Enchanting the Beast, page 26
Phil looked past his form to the steps. Shapes began to emerge from behind the carved stone markers. Her eyes went up to the next step that circled the cavern. Even more ghosts began to wake, ghosts that experience told her had been at peace for thousands of years. They began to float down from the darkness of the ceiling, drift up from the stone floor beneath her feet, until the enormous chamber swirled with the spirits of the dead.
Phil’s knees went weak. This wasn’t right. Those who had gone to their rest deserved the peace to stay there. After years of helping the poor souls who couldn’t cross over finally reach the spiritual world, she knew what a travesty it was to yank them back to a semi-life that would only bewilder and torture them.
“We gave up our own rest,” the warrior continued, “to guard that which would disturb the peace of the Otherworld. You hold in your hand the power to command all the ghosts that have gone before…you have within your means an unconquerable army, lady. What is your command?”
Phil locked her knees to prevent them from giving way beneath her. What a terrible, terrible power. She wanted nothing to do with it. Yet she had unleashed it and the ghosts swirled about the room, waiting for her command.
Sarah had shifted back to human and when Philomena’s gaze met hers, her assistant only blinked at her and shrugged. Of course, she couldn’t hear or see the ghosts. Only the Bargest was strong enough to be visible to other humans. And then Phil’s gaze shifted to the Bargest. Of course.
Would she be freeing Edwina’s soul…or Nico’s?
“My first command,” Phil said, trying to stop her voice from trembling, “is for you to be at peace.” She pointed at the Bargest, and the blue stone winked to life on her finger. The dog howled in fury and began to writhe. Phil watched with bated breath while the spirit left its host, allowing Edwina to transform back to herself. The blonde girl crouched where the dog had once been, naked and bloody, looking around in terror. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped over in a heap. Sarah sighed and got to her feet, cradling Edwina’s head in her arms, patting her cheeks.
Phil’s heart threatened to explode with hope. Had her love been enough to help Nico resist the lure of the Bargest’s curse? Or…no, she couldn’t allow herself to think it. Surely he couldn’t be dead. Her eyes searched the chamber, but she couldn’t see past the myriad spirits crowding the room.
Phil opened her mouth to tell the spirits to go back to their rest, and then snapped it shut again. She’d spent most of her life helping restless spirits to return to the Otherworld. In the process, she’d carried final messages of love to the bereaved, revealed secrets that a spirit needed confessed, and had even helped several ghosts find and convict their murderers. And now she had almost eradicated the world of all spirits! The enormity of the power of the relic overwhelmed her. She chose her words with care. “I command all the spirits that were at rest, to be at rest again,” she shouted.
The warrior sighed. “We chose wisely in you, my lady.”
Phil blinked. The castle ghosts had kept the black wraiths at bay so she could retrieve the relic. Perhaps she should feel flattered that they considered her less of a threat than Edwina, but she preferred that the relic hadn’t been unearthed at all.
Slowly, the spirits that had risen when she’d put on the ring disappeared. The dark wraiths had already faded with the Bargest, but the castle ghosts remained, silent and watchful.
She saw Nico stagger from the shadows, blood streaming from his paw and neck. He shifted to human, and despite his battered appearance, he was the most magnificent thing she’d ever seen. First she had thought him cursed, then dead. But he strode toward her, proving that his love for her had been strong enough to overcome the wolf’s call.
Phil caught her breath on a sob and took a step toward him. Within a blink his strong arms wrapped around her, and it took all of her will not to burst into hysterical tears. Instead she blinked her burning eyes and just held on to him in sheer relief.
“Are you all right?” he murmured.
“Are you?” Phil stepped out of his arms, taking his wrist and frowning at his bloody hand. Several puncture wounds from the Bargest’s fangs oozed blood. She had streaks on the front of her gown from the blood that trickled down his chest from his neck. She looked around wildly.
