The
dancing couples spun in colorful clouds of satins and silks. Sage Merriweather
wandered the sidelines, his lengthy stature making it easy to search above the
heads of the men and women occupying the crowded room.
“Ah,
Sage, there you are! I’ve been searching for you.”
He
turned at the sound of his name. Marianne Grey walked toward him, swaying to
the music as she deftly avoided contact with the near crush of guests that filled
Winfield Park. Once she reached his side, she spun before him, holding her arms
out in invitation.
“Won’t
you dance with me, Mr. Merriweather?” A twinkle of merriment lit her blue eyes.
“It’s been an age since anyone asked
me to dance. And I do so love a waltz.”
“Of
course, my dear,” Sage spoke through smiling teeth, his lips barely moving. “I
can’t imagine why anyone might care to call Bedlam when they see me waltzing
with thin air.”
Marianne
sighed dramatically. “I’m not simply air. I’m a ghost. A spirit. A phantom. However,
I do exist.”
“True,”
he said. “And invisible to all but me.”
“And my
sister.”
“Yes. Your
sister who has sent her husband to introduce me to someone of importance. Someone
who might have information to save you from this bodiless existence. So if you
please, I have work to do. Why do you not watch the dancers perform? It’s quite
lovely and will keep you entertained while I attend to business.”
Marianne’s
shoulders sank. “I cannot bear it any longer.”
“You were
happy as a lark moments ago.”
“Yes,
until you denied me a dance. I’ve never before been set down. Even without a
body I find the insult unbearable.”
Sage had
the audacity to grin, which annoyed Marianne all the more. She bristled with
wrath lifting his sagging spirits at the sight. Of late, she had become more
docile and glum, not at all like the feisty Marianne he had known for most of
his twenty-eight years. Being neighbors in the small village of Meryton had
thrown their families often together, enough so they became more than simply
friends. They had become family. It became official after his brother and her
sister wed four months ago.
“Are you
not pleased to hear we might be at the end of our search for someone with
knowledge to assist you?”
“Yes, of
course,” Marianne said. “But if I cannot dance then what shall I do while I
wait for you? Believe it if you will, but being a ghost is not all excitement.
In fact, it's dreadfully dull.”
“Then come
with me,” he suggested, still keeping his lips as stiff as possible when a
couple nearby darted curious glances in his direction. He experienced difficulty
at times when talking with Marianne in public. People took note when he spoke to
no one. “You may give your opinion of the man’s character after we leave Winfield
and return home.”
Marianne
nodded. He marveled again at the lifelike resemblance. If he reached out to
touch her, instead of feeling flesh and bone, he’d sense nothing more than frigid
air. Yet she stood, looking as real and alive as he, just as solid as anyone
currently on this ballroom floor. It was remarkable to know that while her
spirit stood in this room speaking, her body remained in one of the upstairs
rooms in Merriweather Manor.
“Is that
Basil?” Marianne tilted her head in the direction of the open doors leading to
the gardens.
“Yes.”
Together
they pardoned their way through the dancers and wallflowers. At least Sage did so
while Marianne did her best to avoid contact with anyone until they reached the
edge of the mass of guests. Some rather sensitive people spoke of the cool air
surrounding them.
Basil
stood by the French doors, waiting until Sage approached.
“Come
with me,” he said, without any word of greeting.
Sage
spared a glance at Marianne who shrugged. They both proceeded to follow as he
led them onto the patio and down the steps leading to the giant fountain in the
center of the garden. The sculpture boasted a trio of mermaids, entwined in an
ethereal and slightly erotic dance, their faces stretching upward and mouths
open in song. Rather than notes, a stream of water gurgled from their mouths. It
was a peculiar piece of art, one of which Sage hoped he’d never have the
misfortune of seeing again.
Basil
strode passed the hideous fountain until he came to the hedge outlining the
massive labyrinth where couples wandered, all with smiles of anticipation. Sage
took note that most who wandered out busily adjusted their clothes.
“In here,”
Basil said, stopping to face them. “I enlisted the help of someone I met while traveling
the wilds of India. I’ve spoken to her, and she’s agreed to meet you.”
“India
doesn’t seem very wild,” Marianne mumbled as she stepped beside Sage. “Not
compared to that fountain, at least.”
Sage suppressed
a smirk before turning back to his brother.
