The Last Necromancer (24 page)

He didn't speak as I tried to gather my wits. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, with the mask in place, his eyes hooded. He held himself very still and seemed to be waiting for me to do or say something.

"Why're you telling me this?" I finally asked.

"So you can make an informed decision. If you choose to stay, that is the sort of person you'll be living with."

A cold-hearted killer. A man whose moral lines were blurred, and who'd do anything to succeed. The leader of an organization whose members didn't want a necromancer in their midst.

Yet he was also a man who'd never failed to protect me, and who'd offered me a safe home among friends.

"Do you want me to stay?" I asked.

"I want you to make a choice based on the facts. If you decide to stay, there will be a place here for you."

It wasn't the answer I'd wanted, but I knew it was the best he would give. He certainly wasn't trying to make it easy for me to decide, telling me I would be nothing more than a maid, as well as opening my eyes to the sort of person he could be. It was an odd way to induce me to stay, and yet I was grateful that he'd been upfront and that he left the decision to me.

"I'll give you time to think about it," he said, turning and walking off.

I pushed off from the tree. "I'll have an answer for you tomorrow." I raced after him and he slowed his steps to match mine. "You could have caught my hand," I told him.

His gaze slid sideways to me.

"I know your reflexes are fast. You could have caught my hand before I slapped your cheek." When he still didn't speak, I added, "You'll be gratified to know that it hurt me too."

"Will I?"

"I assume that now I'll be working for you, I can no longer use violence against you when you do or say something ill-conceived."

"You assume correctly."

"Then you'd better not do anything ill-conceived. I have a temper too, and controlling it isn't easy."

"I'll be sure to catch your hand next time."

I didn't tell him I had a good kick on me. We walked back to the house together. The committee had all departed, and the delicious scent of baking bread wafted out of the kitchen. I was starving.

"There you are!" Seth called from the landing. He came down the stairs and grinned at me. "It's safe to come back inside now. The dragons have departed."

"They're not all dragons," I said, smiling.

"True enough. Some are snakes."

I laughed.

Seth's gaze flicked to Fitzroy and his smile died. "Luncheon will be ready soon." He left us and headed toward the kitchen.

Once he was out of earshot, Fitzroy said, "If you remain here, there is only one rule that I require you to abide by."

"Don't steal the silver?"

"No fraternizing."

I arched my brows, then glanced in the direction Seth had gone. I laughed. He was friendly enough but certainly not in a way that tempted me. "I'll cross that off my list of morning chores."

Without waiting for his response, I hurried toward the kitchen. It wasn't until I saw Cook, Seth and Gus chatting quietly near the range that I wondered if Fitzroy was actually referring to me fraternizing with
him
.

I didn't find that notion the least amusing.

***

That afternoon was different to all the others I'd spent at Lichfield Towers. It was as if the four men finally relaxed, now that Frankenstein was caught. Well, perhaps Fitzroy wasn't all that relaxed, but the others were. We played some cards after luncheon, while Fitzroy remained in his rooms, but by mid-afternoon, Seth and Gus had grown restless.

"There be some cleaning for you to do," Cook told them. "The scullery's a pig sty."

"We're saving it for Charlie," Seth said with a wink at me.

"I haven't given my decision yet," I said. Fitzroy had briefed them on my future, and told them he'd given me until tomorrow to decide. Seth and Gus had treated me as a regular member of the household ever since. To them, it seemed natural that I would stay.

Perhaps I would, but I wanted to take the full time Fitzroy had given me. I wanted to make a decision with a clear head, after thinking through all the implications. I was, after all, giving up my freedom to become a servant.

"Want to spar?" Gus asked Seth after he lost all of his beans at cards. "I'm feeling restless."

"Sparring will be good. Meet me on the lawn."

The men left to change and I headed out to the lawn to wait. They showed up ten minutes later, stripped to the waist. I glanced at the house, expecting Fitzroy to storm out any minute and order them to dress when around me, but he didn't. I didn't want the men to change their habits because of me, so I said nothing. I just sat on the grass and watched.

