The Last Necromancer

by C. J. Archer

  "I am, and I'm sickened. I won't help you."

  His smile finally wavered, but not for long. "Come now. Don't be like that. I've been hoping to find another necromancer for so long and—"

  "Another necromancer?"

  "Your mother was one. She was a wonderful woman, but she had her reservations too."

  My head began to spin. I pressed my hand to my temple. "My mother…that's why I'm like this?"

  He frowned and his mouth flattened. "I don't want to talk about her. I was…upset when she left me." He touched my chin. "But now I have you. To think that I've gained both a daughter and a necromancer in one day…it's beyond my wildest hopes. You are special, Charlotte. Never forget that. Special and loved."

  "I…I can't…"

  "Hush, child." He stroked my hair, my cheek. His hands were cool, but I didn't pull away. No one had touched me like that since my adopted mother, and it felt so wonderful. Whatever his motives, this man was my father. He loved me. He wouldn't hurt me.

  "You will come to live with me, of course," he said, smiling again. "I live in Chelsea, in a nice house. You'll have your own room and dolls."

  I almost told him I was too old for dolls, but stopped myself.

  "We'll search for your mother together." He spoke faster and his smile turned harder. "She will love you instantly too. I know she will."

  "She's alive? Tell me about her. What is she like? Who are her family? Perhaps she's living with them."

  He pressed a finger to my lips. "All in good time. After you help me, we'll find her. I promise you."

  "Doctor, I—"

  "Call me Father."

  I shook my head. "I can't help you. What you're asking is wrong. Dangerous."

  "Stop it!" He thumped his fist against the wall, startling me. It must have hurt, against the bricks, but he showed no sign. "I'm telling you that they're wrong. They've fed you lies, brainwashed you. They are not your friends, Charlotte, no matter what they said. They're our enemies. They plan on stealing my creations and using them for themselves."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "It's not." He clasped my shoulders again and dipped his face to look into my eyes. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, but that's the truth. You can't trust them. Everything they've told you that I plan to do, it's they who plan to do it, only with my creations. They're simply waiting for me to complete the science and reanimate the bodies before stealing all my work. But I've suspected all along, and I'm not going to give up my creatures without a fight."

  "You're wrong, Doctor."

  "Am I? My dear, I would never hurt the queen. I don't care for power. What would I do with an entire nation to run? I'm a scientist."

  The truth of that struck me in the gut. He may be mad, but he was a man of science, not politics or the military. He was obsessed with simply seeing his work come to life, and being remembered for it in years to come—not with taking over the country.

  "Listen to me," I said, taking his hands in mine. He squeezed them, and it was as if he could sense that I was about to give in and agree. How wrong he was. "Has someone from the ministry been in touch with you about your creations? Is someone paying you?"

  He pulled away and patted my cheek. "Come on. Come inside. Let me show you what you need to do."

  He grabbed my hand and opened the back door. He pulled me inside to the scarred bodies on the floor. "We have to get them back in the chairs first." He grabbed one under the arms and began dragging it.

  I didn't help. I inspected the bodies on the tables. Seth and Gus breathed normally, but Fitzroy didn't. He labored for every breath, and only managed shallow gasps. I couldn't look at his battered face, once so handsome and now a pulpy mess. It made me want to throw up again.

  "Did you do this to them?" I whispered.

  "Those two are merely sleeping for now." He grunted as he worked to lift the body onto the chair. "I've given them enough diethyl ether to keep them unconscious for now."

  "And Fitzroy?"

  He looked up sharply then lifted the body and began dragging. He locked that one into a chair too then joined me by the bed. "He won't survive."

  A sob bubbled in my throat. I couldn't hold it in, no matter how hard I tried.

  Frankenstein touched my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. I see that you cared for him. Your affections are misguided, but I understand why you have them. He saved you from the streets, I believe. It's easy to mistake his actions for caring. He was simply doing his job—a job with the sole aim to rid the world of people who want to live outside the acceptable boundaries of an unyielding society. People like me. And you."

