Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #3)(6)

"Jacob, please sit," I urged him when he stood next to the fireplace, his customary position when he came to visit. "Save your energy."

He looked like he would refuse, but then he gave a single nod and collapsed into the nearby armchair as if his legs could no longer hold him upright. Celia seemed to relax a little as she always did when she knew precisely where he was in the room. She must have seen the indentation he made in the upholstery.

I touched his shoulder to reassure myself that he was still solid enough for me to feel him. He was so faint, so unlike himself, that I feared my hand would go straight through him, as it would if I wasn't a medium. Luckily, I could still feel him, but he was so cold.

My face must have shown my worry because he said, "I'm all right, Em."

I grazed my knuckles along his jaw, down his neck to the collar of his shirt.

Celia cleared her throat. "Tell us what's happening up there. Our last two séances have not gone according to plan and Emily said there's something wrong in the Waiting Area."

He edged away from my hand, as if he couldn't bear my touch.

"Come sit with me, Emily," Celia ordered.

I obeyed, backing away from Jacob without taking my gaze off him. He kept his on me too and there was a longing in their depths that punched through to my heart. I'd missed the way he looked at me—like I was a balm for deep wounds. A shiver of desire rippled across my skin, caressing me like a warm breeze.

He looked away suddenly and stared into the unlit grate. "The Waiting Area is in chaos."

"Chaos?" I echoed. "What do you mean?"

"Spirits are disappearing and not reappearing and no one knows where they've gone. They simply...fade away into nothingness. Few are able to come here at will anymore, and those who can are unable to stay."

"We know." I told him what Madame Friage and Lord Fulham had said.

"I am the strongest spirit," he said, "the most...physical for want of a better word."

"You always were."

"Some would say I was an overachiever in life and continue to be so in death."

It sounded silly, but it was no laughing matter, particularly the part about when he was alive. From the information we'd gathered, his murder was linked closely to the type of person he'd been—somewhat self-absorbed and yes, overachieving. His admission cut to the bone and the pain of it was imprinted clear on his face.

"Everyone is afraid," he went on. "No one seems to know what to do. So I've been sent by the Administrators to ask for your help, Emily."

"Oh." I thought he'd come because he wanted to see me. Or to say goodbye. I gulped back hot tears.

"What does he want?" Celia's brisk tone set me on edge even more. She was extremely protective of me and disliked having me exposed to danger. It usually led to a great many lies on my part, something I disliked but found utterly necessary if I were to get anything done. "You must tell me," she said when I hesitated.

I told her what Jacob had said. "But what can Emily do?" she said, her tone more subdued than I expected.

Jacob's presence flared for a moment then dimmed alarmingly.

"Jacob!"

"I'm here," he said as he returned. He sighed. "Tell your sister..." He shook his head. "I was about to say, tell her not to worry. But I cannot lie to either of you. If past events are any indication, there will be danger involved."

"Yes," I said quietly, "I'm sure there will be." But there was no way I would tell Celia that in such plain terms.

"I don't like it, Em," he said. "I don't like asking this of you."

"But you have no choice," I finished for him.

"There is always a choice." He lowered his head into his hands and dragged his fingers through his dark hair. "I could have chosen to do nothing while all those spirits in the Waiting Area fade into non-existence."

"Including yourself."

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and groaned. "Or I could ask you or Cara for help." He laughed, low and bitter.

"Thank you," I whispered. "You made the right decision." It would seem he thought as we did—that Cara was too young to bear such a burden on her small shoulders—but I don't think the decision was made lightly. Jacob had an aversion to putting me in danger too.

"Then why do I feel so wretched?" He stood suddenly and his presence solidified.

"Your anger suits you," I said, trying to lighten the tone of our conversation.

"I'm not angry," he muttered, turning away from me to stare into the fireplace.

"Emily," Celia said. "Tell me this instant what is being discussed. I will not be ignored."

"Celia, ignoring you is an impossibility."

She looked down at her skirts and made a show of smoothing them.

"I'm sorry," I said, closing my hand over hers. "I didn't mean to sound so horrid."

"I know. Now stop avoiding the topic and tell me what Jacob said. I am on pins and needles."

"He said not to worry." I studiously kept my gaze from wandering to Jacob as he turned to regard me, both brows raised. I could not lie if he challenged me, even if he did so silently. "He wants me to conduct some research in George's library to find out why the spirits are disappearing. So it looks like George and I will be afflicted with nothing more dangerous than paper cuts."