“What is this?” Jericho asked.
“It’s called sensory deprivation,” Marlowe explained. “You’ll be floating inside, completely relaxed, while the vitamin tonic enters your bloodstream. There’s a microphone inside. We want to know what you see and hear while you’re in that meditative state.”
A panicky feeling came over Jericho. Ever since the time he’d spent trapped in Jake’s iron lung contraption, Jericho had developed a fear of confined spaces. Just looking at the thing made his heart race. “You want me to climb inside that?”
Marlowe frowned. “Come now. You’re not afraid, are you? It’s just water.”
Yes, Jericho wanted to say. I am, in fact, afraid of being sealed up in that thing like a watery coffin. But he didn’t want to look like a coward. And besides, he didn’t really have a choice.
Marlowe administered the vitamin serum, and Jericho could feel it warming his veins as Marlowe guided him to the tank. He climbed inside. Pure panic overtook him as Marlowe shut the lid, sealing Jericho in darkness.
“It’s all right,” Marlowe’s voice assured him. “Just relax.”
Jericho tried, but he hated the isolation. It was like a practice death. To calm himself, he conjured the memory of that Ferris wheel ride with Evie again. He pictured her laughing face, and beyond it the whole of the sky. Soon, he began to lose sense of his borders. It was as if he had no body at all. Time was meaningless. Jericho wasn’t sure how long he’d been floating there when he began to hear murmurs, like eavesdropping at a summer picnic from a distance.
“I hear… voices,” he said.
“Good! Good.” Marlowe. “Can you hear what they’re saying?”
“Open… the… door again as before… but this time, you must keep it open.”
The murmurs turned into an insect-like hiss that made Jericho’s skin crawl.
“Talk to the voices, Jericho. Ask them how I do that.”
“Hello,” Jericho said. “How do we keep it open?”
The insect drone grew louder. It was as if he were at a summer picnic and a fierce thunderstorm were bearing down. “The souls must be refreshed,” Jericho repeated. “He will give further instructions soon. But you must not fail this time.…”
That terrible sound made Jericho’s heartbeat go wild. Underneath, it sounded as if all the demons of hell were loose. And in his current state, he felt joined to it. Like he was back in his dream watching the sky tear open, exposing the horrors hidden inside.
Calm, Solnyshko, calm, a woman’s voice directed. It was the same voice that had warned him not to stay during his first week at the estate.
“Who is that? Who’s talking to me?”
“Jericho, do you hear someone?” Marlowe. “Who’s in there with you?”
“A woman.”
Tell them nothing about me! the woman instructed. Talk to me only in your head. I can hear your thoughts.
But why?
You are in danger. You must get away.
What do you mean? Why am I in danger?
The past is a ghost. He is making a terrible mistake. You must stop him.
“Jericho? Are you all right?” Marlowe’s voice.
“Yes,” Jericho answered. At least, he thought he had. It was hard to tell. His edges were blurring into unreality. He was the water in the tank, and the water was Jericho. He was eternity.
“You mentioned a woman,” Marlowe said. “What did she say? Who’s in there with you?”
Say nothing, Solnyshko.
“No one. She went away. I mean, all the voices went away.”
“Okay,” Marlowe said, and Jericho could hear the disappointment in it. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Jericho heard the hinges on the tank creak. Marlowe was letting him out.
Thank you, the woman’s voice said.
Who are you? Jericho thought.
He sensed light spilling across his face, smelled the antiseptic room, felt hands reaching in for him.
My name, the voice said, is Miriam.
THE NEW JERICHO
The next afternoon, Jericho waited in the foyer, counting down the minutes until Evie arrived. He’d slicked back his hair with pomade and put on his best suit. From the garden, he’d snipped one red rose. The door chimes rang. “I’ll get it, Ames!” Jericho called out.
He opened the door and held out the rose. “Welcome.”
“Aww, Freddy, you shouldn’t have,” Sam said, taking the rose and threading it through the buttonhole of his coat. “This is so sudden! I don’t know what to say. Oh, okay. You’ve won me over, you big brute. The answer is yes.”
With that, Sam jumped into Jericho’s arms.
“Wow. You got even more giant… er. He’s a mighty oak of a man! My hero.”
Jericho put Sam down with a thud. It wasn’t just Sam. Henry had come along, too. “What are you doing here?”
“Golly. Don’t tell me I’m not welcome. I put on aftershave and everything. Smell.” Sam leaned his jaw toward Jericho. Jericho pushed him back, and Sam reeled for a second before catching his balance. “Holy-moly, that’s impressive. What’ve they been feeding you, Freddy?”
“I didn’t know you were coming. I thought it was just Evie and Ling.”
“Oh, dear,” Henry said.
Evie looked horrified. “Oh no! I could’ve sworn I told you it was the four of us.”
“I brought pastries,” Henry said in apology. He held up a box tied with string.
“It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jericho said. “There are certainly plenty of rooms.”
A sheepish Evie moved closer to Jericho. “I’m awfully sorry, Jericho. But Sam wasn’t about to miss out on the card reading, and Henry needed some country air and—oh, I hope it’s not a terrible bother.” She kissed Jericho on the cheek, and Jericho didn’t care what he had to tell Marlowe. He was just glad to see his friends—especially Evie.
Sam whistled. “This is some fancy prison they got you in, Freddy. Or do I call you Sir Frederick now?”
“You call me Jericho. For a change,” Jericho said.
While the others settled in, and after Jericho had explained apologetically to the less-than-thrilled Ames that there would be extra guests for the weekend, Jericho waited in the ballroom. He stared at the fancy oil painting of Marlowe’s dead ancestors, a long line of stern, pale men posed atop horses or beside hunting dogs. They all had the same expression in their eyes: a simple acceptance that they were the masters of their fates and nothing would get in the way to change that.
“Must be nice,” Jericho said.
“What must be nice?” Evie said, sweeping into the room like the sun inching across a cold floor.
“Having you here is nice,” Jericho said, grinning. “Even if I have to put up with Sam, too.”
He crossed the room with the relaxed gait he’d now come to own and stood beside Evie. She smelled good, like rosewater and vanilla. He had a strong urge to kiss her, and he wondered what she would do if he swept her up in his arms and did just that. “I’ve missed you.”
He guided her to the chaise and sat beside her, their knees nearly touching. “Here. A welcome gift.” Jericho placed a folded paper figurine in Evie’s hand.
“A dog?” Evie asked.
“A wolfhound,” Jericho corrected. “Evie, meet Evie.”