Sarah had recovered Edwina’s torn dress and tossed it over the girl’s naked body, but her many petticoats still littered the floor. Phil began to tear one into strips. “I’ve been a fool,” she muttered. “I should have had faith in you.”
Phil took her makeshift bandages to his side and stanched the flow of blood from the gashes in his neck. “Can you ever forgive me?” she whispered.
“Ah, Phil. There’s nothing to forgive.” Phil’s eyes burned and she took the rest of the bandages and wrapped his injured hand. She should have realized that he was a cut above the ordinary man. That his love wouldn’t be swayed by her gift of talking to ghosts. That the difference in their ages had nothing to do with their hearts. When she finished, his fingers closed over hers.
She looked up at him and kissed his handsome mouth. “Let’s have no more doubts between us.”
“Does that mean you’ll marry me?” he asked.
Phil laughed, but only because she couldn’t cry. If she started, she might never manage to stop. “Yes, Sir Nicodemus Wulfson, I will gladly marry you.”
“That’s better.” He straightened up and then winced from his injuries. “Now, what are we going to do about that?”
Phil glanced down at her hand, where the blue gem twinkled prettily. “I haven’t the faintest idea. I suppose we could put it back.”
Nico glanced over at Edwina, who still lay slumped in Sarah’s arms. “It may be too late for that. What else does it do?”
Phil suppressed a shiver. “It raises the spirits of the dead. All the spirits, Nico, even those at peace.”
He didn’t appear to be as intimidated by the power of the ring. His mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “Well, I suppose there’s no one else who could appreciate it as much as you, ghost-hunter.”
“Perhaps.” Phil stepped away from Nico and faced the blue warrior, who still knelt near her feet. She didn’t want the ring, but since she had it… “Is there some way I can help you and the other castle ghosts be at rest, as well?”
Nico started, as if he’d forgotten that the spirits still remained. But he turned and followed the direction of Phil’s gaze as if he could see his ancestor too.
“That’s not so easy, my lady,” the warrior replied. “We have sworn a vow to guard the relic, and although we have kept it from evil hands, we would still be loath to relinquish our duty.”
Phil cocked her head in thought. It seemed that his trust of Phil only extended so far. Did the castle ghosts fear that she’d change her mind? That the lure of enough power to rule the world would be too much of a temptation for her to resist for long?
Perhaps they were right. If she had the chance to use the ring for a good cause, she would. And who was to say that the good she accomplished with it would change a course of events for the better? How could she know all the weavings of fate to predict how such power would affect others? She couldn’t change the world in such a large way. She was happy with the little bit she could manage on her own.
Phil’s head spun. The relic was too dangerous even in the hands of someone who had only the best intentions. And she knew herself well enough to know that she didn’t always have the best intentions.
“I would not have you forsworn,” she said. Phil eased the ring off her finger. “But I would have you at peace.” She handed the relic to the warrior. She knew then that she’d made the right decision, because the ring didn’t drop through his ghostly hand. Indeed, it changed to partial shadow and the warrior closed his fingers around it.
Nico sucked in a breath and Sarah let out a startled hiss.
“I think you could guard it best in the Otherworld,” Philomena said.
The warrior stared at her in stunned surprise, then smiled. She’d never seen him smile before and it made him resemble Nico even more. “Indeed, we can, my lady.”
Seventeen
Several weeks later, Nico stood in the Hall of Mages, hoping the prince would approve of Phil’s decision to give the ring to the castle spirits.
The mousy clerk who had taken his petition for an audience waved Nico over to his desk, and the other people who waited in the Hall with him gave him looks of envy or speculation. Apparently the prince’s letter to his father had given him a prompt audience with Prince Albert, the Master of the Hall of Mages.
A shudder shook the building, the fourth in less than an hour, and Nico shook his head at the magic that must be brewing within the walls. He felt extraordinarily grateful to be immune.
The clerk led him through a maze of halls and opened a door onto a cluttered study.
