Page 29 of Beyond the Grave
"You…you lit it for me."
"When I realized you weren't home, I thought you would get caught in the rain."
"You knew I'd left? How?"
His gaze shifted to the flames. "I…sensed your absence."
"I didn't know you were capable of doing so."
"Nor did I until this morning when I came home."
It was an interesting development of his paranormal capabilities and one that required more thought and discussion, but not now. "You have only just returned?"
He nodded in the direction of my adjoining bedroom. "Go and change, Charlie."
"Will you stay here? I need to talk to you."
He nodded, and I got the feeling he already knew what the discussion would be about, at least in part.
I quickly changed into my nightgown and threw a shawl over my shoulders. I returned to the sitting room and lay my cloak and dress over the backs of the chairs then angled the chair backs toward the fire. I left my unmentionables in the bedroom. Displaying them in front of Lincoln was an extra humiliation I didn't want to endure.
Avoiding looking at him, I knelt by the fireplace and removed the pins from my hair. I tousled the shoulder-length locks with my fingers and tipped my head toward the heat. It felt awkward with him standing there and me kneeling near his feet, the silence stretching and stretching. Why didn't he ask what I was doing out in the night? Was he waiting for me to confess?
"Thank you for starting the fire," I said. "Did you sense me returning? Is that why you lit it?"
"No." His tone had taken on an icy edge that didn't bode well. "I didn't know where you'd gone or when you'd be back. Since you took your cloak, I hoped you hadn't been forcibly taken from the house. Nor were Gus or Cook roused, which would also imply you left quietly. Voluntarily."
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. He'd been through my bedroom and noticed my cloak gone. "I'm sorry if you were worried. I thought I'd be back before you noticed me gone."
"Since it seems I am now able to tell when you are here or not, I would appreciate a note be left when you decide to disappear in the middle of the night. Is that clear?" The icy tone turned positively freezing.
"Yes." I stared into the fireplace, still not able to meet his gaze. "I am sorry."
"You raised the spirit of Estelle Pearson, despite my instructions not to."
I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded.
"And just now you thought it was her in here," he continued. "Why?"
I sucked in a breath and lowered my hands to my lap. I finally met his gaze and shivered. Not even the flames reflected in the black pits of his eyes. "I raised her spirit in here earlier tonight, but she insisted on entering her own body before she gave me answers." I twisted my fingers together. They hurt form the cold, but I didn't care. I welcomed the pain. I deserved it. "She was buried at Highgate, so we went to the cemetery. But once she occupied her body, she said something in a foreign language. Then she just walked away. I called her back, but she didn't return. I ordered her spirit to leave, but it had no effect. I couldn't control her, and she ran off. I don't understand, Lincoln. What went wrong? Did she know a spell to override my necromancy?"
He had been watching me the entire time, that fathomless gaze upon me as if he were trying to see into me. But now it faltered and he turned to the fire. "It seems so. You recognized none of the words?"
"She spoke them quietly, and I don't know any languages other than English. The accent was harsh, throaty."
"Did she say where she was going?"
"No, but she mentioned that she had something she needed to take care of."
He had no more questions for me and seemed lost in thought.
"Is she a witch, do you think?" I asked.
"Perhaps."
"She knew what a necromancer was, and she didn't need instructions on how to re-enter her body. Death and reanimation didn't sicken or frighten her. She seemed quite unperturbed by it all."
He didn't respond, which only made me want to talk more. I needed to talk, to get some things off my chest.
