The Medium

"This is not theatre, Lord Preston," I said when they were gone. It was difficult to inject any real enthusiasm into the words. I just wanted to leave, with Jacob.

"You made all this up," the viscount said, nodding at the bent lamp post. "You're probably in league with that boy, the one who held the knife to you. And Forbes."

"Your butler? Of course not. He was a victim-."

"I saw his face!" he shouted. Even in the poor light I knew his cheeks were turning a mottled red. "There." He nodded at the spot where Jacob and the demon had fought. "Doing just as good a job of pretending as both of you degenerates. I don't know why he'd want to hurt my family like this after so many years of good service..."

"Forbes is dead," I spat as I shook off the constable who reached for me. I'd had enough. Enough of being doubted, enough of being ridiculed, enough of being treated differently to everyone else. "A demon killed him and took on his form. That's how it got into your house. Didn't you see it just now? It was fighting your son's ghost. Jacob saved us by keeping it occupied. All of us."

"Forget it!" Jacob hurtled out of the shadows and snatched at my hand. Despite all his exertion, it was still cool. It always would be. "You're wasting your breath speaking to him."

"Miss," one of the constables said. "Don't make this hard for yourself, miss."

Lord Preston turned to go. I wasn't prepared to give up so easily but I had to back away from the constables. "Didn't you see its face change? You must have."

"I saw no such thing," Lord Preston said, his voice dripping with disdain. "It was much too dark to make out anything clearly. You are a liar, Miss Chambers, and a thief and perhaps worse. If I were you I'd leave before the police arrest you. I think we can safely assume a judge would have you committed to a mad asylum whether you were found guilty of these crimes or not, don't you?"

I should have stopped. I should have chalked Lord Preston up as a disbeliever and left it at that. But I couldn't. I was angry now too and there was nowhere for that anger to go except out. One of the constables grabbed my arm but I barely noticed. Jacob still held my other hand, strong and reassuring. "Finch is not my accomplice! He tried to kill me. He's been controlling the demon all along."

As had someone else. The person who'd left during the fight. My anger reduced to a simmer as quickly as it had boiled over. I jerked myself free of the constable's grip. "I'm going," I assured him then turned to Jacob. "We have to go to the school. I think Blunt was here."