  I swiped at my tears and turned away from Fitzroy. I couldn't look at him anymore; couldn't bear to see him struggle for breath. Such a virile, strong man, and now this. It was too much.

  "Why do you want them?" I asked.

  "You don't know?"

  I shook my head.

  "To complete the final component of our project. Your part."

  I blinked at him. Blinked again. And then it sank in. He wanted me to use their spirits to reanimate the bodies of his creations. To do that, they had to die.

  "I…I can't," I choked out. "I want nothing to do with it."

  He slammed his fist on the table near Fitzroy's leg. A leg that was covered with dirty trousers, frayed at the cuff. I frowned and inspected the rest of the body. It was still fully clothed, yet they weren't the same clothes Fitzroy usually wore. I'd not seen him leave that morning, but I'd never seen him dress in ragged, untailored trousers. They hung loose on the body—a body that was considerably smaller than Gus's.

  It wasn't Fitzroy.

  Another sob burbled within me, but it was one of utter relief. I felt giddy with it. Wherever Fitzroy was, he wasn't here, half dead on Frankenstein's table. So who was? And where was Fitzroy?

  I glanced around the warehouse, but saw nowhere for him to hide. I must be careful not to let Frankenstein realize that I knew it wasn't Fitzroy. He hadn't corrected me earlier. Either he didn't know who was on his table, or he didn't want me to know that it wasn't Fitzroy.

  "Listen, Charlotte." Frankenstein's voice had gentled again. "I know you're frightened, but there is nothing to be afraid of. You've controlled spirits before. You have nothing to fear from the dead, and they have nothing to fear from you." He turned me to face him. The reflection of a candle flame flickered in his eyes and deepened the shadows, making him look hollow cheeked and cadaverous. "This poor man will pass on soon, and when he does, you'll talk to his spirit. Guide him into one of the bodies. Along with the electrical current, it will be a spectacular reawakening. You and I will experience the dawning of new life. Real life. Come." He put his arm around my shoulder. "I want my guest of honor to turn the generator back on."

  "I…I can't. Please, don't do this. I'm begging you—"

  "No, I am begging you." He grasped my shoulders and pain shot down my arms as his fingers speared me. "It will be marvelous, Charlotte. Why can't you see that?" He shook me. "Why can't you see the good I can achieve?"

  I jerked my head toward the bodies on the tables. "I doubt they think you're doing good."

  "They're my enemies. Our enemies. They want to keep our nation—the entire world—in the dark. They want nothing to do with the fantastical. They think anyone who isn't like them is unnatural, wrong. If that were so, then you would be a monster, and you're not. You're beautiful. Different, yes, but that's what makes you perfect."

  Tears burned again. Nobody had ever said such kind, loving things to me. Things I'd spent years dreaming of hearing. And here was my real father, calling me perfect, wanting me in his life. It was almost too much for my fragile heart to hold.

  And yet my head wasn't so easily swayed. It didn't fall for a few longed-for words. I looked at the two men who'd been good to me in recent days, trapped and vulnerable on the tables, and I knew what I had to do.

  "What will happen to them?" I asked.

  "What does it matter?" he snapped, letting me go. "They
care nothing for you, why do you care for them?"

  "Answer my question. What will happen to them?"

  "I need their souls for you to do your work."

  "You're going to kill them," I said flatly.

  He pressed his lips together, as if he were summoning some patience. "The life of three enemies with vile intentions is worth exchanging for three of my creations."

  "What if the souls refuse to help?"

  "They cannot refuse." He frowned. "Do you not know the extent of your power? Charlotte, you control the spirits. They may have minds and wills of their own, but you command them. They must obey you."

  I'd learned that much from Fitzroy's book, and now I knew that Frankenstein knew it too. He did not appear to realize that any spirit could be raised, not simply a newly deceased one. "Do you know that from my mother?"

  He nodded. "She was a powerful necromancer."

  I folded my arms and glanced at Seth and Gus, unconscious and unable to help me even if I managed to free them from their bonds. The third man's breath rattled in his chest, the skin surrounding the bruises paler than ever. Death clung to him, waiting.

