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Bree
After a wretched night’s sleep punctuated by the Countess de Rothschild wailing about Edward and the disgruntled stompings of other guests when they discovered the fuses had blown out, Ambrose has to shake me awake so we can get downstairs in time for breakfast.
Ihadhoped that the two of us could finally have our first night together since Ambrose became a Living, but between Pax stealing all the blankets and the countess’s shenanigans, it didn’t live up to the romantic ideal that Ambrose aspired to, and so he kissed my hand like a gentleman and offered to sleep on the sofa.
So I lay awake all night with Pax’s arm thrown protectively over me, my skin flushed with heat at the thought of what wecouldbe doing if we didn’t have our ghostly visitor… and now I look and feel like shit.
“It’s continental and cold drinks only,” the landlady snaps as she drops a bowl of yoghurt on the table in front of me. “The blasted power is on the fritz.”
“Sounds delicious.” Ambrose reaches for a slice of untoasted bread. How can that man be so chipper? Isn’t he desperate to tear all my clothes off, the way I am his?
I wish I could see Edward. He’d talk to Ambrose, tell him to stop being so much of a gentleman waiting for the right time and just fuck me already. I grip the moldavite in my fist and think of him, but it doesn’t conjure him in front of me. I guess once the ghost mojo pulls you back, I need to be nearby to bring him with me again.
But we can’t go home yet. We’re staying in London for one more day.
We have to attend church.
Ineedto meet this mysterious priest Abberline told us about.
Outside, the weather is your typical British summer – overcast and cool, with takeout packaging skittering across the footpath. Ambrose slips his arm in mine and we stroll through a small, oak-lined park on our way to All Souls. Pax walks a few steps in front of us, his sword swinging off his belt. No one comments on it. This is London, after all.
We reach the church. It’s a spooky, gothic affair with a towering spire piercing the grey sky. A couple of people walk around the churchyard, squinting at names on the ancient graves, but there don’t appear to be any services today. The church door is closed.
We go up to the door and knock, but no one answers. I hunt around for a listing of services, but find nothing except a little sign that says, ‘Thursday Spirit Circle: All Welcome’ and a picture of a smiling ghost. We’redefinitelyin the right place, but it’s not open. Can a church beclosed?Is that allowed?
“Your puny Christian god is no match for my Roman strength.” Pax cracks his knuckles. “I shall find our priest if I have to break every door in this temple.”
But as he rams his shoulder into the door, it flies open, sending him flying across the marble floor.
“It’s unlocked,” I call out to him.
“It would appear so,” Ambrose says brightly.
“So I don’t get to smash the door?” Pax makes a face as he picks himself up off the floor.
“Not this time.”
The door bangs on its hinges, and I step through into a dark, empty church. A narrow aisle leads past the rows of wooden pews to a small altar within a gothic stone archway. Dappled light reflects from the stained glass windows.
I take a step inside, peering into the gloomy corners, searching for a priest.Why is this place so—
“Halt, in the name of Odin. Who goes there?”
Pax draws his sword and leaps in front of me as a large, bearded man hurls himself from behind the altar and thunders down the aisle toward us. The figure raises his own sword and charges at Pax.
Is he carrying a sword?
I squint at this man who rushes toward us. He isn’t a man so much as a beast, with a wild, scraggly beard strung with colourful glass beads, long, braided strawberry-blond hair swinging halfway down his back, and wearing a tunic, woollen pants, leather boots, and a fur-lined cloak.
He looks a bit…like a Viking, but that’s crazy. Why would a guy in a Viking costume be in a church?
The beast of a man stops halfway down the aisle, his sword tip pointing directly at Pax’s throat. “My Thain will not be disturbed. Turn around, or by Odin’s name, you shall regret your impertinence.”
My heart hammers, but Pax peers at the man with interest. “You…you carry your sword as if you know how to use it.”
“Would you like to find out, friend?” the beast growls. “Gaze upon thy destiny, for with this sword I will cleave your lying maggot mouth from your swine head!”
“By Jupiter’s bendy beanstalk, I’d like to see you try!”
