Chain of Pearls

Frenzied Shadows- London, 1903

"When we are asleep in this world, we are awake in another." Salvador Dali
✵
Philomena stretched as watery light filtered through the gap in the heavy curtains. She inhaled through her nose sharply as she felt her side flare with pain.
Oh no, thought Philomena pulling up her nightdress. The dressing Tessa had pasted over the wound had half fallen off, and she winced at what she saw. The skin around where the demon had sliced her was an angry red, the cut itself was weeping fluid. Philomena cried out, trying to alert someone. She was struggling to stand when Lucie barrelled through the door, her hair half done up.
"Whatever's the matter?" Asked Lucie, concern flitting across her face. Philomena blanched, as the pain came again and she moved to show Lucie the problem.
"By the Angel." Lucie breathed- her expression was one of equal measures of worry and disgust. "Wait there." She instructed, and bolted from the room. Philomena's vision began to swim, tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. She inhaled shakily, and thought of what her mother would say to her now. She would tell her... what would she tell her? She'd tell her to be brave. Thought Philomena, she'd tell her to stay calm.
Calm, calm, calm. Repeated Philomena inside her head, having something to focus on was extremely helpful. It didn't stop the pain, but it stopped it from swamping her focus. James and Matthew came in suddenly, both frowning.
"Luce, what's the matter?" James asked. Then he noticed Philomena's cut. "Oh." He said, grimacing.
"Math? Can you help me lift her?" James turned to his parabatai, amber eyes clear and steady. Matthew swallowed,
"I- of course." He said. Both boys went on either side, their arms round her waist, her's strung over their shoulders. They lifted her, seemingly with little effort,
"It's such a shame," Lucie was muttering glumly, "there was a picnic today, I was going to invite you to it, you know."
"I'm sure once I'm patched up I can come, perhaps I can join later on?"
"Nonsense." Lucie said curtly, "you need rest and several iratzes, I'll let Papa know you're in here so he can call the silent brothers."
"Lucie, no." Said James, "you know Papa will make it an excuse to see Uncle Jem."
"Oh well." Said Lucie, cheerfully but with an edge of defiance laced through her words. "I'm going to do it anyway James. You can't stop me."
"No. No I can't, Raziel knows I want to though." He said, glaring at his sister. Lucie smiled sweetly as she opened the infirmary door.
"Welcome to your new home for the next week, I suppose." Said James, directing Philomena towards the nearest bed. Philomena sank down onto it, grateful for the chance to rest, her side really was rather painful.
"Thank you," she said, smiling wanly at him. She was still in her nightdress, which was a relief as she didn't want to change in the vicinity of the boys, even if the curtains were drawn round her bed. Slipping under the soft duvet, she closed her eyes, and waited for sleep to come.
*
When Philomena blinked awake, she felt exhausted and every part of her felt heavy. She was awfully disoriented- how long had she been asleep for? A silent brother leaned ominously over her, he appeared to be checking her pulse.
You've definitely fared better, haven't you? His voice was an echo in Philomena's head- a voice that was quite obviously not her own. The voice carried on,
You still need more rest, Miss Woodstorm, I'm afraid you are not yet healed and you got a fever from your infection. You're mostly over it now, don't look so afraid. He finished, as she looked up at him, panic on her face. She was taken aback by how young he looked, and how unlike a silent brother he looked. He still had the sharp, red runes cut into his face, and his lips were sewn shut, but his eyes were simply closed and his black hair, with a singular silver steak woven into it hung over his face as he gazed down upon her.
"Who are you?" She asked weakly.
I am Brother Zachariah. He informed her. So this was Uncle Jem, Will's old parabatai. She had heard about him from Lucie and James; she thought about her own parabatai, burning in the fire that had... no. She could not think about it, anyway she had read somewhere that stress made ill people worse; she did not want to endanger herself by her own account. She was glad of it, then, when her eyelids began to droop, blocking out all the horrendous things that had happened to her.
   *
She stared as her house was consumed by flames. Choking and burning, she waded into the flames,
"FLORA," she shouted, coughing on the smoke that billowed out from the entryway, "FLORA."
There was silence, and her stomach dropped, she tore up the stairs, dress catching on the sharp, half-burnt spikes of wood that used to be a bannister. She stopped as she heard a noise, it was a weak whimper- and coming from the training room.
She raced to the door, almost snapping it clean off its hinges as she slammed it open. Flora was lying on the ground, her icy blonde hair spread out like a halo in the burning room. Fire leaped and swamped the walls around them, consuming the floor, windows, weapons that hung around. Fear spiked through her chest, Flora had her eyes shut, and her face was white. Suddenly her chest moved, ever so slightly she could have been imagining it. Perhaps the smoke was making her hallucinate. She edged her way to Flora, trying to avoid the flames that licked all around them.
