The Last Necromancer (18 page)

I tried not to look directly at Frankenstein as he passed, but I couldn't help myself peering through my lowered lashes. He touched the brim of his hat, but neither Seth nor Gus offered a greeting in return.

Later, I wondered if that had tipped him off.

I breathed out a long breath as he passed us by, but another caught in my throat when he called out. "Miss Holloway?"

My heart stopped dead. How did he know?

Seth shoved me behind him and I stumbled into the wall. I whipped around, gathering my skirts at the same time. But I lowered them again when I spotted Frankenstein backing up, hands above his head. My two protectors aimed pistols at him.

"Miss Holloway," he said, eyeing the pistols. "Charlotte. I know it's you."

"You don't know me," I said.

"I saw a photograph of you at the Holloway residence. You were younger, but you haven't changed so much that you're unrecognizable."

"I'm not going with you."

"Please, listen to me before you make that decision."

Seth straightened his arm and aimed the pistol at Frankenstein's temple. "Don't speak."

"I must. Charlotte, these people have lied to you about me. They've made you afraid of me, when it is them you should fear."

"Shut your mouth!" Gus shouted.

Frankenstein swallowed heavily and directed his gaze at me. He had bright blue eyes, and where his jaw had been hard that day I'd seen him storming away from my father's house, it was now slack. He didn't appear in the least harmful, particularly as Seth and Gus were so much bigger.

"Listen to me, Charlotte. Whatever these people have told you is false. Lies. They've been seeking out my secrets for some time now, and wish to use my knowledge for their own gain."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, chin up.

"Good girl," Seth said. "Don't believe him. He's a liar and a murderer."

"I've not murdered anyone!" Frankenstein took a step toward me, but Seth and Gus blocked his path. The doctor's lips curled in frustration. "It's not murder to put suffering, dying men out of their misery. Those poor souls were terminally ill. They were in pain. They begged me to end their suffering."

"You used their body parts!" I covered my mouth and swallowed bile. It was one thing to hear of his deeds second hand, it was quite another to come face to face with such a monster. Yet he looked nothing like a monster. He looked like a normal gentleman. He was in earnest, yes, but I wasn't afraid of him.

"Calthorn wasn't dying," Seth said.

"Calthorn was a wicked man." Frankenstein spoke to me. His entire focus was directed at me. "He hurt his wife. He beat her daily. Not on her face, where the bruises would be seen, but in the stomach and chest. She couldn't have children because of the beatings. He used the secrets he gained through his position as head of the nation's spy ring to bully and harm those weaker than himself. He was a cruel man, yet no court would have convicted him. He was above the law and he knew it. You tell me, Charlotte, if you think a man like that ought to get away with his crimes. Perhaps I acted rashly, and should not have killed him for his wife's sake, but I am not always a rational man when I'm riled. And that man did rile me."

"You took his brain!"

"I found another use for it. But that's not why I killed him." He slowly pressed his hands together above his head then lowered them. "I have begged God's forgiveness every day, and I know I will be punished for my sins in the afterlife. But while I live, I can do good here. My experiments are not to be feared. I have done England a service by creating new life. Superior life. Once the bodies have spirits, you'll see them for what they are, Charlotte. Wonderful, amazing humans who deserve to live."

I screwed up my face, unable to hide my disgust. Did he think I would believe he was doing something good for the country? For human-kind? He was mad. "They are abominations. They're not humans, they're monsters."

"They are no more an abomination than me. Or you. We are all made, one way or another. Have you yourself not been called an abomination by the very man you thought was your father?"

"He is
not
my father."

"I know." He smiled gently. His eyes shone—familiar, blue eyes.

My stomach plunged. My throat tightened and it suddenly felt too hot in the lane, the air too close. I backed away and hit the wall. I pressed myself into the cool bricks, but couldn't take my eyes off Frankenstein.

"I'm your father, Charlotte."

"Bloody hell," Gus muttered, lowering his weapon.

Seth cocked his gun.

"Don't!" I cried. I raced up to them, but stopped short. I wasn't sure what to do or say. All I did know was that I didn't want Frankenstein to be shot.

If he was my father, I had a million questions I needed answered. But I could ask none of them. I could only stare. I took in his appearance, his slender frame and oval face, so like mine. His eyes were the same shade of blue too, although not as wide. The more I looked, the more certain I became that he spoke the truth. This man had fathered me.

He lowered his hands altogether and smiled at me. "Charlotte. That's a pretty name."

