The Medium

My heart leapt into my throat. I screamed. More screams echoed mine from inside the house.

It took me a moment to remember Jacob could not be harmed by such a fall. But his companion would not be so lucky.

I was wrong. The two hit the ground as one. Their impact sent a shudder along the pavement and cracked it open like an eggshell. Jacob sprang up immediately and to my surprise, so did the other man. It was as if they'd not just fallen several stories onto stone.

That's when I noticed Finch muttering behind me. I couldn't quite hear what he was saying even though his mouth was right near my ear, but I didn't think he spoke English.

Before I had a chance to guess at the language, my attention was drawn back to Jacob. He and the other man hurled themselves at each other like two beasts in the ring, using their bodies as weapons. Their chests slammed, shoulders hunched and heaved. Fists smashed into flesh. Flesh that wasn't like any flesh I knew-it didn't smack like real skin and no bones crunched. No blood was spilled.

The servant dove at Jacob, forcing him to the ground. Together they rolled into the circle of light cast by a street lamp and that's when I saw his face.

No, not face...faces. It constantly changed, forming and reforming into people I recognized and some I didn't- Finch, Blunt, Jacob, Adelaide, Lady and Lord Preston...

It was the demon, shifting shape as it fought.

Oh God, no. How could Jacob defeat a demon? From my discussions with George, I knew they were strong and that killing them was almost impossible and required a special Otherworldly blade. I also knew that being a supernatural creature meant the demon could tear Jacob's soul from his body. It could destroy his essence, obliterate him from this world and every other.

It could turn him into nothing.

I tried to get closer but Finch jerked me back. He was still muttering under his breath, the strange, poetic words blending together, sliding off his tongue. He was directing the creature-the demon-controlling it as it fought Jacob.

I struggled against him but his grip was too strong. He hissed in between his strange mutterings then looked over his other shoulder into the murkiness of the nearby alley. Something moved in the shadows. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed through the dense fog and I saw the flap of a coat before it was swallowed up by the night.

Finch grunted and bunched his fist into my cloak. He stopped chanting long enough to utter, "Soft-bellied toff." Did he mean me, or the person from the alley? Had someone been there or was it just a trick of light or my imagination?