"Flora," she whispered urgently, "Flora, it's me, Phi." Flora's dark-lashed eyes fluttered, then cracked open,
"Phi?" She rasped, "oh, Phi. We need to escape, but the door will be locked." With horror curdling in her stomach, she knew Flora was right. The training room door could only be opened from the outside with a key. Once inside the door would close and lock, inside and out. It was a miracle she had even been able to open it before- perhaps it had not been fully locked. She could not ponder it, not even for a moment. Now was the time to escape, she stared around the room, looking desperately for an exit. The window was open, but ringed with fire, as the sill around it rapidly burnt away.
"Flora?" She asked, "this is rather a difficult thing I'm proposing we do right now, but we need to edge toward the window and jump out onto the roof, then scale down the pipes. They're not burning, I saw they weren't when I came in."
Flora nodded,
"Yes." She said firmly. The two girls edged towards the burning wall, heat blazing into their faces, making their hair stick to their bodies with sweat.
"Are you ready?" She asked Flora, as she helped her to straddle the frame.
"Yes," Flora breathed, pale blue eyes flashing in the heat, "but are you?" Flora pushed out her arms, and jumped backwards, throwing herself out of the room, and pushing her parabatai into the fire- she  flew backwards, a sky of glowing orange and yellow meeting her gaze. It burned all around her, filling her with heat that made her want to peel off her skin. Her entire being was slick with sweat, and her last memory was sweat from her damp brow dripping onto her closed eyes as she prayed,
"Let this be over soon."                                                *
Philomena groaned as something cool was dabbed on her forehead, she swatted at it impatiently.
"Hmnghghfgerrof." She murmured. She opened her eyes, them squinted at the brightness. She turned to see Lucie and Cordelia, Cordelia holding a cloth, frowning at her,
"Oh, I didn't think you'd be awake now! Plus aren't ill people meant to be too weak to swat at their nurses?"
Lucie said in jest.
"I'm not a nurse, Lucie." Said Cordelia, rolling her eyes. Lucie smirked wickedly.
"What day is it?" Philomena croaked in a voice that had obviously not been used for a while.
"It's Monday." Said Cordelia, offering a smile, "you've been asleep for two days."
"Oh." Said Philomena. Then she noticed the state the infirmary was in. There were three beds taken up, each with a still figure under the blankets, the table at the far end of the room was piled with poultices, salves and potions. Cordelia's own hands bore half-healed burns.
"What- what happened." Philomena forced out, as she sat up slowly. Lucie shared a look with Cordelia.
"There was a demon attack at our picnic the day you went in here," she said in a subdued manner, "Piers Wentworth, Ariadne Brigdgestock and Barbara Lightwood were all injured. Poisoned. The demon- it came in daylight. No demon has that ability. None at all."
"Needless to say, we are all rather worried." Said Cordelia with another frown, "you are lucky you slept through it." She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. Philomena's thoughts went to her nightmare, she felt mixed feelings of relief and pain, that pierced her chest like a dagger through her heart. At least she had saved herself- but she had felt how Flora had in her last moments, agony and despair. But... she had never pushed Flora into the flames of her burning home. No, it was always her parabatai who was quick to lash out, not her. It was just a nightmare- the reality was that Flora was dead. And not her, even though she felt she deserved it- to escape the shame her mother had brought upon her like a black cloud stuffed with foreboding. Philomena became aware of the fact that the pain in her side was gone, her head felt clear and not the muddle of delirious  thoughts it had been. In fact she felt quite well, and upon further inspection, her ugly gash had faded to a small white scar with the remains of several healing runes beside it. Philomena swung her legs and stood, surprised to find the room spinning. She flopped back onto the tangle of sheets, sighing as Lucie and Cordelia came over to lift her up.
"Can you walk?" Asked Lucie.
"Yes I can, thank you." Philomena said, wobbling slightly as the two girls released their grip on her arms. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, and managed to get to the door before she felt like her legs were going to give way.
"You know, I really have made a mess of my arrival here," she said, as she leant against the door, "first, I collapse in front of James, Matthew, Thomas and... Christopher? He is called Christopher, isn't he? And then, almost as soon as I'm healed, I have another fiasco where I'm in need of assistance. You must be quite tired of me now!"
"By the angel, no, of course not! You cannot help what has happened to you, and it is not your fault!" Lucie gasped, sounding shocked at Philomena's statement. Cordelia nodded in agreement, and pulled open the door since Philomena had judged herself able to stand unaided by its sturdy wooden frame.
"Now," said Cordelia, "I do believe it's time for a meeting." And with that Philomena was swept from the room.
*
"I am in my nightgown." Philomena hissed, as she followed Lucie's brown head, and Cordelia's dark red one through the labyrinth of the Institute.
"Ohh," said Lucie slowly, as though the thought had never crossed her mind. "Wait there." And she sped off, her stockinged feet padding along the wooden floors, and leaving a puzzled Cordelia and Philomena behind. She returned a few moments later, running and carrying a bundle of blue and white.
