The Last Necromancer

by C. J. Archer

  The best way to remain angry was to face him, so I dressed. Instead of dragging my damp hair over my face, I decided to sweep it back. Let him look me in the eyes as he gloated.

  He was sipping whiskey by the unlit fireplace when I entered his sitting room from the bedroom. He paused, the glass at his lips. A beat passed. Two. I gave him a defiant glare and he downed the remaining contents.

  He crossed to the sideboard and poured another. A bottle of wine was open on a tray and a glass sat with it. Either Seth or Gus must have brought it up, along with the selection of cheeses. I wondered if they knew about my being a woman yet. I wondered what their reactions would be.

  Fitzroy held out the wine glass to me. "If I give you this, will you throw it in my face?"

  "Let's find out, shall we?" I accepted the glass. My fingers brushed against his and something inside me jolted at the touch. Despite everything, I had a strong urge to linger.

  He let go of the glass and indicated I should sit on the sofa. He occupied one of the armchairs, looking every bit a king on his throne. I lowered myself to the sofa, but no longer felt sure how to sit. Legs slightly apart like a boy didn't seem appropriate, nor did lounging. But without a woman's bustle to get in the way, I didn't need to perch. I sat back and kept my knees together. It felt far too prim and unnatural.

  "I didn't know you were in a state of undress," he said. "I apologize for walking in on you."

  "And for not turning around and walking out again immediately? You could have left, Fitzroy, yet you didn't. Did you enjoy witnessing my humiliation? Will you enjoy telling Seth and Gus what I look like without clothes?"

  His glare turned chilly. "Is that what you think of me?"

  I sipped my wine.

  After a moment, he finished the rest of his whiskey and set the glass down on the table beside him. "Remind me to thank Lady Harcourt when next I see her."

  "What has she to do with anything?"

  "It was she who told me you might be a girl."

  "You already knew before today?"

  "Suspected."

  "Then why continue to allow me in your room? Not that I cared," I added quickly, "but you are the one who seemed upset by it."

  "I wasn't sure I agreed with her suspicion. I thought spending more time with you would help me decide one way or another, although she was very much against it. It didn't help, by the way. Your disguise was impeccable. I did realize you were educated and from a well-off family, but not that you were female."

  "What gave me away to Lady Harcourt?"

  "You took an interest in her clothes and not the woman inside them. She claims the way you looked at her was that of one woman appraising another out of curiosity, not desire."

  "She thinks every male looks at her with desire?"

  "She is a desirable woman."

  I took a long sip of my wine. Lady Harcourt was everything I would never be. There was no point wishing it could be otherwise, but his words stung nevertheless.

  "She confided her suspicions to me the night she returned for dinner," he said. "I didn't believe her until last night. When Seth and Gus returned with the tale of the ageless boy, it began to make sense. As a thirteen year-old girl, you had done most of your growing, although perhaps your lack of nourishing food has kept you on the small side. Thirteen year-old boys still have some growing to go, but you never changed. That's why you had to move on every few months. With Lady Harcourt's suspicions in mind, I returned to Tufnell Park today to follow a different line of inquiry to Seth and Gus. I asked about a girl who arrived in their midst five years ago. There was one who stood out, but she appeared only briefly. The boys remembered her as being a miserable, frightened thing with beautiful golden brown hair. That hair and her pretty face—and innocence—made her a target for every whore's minder in the district. When you suddenly disappeared, they assumed you'd been taken and put to work. Or died."

  "Clearly I didn't die." I hated how my voice sounded weak. I cleared my throat and sipped my wine.

  He picked up his glass, but seeing it empty, set it down again. He didn't let it go, and the fingers gripping it turned white. "How did you escape?"

  "The man who caught me planned on selling me to the highest bidder, that first night. He dragged me into every gambling den and disreputable tavern in the north of the city, making sure everyone got a good look. Men, including so-called gentlemen, placed bids on me. Some bought my abductor drinks. By midnight, he was so drunk he couldn't stand. I slipped away while he was pissing in an alley behind a tavern. He was too slow and slipped over in his attempt to come after me. When I was far enough away, I hid until morning. I didn't know where I was, but the area was poor. At around dawn, a door to one of the nearby houses opened and a woman emerged with some clothes to hang out to dry. When she returned inside, I stole some boys' clothing from the line. I peeped through the window into her kitchen and waited until she left, then I snuck in and stole a knife. I cut my hair and sold it to a man who paid me a shilling for it. I bought a loaf of bread, but instead of eating it, I found a gang of boys living nearby. I offered it to them in exchange for joining them. They thought I'd stolen it, and since they were always looking for good thieves, they included me immediately. None of them ever thought I was anything other than a boy."

  "It's been hard for you," he said quietly.

  "Not as hard as it has been for some." Or as hard as it could have been, if I hadn't disguised myself. "What I told you does not leave this room. You do not tell Seth or Gus, Lady Harcourt or any of the other committee members. Do you understand?"

  "I won't betray your trust."

  I wasn't sure whether to believe him, but I had no choice. "So you know that I'm a woman," I said. "What else?"