“Her?”
“Her
name is Desmonda Green,” Basil said. “She will try to help. Marianne…” His gaze
darted to either side of Sage. Seeing nothing, he inquired, “Is she here?”
Sage
nodded to his left.
“This
woman knows people who might have access to spells and other scientific
knowledge. Alchemists and the like. She might offer some insight we haven’t
explored as of yet.”
“What we
need is a necromancer.”
“We had a necromancer,” Basil said, sharply.
“It does not bode well for us to continue down that path. Marianne is not dead.
She’s merely…sleeping. In a deep, death-like sleep.”
Sage
grunted. They had searched every spell book and grimoire in Merriweather Manor and
their London house in Mayfair. Sage’s father had been a historian with a
penchant for recording details of magic folk cultures and practices. Before his
death, Philip Merriweather had taken it upon himself to record the known spells
practiced by family, friends and other relations. He had collected such an
extensive library the books needed to be hidden for fear they might be used as tools
to those with darker intentions, such as Drake when he attempted to steal them
last winter.
“What
does she look like? This woman.”
“Red
hair,” Basil answered. “Like fire. You won’t mistake her.”
“Very well.”
Sage attempted to ignore the chill suddenly creeping along his back. He took a
step toward the entrance of the maze. Basil remained fixed in place. “Are you
not coming?”
“No. I’m
eager to return to the manor.”
And to Julia…
His
brother’s unspoken words rang loud. Sage nodded, glad Basil had found the love
of his life. While they traveled the English countryside searching for clues to
aid their quest, Julia remained at Merriweather Manor swollen with Basil’s
child. It would not be long before another Merriweather entered this world, and
he knew his brother itched to be back before the miraculous event occurred.
“Give Julia
and Aunt Petunia my love.”
“I will.”
Basil grasped his arm, slapping his back in a brotherly embrace. “Send word as soon
as you can. Good luck.”
Sage
nodded. His brother walked back up the steps to disappear into the crowded
house. Sage felt a momentary desire to follow. It would be so easy to give up
this foolhardy quest. They had searched for months with no hope of a spell to
help Marianne. She seemed doomed to remain a ghost forever. As for Sage, his
difficulties were insurmountable. Nothing he did, not a spell or a plan of
action changed the darkness he had fallen into as of late. It became apparent that
the demon’s curse affected his very skin and bones. He had little hopes of ever
escaping that bond. And his dreams of late had grown worse…
“Shall
we?” Marianne’s voice snapped him out of his dark reverie.
“Of
course,” he said, then reluctantly took the necessary steps toward the
entrance.
“Would
you like me to go first?” Marianne asked, no doubt aware of his hesitation. “I
can alert you to any danger. After all, no one can harm what they cannot see.”
“Do you
sense danger?”
Marianne
paused, considering. “Not danger. More like a threat.”
That she
possessed any of her witch talents marveled him, but now was not the time to dwell
upon it. He sensed the same. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted like
a cool breeze had blown passed. Basil would never knowingly send him into danger,
so he had nothing to fear. That did not mean he wouldn’t take every precaution to
keep Marianne’s spirit safe.
To send
a woman, even as a ghost, into the unknown to preserve his own safety simply would
not do.
“No
need, my dear. I’m certain our trepidation stems from mere excitement at the
prospect of finally finding a new avenue for our search.”
“Perhaps
you are correct,” Marianne conceded.
Sage nearly
reached to take her hand. She needed comfort. Her eyes were wide and her breath
quickened, but he could not do anything as human as take her hand to squeeze her
fingers in reassurance. She was a ghost. Humans, even witches, were unable to
touch ghosts.
“Come
along,” he said instead and proceeded to walk into the maze. The walls of the
trimmed hedge towered over him, a substantial distance considering his height.
Lamps lit at incremental distances illuminated the path in the darkening
twilight giving the maze a gothic aura like something he might read in a novel.
The murmurs and whispers of the guests reached his ears, but with no sight of
people at present, the voices echoed like bodiless apparitions. To anyone else,
the belief that monsters may exist might creep into their imagination sending a
shiver of fear along their spines. Sage, who knew for a fact that monsters did
indeed exist, took the precaution of walking warily along the path. He was well
aware that evil lurked in dark corners but that knowledge would not stop him in
his search. He had faced evil and survived.
