The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker by Leanna Renee Hieber Read Free Book Online Page B

whore?”
    The shadows grunted. There was a slow, methodicalsound: footfalls, back and forth. “Whatever is left of that bird…I’ll burn him all over again.”
    The woman waved her hand. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you will. And, her? When it finds her, will you tell the dog to bring her back alive? Or shredded into pieces?”
    The shadows roared, and the woman realized she’d misspoken. Still, there was no going back. “Why, you truly miss that troublesome wench, don’t you?”

C HAPTER F IVE
    Blood was everywhere, drenching the dirty stones of Hanbury Street, flooding the gutter below a wooden gate. A bleary-eyed crowd, growing despite the ungodly hour of the morning, gazed down in horror at the mangled corpse. Constables and a haggard investigator crawled the scene like insects; real flies buzzed alongside. Rumours and shrieks filled the air, and the word “Ripper” was on everyone’s lips.
    A lean, severe woman stood just beyond the horrified East End crowd. Her brown hair was pinned tightly beneath a simple touring hat, save for one renegade lock, and Rebecca Thompson folded her arms and gazed down at the scene from the steps of an adjacent tenement. At her elbow was the usual tall, formidable man in a long black greatcoat, and he tipped his top hat and squinted upward, his mop of dark hair rustling in the breeze.
    “My God, Alexi,” Rebecca murmured, brushing her gloved hand across his forearm before resting it again upon the buttons of her sleeve. “Darkly Luminous work this must have been, to have produced such an effect.” She shuddered. “Is this a sign of something new?”
    A distracted hum was his only reply.
    “Alexi, are you listening?”
    “There are gargoyles atop this shabby roof. How odd,” Alexi mused. “Yet they neglected their sole duty—to deter whatever demon struck here. Poor girl. Poor dead girl.”
    “You’re not listening to me.”
    “I always listen, Rebecca.” He turned dark eyes to hers, and his sculpted lips softened into a slight smile; a rare occurrence. “It indeed may be a sign. But we cannot know for sure until this”—he gestured grimly toward the body—“is added to something more substantial. Until we see all that was foretold.”
    “I confess, I’m shocked we’ve had so long to wait for Prophecy.”
    Alexi’s jaw hardened. “As am I.”
    “May she actually help us,” Rebecca muttered, squinting at a flock of ravens sweeping around a nearby spire. As Frederic, that unique bird with a patch on his breast, hopped down from a rafter to squawk at them, she waved a mollifying finger. “Forgive me for asking, Alexi, but could you…could you have neglected her along the way? Could we have missed her? We’re not growing any younger. If…”
    His stern gaze halted her speech. “‘Placed in my path,’ it was said. No one has been placed in my path that we have not considered and discounted. Please don’t distrust my sensibilities, Rebecca.”
    She hurried to say, “Of course, I was never suggesting—”
    “Please trust that I’m well aware of my age, and that I will remain all the more alert for it!”
    Rebecca sighed. “Why do you dislike talking about Prophecy so?”
    “Why? Because it’s private.”
    “Private? What’s private about a public prophecy?” Rebecca scoffed. “There’s nothing private about the fact that our number of six will become seven.”
    “The…fate of the seventh and myself is private.”
    Rebecca groaned and clenched her fists. “You’re still going on about that? About the two of you? Alexi, in what part of her speech did your goddess say you were supposed to love the seventh? Those words were never spoken; love has nothing to do with it!”
    He turned and pinned her with his eyes. “I’ve always believed it, Rebecca. You alone know this. Unless…”
    Rebecca held up a hand. “I’ve never said a word.”
    “And you must not until the time is right. I can only imagine the dreadful gossip.” He grimaced, pained.