I swallowed again, but the lump in my throat was too great for me to speak. I blinked back hot tears and simply nodded like a halfwit.

"I never knew you existed until very recently," he said. "Your mother never confided in me."

"Who…?" I managed to whisper.

"A kind, gentle woman. Her name was Ellen, and I'd like to tell you all about her."

I nodded. I wanted that too.

"But you have to come with me. Together we'll find out what happened to her. Yes?"

My tears hovered on my eyelids. One blink and they would spill. I nodded.

"Charlie," Gus snapped. "Don't listen to him. He's no better than a turd."

"He only wants to lure you to his laboratory and use you to resurrect his monsters," Seth said. "Don't believe a thing he says." He jerked his head toward the entrance to the lane. "Come with us, Doctor."

Some of the residents gathered near the archway, their eyes wide as they watched the scene play out between the toffs. Children clung to their mothers' aprons, and men murmured among themselves. None seemed too concerned about stray bullets.

Frankenstein held out his hand to me. "Come with me, Charlotte. Please. I mean you no harm. I'm your father, after all. I want to get to know you. I've always wanted a child to love, and a daughter most of all. I have the means to give you material things you desire, and the immaterial too. Those which only a parent can give."

My tears spilled down my cheeks. He said everything I'd ever wanted to hear. For five years, I'd lived in hope that Anselm Holloway would say such words to me, but that hope had been dashed when I learned of my adoption. Yet it rose again now, and bloomed like a flower in the dessert, with everything Frankenstein said.

"Charlie," Seth begged, "don't fall for it."

Gus cocked his weapon. "Death never said he wanted the turd alive."

"No!" I shouted. "Don't shoot him! Please."

Frankenstein backed away toward the arch and the courtyard where the crowd milled. Seth growled low in his throat.

"Death will get him in there," Gus muttered, lowering his weapon. "There're too many witnesses here."

Too many innocent bystanders who could get hurt.

The crowd parted for Frankenstein, but he did not pass through the arch. He held out his hand to me again. "Come with me, Charlotte."

Seth raised his gun again. "She's not going anywhere with you."

Frankenstein appealed to me and stretched his hand out further. Seth took my hand in his, but I snatched it free. To Frankenstein, I said, "I…I'm not sure. I need time."

His jaw stiffened, and his lips pressed together, then his face slackened once more. "I'll see you very soon, my dear sweet daughter." He turned and disappeared into the crowd, who closed around him.

"He must be paying them." Gus swore. "Bloody fools are protecting him."

"Come on." Seth took my elbow. When I tried to pull free this time, he didn't let go. "We have to get you away from him."

I planted my feet apart and resisted. "I don't—"

A woman's scream tore through the thick, hot air. Gus and Seth let me go and ran toward the arch. I followed close at their heels, but got no further than the crowd gathered in the courtyard. The woman was no longer screaming, but her sobs echoed around the clearing. I couldn't see her, but could just make out her spluttered plea. "Don't hurt 'im, sir."

"Drop it!" Frankenstein shouted, from somewhere beyond the wall of bodies blocking my sight.

"What is it?" I asked Seth. "Can you see?"

He didn't answer but pushed through the crowd, his strong arms shoving people aside. Gus joined him, and once again I followed in their wake.

I peeked past Gus to see Frankenstein standing near the false wall, a child in front of him, his gaze dead ahead on something I couldn't see behind the wall, but I knew was Fitzroy. Frankenstein held a knife at the boy's throat. The sobbing woman must be his mother. Her menfolk held her back, but the anguish on her face made my heart ache for her.

"Now do you see what sort of character he is?" Seth growled at me.

"Drop the gun down there," Frankenstein snapped. "Do it now, or I'll slit his throat."

A hush fell over the crowd as we waited for the clank of the gun being dropped down the unseen manhole. But the only sound was the woman's uncontrollable sobs.

Frankenstein's arm tensed and the boy cried out in pain as the blade bit into his neck.

I was about to open my mouth, to scream at Fitzroy to do it, when Seth's hand clamped over it. He jerked me against his chest, blocking my view. "Quiet, Charlie," he hissed. "If he knows you're here, he'll use the boy to force you to go with him."

Perhaps I could force an exchange, the boy's life for mine…

"Do it!" the mother screamed before I'd made up my mind.

The distant splash of something hitting water was a relief to hear. The crowd seemed to take a breath all at once.

