Chapter Twenty-Nine. A Feint … of Sorts

C HAPTER T WENTY-NINE

A Feint… of Sorts

IT was hard to say who reached the medium’s side first, Ruan or Andrew Lennox. Andrew hastily waved Ruan away with the clipped air of the medical officer he’d once been. He first checked for her pulse, then listened to her breath. Which now flowed easily. A good sign, based on my dim recollections of battlefield triage.

My mind reeled. Had I been attacked by a ghost? It was impossible. Improbable. And yet a slight trickle of warm moisture dripped down my neck. I reached up, pulling my fingers away. Blood.

Ruan’s eyes widened as he looked from my fingers to my throat. He lifted my hair from my neck, quickly inspecting the damage before letting out a soft sigh. “It’s only a scratch.”

His voice was hoarse and uncertain. Likely as discomfited about what he saw as I—a frightening proposition considering he was a Pellar. Demons and spirits were his purview, not mine. Ruan reached out with his left hand, gently dusting the tiny shards of glass from my hair and shoulders.

What had happened?

He shook his head. “I do not know.”

I must have voiced the question, though I didn’t recall the words escaping my lips. “What were you trying to tell me earlier… out the window?”

Ruan leaned closer, his warmth enveloping me at once. “A woman. I saw a woman near the ruins.”

My eyes widened. “Then the séance wasn’t real…”

Ruan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know.”

“She’s simply fainted,” Andrew said loudly, jerking my attention from the uncertainty clouding Ruan’s expression.

He’d roused Genevieve at last, her eyes were clear, and she rubbed at her temple.

She was alive.

Elijah hurried from wherever he’d been lurking, pushing his way through the curious bodies surrounding Andrew and Genevieve—likely drawn from the commotion. It looked as if a munition had gone off in here. Bits of glass strewn everywhere. Candelabras on the ground, candles fully snuffed.

Elijah stooped down, pulling Genevieve into his arms. The glass crunched beneath his shoes. “Give the poor woman some space.”

Her head lolled against his shoulder as he murmured something into her ear. A far cozier sight than the last time I’d see the two together—back when they were quarreling on the bridge.

Hecate touched me on the shoulder. “I will see to them. Are you well?”

“Yes. Perfectly.” My words came out a whisper as I stared at the broken window that lay motionless against the wall. It certainly seemed real—and yet, it could not have been. Hecate had taken precautions to keep the dead at bay, hadn’t she?

I inched closer to the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass, and stooped down, checking along the edges and behind for a string, a catch—anything to refute the evidence I’d seen with my own eyes. My frantic mind grasping for any bit of logic to explain what had occurred. Though my back had been to the window when it slammed shut—I could not have seen anything.

Ruan, however, had seen a woman by the ruins during the séance. What if the missing medium wasn’t missing at all, and she and Genevieve were still working together somehow—but for what purpose? I latched onto that vain hope like a sailor lost at sea, for I vastly preferred human explanations to supernatural ones.

Ruan grabbed me by the arm, pulling me into a nearby alcove.

“I know her.” His voice rumbled in my ear.

“Who?”

“Genevieve. I have seen her before—during the war.”

“ During the war?” I could scarcely believe the words coming from his lips.

He shook his head. “I don’t understand it. But Lennox saw it too. I saw it on his face when he was tending to her. He recognized her and didn’t want me to see her. The two of them had been together on the ship when Ben died. I’d stake my life on it.”

Bile rose in my throat at the thought. “You think Andrew and the medium have something to do with the murders…”

“Why else would she be here?”

Why else indeed. I stared at the empty spot where Genevieve had been lying moments before. “Andrew said the same too. He thought he recognized her and she denied it. I don’t think he was lying then—but I do think he knows more than he’s telling us.”

The room had grown empty by now except for the table, with fragrant smoke rising from the long-forgotten burning herbs.

The table.

Good God. I’d forgotten the ring in all the commotion. I darted out of the alcove as raw fear took hold. It had been a ruse—the broken window. The fainting. Whoever it was that meant to steal the ring must have planned this descent into chaos in order to snatch it up. What a fool I was. A damned fool, and I’d played right into their hands.

I could scarcely draw breath as I rushed to the table, certain that I’d lost the ring. But there it was, sitting in the center of the table—gold winking mockingly at me in the dim candlelight. I scooped it up, sliding it upon my finger for safekeeping.

“What do you think?” Ruan asked softly.

“Fancy you asking me that.”

He let out a dark, somber laugh from behind me.

“Do you miss it? Hearing people’s thoughts?” I hazarded a glance up at him. How could this man steal my very breath without trying? It was unnatural. That’s what it was, and yet I could not look away.

“Not theirs. I couldn’t give a damn what anyone else in this world thinks. But yours?” He hesitated, his green eyes searching mine. “I miss hearing your thoughts terribly.”

“You once complained that I think too loud.”

“You do. So bloody loud that I didn’t get a moment’s peace.” He smiled, wiping away the bit of blood that had pooled again on my neck. He rested his thumb there and inhaled deeply. “It’s strange, but for the first time in my life, having you in there with me, I didn’t feel quite as alone. I had someone to share my truth with. I do miss that. ”

The intimacy of his admission was too much to bear, so I did what I always did when one got too close. I feinted. “Alone? You have an entire village to take care of, you’re the least alone person I know.”

His finger rested on my pulse. “And there is not a single person there besides old Arthur Quick who I can truly talk to. And if I dared tell him I can hear other people’s thoughts? That I can… could…” His eyes drifted down to the spot on my chest that he’d somehow healed. “Ruby, they’d lock me in a madhouse, and I can’t say that I would blame them. But you know what I am. You’ve seen it and you do not look at me any differently for it.”

“Because you’re only a man. No more, no less.” I reached up, touching his cheek with a sad smile. “I’m sorry for what happened. If I’d known—”

“I am not sorry.” He rubbed his rough beard on the palm of my hand like a greedy house cat. “Ruby… surely by now you know how I fe—”

I laid my hand on his lips, silencing him. “No.” And like a coward, I walked away and out into the night, leaving whatever he was about to say hanging there in the cold evening air.