They were good, but Seth clearly had the upper hand. I could well believe he'd been a bare-knuckle fighter when Fitzroy had discovered him from his hard punches and nimble footwork.

When they finished, they sat alongside me to catch their breaths. Cook brought out tea and cake and we ate sitting on the grass. I glanced up at the second floor and caught Fitzroy watching us from his window. He turned away, and I waited for him to join us. He didn't come.

I tried talking to him that night, but he told me he was busy and that unless it was urgent or I'd made my decision, he had no time for idle chatter.

"All work and no play will make you even grumpier," I retorted.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

He shut the door on me and I signed a rude gesture at it before going to my own room. I picked up a book and read into the night. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if I would be allowed to remain in the guest suite or be moved to the servants' quarters in the attic if I decided to stay at Lichfield as a maid.

The following day, I needed some time alone, away from the house. I'd not seen Fitzroy all morning or afternoon, so I informed the others that I was heading to the cemetery for a while. I promised to return before dusk.

The day was warm, thanks to the blanket of cloud smothering the city, and my skin felt damp by the time I reached my mother's grave. No, not my mother. I must stop thinking of her in that way.

An ache settled into my chest. She might not be my mama, but she had loved me up until her death, and that's what I would hold onto. I may never find out anything more about my real mother, but at least I'd experienced a mother's love in my childhood. Some children never had that.

I sat beside her grave and leaned back against the headstone, my legs stretched out in front of me. I breathed deeply. The scents were so much earthier and cleaner than in the rest of the city.

I must have dozed at some point, because I awoke with a start to the sounds of digging. The groundskeeper must be preparing a new grave nearby. Odd, because dusk had already settled. I was about to get up and leave when voices stopped me.

"Hurry up!" hissed a man. "We're sitting ducks out here."

"You were the one who wanted to come in daylight," said another, also male, but a little deeper than the first.

"You want to go wandering around the cemetery at night?" The first man snorted.

"What does it matter? If you're worried about ghouls, you should be worried about digging up this blighter. His ghost won't be happy to find his body missing."

I peeked around my mother's headstone and saw two men dressed in dark coats, both with shovels and a mound of dirt piled beside them. It was a fresh grave that I'd seen on my way in, one that hadn't been there on my last visit. What were they doing opening it up again? Whoever they were, I was certain they weren't supposed to be digging there. I couldn't see their faces, but they were both solid men, with brown hair visible beneath their caps.

The digging resumed at a faster pace until the second man spoke again. "We've got to be deep enough now, surely."

The sound of a shovel striking wood made them both laugh. "There. Come on, let's get him out."

I watched as they removed more dirt and then one jumped down into the hole. The other unraveled a blanket and tossed it down. The scraping of wood on wood made me cringe.

"Blimey!" the man down in the grave said. "That bloody stinks."

"What'd you expect? Roses?" He glanced around, and for one sickening moment, I thought he'd seen me. "Hurry up."

I breathed out a measured breath and remained still. They wouldn't notice me if I didn't move.

The man in the grave pushed something up. It was wrapped in the blanket, and shaped like a human. His companion reached down and hauled it further out then gave a hand to his friend. He then picked up the wrapped body and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Go on ahead," he said. "Signal if you see anyone."

I watched them leave, my heart in my throat. I ought to do something to stop them, but what? They were bigger than me and stronger than me. I silently cursed and wished I knew how to fight. I'd been at the mercy of others so often, and I was tired of it. Tired of being pathetic and weak. Being fast wasn't enough; I needed to learn skills to help me fend off an attacker bigger than myself. I'd seen Fitzroy do it. The brute under the bridge had been bigger than him, and Frankenstein's creatures were stronger.

I waited several minutes before leaving my mother's grave. I kept vigilant for the body snatchers, but didn't see them. In the morning, I'd have to give an account of what I saw to the police, but there was little they could do to stop such a practice, unless they caught them in the act. For now, the robbers were long gone.

