Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #3)(28)

George looked out one window and I peered out the other. Theo, sitting next to me, reached over my shoulder and lifted the curtain higher. He was so close I could feel his warm breath on my ear and his chest against my back. His heart drummed a strong, rhythmic beat. I liked it. Liked it very much. But I was acutely aware that he wasn't Jacob. I closed my eyes and threw up a prayer that he was all right.

Theo drew in a deep, shuddery breath then shifted back a little. I applauded him for doing the honorable thing, yet part of me missed his solidness, and the way he made my nerves thrum with anticipation.

"I think..." George was off his seat, his nose squashed against the window pane. "There! Getting into that hansom."

"Has he seen us?" I asked. George's coach was distinctive with the Culvert escutcheon painted on the door. Blunt would recognize it instantly.

"I don't think so. By the look of concentration on his face, he's trying not to be sick and doesn't seem to be noticing anything except the cab." He pulled down the window and ordered his driver to follow the hansom but to keep some distance.

"Let's hope they don't travel too fast," I said. "There's an awful lot of traffic. It'll be easy to lose him if your driver is not vigilant."

"I'm not so worried about losing him as I am ending up at an opium den," George said.

Theo murmured agreement. "I've heard some of them are gruesome, certainly unfit for a lady to enter. We must decide who goes in and who stays here with Emily."

"You are not leaving me behind!"

George put up his hands, placating. "Let's worry about that when we find out where he's going. If we can stop him entering the den altogether, we will not need to separate."

I had never seen an opium den before and I wasn't going to see one today. I knew where we were heading as soon as we hit the newer, blander streets of London's outskirts, and it wasn't to a squalid back lane. We drove past houses that were all the same, their features indistinguishable from each other, their facades unassuming.

"He's going to Price's house," I said.

"Leviticus Price?" George screwed up his nose, pushed up his glasses, and squinted at the houses sliding past the window. "Good lord, I think you're right."

"You've mentioned Price before," Theo said. "Is he the paranormal expert?"

"Yes, and now the Grand Master of the Society For Supernatural Activity," George said. "He's very knowledgeable."

"He has helped us in the past," I said. "Albeit reluctantly. He is not the nicest of men."

George snorted. "He's got the manners of a sewer rat. Ah, yes, this is his street."

The coach slowed then pulled to a stop a few houses down from Price's. George poked his head out the window. After a few moments, he pulled it back in. "Price's landlady has just let Blunt inside."

"I wonder why Price has come here and not to a den," I said. "He should be desperate for his opium now. Do you think he's getting it from Price?"

"You may be right," George said.

Theo nodded. "He must be. What a strange arrangement."

"A shocking arrangement," I muttered. "I wonder how long it has been going on."

"Price must be gaining something from it," George said, "but what?"

"Money." Theo's jaw set hard and the word sounded like it was ground between clenched teeth before being spat out. "Why does anyone do anything of a shocking nature?"

I looked to George, but he didn't seem to notice Theo's bitter tirade.

"Let's not condemn Price yet," George said. "We don't know for certain if that's why Blunt has come here. There could be all sorts of other reasons. It could even be a simple social call."

"Oh, George, don't be so na?ve," I said. "Price may be the Grand Master of your society, but that doesn't mean he's innocent. For all we know, he may be behind everything."

"Emily! Price may be a little...difficult at times, but he's never abused his paranormal knowledge before."

"That we know of."

"And he did help us find the culprits who released the shape-shifting demon."

"He led us to Finch, who indeed was controlling it, but there was someone else involved too. I am certain of it."

"Blunt."

I shook my head. "I've never been entirely convinced of Blunt's guilt. He was terrified when Jacob haunted him at the school. You'd think a man who knew all about shape-shifting demons would be more comfortable with the supernatural."

"As I recall, Beaufort had a knife. A knife-wielding spirit would terrify anyone."

"Blunt was afraid of being haunted from the start," I said. "Even before Jacob threatened him with the knife."

George sniffed. "Blunt was the villain then and I am certain he's the villain now too. He must be. Look at him. Any man in the grip of opium must have a guilty conscience to suppress."

"Any man controlled by opium is too weak of mind to be behind the summoning of Mortlock and now this curse. Price has proven to us on many occasion that he is very strong willed."

"It cannot be Price," George said. "He doesn't have children and his name is not Seymour."