in my throat for a few quick beats. “How did he do that?”
“He sent it through the stone.”
Stone keeps its promise. It touched me, and for a little while I absolutely could not speak. My eyes brimmed and I felt helpless for a long moment.
Hiram squeezed my knee gently. “I know.”
That could only make me bob my head up and down quickly as tears threatened to fall. I coughed. “But Malender had to have been close.”
“Yes, but not likely here in Virginia. He’s made land, but that journey should have exhausted him and his resources. He can threaten but he can’t attack directly.”
“That was only a threat?” I swallowed tightly.
“He’s powerful,” Brian agreed. “We’ve a lot to fear once he gains the strength he needs. If he’s the Great Deceiver we think he is.”
“And how will he do that? I mean, I know he preys off smaller life forces, but sooner or later, someone like the Society is bound to notice.”
“He can also tap into the souls who live on the edges of our cities and are forgotten.”
“The homeless.”
“And the criminal. Yes.”
“What do we do now?”
“We prepare defenses.” Hiram stood and frowned slightly. “Tessa, are you aware your father occupied this house, if only briefly.”
“What?” I sat back in shock. “Did the police know?”
“I doubt if anyone knew. His vibrations here are very faint.”
“There are still vibrations?” Vibrations! A thought spun its wild way into my mind. “Can you find them? Identify them?” Mom would shit if she knew who I suddenly thought our ghost might be.
Hiram answered slowly. “Yes. Still.” He stood and turned his head as if sussing them out. “Stronger than they should be, actually.” He began to move through the parlor. “Odd.”
I jumped up. “How odd?” I ran my hand across my face, dashing away tears I couldn’t afford.
“Very.”
“Where? Can you find them?”
“Maybe.”
As if awakened by his steps, the house began to creak and moan in its joints. I wondered if it was simply his weight on the flooring—or if something else added to the voice of the home.
Upstairs, I could hear Mom’s door opening and shutting, and then she stood poised at the top of the stairs, alert, and looking down at us. “What is it?”
I waved a signal at her to calm her down. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. The whole house sounds like it’s threatening to collapse.”
“Nothing like that at all, missus,” Steptoe called back in his most reassuring tones.
“Now that I absolutely don’t believe.” She came lightly and quickly down the stairs as Steptoe put his hand over his heart and tried to look offended. I’d seen that look before and still didn’t know if I thought it was genuine.
Hiram kept moving. He ended up at the mudroom door, a side entry we never used, because of the clutter there and also because we just didn’t. He opened the door that closed it off and entered.
With a crash, he abruptly fell through the floor.