Ashes To Ashes: A Ministry of Curiosities Novella (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 5) (8 page)

E
yes
. Gouge the eyes.

The thought flittered through Lincoln's mind. He reached up and dug his fingers into the creature's face.

It let him go and stepped back, out of reach. He should have gone after it, but all he could manage was great gasps of air. Every breath burned his raw throat, but the first swallow hurt more. It felt like he was trying to get a football down.

"You!" The voice was Lady Gillingham's feminine one. He glanced up to see her standing rigid before him, hands on hips, her nightgown barely covering womanly curves. She was pretty, young, and the only visible hair was that on her head, tied into a neat braid that drooped over her shoulder. "What are you doing here, Mr. Fitzroy?" She sounded outraged, appalled, and not at all scared. An ordinary woman would be terrified to wake up to a man in her room. "Well? Answer me."

He swallowed again. A little better this time. The ball had shrunk to cricket size. "I came to see what you are." There was no point pretending otherwise. Civility wasn't in his nature, and they were beyond that anyway. "You're not human."

Her hands slipped off her hips to her sides, but he couldn't see her expression in the dark. "You already know what I am."

"No, I do not."

"I don't understand. Gilly told me all about the ministry when he discovered me in…that form. He said that I have been recorded along with other supernaturals in your files. I assume he was trying to intimidate me, but I didn't mind. I think what you do is a fine thing, and quite necessary."

He indicated a candlestick on her bedside table. "May I?"

"Oh, yes, of course. You cannot see me too well." She handed him a box of matches and he lit the candle.

"You can see me?" he asked.

"My vision is excellent, even in the dark."

"As is your hearing." He held up the candle. Light flickered across the smooth skin of her face, and showed her to be frowning. "Or was it another sense by which you detected me?"

"Hearing at first, and then smell." The frown deepened. "Didn't Gilly give you all the details?"

"He has told me nothing about you. Your…alternate form has come as a surprise to me." More like a shock. He must have hidden it well if she couldn't see it.

She sat on the bed suddenly and folded her hands in her lap. She hadn't reached for a wrap or other garment to cover her thin nightgown. As with earlier on the balcony, it appeared the cold didn't affect her. "I don't understand. Why would Gilly tell me he told you when he hadn't?"

Shame. Pride. Lincoln could think of a number of reasons, but he wasn't sure which would be the driving force behind Gillingham's lie. Nor did he care. "You will have to ask him."

She snorted softly. "He won't tell me." Her shoulders slumped and she studied her hands in her lap. "He rarely talks to me at all, these days."

He didn't come near her for intimacy, either, it seemed. "What are you, madam?"

She glanced up. "You don't know? Even with all your experience?"

"I've never come across anyone like you before."

"Oh. I was hoping you could tell me. I have no name for what I am. My father never told me, you see, and now he's gone."

"Did you inherit this…magic from him?"

She nodded. "My father could change form too. When I was young, he told me to always use my human shape and not tell a soul about the other. Apparently he never told my mother, but I don't know how she reacted when first saw me change. She died when I was quite young, so I'll never know. Lately, I've wondered if seeing me become a monster killed her."

"You're not a monster."

Her head snapped up. Her eyes filled with tears. What had he said? Why did she want to cry? "You don't think so?" she whispered.

"As soon as you recognized me, you let me go. A monster would have killed me, especially after I witnessed you in that form. You haven't killed your husband either." Although she must have wanted to, on occasion. God knew Lincoln wanted to—frequently.

"I suppose."

"Did he find out by accident?"

She nodded. "He came in here one night to…see me. I was asleep. When I sleep, I can't control which form I take." Her fingers twisted and locked together. "He was horrified and screamed the place down."

Lincoln didn't doubt it.

"I shifted shape to this one immediately, but it took quite some time to calm him. His screaming woke the servants, and I had to send them away before I could explain to him. He hasn't been the same since. He won't even look at me and he refuses to…visit me now."

"When did this happen?"

"Late summer. He'd been out drinking at his club. I hoped he would wake up in the morning and forget what he'd seen, or perhaps attribute it to his inebriated state. Unfortunately, he did not." She sighed and gave him a flat smile. "I have come to accept his disgust and fear of me. He won't divorce me because he has no grounds, unless he tells everyone what I truly am. He's too proud to do that. Besides, no one would believe him. So he's stuck with me."

"And you with him." Lincoln thought she'd got the rougher end of the bargain.

Her face fell. She thrust out her lower lip in a pout. "If he would get me with child, I would be quite happy."

Lincoln didn't want to hear about her domestic situation. He already knew more than he cared to know. "There are no records of you in the ministry archives, or of anyone who can become an animal like you."

"So Gilly didn't tell a soul. That's something, at least."

"I will record you in our files, but I will not announce it, if you prefer. The other committee members don't need to know, only my employees. Nor will I tell your husband about this conversation, and I ask that you don't inform him either. It's best if he doesn't know."

"Of course. He wouldn't understand. Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Fitzroy. I don't mind you creating a file about me. I quite like the idea of being recorded for posterity. I'm unique, you say?"

"As far as I am aware, but I'm beginning to think our records are woefully incomplete." He indicated the space on the bed beside her and she nodded. He sat. "May I ask you some questions about yourself?"

"Of course." Her smile was a little wobbly. "It'll be nice to talk to someone about it. Someone who isn't afraid of me, or disgusted, that is."

