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idea.”
    “Well, you and the spirits had best wrap up your salvation by Christmas Eve day, when I’ll have you to myself for as long as I please,” he stated, rose and moved to the door. His eyes narrowed, flashing darkly. “And if there’s any thought of you going again into the Whisper-world, I swear to you I will open hell with my bare hands to come collect you.”
    “I don’t doubt it,” she laughed, used to his zealous protection and knowing just how to defuse it. “But that’s hardly the plan, my love. I’ll be a mere bystander. Someone who can hear spirits should be on hand. Trust me.”
    Her husband took a breath. Despite his domineering nature, he was adapting admirably to keeping his voice and his mood tolerably level. “I trust you, Percy, with all my life. In fact, I’ve learned to trust you more than myself . . .” Percy opened her mouth to thank him for the hard-fought praise she well deserved but he continued. “But I don’t trust ghosts. I can’t. You wouldn’t either if you’d seen the same sights and performed the Grand Work for the years the rest of us did. It’s one thing to help a spirit find peace. It’s another to allow one to meddle with your life.”
    “Alexi, please.” Her voice was calm and sure. She artfully managed to hold the rose of his love without grasping the thorns. “You must support me in this. You and I have such love between us. It’s possible for all the world to have such passion, and if we are given the opportunity to help soul mates finally come together—”
    “You cannot force them to love one another.”
    “But they do already!” she argued. “Michael
always
loved Rebecca, and she’s only just now realized it. They simply have to trust it, and themselves. As we shall have to trust Constance, a spirit friend I would trust with any noble life. The pair will also need to procure a hearth of their own; the spirits insist on it. We’ll employ our and Withersby’s fortunesto that end, I suppose, and make it look like it came from Athens. Oh, Alexi, I want to see those two happy so badly it hurts!” A lump rose in her throat. “In addition, maybe this can alleviate my guilt. Maybe this can be my penance for . . .”
    Realizing what she could not bring herself to say, Alexi moved to her side and bent a knee. “Darling, Jane’s death was not your fault!”
    Tears fell from her eyes. “I’m not sure I’ll ever believe that. Nor will you ever overcome your own sense of responsibility. I know you.” Her expression brightened suddenly, a hopeful look in her eye. “Oh! Perhaps Jane could help! Do you think she could? If Constance could return . . .”
    Alexi only shrugged. They hadn’t seen Jane’s spirit since the night of the final confrontation with Darkness. “Though I’d love to see her, she went towards peace, to the arms of her ghostly love. How could we wish her to linger with us instead?”
    “Of course,” Percy murmured. “Perhaps seeing ghosts has spoiled us to the precious fragility of mortal life.”
    “Ah, I’ve had too many reminders of the precious fragility of life,” Alexi murmured, kissing her cheek, then bending to kiss her abdomen; the living miracle within. “Having nearly lost all that I’d begun to live for.”
    Not wanting to lose himself to sentiment, the stern professor rose and cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed. Do make our friends’ Christmases merry, Percy; do. You’ve such magic about you and I suppose it’s only right that you should share it.” He softly kissed her atop the head, turned on his heel and strolled toward the other room. “Come to bed, though,” he called. “Where magic assuredly awaits.”
    It was an irresistible command.

Chapter Four
    Michael went to the orphanage infirmary in the morning, as was his weekly custom and the duty he’d long ago requested.
    As a child, he’d had no idea which vocation would call him. He’d been a strapping lad, strong and energetic, with a zeal for life