The Mesmerist(16)

I shudder. “Why would someone—”

“It was Mephisto,” Mother says with a scowl, “causing havoc and chaos to some ghastly end. That incident spawned many more, and at your father’s request, I joined him in the battle.”

Never before have I seen Mother like this. She is always reserved, always guarded. She has kept these secrets from me for years, and now I’m beginning to understand why.

“We spent many years battling the powers of the dark, my child, and it took its toll.”

She clasps my hands again, and her grip tightens, as if she is afraid she will lose me, too, just as she lost Papa. “After your father’s death, I raised you in Deal, away from this dreadful city, where you could grow up near the water and the green outdoors. But now we find ourselves here once more.”

She closes her eyes and releases a sigh. Everything she has done has been for me. Everything. I want to hug her and never let her go, but before I can, she speaks again. “And before your father died, Jess, he killed our strongest enemy, one of the greatest necromancers of all.”

“Who?”

“His name was Malachai. Malachai Grimstead. Father killed him but died shortly thereafter.”

“Malachai,” I whisper.

“He possessed the power of mesmerism as well, which made him all the more dangerous, for he used his gift to cause pain and suffering.”

His body rip—?

“So you see, Jessamine, your father’s blood runs within your veins. He was powerful, as Balthazar told you, and now his gift has awakened in you.” She pauses, and her lips tighten. “That is why you must decide.”

Something stirs within me at this moment: Pride. A desire for vengeance. Fear.

Alexander was one of our strongest members . . .

A malevolent group that lived in darkness and fed on fear . . .

But when they killed your father . . .

“I will stay,” I tell her. “I will stay and fight.”

Mother smiles, and it is a sad smile, but I sense resolution, too. Is she relieved that I have accepted my fate? She hugs me to her chest. “My dear child,” she murmurs, gently stroking my head.

“But you’ll stay too, won’t you?” I plead, breaking our embrace. “Together. We’re doing this together—?right, Mother?”

She does not have to speak, for I see the answer in her eyes, but she does anyway. “My work is done now, child. As Balthazar said, it is time for a new generation to stop the evil that is stirring in the shadows.”

My breath catches, and tears fill my eyes. “No, Mother,” I protest. “I cannot do it without you.”

She lifts my chin. “Within you lies strength yet to be discovered, Jess. Like your father . . . and your mother. Never forget that.”



I bid her farewell an hour later.

I will be on my own. I said I would stay and fight.

What overcame me?

Now I sense the weight of those words, a promise I cannot break.

I wait with Mother on the railway platform. Balthazar has already said his farewell and now stands a few steps away to give us one more moment alone. There is a nip in the air, and the coolness I feel on my skin is a balm to the heat that spreads in my chest. Red and orange leaves swirl on the ground and up into the air. Mother takes my hands in hers. “Be safe, my child.”

I sniffle, but hold back my tears.

“Remember,” she says—?and I glimpse that fierceness I saw when she cracked the lash—?“you are your father’s daughter, Jess.”

Jess.

I hear the whistle of the train and the screech of the wheels. My eyes are misting over, but I try to be strong for her—?and Papa.

A moment later she is gone. Balthazar comes to stand beside me. “Cora and Alexander could not have asked for a braver daughter,” he says, looking down the tracks. A lingering wisp of smoke rises higher and higher until it disappears. “There is no greater cause than to destroy evil where it breeds.”

I agree, but deep down inside, I wonder if I have made the right choice.





CHAPTER EIGHT





The League of Ravens


A knock at the door awakens me. Sunlight streams in through the cracked window. For a moment I don’t know where I am, until I look around the small room and get my bearings. I’m in London, here to fight necromancers.

And then I remember.

Mother.

I have never spent a day without seeing her. It is a strange feeling, this distance between us. Whatever is to come, I hope it is resolved quickly and things will soon return to how they were.

“Who is it?” I call, rising from bed.

“Emily,” a voice rings out.

I walk to the door in my nightdress and open it a crack. It is indeed Emily, with her white-blond hair and startling blue eyes. “Balthazar wants you,” she says.

I find this rather impolite, but nod reflexively and close the door. My clothes are becoming quite spoiled, but I have no other option than to wear the ones I arrived in. Perhaps Mother will be able to send some of my favorite things from home.

I walk down the stairs slowly, wondering what this is all about. My heart flutters as I step into the sitting room.

“So you have arisen,” Balthazar greets me, rising from the table. “I trust you slept well?”