The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker by Leanna Renee Hieber

“Elijah wagering on my intimate thoughts…The years have proven that my fellow foes of Darkness are drawn to melodrama and rumour.” He ground his teeth. “A bond of love is implicit in Prophecy, Rebecca, though you claim otherwise. I’ve made my life choices accordingly, difficult as that has been.”
    “No, no. Convenient as that has been,” Rebecca muttered.
    Alexi folded his arms and eyed her. “Pardon?”
    “It’s very convenient for a man as stoic as yourself to decide you’ll simply wait for Prophecy like some arranged marriage. None of that dreary mortal pining; none of that average human mess of emotions for you. No, you’ll just wait for something divine, and when ‘all the appropriate criteria have been met,’ like one of your algebraic equations…huzzah, you have a bride!” She turned away, hands clenching the folds of her skirts.
    After a moment, she whirled on him again, as if she could keep silent no longer. “Should you be right, would you even know what to do with her? No, Alexi, I daresay you wouldn’t. And as you persist in thinking of Prophecy as some sacred love affair rather than an order of business, you’re making it more complicated for yourself—and more dangerous for us. Mortal hearts make mistakes. They are cruel, unpredictable things.” There was a tense silence as Rebecca caught her breath.
    Alexi’s jaw worked slowly as he stared down at her. “Is that all?”
    Rebecca’s eyes flashed. “Hardly. But I’ll stop there.”
    “Why are you so adamant that I am mistaken?”
    Rebecca simply stared at him. She opened her mouth and closed it, shook her head, defeated.
    The crowd shifted, and she and Alexi caught sight of the dead body again, now being placed gingerly on a board and hauled away. The scene had accumulated much to-do. “Enough to give one nightmares for months, that,” Rebecca murmured.
    Alexi tilted his head. “Of course. But we’ve seen such horrors before.”
    “When?”
    “One lifetime or another,” he replied, absently holding out his arm. Rebecca took it, and he continued speaking, stepping down from the landing. “And this tragedy may be only the cry of poor Whitechapel, nothing more. We’ve no concern with human crimes, no matter how ghastly. If it becomes our Work—if the supernatural becomes evident—we will act.”
    “Patience, eh? It never fails to surprise me when that is your counsel, Professor.”
    A brief spark passed through his eyes. “Was that not what we just discussed, my dear? If I had no patience, I’d have gone mad long ago.”
    Entering the dank shadow of a nearby alley, Rebecca sighed. “Fifty Berkeley Square is causing trouble again,” she remarked. As was often the case, she was the first to feel the burning in her veins.
    “The usual? Noises?”
    “Yes, and moving lights. Books ejected from second-story windows, blood dripping from their bindings. It will be rather a mess.”
    Alexi sighed. “Shall we clean it up, then?”
    She shook her head. “Let me handle it.”
    “Rebecca, Bloody Bones is a trial. It’s not a task for you alone.”
    “Alexi, please. You’ve enough to worry about,” she assured him. When he raised an eyebrow, she asked, “You truly think I cannot arraign the subject myself?”
    Alexi was silent.
    “Shall we bet on the matter?”
    Alexi’s lips curved. “Why, Headmistress, you surprise me. I didn’t think you a wagering woman.”
    “You press me to strange deeds, Professor.”
    “Indeed. Well, then: a bottle of my favourite sherry. It shall await me at La Belle et La Bête upon your failure. I do believe Josephine keeps several in stock—perhaps for just such an occasion.”
    Rebecca grimaced. “While I have every faith in my success, I do wish your tastes were less expensive. But, a bottle of sherry it is. And now we’d best get back to Athens.”
    “Should we?” he asked.
    “It is the first day of class, Professor, and you have students to terrify.”
    “Ah yes, so I