by C. J. Archer
"You have to save us, save my friends, by doing as I say," I whispered. "I'm going to ask you to re-enter your body."
"Blimey! That even possible?"
"Yes. It won't hurt you, and it will only be for a moment. You will then cross over to your afterlife, where you will find peace." Whether that was true or not, I didn't know, but it seemed like the best thing to say.
"Why would I help him?" He jerked his chin at Frankenstein who was staring at the body. His knuckles were white. "He did this to me. He killed me."
"You won't be helping him, you'll help me. He's going to kill my friends if you don't. Please, sir. I'm sorry for your death, but it had nothing to do with me."
"Why should I care?"
I rubbed my temple. Why couldn't he just do it?
"Now, Charlotte!" Frankenstein screamed from behind me. "Do it now! Command him! You have the power." His urgency was perhaps increased by Fitzroy defeating another one of his creatures. It lay in a pool of its own blood on the floor, and with only one left now, Frankenstein's options of a successful reanimation were limited.
"I'm sorry, but you have to do this," I whispered to the spirit. "Lie on top of your body to re-enter it. I command you," I said, louder for Frankenstein's benefit.
The eyes of the spirit widened and then the faint ghost settled on top of his body. "Oi! Blimey, what's happening? Stop it! Stop it! Let me go, witch!" The dead body rose from the table. Unlike Seth and Gus, he hadn't been restrained. There hadn't been a need to.
His swollen eyes turned on Frankenstein. His bloodied lips parted, revealing broken teeth. He seemed to be speaking, but only a whistling, thin breath came out.
"That's the wrong one!" Frankenstein shouted at me. "He was supposed to go into one of mine! You tricked me!"
The body sat up unsteadily, then slowly swiveled its legs around until they dangled off the table. It moved no further.
"Blast it!" Frankenstein's eyes gleamed as he pressed down again on the blade. A thin line of blood striped Seth's throat.
"No!" I shouted. "Stop, or I will direct him to kill you."
"Kill your own father?" Frankenstein laughed. "No, you won't. You love me, just as I love you, dearest daughter. You're precious to me, remember? My own perfect necromancer child. We'll live together in my—"
The knife struck him in the right eye. He made no sound as blood streamed down his cheek and he crumpled to the floor. Fitzroy strode around the head of the table, leaned down and removed his knife from Frankenstein's eye.
I stumbled all the way back to the door, my hands on my stomach. I stared unblinking at the man who claimed to love me. The man who said I was perfect as I was.
"You killed him," I whispered. "You killed my father."
Fitzroy stood over the body, his arms rigid at his sides, a bloody dagger in each hand. His loose hair fell to his eyes in ragged tangles. He was covered in blood, some of it probably his, and looked very much like an avenging devil. Or angel. I wasn't yet certain which. He peered at me through his hair but said nothing. It didn't really matter. There wasn't anything to say, and I wasn't sure what I even wanted him to say.
All I knew was that I'd had a father and he was gone. Nothing had really changed from the last few days—the last five years.
Except everything had.
"You witch." The reanimated corpse glared at me. His voice had strengthened and his movements were steadier as he stood on the floor. "You are vile," he spat at me. "As vile as that man there. Look at what you've done to me. Look!"
All I could see was the smashed face, the broken teeth and bones, and a man walking toward me. This wasn't a good man, as the one who'd saved me in the holding cell had been. This was a man I'd never met in life but who'd undoubtedly lived on the streets. In my experience, few good men lived on the streets.
Fitzroy circled him and plunged his knife into the base of the man's neck. The corpse stopped and then turned to his attacker. The knife stuck out from between his shoulder blades, but no blood dripped from the wound.
He laughed. It sounded brittle, broken. "You can't kill me, Fool. I'm already dead." He reached back and pulled the blade out.
Then he lunged at Fitzroy.
"Get out of the body!" I shouted as Fitzroy dodged the knife. "Leave this place. Go to your afterlife."
