The Last Necromancer (21 page)

"I knew you would come, Charlotte."

My heart leapt at the familiar voice behind me. Slowly, slowly, I turned away from the warehouse, where the creatures progressed ever closer to the three bodies on the tables.

"I hoped you would be here to witness this." Frankenstein smiled up at me. He held out his hand, but I refused it. "Come away from there. If they see you, neither of us will be able to stop them."

I climbed down. I could run now. He didn't appear to be armed, and I'd wager I was faster than him. It was the only way to keep myself out of his hands, to keep myself safe. I was dressed in boys' clothing again, and it would be easy to lose myself among the network of narrow lanes leading away from the docks.

It was so tempting to dash past him. I'd not kept myself out of danger for the last five years only to throw myself into the pit now. If I stayed, there may never be another opportunity to change my mind. It was unlikely that I could save myself once caught. I'd proven my ineffectiveness in fights several times over, of late.

No, I needed to make a choice now. Run, or stay and try to save Seth, Gus and Fitzroy.

Yet it was no choice at all. I could never live with myself if I left them to the mercy of this man. Fitzroy's callousness toward me hadn't stopped me from caring about all of them, including him.

"You must stop those things!" I cried. "They're going to kill them."

He held up his hands. "I can't. They don't listen to me. I learned that the hard way."

I frowned. "Then why did you animate them again?"

"Because I saw you there, watching, and I wanted you to see why I need you."

He'd seen me?

"Admittedly, I was looking out for you." He smiled gently. "I hoped that when your captors didn't return you would come to investigate. I had everything prepared—"

"My friends! You have to get them out!"

"They're not your friends, Charlotte. You can't trust them."

I went to shove him, but he caught my arms. "I see that they've succeeded in brainwashing you." He sighed. "Ever since meeting you, I've been wondering if that's what happened. It's understandable."

"Listen to me," I growled. "Get. Them. Out."

He let me go and turned me toward the lower window. "It's all right, dear daughter. Their energy will dissipate before they can do any harm. Look."

Two of the creatures had fallen to the floor in crumpled heaps, while the other four seemed to be winding down, like automatons having run their course. Only one had reached a table. I watched as the remaining four stopped altogether then stumbled as if their legs could no longer hold them. Their expressions didn't change as their eyes closed and they too slumped onto the floor.

Tears of utter relief clogged my throat.

"The electrical currents only animate them for so long." Frankenstein sounded disappointed. "And even when it does bring them to life, they're not controllable. They won't even listen to me, their maker."

"That's why you came outside."

"It's too dangerous in there when they're alive. They're uncommonly strong, stronger even than the original men whose parts I used to make them."

"They're not alive," I spat. "They're not human. They're monsters."

"At the moment, you're right. But once they have souls, they'll be perfect. They'll think and feel—"

"Stop it," I hissed. "I'm not going to help you." Fitzroy had been right. Frankenstein wanted to use me to reanimate his creations, to bring them fully to life. To bring them under his control.

"You're sounding like them again." He jerked his head at the bodies through the window. "Charlotte, listen to me." He grasped my shoulders but I shook myself free. He sighed. "With your help, we can control them. They'll be absolutely perfect. There might not even be a need for the electricity. Imagine that!"

"I am, and it's sickening."

"Come now. Disregard what the ministry have been telling you and think for yourself. I know you're a smart girl. You're my girl, after all." He smiled again, and it was patient and understanding. It was how a loving father smiled upon his daughter when she said something silly. "Together, you and I will have created life. How is that a bad thing? It's not. It's beautiful. You'll be a part of something amazing, and innovative too. Something that no one else in the world has done."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "So you can build an army and take over the government?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Once again, you've allowed yourself to be brainwashed. I'm a scientist, a doctor. I don't destroy life, I create it."

"Shouldn't doctors
save
lives?"

"Save, create…it's all balanced out. One sick, dying man's life is taken and given to another so that he may live and breathe again. It's not something to recoil from—it is something to embrace. It's the way of the future, Charlotte. It's where modern medicine is heading, and you and I are at the forefront of new and exciting things. They'll write about us in books and newspapers. They'll remember the name Frankenstein forever. I'll be the father of half the world—perhaps all of the world one day. Imagine it, Charlotte."

"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."