  Frankenstein checked the man's pulse. "It's almost time." He pushed the tables closer to the chairs and switched on the generator. It hummed to life. The three bodies on their iron thrones sat ready to receive their new souls—three dead bodies and three soon-to-be-dead ones, with only me to connect them.

  "I'm not doing this."

  Frankenstein didn't hear me over the increasing noise of the generator. He checked the glass panel and spun one of the dials. I glanced around again, searching for any sign that Fitzroy was near; that he was lying in wait to capture Frankenstein before the bodies became animated.

  What if my arrival had ruined Fitzroy's plans? What if he had intended for Seth and Gus to be caught and he was right now lying in wait? But where?

  Or was he already dead and therefore useless for Frankenstein's scheme?

  "Come, Charlotte." Frankenstein had to shout over the drone of the generator as he moved to the tables. "Stand closer, so the spirit can hear you." He nodded at the dying man on the table while he stood between Seth and Gus. "It's almost time."

  Electricity flashed and crackled along the wires like blue, life-giving veins. The fingers of all three creatures twitched, their arms jerked. Their eyelids fluttered. They would soon be awake.

  "Charlotte! Now!" Frankenstein opened a medical bag sitting on the floor behind Seth's table and pulled out a dagger. When he turned back to me, his eyes were bright with fevered excitement and his lips battled with a triumphant smile. He pointed the dagger at the dying man. "Stand there!"

  I moved to the side of the third table, and caught sight of the bloodied face. I gagged on my own bile and quickly turned away again.

  "He is almost gone," Frankenstein shouted, "but you must help him on his way. Press down on his throat. It'll be over in a moment. Hurry! The first is rising."

  One of the creatures got to its feet. Where before it had rampaged around the room, and used up all its energy before reaching the tables, this time it focused on the tables first. And they were closer. We were closer. We couldn't control it, or the other two that had opened their dead eyes and turned toward us.

  The only way to control them was by investing souls into them. But that would condemn Seth and Gus to death.

  "Charlotte!" Frankenstein screamed. His smile had slipped and his face was now distorted with uncertainty and fear. "Do it, or we will be torn apart!" His gaze flicked to the monster, now advancing with lumbering, loping steps toward me.

  Frankenstein pressed the blade of his dagger to Seth's throat.

  CHAPTER 15

  "No!" I cried. "Don't kill him!"

  I dodged behind the table, away from the monster, and peeked out from behind the table legs. The creature had turned toward Frankenstein. Its blank eyes focused on its maker.

  Frankenstein fell back, the blade still in his hand. I couldn't see if he'd used it on Seth, but I saw no spirit rise from the body. He must be alive.

  I fell to my knees, partly from relief, but mostly because I'd spotted the medical bag. I rummaged through it until my fingers connected with something long and sharp. I pulled out a blade.

  "Charlotte! Charlotte, you must do it now!"

  He stumbled away from the table and his creature. I slipped under the table and came up on the other side. The sharp medical knife cut through the leather bonds easily, but Seth was still unconscious. I would never get him and Gus out while they slept.

  Frankenstein's bellows drowned out the hum of the generator. He alternated between ordering me and begging me, as the monster backed him into a corner. I raced to Gus and cut through the straps trapping him too, and then I hoped for a miracle.

  My movement caught the creature's attention. It lunged and fingers circled my arm so tightly it almost cut off the blood flow. I winced and tried to pull away, but the creature was too strong. The second monster loomed at my side too. The stench of rotting flesh and foul breath swamped me, but it wasn't its stink that brought vomit to my mouth, or the blistered, red scars. It was the pale eyes, devoid of life.

  I tried again to wrench away, but it was no use. He was unnaturally strong. His other hand circled my throat, over the cut inflicted by Holloway, and began to squeeze. It felt like my windpipe was being crushed. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Even if the unknown third man died, I wouldn't be able to command the spirit, because not a sound would escape my mouth.