"Why would I want to—" But his words were lost, as if carried on a breeze, although the air in the warehouse was stuffy and still. The spirit emerged and flew away without a glance back at the body now crumpling to the floor.
I folded in on myself, using the door for support against my back. I drew in deep breaths and dragged my hands through my hair. It was over. I was alive.
A hand touched the back of my neck, resting there. I wasn't startled. I knew it was Fitzroy. He said nothing, but remained standing beside me, his bloodied boots in my line of sight. I swallowed a sob but not very successfully. I covered my face with my hands and let a few tears escape, but not too many. They were more from relief, but a little from loss too. I may not have liked Frankenstein but he was my father, and it felt wrong not to mourn him.
Fitzroy's thumb stroked my hairline on the back of my neck. His warmth seeped through my skin, infusing me with a little of his strength. I didn't stand up straight in fear that he might take it as a signal to stop touching me.
After several more heartbeats, he pulled away anyway. "Stay here," he said simply. "I'll be back soon."
I snapped to attention. "Where are you going?"
"There's a horse and cart in one of the neighboring yards. We need to get them home." He nodded at Seth and Gus.
"Oh. Yes, of course." I moved away from the door and he slipped out.
I avoided the bodies and as much blood as possible and checked on Seth first, then Gus. Both breathed normally and none of their injuries appeared too terrible.
Fitzroy brought the horse and cart to the rear door then carried Gus and then Seth to it. I sat beside him on the driver's side and we headed back to Highgate.
"Are you injured?" I asked him.
"A few cuts only. They'll heal quickly."
I splayed my fingers on my knees and breathed deeply. "Where were you hiding?"
"On a ceiling beam."
"But…how did you stay up for so long, and undetected too?"
"The beams were black and I lay on the most shadowed one."
It must have been uncomfortable. "I suppose you had a plan in mind, to save Seth and Gus. Did I ruin it by arriving?"
"Your arrival changed my plan to capture Frankenstein. It worked out well enough in the end. Perhaps better."
'Capture Frankenstein', not save Seth and Gus. Surely he hadn't been going to sacrifice them? I dared not ask. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer.
I did want to know the answer to my other burning question. "What happens to me now?"
"I haven't decided."
"What do you mean you haven't decided? The situation has come to an end. Frankenstein is dead. You no longer need me." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I need to know."
"I've been too busy to think about it since we last spoke."
I stared down at my hands, twining together on my knees. I stilled them.
"We'll discuss it tomorrow," he said.
We drove north, through the quiet streets of London, not encountering a soul. Gus and Seth slept behind us. I wondered when the effects of the ether would wear off. I hoped they'd be back to their cheerful selves in the morning. I might need their support in my petition to remain at Lichfield.
"Your throat is bandaged." Fitzroy's voice startled me.
I touched the strip of cloth covering the wound Holloway had inflicted earlier in the night. "There'll be a prisoner waiting for you in the cellar. Anselm Holloway." I couldn't bring myself to call him Father.
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "He hurt you?"
"Not as much as Cook hurt him. He's quite the knife thrower."
He lowered the reins, but the hor
se kept up its plodding pace. "Are you all right?"
"The wound isn't deep and doesn't hurt much now."
"I wasn't referring to the wound."
I blinked at him and almost reached across the gap between us and took his hand. Instead, I clutched my own hands tighter. "My nightmares will be different ones for the next little while." I laughed but he didn't join in. He continued to watch me with that blank face of his. "You must have heard me when we were sleeping in the same room. I've been told that I cry out. I was merely trying to lighten the mood by making a joke about it."
"I noticed." He'd noticed my nightmares or my attempt at a joke? He looked forward again and urged the horse to quicken with a light flick of the reins. "So you got to see the dungeon after all."
I blinked. "Er, yes, and once was enough. I hope never to have to go down there again."
"You won't." He said it with such surety that I wondered if he meant he'd made up his mind that I was leaving, and that's why I'd never see the dungeon again.