"Get away from the hole." The edge in Frankenstein's voice wasn't quite as harsh anymore.

I pulled free of Seth's hard embrace and peered past him. Frankenstein moved toward the manhole behind the wall, the child still locked in his arm with a knife to his throat. As he disappeared behind the wall, Fitzroy reappeared. He did not have his hands raised, but his intense focus zeroed in on Frankenstein.

"Let him go!" shouted one of the men holding back the sobbing mother.

Everything seemed to happen at once. The boy was spat out from behind the wall, propelled into Fitzroy's waiting arms. At the same moment, while everyone's attention was distracted, the knife flew at the boy.

Several women screamed, including me. But Fitzroy spun the child out of the way and put his own body between blade and boy.

The knife buried itself in his side.

"Lincoln!" My shout was swallowed up by the now rowdy crowd. They surged forward, surrounding the boy and Fitzroy. "I can't see him." I tried to pull free of Seth, but he held me. His gaze wasn't on me, however, but on the spot where Fitzroy had been standing.

Gus went ahead and tried to part the crowd, but they would not let him through. They jostled him and one another, their angry, vengeful shouts drowning out all other sounds.

Until a gunshot brought sudden silence. The echo left no doubt that it had come from down the sewer. Seth's hands tightened around me, and no matter how hard I tried to pull away from him, I couldn't.

"Sir!" I heard Gus shout. "Take this!"

"What's he doing?" God, how I hated not knowing. The ball of frustration growing inside me became too much and it burst out. I kicked Seth's shin then kneed him in the groin. His grip loosened and I pulled free. I was too fast once I was out of his reach.

"Lincoln?" I called as I pushed through the crowd to where I could see Gus standing over the manhole. "Gus! Where is he? What's going on?"

"Fitzroy's chasing him."

"But he's injured!"

"He's got my gun." He straightened. His breathing came hard and fast as if he were the one doing the chasing. "Where's Seth?"

"Gus, I saw the knife in his side."

"Seth got stabbed?"

"Fitzroy!" I punched him hard in the ribs and he coughed. "He's gravely injured." The drops of blood on the cobblestones were testament to that. The knife, lying forgotten near the manhole, was covered in blood. "He needs to dress the wound."

"He needs to catch Frankenstein. It's our best chance."

I went to punch him again, but he caught my fist. "That hurt," he said, rubbing his chest. His gaze lifted above my head. "Bloody hell, what happened to you? You look like you seen a ghost."

"I got embroiled in a melee."

"Why the white face?"

"My sword got in the way."

"You ain't carrying— Ah." Gus snorted. "Dagger, more like."

Seth peered down the manhole. "Where's Fitzroy?"

"Gone after Frankenstein. He's armed." He tapped Seth's shoulder. "I think it's time we left."

Three of the local men glared at us, their teeth bared. Behind them, the rest of the crowd still gathered around the boy and his family, offering comfort.

"We didn't do anything," Seth grumbled. "Fitzroy
saved
him."

"They want someone to blame. We're here, Frankenstein isn't." Gus took my elbow and tried to steer me away, but I refused to go.

"We can't leave Fitzroy down there!"

"We can and we will," Seth said. "He won't necessarily resurface this way, anyway. It's a warren of tunnels down there. We have no idea which one he's taken or where he'll end up. Come home with us, Charlie. He'll want you to be safe now."

I allowed them to escort me out through the arch. Seth dropped some coins and the crowd pounced on them instead of us.

We hurried up Totten Lane and returned to the stables, some blocks away, where we'd lodged the horse and carriage. Seth drove and Gus rode in the cabin with me. His gaze flicked to me often but he didn't speak, mercifully. I wasn't ready to talk about what had happened. About Frankenstein being my father.

Back at the house, I sat in the library where I could watch the driveway. Seth joined me, but not near the window. He sat at the central table, one foot on the chair opposite, and crossed his arms. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't engage him in conversation. Gus delivered tea then left again to get cake.

When we were alone again, Seth finally spoke. "He's not worth it."

I said nothing and continued to look out the window.

"You're better than that. Better than him." He sounded annoyed. I supposed getting kneed in the family jewels can upset a man. "This is your home now, Charlie. You don't need him. You have us."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Frankenstein. He may be your father, but he's lying about wanting you. He doesn't even know you."

"Oh. Frankenstein. Yes, of course." I turned back to the window, somewhat more distracted from my vigil than I had been before. Frankenstein had almost duped me, until he'd endangered the life of the child. What sort of man did that?