  He drew in a long, measured breath. "After I learned about the girl with the golden hair in Tufnell Park, I changed tactic. I visited the local police station and asked about any girls that had been reported missing five years ago."

  "They didn't think that odd?"

  "Probably. I claimed I was a private enquiry agent, employed to find missing girls by a good Samaritan."

  I snorted. "Only an idiot would fall for that."

  "They fell for it."

  "Just proves the constabulary are dolts."

  "The detective inspector remembered a local girl going missing from her home at about that time. Her name was Charlotte Holloway and her father was a vicar."

  "And you just happened to be searching for a girl who was known to live with a vicar, and my name just happened to be Charlie, so similar to Charlotte. Were you surprised that I was that necromancer?"

  "Not by then. When I realized you were a girl, I suspected you must be the necromancer I sought."

  "It would seem I am the last necromancer after all." I raised my glass in salute and drained it. "And you have me in your clutches. You have succeeded in keeping me away from the man who wants to use me against the queen, so all is well. There is no other necromancer for him to find, now. If I promise not to fall into his clutches, will you let me go?"

  "No."

  I rubbed my forehead. I wasn't used to the wine and felt dizzy from drinking it so quickly. "Why did I suspect you would say that?"

  "Go to bed, Charlie. You're tired. We'll discuss this further in the morning."

  I dropped my hand and thumped it on the sofa arm. "I may be three years away from reaching the age of majority, but I am an adult in every other way. Do not treat me like a child, now that you know I am not one."

  "I won't. But the truth is, I am in a difficult position. This is a household full of men and you are a young woman."

  "Then let me go."

  "I can't. I cannot risk you being caught by him. Legally and morally, I should return you to your father. You belong there, but I—"

  "I do not belong in his house," I snapped. "Not if he doesn't want me."

  His eyes widened. "You did not run away?"

  "No. He threw me out."

  I had the great satisfa
ction of seeing him shocked. At least, I think he was shocked. His lips parted ever so slightly, but shut again almost immediately. Then they flattened. "I assumed he beat you," he said quietly, "and that you'd had enough. I wouldn't have returned you to him if that were the case."

  "And now, when you know that he didn't beat me, that he simply doesn't want me?"

  "It seems I still won't be returning you." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. It was almost a casual position, except he seemed as tightly coiled as ever. Was he expecting me to try and escape, even now? "The detective said you disappeared the night your mother died. Did you raise her spirit? Did your father see? Is that why he…?"

  "Thought me abhorrent? Yes. She died. I held her in my arms and begged for her to come back and not leave me. To my utter surprise, the smoky thing that looked like her saw me. It lay on her body, and the body came to life. I was so shocked that I let her go. Father was shocked too. Horrified, in fact. He got down on his knees and prayed and cried. My mother's spirit spoke through her body and asked me to release her. She said it wasn't what she wanted. That she was sorry, and she needed to go. So I said some words to the effect that I release her. The spirit drifted away and the body collapsed, dead once more. My father stopped praying and turned on me. He never hit me, but he called me things. What I'd done was unnatural, against God, and all things holy, he said. He ordered me to leave and hustled me out the door. I haven't set foot inside the house since, nor have I spoken to him."

  Fitzroy was silent for a long time. His finger brushed against his top lip as he watched me. It was unnerving. I was just about to tell him to stop staring when he said, "Now that we know you are the only necromancer, we can proceed."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When I assumed you were a second necromancer, I was only concerned with getting to the girl before he did, the man with the initials V.F. But now I know you are she, it's time to flush him out."

  I gasped. "You mean to use me as bait!"

  "Incentive."

  "You are going to use an eighteen year-old woman as bait to catch a monster!"

  "You prefer I use a thirteen year-old boy?"

  "This is not a joke!"

  "I am not joking."

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was as heartless as the man he was trying to catch. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised; Seth and Gus had warned me he was an unfeeling wretch.

  "You will be safe," he said.

  "You cannot guarantee that."

  His jaw worked, and I wondered if I'd insulted his manliness by bringing his ability to keep a woman safe into question. Well, good. He could not guarantee such a thing, and it was arrogance to even think he could.

  "I won't help you, Fitzroy, and you can't make me." I crossed my arms over my chest in a somewhat petty show of defiance.

  "I understand your fear, Charlie."

  "Do you? You're a necromancer wanted by a madman, are you?" I grunted. "Don't pretend to sympathize. You don't have a sympathetic bone in your body."

  He snatched his glass off the table and stalked over to the sideboard. He poured himself another glass of whiskey but didn't drink it. Instead, he set it aside, very deliberately, and prowled back to me.

  I swallowed heavily. He can't force you, Charlie. He can't make you do anything you don't want to.

  Except he could. He was strong enough and, dare I say it, ruthless enough to do anything. I wondered how far he would go to get his own way.

  I dug my fingernails into the armrest. "I won't work for you, but I won't give myself up to him, either."

  "That's not enough."

  "It has to be. I'm not offering more. Put me back on the street if you want. I don't care. I'll be safer there than if I parade myself in front of him."