***
Cook emerged from the rear of the house when we arrived back at Lichfield. He met us near the stables before we pulled to a stop, and lifted his lantern. His eyes widened when he saw me jump down from the driver's seat. They widened even further when he spotted Gus and Seth in the back. He shook Seth's foot.
"Are they…?"
"Asleep," was all Fitzroy said.
"What'll we do with 'em, sir?"
"They can sleep in the stables tonight. The fresh air will do them good."
Cook nodded. "You know about our prisoner?"
"Charlie told me. Is he alive?"
"Aye, but he needs a doctor."
Fitzroy handed the reins to Cook. "Give Charlie anything she needs from the kitchen." To me, he said, "Will you be having a bath now?"
"Bloody hell, yes." My gutter language elicited neither a smile nor a frown.
"Then I'll see you in the morning." He walked off, but I raced after him.
"What are you going to do with Holloway?" I asked.
"Turn him over to the authorities."
I blew out a measured breath. "Oh. Good."
"You assumed I would kill him?"
"I…may have."
"I only kill those who threaten the queen and her family."
"Just the royal family? Not the government, prime minister, or those you care about?"
"I don't care about anyone. I can't afford to."
I halted but he continued. His stark words spun in my head. How could he not care about anyone? Even I'd cared about Holloway, right up until I learned he wasn't my father. In the gangs, there'd always been a boy or two that I'd tried to look out for, simply because I liked their company and didn't want to see them harmed. And in recent days, I'd come to care for Seth and Gus. And Fitzroy, although he didn't seem to want me to.
Perhaps it made it easier for him to do his job if he didn't care. A job that involved protecting England and the royal family from people like Frankenstein, who could do them harm using supernatural methods.
I frowned at his retreating back until he disappeared into the house. Something Frankenstein had said nibbled at the edges of my memory. I'd been so distracted with his declaration of fatherly love, that I'd almost forgotten it. But now his words came flooding back. I wracked my brain, until I finally remembered.
'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…'
A monster. To some people—perhaps many—I was little better than the creatures Frankenstein had created. I'd been of service to Fitzroy and the ministry, but now Frankenstein was dead and I was no longer needed. What if the decision about my future wasn't merely a matter of whether I would stay on at Lichfield?
What if Fitzroy needed to decide whether I—a necromancer, an abomination—should be allowed to live?
CHAPTER 16
I slept late. I wasn't sure how I'd managed to fall asleep at all, with so many thoughts buzzing around my head, but I felt refreshed enough to confront Fitzroy in the morning. If he refused to give me a direct answer about my future, then I would sneak away from the house and never go back. His avoidance of my questions seemed to be his way of not saying something he knew I'd dislike. I would take his silence as a sign this time, instead of finding out his intentions too late.
I opened the door to see both Seth and Gus in the corridor, leaning against the wall opposite.
"'Bout bloody time you woke up, sleepy head." Gus's craggy face creased even more with his grin. "We were thinkin' we'd have to check if you were still alive."
Seth thumped him in the arm then stepped toward me. I was swept up into a hug before I knew what was happening. He let me go, only for Gus to take over. He took longer to release me, and I had to gently shove at him before he stepped back again, a slight flush to his cheeks.
"Who're you calling sleepy head?" I teased him. "You two would have slept through the end of the world last night."
"We had a good reason." Gus grinned again. "Hear we missed all the action."
"You did."
"You saved us," Seth said, his eyes glistening. "We owe you."
"I think Fitzroy exaggerated." I laughed. "I'm not really sure who saved the day, but everyone's alive, and that's all that matters."
"You'll have to tell us the full story," Seth said. "Death told us so little."
"Ain't too chatty this mornin'," Gus said. "Committee's here."
My heart dove. I wouldn't get an opportunity to talk to him alone until after they left, and that could be hours. His decision might also be swayed by them. Or perhaps not. He'd been adamant that he alone made all the ministry's decisions. Whether that would work in my favor or not was yet to be determined.
