A Midwinter Fantasy - Leanna Renee Hieber [36]
Dickens was to the point after all, damn him. She realized she didn’t mind being proven wrong.
It seemed her surprises weren’t done. There was an envelope on her desk bearing the official seal of Athens. From the board of directors. Rebecca’s heart was in her throat, for she feared something had finally snapped. Perhaps closing the school to battle Darkness had brought about repercussions? Perhaps the board had heard that she’d been acting odd of late, which she most certainly had. But her tension vanished as she read, and a grin again spread across her face.
In recognition of your exemplary work as headmistress, the board of Athens Academy has voted to secure you more spacious housing near but not on the grounds of the academy. We will convert your existing apartments into space for visiting faculty, there being a number who wish to learn from and champion Athens’s impressive and progressive model as their own. Enclosed, please find the keys for 6 Athens Row.
Merry Christmas.
It looked like Alexi’s handwriting but she couldn’t be bothered to verify it.
A home. A real home, just down the block. Of course she’d not want to be far, but . . . a home! Not some attic perch or cloistered closet filled with memories of loneliness. She’d now have a hearth. She had someplace to begin her new life, someplace to invite the someone she wanted to be part of it. Now that she was whole, now that she knew the heavens wanted something of her—demanded it, in fact—a glorious future awaited.
She nearly ran out the door.
Chapter Ten
Considering all the spiritual upheaval the school had seen, it was lucky Athens was tucked into an area of Bloomsbury and placed at such an odd angle: the red sandstone fortress was surrounded on all sides by alleys and the backs of other buildings. Billy and Mary floated at face level, their arms crossed, and they were just outside the front doors of the academy, in the cold. The breeze felt good on Michael’s flushed face; bracing.
He was still reeling from admitting his constant nerves when coming to call upon Rebecca. Surely that made him seem less of a man. But Michael had done as the ghosts wished, moved in his own footsteps through years and years, all seen from the spinning temporal axis of Billy’s chandelier vantage. The boy and Mary had taken turns urging him on, and now he was certain he could knock upon the headmistress’s door without trembling. He wanted her and loved her more than any fear could obstruct.
“So ye see,” Billy said, taking a paternal tone, “it isn’t that you fear for your Guard gifts gone. You fear for the very human gift of love being accepted. You fear havin’ what you desire. You’ve feared it all along.”
Michael nodded, dizzy.
“So now what are you waitin’ for? You, of all people! We’d have thought you’d seen plenty to give you perspective. Do ye need to be frightened by something far more terrifying? Do you want to go back and fight Darkness again? He could live again, could take your bones as his own . . .” Billy threatened. He made a motion and there was a tearing sound. Where the front door of Athens stood, a dark maw of a portal opened to the Whisper-world. A rushing river of bones gurgled by.
Michael gulped. “No, thank you. I’m grateful to battle the heart, instead.”
“And are ye going to win this battle this time, Vicar?” cried a voice in an Irish brogue. Stepping from the portal, a woman floated down to hover over the Athens stoop.
“Jane!” Michael cried. He rushed forward.
Jane wafted close, giving his cheek a phantom kiss of cold condensation.
“I . . . I can hear you, too!” He was amazed and pleased.
She grinned. “You’re still under my spell.”
“Your spell? Are you all right? Is Rebecca all right? Where is she?”
“Oh, yes, I’m grand. She’s grand. She’s still inside, working a few things out. Percy’s watching her, the dear heart. Time’s a bit funny here and there, especially crossing in and out like we’ve been doing, toying with the past. It doesn