A desperate one. One I shouldn't want to associate with. Nevertheless, I wanted to talk to him, and discover everything there was to know about my ancestry—my mother.

"You don't believe anything he said, do you?" he went on.

"I believe he is my father."

"Yes. Well, that, I suppose. Now that I've seen him, the resemblance is remarkable, I'll admit. But that doesn't mean he wants to be a loving father."

But Frankenstein knew who my real mother was. No one else did.

A movement between the trees at the base of the drive caught my attention. I rose and leaned closer to the window. A hansom cab rolled up to the house and Fitzroy emerged from the cabin. He held his arm close to his body. His side was damp with blood.

I picked up my skirts and ran out of the library then flung the front door open. "Lincoln!" It wasn't lost on me that I used his first name to greet him.

It seemed it wasn't lost on him either. He blinked at me from the bottom step. His face was a little pale, his eyes circled by shadows. I trotted down the steps as the cab pulled away.

"Thank God you're all right. I've been sick with worry." I went to take his arm to help him, but he kept his distance.

"You shouldn't have concerned yourself." He strode past me.

I stood there, staring at his back, dumbfounded by his snub. What had I done to deserve that? "You cannot tell me what I can and can't be concerned about!"

My protest might as well have fallen on deaf ears. He didn't slow down, didn't acknowledge me at all.

Seth, standing in the doorway, moved aside to let his master pass. "Did you catch him, sir?"

"No."

Seth gave me a sympathetic smile. "He'll be in a foul mood for the rest of the day," he whispered when I drew closer. "Don't mind him."

"Why will he be in a foul mood? Because he failed?"

"Yes, and he's worried that Frankenstein will get the better of him and harm the royal family."

"You got all that from the few curt words he spoke?"

Fitzroy headed straight for the stairs, just as Gus came down them in the opposite direction. "Thought I smelled you." He wrinkled his nose. Fitzroy did indeed stink of the sewers, and his trousers were wet and filthy from the knees down. "At least you're balanced now, sir," he said cheerfully. At Fitzroy's hesitation, he added, "Charlie shot you on the other side, didn't she?"

Fitzroy glanced back at me, and I froze at the coldness in his eyes. If looks could kill, I would have been turned into an icicle. I gulped and dipped my head, hoping he didn't see the color rise to my cheeks.

When I looked up again, however, he was no longer there. He'd gone quietly up the stairs.

"Better get some clean bandages to dress the wound," Seth told Gus. "I'll boil the water."

"You're going to dress his wound?" I asked. "Not a doctor?"

"If it's not too deep, he'll do it himself. He has some medical knowledge. We're just delivering the supplies."

"I wonder how Frankenstein got away," Gus mused.

"Probably lost him in the sewers," Seth said.

I left the two of them pondering that and headed toward the service area at the back of the house. "Where are the bandages?"

"Leave it to us," Gus said. "He'll prefer it."

"That's too bad. Besides, everyone knows women make the best nurses. You two lugs are too rough." They protested some more, but I refused to listen.

Cook gave me some warm water in a jug and Seth found bandages. "I'll see to the rest," he said.

"You sure you want to face him now?" Gus asked me. "He'll be a bloody-minded bear."

"He's less likely to lash out at me than you."

"True. Good luck."

I headed up the stairs, only to realize Fitzroy was in the bathroom. I could hear water spilling in the tub. I waited in his sitting room for his return, and he arrived some fifteen minutes later, looking damp, disheveled and delectable.

Thick straps of muscle stretched across his shoulders and chest. His hair hung loose, brushing the nape of his neck, and blood smeared his side. He stopped in the doorway when he saw me, his eyes huge. He seemed startled, not at all his gruff, cool self. The change threw me a little off balance and I remained rooted to the spot, uncertain how to proceed.

"Where are Seth and Gus?" he asked, recovering before I did.

"Fetching supplies." I moved close enough to him that I could smell the sharp tang of the carbolic soap he'd used. "Let me look at the wound."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. There's fresh blood."

"The bleeding has almost stopped."

"Let me see. Is it deep?"

"It requires suturing."

Every time I came close, he either turned or moved away so I couldn't inspect the cut. After three attempts, I'd had enough. "Stop behaving like a child, and let me see."

He squared up to me and looked down that imperial nose of his. It was a pose that was probably meant to intimidate but failed miserably. It made him even more appealing, a wounded yet defiant warrior.

"A child?" he intoned.