After half an hour, he'd learned that she could shift between her human and animal states with ease and at will; that she had animal-like hearing, vision and smell. She was a female in her other form too, and her father had told her that she should be capable of bearing children, and they would likely have some of her characteristics, although to a lesser degree. Her father had been faster and stronger than her, and his senses more acute. He had never told her why he'd been born like that, or which parent he'd inherited it from. His parents had died when he was young, so it was possible they'd never told him.

"Thank you," Lincoln said, rising. "I appreciate your honesty. And not choking me to death."

She laughed softly. "I must learn to control that urge. I forget my own strength. I'd hate to throttle a burglar."

He put his boots back on and climbed onto the sill. "Goodnight, madam."

"Would you prefer to go out through the front door?" she asked.

"This is quieter."

"It's a long way down. You'll die if you fall."

"Then I won't fall."

She laughed again. "Are you sure you're not part animal too? Perhaps a monkey?"

"Not that I am aware." He swung his legs through the window and scrambled up the pipe running along the wall.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

He glanced down when he reached the roofline. She waved up at him from the window, then went inside and drew down the sash. He swung himself up onto the roof and headed back across the city. He paused in Clerkenwell and climbed down to street level. Charlie's gang had lived in one of the dilapidated houses, the entrance to their den almost hidden from view. Lincoln had asked his contacts where to find it, back when he'd been searching for her in the summer. It had cost him a considerable sum to the right people. Few had known where the "boy" who'd escaped from Highgate Police Station lived.

He shucked off his coat, folded it, and placed it beside the boarded up hole in the wall. He knocked on the boards then leaped onto the crate and used the eaves to propel himself up to the neighboring roof. A head poked through the entrance, looked left then right, but not up. A hand darted out, grabbed the coat and disappeared back inside.

Lincoln headed home.

* * *

T
here were
no records of Lady Gillingham's father's birth in the General Registry Office. That didn't mean one didn't exist in another parish outside London, but since she hadn't known where he'd come from, it would be impossible to learn more about him.

Right now, it didn't matter. It wouldn't help Lincoln locate the killer. What he needed to know was whether Gillingham was outraged enough by his wife's true form that he would kill other supernaturals. He had already sent Gus out to track the baron's movements, and Seth would relieve him later. They weren't to let him out of their sights.

Seth deposited Lincoln at the front of the house and continued on to the coach house. Doyle took Lincoln's hat and coat.

"There's a fellow to see you, sir." The look of disgust on Doyle's face told Lincoln he'd likely find this fellow in the service area, not the parlor. "He refused to give his name, but he's rather scruffy and thinks he's a lark. Cook almost chased him off with his meat cleaver and one of his frightening glares, but I convinced him to stay."

It sounded like Billy the Bolter. "Thank you. Send him into the library."

Lincoln headed there himself and poured a brandy. Billy swaggered to the doorway then stopped, cap in hand. His jaw dropped as he took in the rich velvet curtains, the walls of books and the heavy furniture that Doyle had polished to a high sheen.

"Nice digs." Billy continued into the room, his swagger not quite as pronounced.

Lincoln handed him the glass. "Well?"

"Right to it, then, eh?" Billy sniffed the brandy then drank the lot. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and held the glass out for a refill. Lincoln obliged, and Billy drank that too. "Got me money?"

"I'll pay you if your information is worthwhile."

Billy considered this. With a nod, he said, "I heard something 'round the traps about the gunman. I think I know who he is."

"Go on."

"After you and me spoke last time, I got it in my head to ask around here and there. All quiet, like. Just some as I could trust." He held up his finger and smiled a yellow-toothed smile. "I ain't stupid."

Did the man expect affirmation? "Go on."

"My sister told me 'bout a bloke who's been hangin' round Osborne Street, where some doxies do business. She ain't a street worker, but she got some friends who are. Well, one of 'em said a fellow's been splashing the ready 'round to all the girls in the last week. He's been there before, but never had no money until now. My sister's friend asked him where he got the ready from, and he said it were a secret but it involved his barker. She didn't believe he had one, so he showed it to her."

"She saw his gun?"

"Aye, she swears she did. He reckons he stole it from some toff, and ever since then, he put word out he'd use it for the right price."

"Do you know this fellow?"

"I know
of
him. Name's Jack Daley, and he's a mean blighter. He'd kill a man, sure enough, if he wronged him."

"Or was paid?"

"Aye."

"Do you know where I can find him?" Lincoln asked.

"He lives in a lodging house on Flower and Dean Street. Don't know which one."

"Anything else?"

"Aye. When you get 'im, don't tell 'im how you found 'im."

"That goes without saying."

"No, it don't." Billy turned serious. "He'd hurt me sister and her friend bad if he knew they ratted. He don't need more reason than that to slash their throats."

Lincoln fetched Billy some money and told him to pass some on to his sister and her friend. He almost fetched some clothes that Charlie had left behind, but decided against it. That would require him to enter her room.

"Thank you, sir. Been good doin' business with you again." Billy tugged on his forelock and left through the front door as Doyle looked on disapprovingly.

"Would you like luncheon, sir?" Doyle asked after shutting the door.

"Bring something to my rooms. And send Seth in when he's finished outside."

Lincoln made his way upstairs only to be accosted by Lady Vickers on the landing. She blocked his path when he tried to move around her. He should have taken the service stairs.

"I would like to know if I'm available to callers this afternoon," she said with an incline of her chin. She looked like a taller version of the queen today, dressed in deep black with a black lace cap over her hair. He suspected that was to hide the poor job her new maid did of arranging it. Some of the strands had already come loose.

"I don't care if you receive callers or not," Lincoln said.