I walked swiftly back to the house and was a little breathless when I pounded on Fitzroy's door. He opened it, a frown on his brow.

"Is there an emergency?"

"No. Yes. Not really."

His brows rose and he stepped aside. "Then you'd better come in."

He indicated I should sit on the sofa, but I couldn't. I was too wound up, too eager to say what I wanted to say.

"Stop pacing, Charlie, and tell me what the matter is."

I stopped. "I've made my decision."

"And?"

"And I'll stay, on one condition."

He paused, then said, "No conditions."

"Hear me out. It's not a terrible condition. I think you'll find it a good one, actually."

"Go on."

"I want you to teach me to fight someone bigger than myself."

He leaned against the chair behind him and crossed his arms. "What brought this on?"

"Everything! All my life, I've been vulnerable. My size and gender has seen to that. I've had to be continually vigilant to protect myself. I know how to avoid most situations, and I can run away fast, but running becomes exhausting, and I don't wish to run away from here. I want to stay, and staying means I must learn to defend myself."

A vein in his throat throbbed above his collar. "You won't need to protect yourself," he said quietly. "That's for me to do—if you agree to live here."

"I don't want to rely on you, or anyone else. What if you're not home and there is an attack? It happened with Holloway. Or what if you die and I find myself alone in the world again? In your line of work, all manner of unfortunate things could befall you."

His eyebrow quirked. "You think me incapable of protecting you?"

"I think you're human." I closed the gap between us and clasped his arms. He jerked at my touch, perhaps taken by surprise, but I didn't let go. "Please, Lincoln. Please teach me. You can have Seth and Gus oversee my training."

"No," he growled. "I'll do it."

I squeezed his arms. His muscles tensed. "Is that an agreement?"

He nodded then moved away. "Maids don't address their masters by their first names," he tossed over his shoulder. "You will address me as Mr. Fitzroy or sir only."

I saluted the back of his head. "Is that another rule?"

"Yes."

"So no fraternizing, and no first names. Anything else?"

"I'll let you know as I make them up." His voice sounded amused, as if he were laughing at me, but when he turned to face me, he wasn't smiling. I wasn't sure why I expected him to be. I'd not yet seen him smile, and I wasn't sure what it would take to produce one.

"Good. Then I'll start tomorrow. Sir." I gave him a little curtsy that almost unbalanced me.

"You'll do your chores in the mornings, and in the afternoons I will train you. Is that clear?"

"Yes." I beamed. I couldn't help it.
This
was what I wanted. Being able to fight off an attack was the ultimate form of liberation. I might be about to enter servitude, but I felt freer than I had in years. "Oh, I'll have to take some time off to visit the police. Or perhaps you can do it." I bit my lip and cringed. Speaking to the police went against every grain of my being. What if they recognized me as Fleet-foot Charlie the thief?

"Is this to do with Holloway's attack?"

I shook my head. "I went to the cemetery this afternoon and saw some grave robbers stealing a body."

He stalked across the room to me. "Was the grave fresh?"

"Only a day or two old."

His lips flattened. "This may not be a matter for the police."

"You're just going to let them get away with it? What if they come back?"

"I'm going to investigate myself. There are two motives for removing a body. The first is medical, to provide doctors with cadavers to use in their research. That's harmless."

"I'm sure the body's spirit would disagree, and the family members."

"The second is supernatural."

I gasped. "To create super humans like Frankenstein wanted to do?"

"Among other reasons."

I pulled a face. "I wish I'd followed them now and seen where they'd gone."

"You did the right thing. Following them would have been dangerous."

"All the more reason to begin my training immediately. Tomorrow afternoon," I said as I headed to the door. "Do not forget. You promised."

The frown he gave me as I shut the door was one that I had no trouble deciphering—resignation. It was the closest thing to an expression he'd ever shown. It would seem he didn't always wear the mask after all. That glimpse into his thoughts made me more determined than ever to see him shed the mask again, perhaps altogether.