"Yes."

"I am merely trying to protect your feminine sensibilities."

I burst out laughing. "I don't think I have any feminine sensibilities." At his flattening lips, I thought it best to be more serious. My laughter seemed to offend him. "Thank you for your consideration for my wellbeing, sir, but I'm not going to swoon when I touch you."

"That is not the point," he ground out.

I stamped my hands on my hips. "Do you honestly prefer Gus or Seth to do this instead of me?"

"I can do it."

"You can't."

He tried to prove me wrong by inspecting the wound. While he was able to reach it, he couldn't see it very well; he certainly wouldn't be able to suture it himself. "Seth can do it," he finally said, giving up.

"Seth is all thumbs, and Gus's fingernails are so dirty he's probably growing mushrooms under them. I'm gentle, methodical and can sew a stitch." Without waiting for his next protest, I dipped the cloth into the warm water.

To my surprise, he allowed me to clean the blood away without protest. The cut wasn't too deep, thank goodness, but it was important to keep it clean and avoid infection. I concentrated on my task, circling ever closer to the cut itself. I almost forgot that I was playing nurse to a very handsome man until that man sucked air between his teeth.

"Sorry," I said, glancing up at him.

He watched me from beneath lowered lashes. His face flushed when he realized that he was caught staring.

"Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head then stared straight ahead. He drew in a ragged breath. "Continue."

He stood as stiff as a statue while I finished cleaning the wound. Not even his chest rose and fell with his breathing. He only moved away when Seth and Gus arrived. I hadn't quite finished cleaning, but it would have to do. It seemed he didn't want the men to see me tending him. That would make stitching him up somewhat difficult.

He inspected the supplies the men had brought up. "Is everything sterilized?"

"Steamed the needle and thread in the kitchen," Seth said. To me, he added, "Surgical thread. We keep some just in case."

"You get wounded often?" I asked.

"Enough that we need a supply of it on hand. Mr. Fitzroy does all the stitching, though. Never had to do it myself."

"Nor me," Gus chimed in. "I'm happy to try my hand."

"Try your hand?" I shook my head. "I may not be much of a lady, but I've been sewing and embroidering since I was old enough to hold a needle. I'll do it."

"Were you any good?" Seth asked.

"Adequate." I shot Fitzroy a reassuring smile. "The wound is straight. Unless you want me to embroider
Home Sweet Home
, I can manage."

Gus laughed so hard his eyes watered. Seth couldn't hold back his grin either, until Fitzroy's glare withered it.

"Stand still and keep your arm out of the way," I told him.

Gus handed me a pair of sterilized gloves and I threaded the needle. Despite my bravado, I was nervous. Stitching a sampler was one thing, a human being entirely another. I didn't want Fitzroy to see my apprehension, however, and managed to steady my shaking hand enough to proceed, under his guidance. He calmly informed me how deep I ought to go and how wide apart the stitches needed to be. It was over in a few minutes. He hadn't winced, flinched, groaned or hissed once. I wasn't sure he felt pain at all.

"Where did you pick up your medical knowledge?" I asked as I handed the needle back to Gus.

"A surgeon taught me," Fitzroy said.

"Your lessons included surgery?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Seth shaking his head at me in warning. I frowned at him, but Fitzroy caught it and arched a brow. Seth cleared his throat and followed Gus out of the room.

"My education was more varied than a regular student's," Fitzroy said.

"Why?"

"So that I could fulfill this role," he said matter-of-factly. "It's been my destiny since birth. The ministry is new, but its origins are ancient. I was chosen early as a future leader."

"At birth," I muttered.

"Before."

I laughed, then realized he was serious. "How could you have been chosen before your birth?"

"It happens." He picked up the gauze and placed it over his wound. "The bandage, Charlie."

If he had been chosen before birth, that implied there was something special about his parents. Perhaps a combination of characteristics that were deemed important in a future leader of the ministry. I wanted to ask, but he seemed to not want to talk about it. I gave up, for now, but I intended to find out more about his parents and childhood. It was thoroughly intriguing.
He
was intriguing.

I wrapped the bandage around his torso. It brought me close to him, my face just below his shoulder height. If I leaned a few inches forward, I could kiss him. I dared not look up into his face, but staring at the hollow of his throat did nothing to settle the blood raging through my body. Where before my ministrations had been clinical, now they were anything but. Every part of me was aware of him and how close we stood; how easy it would be to close the gap between us, tilt my head, and receive his kiss.