Read Online The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker by Leanna Renee Hieber - Free Book Online Page B

annoyance.
    “Oh, is that a new one of Josephine’s?” Rebecca pointed to the opposite wall and rose to examine the indicated canvas. Michael followed, always eager to be near her side. Elijah remained seated…and held a peppermill over Michael’s tea.
    A clatter of glasses above the polished oak bar brought the lovely, olive-skinned Josephine, cursing in French, out from a back room. Brandishing a wet towel, she waved it in the air with a few words that were not French but instead The Guard’s strange and ancient tongue. The towel passed straight through the portly body of that spirit in military uniform who was trying to unsuccessfully help himself to a glass of wine. Glumly, the general heard the odd words, felt the tickle of the towel and went again to sulk in his usual place.
    It was good the four friends were the sole living occupants of the bar, Rebecca mused; the afternoon was shaping up to be a bit of a production unfit for outsiders. Improper familiarity across class lines was one thing, but blatant interaction with the dead was another.
    “Ah, Rebecca!” Josephine, tucking one thin lock of silver hair behind her ear, moved to kiss her friend on both cheeks. She drew back, noticing Rebecca’s sour look, and her French accent made her words all the more provocative. “What, what is zat face you give me?”
    Rebecca grimaced as she drew a stack of notes from her reticule. “Josie, would you fetch me bottle of sherry—your best, if you please? And tie a ribbon or something around it.”
    “Ooh! And what might the occasion be?”
    “Alexi,” Rebecca muttered. “We wagered on a…spiritual matter, and I lost.”
    Josephine clicked her tongue and shook her head, rolling back the sleeves of her blouse. “Someday we’ll find something he can’t master, and we’ll drink sherry on his remittance for a change.” She refilled Elijah’s cabernet, then set off to procure the prize.
    “Where’s Jane?” Rebecca asked the assembly.
    Michael shrugged. “Off on her own, as usual.”
    “Never trust the Irish. Never know what they’re up to,” Elijah muttered.
    Michael cleared his throat. “Rebecca, forgive my cold heart that I haven’t yet inquired. Did you and Alexi discover anything at that last Ripper site? Can we help?”
    “I’d have preferred a waltz with Bloody Bones than to have seen that poor wretch…” Rebecca shuddered. “But, no. There’s nothing to do but wait and listen.”
    Michael ignored this. “London’s terrified.”
    “I know,” Rebecca replied. “And so am I. Such gruesome evil is usually within our control—is part of our Grand Work. But these murders on Buck’s Row and Hanbury Street…we had no warning, no feel of the supernatural. I’m worried about our school. What if one of our girls wanders out? They’re all so innocent—and my responsibility.”
    “How was the start of term?” Michael asked, trying to access happier fare. He inched his hand toward Rebecca’s but at the last moment lost courage and withdrew.
    “Only a few new students,” Rebecca replied, oblivious. She shifted uncomfortably, thinking of Miss Parker. “One girl is startlingly unique. Must have some sort of condition, poor thing. Deathly pale skin, the whole of her white as snow. Glasses shaded her pale eyes, which, through their glass, appeared almost violet.”
    “You’re certain she’s mortal and not Luminous?” Michael asked, again twirling his mustache.
    “You think I can’t tell the difference? Still, it is eerie to see a living girl so similar. And the spirits gaze at her so. Perhaps they are just as curious.”
    “What do they call people without colour?” Michael scratched his head, ruffling a patch of grey-peppered hair and not bothering to comb it back into place.
    “Albinos,” supplied Elijah.
    Rebecca nodded and continued her musing. “Eerie, indeed. A timid girl, orphaned, raised in a Catholic convent. When asked if she considered herself gifted in any way, she