  His eyes narrowed and I wondered if he suspected that I'd seen the fellow. I'd yet to tell him anything about the doctor who'd visited Father. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to. He might see that as my agreement to help.

  "You refuse, knowing that the queen's life may be in danger?"

  "I care nothing for a queen who doesn't lift a finger to help the children starving on her city's streets."

  He crossed his arms and regarded me down that straight, handsome nose of his. "I'm offering you a roof, food, clothing and comforts. It may be summer now, but winter is always around the corner."

  "I've survived winters before."

  "How many more years can you pass yourself off as a boy? It won't last forever."

  "I know that. I'll adjust when the time comes."

  "It's a lonely life, moving on every few months, never allowing yourself to have friends. Do you want to be alone forever?"

  I leveled my gaze with his and tried very hard not to let him see that he'd rattled me. "Perhaps I'll offer myself to a kind man. One willing to protect me in exchange for keeping his bed warm."

  He leaned forward and rested one hand on top of mine on the chair arm, trapping it. He drew so close to my face that I could have kissed him. The traitorous feminine part of me wanted to do it. The other part of me wanted to smash his nose with my forehead.

  "I can protect you," he said, voice velvety thick and soft.

  In that moment, with his dark eyes boring into mine, his breath on my cheek, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to offer myself to him and keep his bed warm, and I would do it without the offer of protection, too.

  He suddenly let my hand go, releasing me. "You don't have to do anything in exchange except lure V.F. into the open."

  My breathing sounded loud in my ears, so I concentrated on steadying it before he saw how much his presence affected me. "I want nothing to do with a scheme that puts me in danger. And don't tell me you'll protect me," I added as he opened his mouth to speak. "Because why would you? What do you care if I am alive or dead? You don't need me or my necromancy, beyond it being a lure. In fact, my presence causes you problems. With me around, I am a danger for all sorts of madmen—not just this one."

  He sat down again and stretched out his long legs. His shoes almost touched my bare feet on the rug. "You're right," he said eventually. "Bad people will always want you, when they learn what you can do. All the more reason for you to remain here, under my protection. I can't send you back to your father, so it seems you are under my care now, whether we like it or not. It's my duty to see that you are safe, and I take my duty very seriously."

  Duty, safe…they were just words; easily spoken and easily discarded once I'd done what he wanted me to do. "Forgive me if I don't put any faith in you doing your duty," I spat.

  "I am not your father, Charlie," he growled. "If I promise to protect you, I will."

  I pushed myself up from the sofa and strode to the bedroom door. "I've had enough talking. We're getting nowhere. I suggest you look for other options, Fitzroy, because I am not going to help you."

  Before I knew what was happening, he'd grabbed my arm and spun me round. He loomed above me, his face set hard as granite, his eyes two black pits that went on forever. "You don't seem to understand, Charlie. There are no other options. Let me make two things very clear to you—you will help me, and I will keep you safe." He released me, but the heat of his fingers remained on my arm.

  He strode to his desk, leaving me standing in the bedroom doorway with my insides in knots and my heart beating in my throat. With an almighty heave of breath, I turned and slammed the bedroom door closed behind me. I threw myself on the truckle bed and pulled my knees up to my chest.

  "I hate you!" I shouted at the door.

  He didn't answer.

  CHAPTER 9

  "You have to wear it." Lady Harcourt held the corset open like a trap that she would close around me as soon as I was near enough. "All ladies must wear corsets."

  "I'm no lady." I stood with hands on hips and kept a wary eye on her. I could dodge her, if need be. "And I am not wearing a corset. I wore them when I was younger and discovered how unsuitable they are for someone
like me."

  She sighed and her shoulders lost some of their tension. "I understand, Charlie. I do. But you are not living on the street anymore. You don't need to run and hide like a lost boy. You can be yourself."

  I wasn't sure who that was but I didn't say so. She seemed intent on turning me into a respectable woman. She had arrived after breakfast, summoned by Fitzroy, and hustled me into the bedroom where she proceeded to lay some women's clothing out for me on the large bed. I'd refused to change into the items, but she'd threatened to order Seth and Gus to hold me down while she stripped me. She'd been so unruffled about it that I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. I'd decided I could make a concession on most of the clothing. The corset, however, seemed a step too far.

  "I'm not concerned about running and hiding," I told her. "I am concerned about breathing."

  "I won't lace it too tight."

  Could I believe a woman whose own corset had deformed her waist to an unnaturally tiny size?

  She lowered the device and took my hand in hers. "You cannot parade yourself near the men without a corset. It's indecent."

  "It wasn't a problem before."

  "They didn't know you were a girl before. Now that they do, I'm afraid they will be…looking for evidence of your femininity."

  I snorted. "They'll have to look very hard. My femininity is not very noticeable, even without a corset."

  "My dear, we both know what men think of women who don't wear proper underwear." Her voice took on a sympathetic hush and the color rose to her cheeks. Had Fitzroy told her what had happened to me when I first found myself on the streets? Even though he'd promised not to? Or was her statement merely a general one? "I'm sure you've seen how the prostitutes dress."

  "Some of them wear those contraptions."

  "Loosely."

  "What will you do if I continue to refuse?"