  Tears slipped down my cheeks. The cut stung, but it was nothing compared to the pressure on my throat. I closed my eyes, so that I didn't have to look into the creature's anymore, as I felt my life force slip away from me.

  A soft thud had me open them again. I barely registered the black figure amid the shadows before it leaped onto the monster and dragged it off me. Everything was a blur and I hardly knew what happened until it was all over. The creature lay on the floor, its throat cut so deeply that the head was almost severed from the neck. Blood poured out, slicking the shadowy man's boots.

  The figure approached. It was Fitzroy. "Are you all right?" he asked.

  I nodded, even though my throat burned and my chest ached. I gasped in air, the effort bringing a fresh wave of panic. I couldn't breathe. My throat was too tight. No matter how hard I tried, my lungs didn't fill.

  Fitzroy removed his bloodied gloves and dropped them on the floor. He clasped my face, stroking his thumbs along my jawline. "It's all right," he said in that soothing, commanding voice of his. "Look at me."

  I stared into the black pits of his eyes and he stared back at me, as if there was nothing and no one else in the room but us. It was a dizzying thrill to have his full attention, to feel like I mattered, and I didn't want it to end. I slipped into the deep pools of his eyes and could have stayed there forever.

  "Concentrate on my hands," he murmured.

  Those hands with the long, strong fingers that could confidently wield a knife to slice through a man's throat then be so gentle and comforting a moment later. His caress traced the ridge of my cheeks up to the corners of my eyes. He dabbed away a tear with the pad of his thumb then tucked my hair behind my ear.

  I drew in a steady, deep breath that filled my chest. It hurt my throat, but I didn't care. I could breathe.

  Frankenstein's grunts drew Fitzroy away from me. He let me go but did not try to help as one of the creatures picked up his maker. It slammed Frankenstein against the wall, again and again, as if the doctor were a tool to be used to break through the bricks.

  "Help me," Frankenstein whimpered after the third hit. He sounded weak, groggy. After the fourth slam, he groaned in pain. "Please, kill it! For God's sake!"

  But Fitzroy didn't move. He turned his attention to the third creature. That one picked up a lifeless Gus in his arms and went to throw him.

  Fitzroy attacked. He leapt at the creature, a knife in his hand. I hadn't seen him retrieve it. He went to stab the creature, but
it swung Gus like a shield and Fitzroy had to duck or be swiped.

  "Get outside!" he shouted at me. "Go, Charlie!"

  I edged to the door, but didn't leave. The two remaining creatures were now both targeting Fitzroy. Frankenstein, the lesser threat, lay forgotten on the floor, spluttering and coughing. He got to his hands and knees then to his feet. With a glance at me that I couldn't decipher, he stumbled toward the dying man on the table, and calmly plunged the knife into his throat to the hilt.

  I smothered my cry with my hands, not wanting to distract Fitzroy. He heard me anyway, and one of the creatures smashed its fist into his stomach. With a grunt, he fell back against Gus's table, then had to quickly duck to dodge another fierce blow.

  The wispy spirit was almost invisible in the poor light. The tendril of smoke drew together and formed the shape of a man's face. He blinked down at his badly damaged body, then at Frankenstein, and shook his head.

  Frankenstein couldn't see it. "Do it," he snapped to me. "Or your friends will all die." He turned to the central table and pressed his knife to Seth's throat.

  Fitzroy couldn't go to his man's aid. He fought off the other two creatures, his swift movements cutting them, but not deeply enough to kill them. One by one they attacked, and each time he managed to escape their massive fists, but for how long?

  "Three," Frankenstein chanted, his eyes on me. "Two. One."

  "I'll do it!" Saying the words hurt my damaged throat, and they came out faint, but Frankenstein heard me. He nodded, but did not lower his weapon. To the spirit I said, "I can see you there, ghost." The smoky form looked around then his gaze settled on me. I moved closer so that only he could hear me, not Frankenstein. "Yes, you. Please, listen to me."

  "What d'you want?" The spirit seemed a little surprised that he could speak, and even more surprised when I answered.