Prince Albert sat in a chair next to a blazing fire and Nico tried to hide his surprise. The man couldn’t be more than a few years older than Phil, and yet he looked twice her age. The rumors of his illness were apparently true. “This is my son, Prince Albert,” he said, nodding at the young man seated opposite him. “I’m training him to take my place as Master here.”
Nico bowed to both.
The prince consort waved Nico to a chair and glanced at his son. “Bertie, this is Sir Nicodemus Wulfson. His family has protected one of Merlin’s Relics for generations.”
The younger prince’s face widened with surprise. “Another hidden relic? Really, Father, you keep your secrets well.”
“As should you,” Prince Albert advised. “What brings you here, Sir Nicodemus? No problems with the relic, I hope?”
Nico winced. “Therein lies the story, Your Highness.” Without further preamble, Nico launched into his tale, including his romance with the ghost-hunter, which the young prince took in with great enthusiasm. Nico’s throat felt dry by the time he’d finished, and the prince consort’s face had gone an unnatural shade of white.
“So, the relic is now in the Otherworld,” he murmured. “I suppose it’s safer there than anywhere on this earth…although I’d like to talk to your ghost-hunter about the possibility of retrieving it. What have you done about your sister-in-law and her father?”
A tumbler of water floated off a tea tray and hovered near Nico’s face. He grasped it and took a sip, trying to appear as if floating glasses were nothing out of the ordinary. But he couldn’t wait to get out of London and back to the country, where magic didn’t inundate the very air. “I have removed Lord Magift from his position as magistrate and have put both of them in confinement. I thought it would be best if I left their trial and punishment to you.”
“Well done. I’ll have them transferred to the Magicians’ Prison here in the Hall. They will stand trial among their peers.”
Nico swirled the liquid in his glass. “My brother is most distraught over his wife’s betrayal, Your Highness. He still harbors feelings for her, and for his sake, I would ask that you show some clemency.”
The young Prince Albert slapped his knee. “I daresay that we should. How can we hold her accountable for the deaths when she was under a curse?”
The prince consort eyed his son with approval, although his voice sounded stern. “We cannot forget that she hid the curse and was willing to allow an innocent person to be convicted for her crimes, not to mention that she tried to steal a relic.”
Nico’s heart sank for Royden, but he knew the prince was right. Roy had some hard decisions before him, and Nico vowed to give his brother all of his support. “I’m sorry I failed in my duty to the crown, Your Highness.”
Prince Albert waved his hand. “On the contrary. The relic is still safe…albeit in an entirely different location.”
“And you solved a crime,” the young prince interrupted. “And saved countless souls. I think you and your ghost-hunter’s efforts deserve a commendation, Sir Nicodemus.”
Prince Albert glanced at his son again with that odd combination of approval and censure. “I do believe, Bertie, that you will make a most fair Master.”
The young man turned beet red under the praise. The gilded mantel clock struck the hour, and Nico surged to his feet. “If you will forgive me, Your Highnesses, your summons to meet with you came on a most auspicious day.”
“How so?”
Nico bowed. “It’s my wedding day, Master. And I fear to keep my bride waiting at the altar, in the event that she might change her mind.”
The young prince beamed and rose, clapping Nico on the back. “Come along, man. I’ll make sure you get to the chapel on time.”
“Albert Edward…” his father warned.
The young man quickly ushered Nico out the door. “I say, Father, my magical experiments have been quite the success.” And before his father could say another word, the young man had Nico out the door. They took a different route through the maze of hallways than the one by which Nico had entered, and when the prince directed him up a curving staircase with treads that moved of their own accord, Nico wondered what he might be getting himself into.
Prince Albert opened a door near the top of the stairs and Nico followed him out onto a balcony high above the city. The morning sky looked unusually clear, and Nico could see the sparkling water of the Thames beyond the mix of magical and mundane buildings. Fanciful illusions of colorful spires and flowers competed with those of steel and stone.
“Easy now, Venus,” said Prince Albert. The answering snort made Nico turn toward the sound.