"Is Holloway still in the cellar?"
Gus shook his head. "Death took him this morning." At my raised brows, he added, "Fitzroy handed him over to the police."
"He'll be charged with attempted murder against Cook," Seth added.
Not me. Was that because I wouldn't be at Lichfield for much longer? Or was there another reason?
I couldn't fathom it all. Not without knowing where my future lay.
"Where is the committee convening?"
"The library."
"It seems I'll have to wait to speak to Fitzroy. Would you mind bringing me up something to eat? And some fresh water for washing too. Thank you." I touched their arms. "I'm so glad you two aren't any worse for your ordeal."
"Wouldn't want my pretty face smashed in, eh?" Gus chuckled as he walked off.
I shivered, reminded of the third man, whose soul I'd coaxed back into his body.
Seth leaned down and pecked my forehead. "I'll bring up fresh bandages for your wound too."
I fingered the cloth at my throat and watched him retreat along the corridor. His footsteps finally receded enough that I felt safe to follow at a distance in bare feet. I had only minutes before they returned, so I quickly crept to the library door. The hum of male voices on the other side was unmistakable, but I couldn't make out what they said.
Until Lord Gillingham, in his distinctive sneering growl, said, "She's of no use to us now!"
I cracked the door open just enough for the voices to tumble out to me, but I couldn't see anyone. "You can't send her back to the streets," Lady Harcourt said. "It's our moral duty to see that she has a home to go to."
"Why?" Gillingham countered. "She's not our responsibility."
"Gilly," the general chided.
"She's alone in the world." Lady Harcourt's usually serene voice turned crisp. "She needs guidance at this vulnerable age."
"She refused your offer of guidance, Julia," General Eastbrooke said. "I must admit, the chit doesn't seem to know what's good for her."
"We can't force her to live with me."
"But why doesn't she want to live with you?"
"I don't know."
"She's not used to living in a grand household," Fitzroy said. "There are ru
les and a specific way of doing things, whether she comes to you as a maid or a companion. It'll stifle her and she knows it. She's used to doing as she pleases."
"Then it's time she learned some discipline," Gillingham barked.
"Lincoln's right," Lady Harcourt said on a sigh. "More discipline will send her running away."
"I don't see a problem with that. Either she takes you up on your offer or we get rid of her. That's my advice."
"Get rid of her?" Fitzroy asked, tone icy.
"You know what I mean."
"No. I don't."
The leather of a chair creaked. "She's a magnet for madmen, a danger to everyone. Frankenstein may be dead, but there will be others. You know that, Fitzroy. She cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of unscrupulous types who'll use her as a weapon against us."
"Gilly, are you saying what I think you're saying?" the general asked.
"I am," he said darkly. "There's no need to spell it out."
Oh God. He meant to have me killed!
I sat back on my haunches and blinked through the small gap into the library. My heart had stopped beating. My sore throat ached more. I rose to my feet, steadying myself with a hand on the doorframe.
Run. Get away.
The round of protests from the other committee members made me pause, then Fitzroy's voice stopped me altogether. His harsh growl cut through the heated discussion.
"You won't touch her. None of you. And I will not do your dirty work on this. Is that clear, Gillingham?"
Someone—Gillingham?—made a strangled sound.
"Is that clear?" Fitzroy snarled.
"Yes, yes!"
The leather creaked again. Footsteps paced across the floor, but not near the door. Waiting for someone to speak was painful.
"Then what is to be done with her?" Lord Marchbank's calm words broke the tension. "Gillingham is right, in that she cannot be allowed to fall into our enemies’ hands. For that reason alone, I don't think sending her to Lady Harcourt's house is a good idea. There are too many people coming and going."
"What do you propose, March?" the general asked.
"The village near my Yorkshire estate is far from civilization. She'll be out of harm's way there. I know a kind, elderly couple who will take her in, as long as we pay them a sum each month."
