Chapter Three #2
“We hope to bring people peace,” Pax says quietly. He’s looking at the napkin in his lap, not at me. For some reason, it makes me think he’s telling the truth. Pax is the sort of person who can look you in the eye and tell you a falsehood, but his truths are uttered indirectly.
He continues: “We all have so much grief, and Julia’s Bureau hopes to lift some of that burden. We can have peace, through connection with our beloved dead.”
Oddly, Spirit sends me a waft of—stale cigar smoke? My stomach roils. Why is it cold in here? I attempt to control my shivering, but one does not simply stop shuddering when one is freezing.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to feel less guilt, Stella?”
Yes. That thought is immediate.
No. That thought immediately follows. Guilt is my anchor. I owe it to Daisy to carry it, always.
His leap from grief to guilt—the two intertwine like vines of poison ivy for me. I’m shivering so hard now, my teeth chatter. My skin takes on a bluish hue. I lean back from the table.
“Are you all right?” Pax asks again. I am practically convulsing with cold now. My eyes leap to and fro across this restaurant, and I pray no one sees this. Many idiots still stigmatize seizures as being evil. If I am spotted convulsing in public, I might find myself in a padded cell.
Pax strips off his velvety jacket, then drapes it over my shoulders. It smells like sawdust and pine, though Pax seems neither a craftsman nor an outdoorsman. I inhale his calming scent.
“St-st-steadfast,” my blue lips chatter. “Does that word mean anything to you?”
“Well, Stead. That’s my mentor’s name. Was. William T. Stead. He is the benevolent founder of Julia’s Bureau, and he was a devout Spiritualist. I am recruiting on his behalf.”
At the mention of Stead’s name, an Irish brogue comes to me, loud and clear:
Tell Pax no.
I’ve made a grave error.
This Bureau is a mistake.
There is too much evil nearby.
Pax shifts in his seat, his shirt crisp as paper. “I’m assembling those with the gift of Sight to be a part of his team. William T. Stead—the famous journalist? Surely you’ve heard of him and his untimely demise. He froze to death. Drowned on the Titanic two short weeks ago.”
Froze to death. You don’t say. My every muscle clenches with cold.
Tell Pax:
He can keep the money I gave him.
Do good with it.
But opening the portal between the living and the dead?
I was wrong. It is a mistake.
Exploration of the other world can be fatal.
Crack!
A flash of white light fills my ears, my eyes, my heartbeat, my breath. All is light. And then: warmth. No more convulsing, no more blue skin. Complete and utter peace.
I blink. Slowly the restaurant comes back into view.
The waiter must’ve brought food at some point—a disgusting aspic mold, and it jiggles as Pax taps the card still resting on the table.
“I’m carrying on the work of my deceased mentor.
We want the most gifted persons in the world to work for this Bureau.
We want you. Think of it: Steady pay. Trustworthy, screened clientele.
A storefront, so no more moving about from boardinghouse to boardinghouse.
No more inviting strangers into your… quarters.
” He clears his throat there. “No more knives. Security when facing those crazed zealots.”
He collects himself, swallowing hard. “Protection. I… we… can protect you, Stella.” Those words hang in the air. Protection is an essential part of who Pax is. This pull is intense.
“I don’t need your protection,” I protest, as I always did with Daisy.
And his response is exactly as hers would be: “I know. But I need to protect.”
I cannot do this.
I relay the message Stead sent: “Your mentor—Stead? He says do not open this Bureau. It’s too dangerous. It’s a mistake.”
“No.” His silver eyes darken, turning forest green.
“You must be mistaken. This was Stead’s life goal.
He had a gift himself—he was an automatic writer.
He wanted to pour every bit of his wealth into this endeavor.
He found comfort in connecting with the Other Side, and he wanted nothing more than to share that. This Bureau was his whole heart.”
The aspic on the plate before me is sausage and boiled egg and gherkins suspended in a yellowish gelatin mold. It quivers with me. I am exhausted after the ordeal of freezing to death alongside Stead. My stomach roils.
And there he is, in the corner of my vision: The man in the wide-brimmed hat.
His presence is cold and metallic; screams accompany him whenever he appears.
Bile rises in my throat; I blink him away before the sensation of falling overtakes me.
His presence here, now, must mean that this is not the right choice for me.
I shove my chair backward, and it screeches along the wooden floor. Eyes that have never seen much adversity or strife turn to me, some filled with pity, some with disgust. I’d rather feel the disgust.
“Please excuse me,” I whisper. Pax’s forehead crinkles with worry. I run to the powder room, weaving through tables of prim, pristine diners. Tinkling forks and sweet, high music usher me away from Pax.
A Letter from Emma Stead to William Stead, in William’s Own Hand, on Stationery Featuring the Emblem of the RMS Titanic
14 April 1912
My dearest William—
I know you are in eminent danger, but this is a message that must be shared.
When I left you a decade ago, darling, you thought I was gone from you forever. But I was never so near to you as when I had died.
And oh, what a joy that now you hear! What a delight to talk with you, laugh with you, love with you again. Your hand across the paper, my voice in your ear—with your gift of automatic writing, I talk, you inscribe the message. It fills me with love. All of it—all we are—is love. Love, love, love!
This brought you peace, and you wanted to share this message. When you opened your first bureau in London to connect with the dead, I was so proud of you, darling. All the clairvoyants you found and hired, offering so much peace. The London Bureau was a roaring success.
And then you were contacted by the young dead girl—the sweet child Julia.
You shared her love with the family Princip, and seeing the peace and joy her brother Pax experienced when you passed her messages along?
It gave you the idea: Expand to New York City!
The bureau there would be known as Julia’s Bureau, and together with the London office, it would transform the world, would it not?
But you quickly learned: Just as duality exists in the human world—good versus evil—so it exists in the spirit world. There is light, and there is dark. You learned that if you explore the spiritual world, you WILL ENCOUNTER DARK SPIRITS.
And encounter them you did. Oh, I tried to keep the dark spirits at bay.
I saw them drawn to your ambition, your wealth.
The way their bellies grumbled with deep hunger, the way their greed became an unquenchable thirst. The Dark Ones latched onto your soul, and oh!
Your cries of anguish! It nearly tore me in two, watching them terrorize you.
And you. You were never the same. You grew paranoid and angry, lusty and mean.
So the world cannot be transformed in this way, with connections to other realms. You now know that when you open the portal to the Light, the Dark lives there as well.
I implore you not to continue this path. It is dangerous for our souls. If you manage to arrive in New York, you must tell Pax Princip to cease operations immediately. Do NOT open Julia’s Bureau.
JULIA’S BUREAU IS DANGEROUS.
Yours, always, in life and in death,
Your loving wife, Emma