A white horse pawed the stone balcony, her abnormally long mane and tail swirling about her as if they stood in a storm wind and not a gentle breeze. Yet Nico marveled not from the beauty of the beast, but from the beautiful wings that flowed off her back.
Nico stepped closer, surprised that the horse didn’t shy away from him. Except for were-horses, most beasts had a healthy instinctive fear of wolves. Instead, the beauty nickered at him, snuffling at his hair. The nearly transparent wings glowed in the sunshine, an iridescent mix of blue and silver. Golden brown veins formed an intricate framework throughout the front and back of the of the rounded wings.
Nico shook his head in wonder. Truly, the magic of the aristocracy astounded him.
The prince patted the ornate saddle strapped to the horse’s back. “I say, what are you waiting for? Aren’t you late for your wedding? Mount up!”
Nico tried to keep the horror from his expression. “I’m immune to magic, Your Highness.”
“The wings are real. She won’t fade on you, Sir Nicodemus.”
Nico looked over the side of the balcony and swallowed. It was a long way down. But he couldn’t keep Phil waiting. He’d only been half jesting when he’d told the princes that he was afraid his ghost-hunter would change her mind. And by the view below, the streets already looked crowded with traffic.
“My thanks, Your Highness,” Nico said without a trace of irony. He grasped the swirling mane and vaulted into the saddle. Venus shook her head and danced prettily for a moment before she lifted straight up into the air, the sound of her buzzing wings drowning out Prince Albert’s farewell.
Nico used the reins to guide her as he would any ordinary horse, but the movement that followed made his gestures more cautious. He flew over Buckingham Palace, the jewel-studded walls and the magical wards surrounding it making him narrow his eyes against the glare. The tower of the Hall of Mages quickly faded behind him, and he began to enjoy the freedom of flight.
If Phil hadn’t been waiting, he would have tarried, amazed at the view of London from above. Instead he leaned forward to direct the horse lower and frantically searched for the small chapel near Phil’s town house where they were to be married. Navigating the streets of London from a bird’s view was quite different from doing so on the ground, but within a relatively short time, Nico spied the street and leaned his upper body over Venus’s neck to tell her to land.
With barely a clatter of hooves, the horse stood in the fountained courtyard in front of the church. Nico ran his hands down Venus’s silky mane in thanks and jumped out of the saddle. The mare made a bit of a show for the onlookers drawn by the sound of her buzzing wings, rearing her dainty hooves and making her mane and tail look like a white cloud surrounding her.
He might have delayed to watch her fly away, but he had the most beautiful woman in the world awaiting him. Nico ran for the church doors, pushed them open, and blinked in the comparative dimness inside the chapel. He brushed off the front of his coat and swept his hair back from his face as his eyes traveled down the aisle to the altar.
Nico could vaguely make out the forms of the clergyman and the parish clerk. Philomena’s friends, arrayed in their medieval garb. Her assistant, Sarah, with that perpetual sway of hers. His brother, Roy, and Hexword, the new magistrate of Trollersby. Jane was conspicuously absent, whether because she was still in love with him or hadn’t forgiven him for believing her to be a murderer, Nico couldn’t be sure.
But the only one he saw with any clarity was Philomena.
The sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, outlining her in a soft light of gold and silver. She wore a silk gown of pale ivory that reflected the colors within the glass. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, just the way he preferred it, tiny combs of pearl and diamond making the color look like polished mahogany.
Her eyes shimmered a soft gray as they met his, calm and gentle as always.
Nico felt a swell of emotion that nearly buckled his knees. He squared his shoulders and strode down the aisle, seeing nothing but his bride. He was still amazed that she’d consented to be his, despite his determination to make it so.
When he reached her side, he took her hand and a shock of excitement ran through him. Nico barely heard the service, his entire being itching with the urge for them to hurry. To make her finally his. Only when they signed the parish register in the vestry did he feel capable of drawing a deep breath, and other than his vows, he barely spoke a word to her until they were ensconced inside their carriage.
