Free Possession by C. J. Archer Page A

coach's open window. Over
their heads I saw the rigging of moored ships forming intricate webs between
masts. In the distance, a train whistle blew.
    "There's
the Three Knots," Jacob said. He indicated a crooked building of three
levels leaning drunkenly on its neighbor, a warehouse. "Tell the driver to
wait in that street there. It's narrow, but it leads to Prince Regent Lane. So
many of these small streets go nowhere and I don't want you to be caught in one
of them."
    His good advice
hung in the air between us. My safety was always at the forefront of his mind. It
had not always been so. Once, he thought my life ending would be a good thing
because it would bring us together. It seemed he no longer thought that.
    I touched his hand
resting on the seat between us, and he curled his fingers around mine. Then he
let go and was gone. He reappeared on the outside of the coach.
    I gave George
and Theo the instructions from Jacob. George blew out a breath, slow and
measured, and pushed his spectacles up his nose. "Tell Beaufort he owes me
a large brandy after this."
    On impulse I
leaned forward and squeezed his hand as I had done to Jacob. George smiled
grimly and squeezed back. I glanced out the window and saw Jacob eyeing our
linked hands, his eyes hooded, his expression masked. I let go and wondered
what he'd have done if it was Theo's hand I touched.
    George and Theo
alighted from the carriage and George gave the footmen, two of his biggest and
burliest, instructions not to leave me. Then the two men and one ghost strode
to the Three Knots with purposeful strides. I felt a swell of pride as I
watched them.
    I had never been
very patient, but waiting for them to reappear set my nerves on edge. I sat on
one seat then switched to the other side, then back again. To pass the time, I
counted the number of women wearing blue mantles—six—and the number of times a
train whistle blew—eight—and their frequency—every minute. I untied my bonnet. I
retied my bonnet. I would have counted the money in my reticule, but I already
knew it contained only three shillings. I counted twelve men and two women
entering the Three Knots and six men and one girl leave.
    The girl!
    She had dark springy
hair and was aged about ten. She was looking down, so I couldn't see her face,
but I knew it was the same one who'd summoned the spirit. She walked beside a
figure cloaked in black wearing a wide hat, his face also cast down. They
hurried quickly away.
    I put a hand to the
door handle but hesitated. I'd been ordered to remain in the coach. George and
Theo would be angry with me for leaving. Jacob would be furious.
    But the girl and
her accomplice were getting away! Soon they would be entirely gone from view,
consumed by the shadows cast by the many tall warehouses.
    I looked to The
Three Knots. I could summon Jacob but decided against it. George and Theo may
be confronting the spirit right now and they needed Jacob more than me.
    The girl and the
black-cloaked man were almost at the corner of the furthest warehouse. I had to
go. My friends had a job to do and so did I, one that didn't involve
communicating with a ghost. I was more than merely a conduit to the dead.
    I opened the
coach door and jumped down. "Miss?" one of the footmen called down
from the rumble seat at the back. "Everything all right?"
    Just then, the
door to The Three Knots opened, crashing back on its hinges. Wallace Arbuthnot
barreled out, his red cheeks puffing hard. He paused, looked around and spotted
me. A twisted grin split his fleshy face.
    I gasped and
clambered back inside the cabin, snagging my skirt on the corner of the coach step.
I snapped it free.
    "Miss?"
the footman said again. I felt the coach rock as he stepped down and I leaned
out of the open door to tell him to stop Wallace Arbuthnot.
    It was too late.
Arbuthnot was faster than he looked, and a large man traveling at speed is a
force not to be trifled with. He shouldered the footman out of the way and