"Here." She panted, giving the clothes to Philomena. Philomena ducked into a room on the side; it was dusty and dim light filtered through the small arched windows. An old dolls house stood in the west corner of the room, was it Lucie's? Philomena wondered. Picking across the groaning floorboards, she reached out to open the front of it. It opened smoothly, and inside was a perfect, miniature interior of a house. There was a mother doll, a father doll and a blonde baby in a crib. Philomena touched a little finger to the bassinet. It rocked gently and Philomena stared in wonder at the craftsmanship of the toy. Then the doors slammed shut. Philomena jerked back, as she saw a figure emerge from the dolls house.
"Who are you?" The voice sounded peevish and irritated, and belonged to a beautiful girl, her icy hair flowing behind her. But something was off, the girls skin held a pale, pearlescent quality and a poppy red stain leaked over her dress.
"I could ask the same of you, are you a ghost?" Philomena answered boldly.
"Well," the ghost said pensively, "yes I am a ghost. My name is Jessamine, Jessamine Lovelace. I died years ago, trying to save the Institute. I was pierced in the heart by an automaton, and as I lay dying I asked Will Herondale to care for my dolls after I had passed. It is a relief to see he has kept his promise. Have you come to clean the dolls house?"
"No." Answered Philomena, "I am not a servant, my name is Philomena and I'm here to get dressed." She held out the blue dress to show the ghost girl. She sniffed,
"Hm, it is passable but rather out of fashion. I take it's one of Lucie's?"
"Yes."
"Philomena." Jessamine mused, "I like you. I shan't bother you like I do James, who can be awfully rude and just ignores me sometimes."
"As much as I enjoy talking to you, Jessamine-"
"Please call me Jessie." Jessie said, smiling
"Jessie," Philomena amended, "I really must get changed and I doubt you will want to be there for that."
"Oh, yes." Jessie said, and winked out of view, leaving Philomena to change in peace. She stepped out of the room, dressed in what she hoped was a passable fashion and met with Lucie and Cordelia, who were waiting patiently outside.
"I think I met your resident ghost that you told me about Lucie," said Philomena, "she seems a decent sort."
"She is. I must know though, did she insult your fashion sense?"
"She said the dress was a bit out of fashion, and slandered James's morals. But nonetheless she was pleasant." Philomena replied, then smiled at Cordelia's bemused expression.
"You know Jessamine, Daisy, I wrote to you about her. But... oh I do forget you can't see her. I'm sorry, you must feel awfully left out." Lucie intoned miserably.
"No, no it's quite all right." Cordelia said, linking an arm with Lucie. Philomena trailed behind Lucie and Cordelia, as they talked to her from in front. They stopped quite shortly in front of the ballroom doors,
"Go in!" said Lucie, giving Philomena a little shove.
"But- are you not staying?"
"We have business outside of here." Lucie replied before walking away with Cordelia, leaving Philomena outside the ballroom. She hesitated, then pushed against the doors. The boys she had met in that alleyway were sprawled on furniture covered with sheets, and all staring at her.
"What do you want?" Asked Matthew, his dark green eyes glaring at her.
"Lucie said I should stay with you." She answered, meeting his gaze levelly.
"Well in that case, make yourself at home." He said, gesturing around. Philomena perched on a stool, and looked at them all in turn.
"Why are you all in here, may I ask?" She prompted.
"Well, James here is going to turn into a shadow for us. He believes that his shadow realm is somehow connected to the demon attacks." Matthew explained.
"I'm sorry, did you say shadow, Matthew?"
"Yes." He replied,  almost coldly.
"I can turn into a shadow, Philomena. Please don't be frightened, and if it does unsettle you, you can leave. I will not hold it against you." James said, standing and placing a pale, long-fingered hand on Matthew's tense shoulder.
"Right, let's get started." The other boys sprung up at James' command, and began discussing the methods they could use to propel him into the shadow realm. Philomena was looking at the scene with interest when a whistling noise shot past her ear and glass shattered behind her. A voice came from outside. It was Will Herondale, sounding rather irritated.
"What," He asked, "is going on? James, are you in there?" James turned,
"Bloody hell,"  James said, and made a grab for Christopher, who was holding the bow. Christopher danced around Thomas, followed by James. Thomas looked entirely fed up with the whole enterprise, and Philomena's attention turned to Matthew. His hair was a golden mess, lit by the light coming from the shattered window; his eyes were the colour of the leaves of the deepest part of the forest, dark green and shining. There was a steely edge to his expression, and he opened his mouth,
"James isn't here!" James turned, looking at Matthew, whose eyes were trained on the door.
"I heard breaking glass!" Will shouted.
"I was practicing fighting moves!" Called Matthew, and Will's voice bounced back,
"In the ballroom?"
"We're trying to distract Thomas! It's been a very emotional day!"
"What?" Will sounded as though someone had told him the sky was purple and made of hedgehogs.
Thomas whispered furiously, and Matthew backed away to James. He spoke quietly, and Philomena saw a look of hurt pass over James's face, then suddenly- there was no James. He had dissolved into shadow, and  Matthew had gone as white as a sheet,
"I didn't mean it Jamie," he whispered, "I didn't mean it."
Then the door slammed open, and Will stood there, his extraordinary blue eyes glittering with fury,
"Where is my son?"