After
several misguided attempts at traveling the maze, Sage began to lose his sense
of direction. He had taken several turns, of which he lost count, and passed a few
couples in as much confusion as he. Some guests had given up solving the puzzle
of the labyrinth and decided to partake activities of the more sensual nature.
They found hidden alcoves along the way and ensconced themselves there, hoping
no one noticed the fornication taking place.
Again,
he wished to touch Marianne so he might cover her innocent eyes from such
carnal play. Although she was of marriageable age and had been introduced to society
shortly before Drake cursed her, he was aware of her youth and innocence, something
many a rake and scoundrel preyed upon during a night such as this.
A guilty
flush crept along his neck as he realized less than a year ago he himself might
have tempted her into a similar alcove for a night of seduction. Of course,
this was Marianne, his neighbor and friend. He’d known her since she was in
nappies. He could never have feelings of such a nature for her. He regarded her
as a sister. And even as a rake, Sage always played the safer game of seducing widows
or women unhappily wed to distant husbands. He was quite aware of marriage
traps and stepped carefully to avoid them.
“There,”
Marianne whispered.
He
turned in the direction she indicated. A woman dressed in a long silk gown of
greenish hue akin to the color of an emerald stood alone. The vibrant red hair
wrapped and braided in intricate design upon her head like curling flame in the
dim light. The contrast between hair and gown was striking. He took in the
beauty of her classical features as she stared boldly at him with one arched
brow.
“Mr.
Merriweather, I presume,” she said, her voice husky with intrigue.
“I am,”
he answered, stopping a few paces in front of her. “I’m told you possess
information I desire.”
She
smiled, sliding her hand lower on her hips. “I have many things you may
desire.”
Marianne
made a distressed choking sound.
Sage
didn’t know whether to grin or be embarrassed. Although she was a grown woman,
he still thought of Marianne as a child. He should protect her from women such
as this, who might lead her into the temptation of baser natures, assisting her
down a path best left untraveled for women of Marianne’s status.
Then
again, Marianne knew Sage to be a rake and a rogue, his habits of seducing
women well known. She often made comments of his conquests, although he never
acknowledged if she’d guessed rightly or not. He may behave as a rake, but he was
still a gentleman.
“She
cannot truly be serious,” Marianne said the disgust evident in the scorn dripping
from her words.
“I
believe she is.” He did not bother to hide his obvious one-sided conversation.
According to Basil, this woman was aware of Marianne’s predicament.
The
woman’s chin tilted. Her gaze darted to Sage’s left. “Your friend is here?”
Sage
nodded and sighed for dramatic effect to irritate Marianne. “She rarely leaves
my side.”
“How
unfortunate.”
Marianne
made another choking sound of disgust which only made Sage smile with
amusement.
“May I
present Miss Marianne Grey,” Sage introduced with a wave toward Marianne. It seemed
rather comical that the woman nodded toward what she could only see as space
beside him.
“My name
is Desmonda Green,” the woman replied. “I was contacted a fortnight ago by your
brother who requested I meet with you. Since I am not fond of being viewed in
the company of witches, I arranged this private assignation.”
“If she
doesn’t like witches then how does she know your brother?” Marianne inquired,
the distrust in her voice evident.
Sage
repeated her question, thinking it a competent one. The tingle on the back of his
neck intensified since approaching this woman, warning him of danger. He
suspected Marianne felt the same.
“Your
brother has traveled extensively in the past,” Desmonda explained. “We met
during one of his travels. I could go into details if you like, but it is a rather
long story. I don’t believe we have time for a lengthy discourse. At any moment
someone might turn the corner and discover us.”
“And you
don’t wish to be seen with me. I understand.”
“I have
no particular reason to avoid you, Mr. Merriweather, but you are not the only
being capable of acknowledging the dead. I have enemies. I don’t wish for
anyone with that ability to happen upon me while in the company of your little
witch friend who stands at your side.”
“I’m not
dead,” Marianne muttered.
Sage
ignored Marianne’s disgruntled indignation. Instead, he glanced at her,
confused by Miss Green’s misidentification of his particular inborn talent.
“Miss
Green,” he said. “Perhaps you misunderstand. I am a witch, too.”
“Oh no, Mr.
Merriweather, that you are not. Not any longer. You’ve bonded with a demon. You
carry demon blood.”
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