Grave Expectations (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 4) (8 page)

"You're quite right there."

"My husband was a little eccentric, but all brilliant men are. He helps people. Or he used to, before he died." Her face crumpled before she reigned in her emotions and schooled her features again. "I only wish to punish his killer."

"Killer?" I whispered. "He was murdered?"

She nodded and pointed the gun at Gus. He winced but otherwise went very still. "For no reason at all that I could see. It was horrible. Quite horrible." She placed a hand to her heart before returning it to the pistol again with the other. "I want him to avenge his death, Miss Holloway, and for that, I need you. Only he knows his killer's identity."

I had a very bad feeling about this. How did the widow of a murdered man come to know about necromancers and, in particular, me? "Mrs. Webb, was your husband magical?"

She tilted her head to the side. Her sad smile softened her gaze. "Yes, he is. Was. He can—could—move things just by thinking about it."

I closed my eyes against the nausea rising up my throat, the sick worry settling into my chest. If I summoned him and he entered a body, he might know how to override my control like Estelle Pearson had. But if I didn't do it, Mrs. Webb would shoot Gus.

He swore under his breath. "Don't do it, Charlie. It'll go wrong."

The woman I knew as Mrs. Webb gave an uncharacteristically inelegant snort. "The only thing that will go wrong will be me shooting you, if she doesn't do as I say."

I opened my eyes. "Your name's not Webb, is it?"

"It's Merry Drinkwater."

Drinkwater. One of the murdered supernaturals had been Reginald Drinkwater.

"Merry. Ha!" Gus must have worked it out when I did, because he didn't sound surprised.

"My husband's name is Reginald Rochester Drinkwater." She adjusted her grip on the pistol. "Summon his spirit, Miss Holloway. Now! Or I will shoot."

I swallowed. "Reginald—"

"No!" Gus shuffled toward me.

The gun went off. The shot deafened me for a second. Its echo seemed to reverberate around the walls for an age.

"Gus!" I fell to my knees beside his body.

He moved, thank God, and groaned. "I'm alive."

I glanced up at Mrs. Webb. She looked even paler, if that were possible, and her hands shook. "You almost killed him!" Blood seeped through the rent in his sleeve near his shoulder. "He has to see a doctor."

"He has to stay here." She waggled the pistol at us. "Summon my husband, Miss Holloway. Do it now, or I will shoot again."

I swallowed. Gus protested, but I shut out his voice. "Reginald Rochester Drinkwater, I summon your spirit here to this realm. Come to us."

The mist came from a different side of the room from which Gordon had arrived. It flew past us, dashing back and forth like a frightened rabbit, before regaining control and settling nearby. Reginald Drinkwater was of middling age with a slender build and intelligent eyes behind spectacles. Intelligent, cool eyes. If I didn't know he'd been shot, the gaping hole in his chest would have told me how he'd died. He smiled when he saw his wife but it quickly slipped away at the sight of the pistol. He frowned at her.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Drinkwater," I said to the spirit. "My name is Charlotte Holloway and I'm a necromancer."

"A what?"

"Necromancer. I can raise the dead."

"You summoned me?"

"I did, at your wife's request. She forced me to." I indicated Gus, now sitting up and trying to inspect his wound.

His eyes widened. "Merry?"

"She can't hear you. Only I can."

"I underestimated her." He smiled. "Didn't know she had all this in her."

He was proud? I swallowed down the bile as it threatened to rise up my throat again.

"Tell him that he must search for his body," Mrs. Drinkwater said.

"I don't need to repeat what you say. He can hear you."

"Reginald." She didn't quite look directly at him, but near enough. "Listen to me. I had you summoned so you could avenge your death. I know you must want to."

"Oh yes." His tone chilled my blood.

"You must find your body and…go into it. Then you'll be able to walk around again as a living man."

Reginald eyed me. "Is this true?"

I stood very still.

The ghost swooped at me. "Is. This. True?"

Mrs. Drinkwater pointed the gun at Gus again.

"You will be able to walk around," I said. "But you'll still be dead, not alive. The body is merely a vessel for your spirit."

As soon as he disappeared to find his body and Mrs. Drinkwater left, I'd give the order to send him back. I didn't need to be within hearing range of him.

"You're buried in Old Brompton," Merry Drinkwater went on. "It was a beautiful ceremony." She smiled sadly. "Go, Reginald. Go and find whoever it was who did this."

He lifted a hand and patted his wife's shoulder. "Good girl." She felt nothing and simply stared straight ahead.

"Mr. Drinkwater, tell me who killed you," I urged. "There are people looking into your death. I can pass on the name or description of your murderer—"

"The police are incompetent." He flew up the stairs to the door.

"Not the police." Hysteria pitched my voice high. "Others from a special organization."

He shook his head and the mist dissolved. He was gone.

I plopped onto the bed and swore.

"Language, young lady!" Mrs. Drinkwater scowled.

I managed to refrain from telling her where she could shove her hypocrisy—just. I looked down at Gus. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "He's gone?"

"Yes. Mrs. Drinkwater, you've done a very foolish thing by telling your husband about his body. I could have seen justice served for him by giving the name of his killer to Mr. Fitzroy."

"It's not the same as doing it yourself. Not as satisfying." She set the gun down on the floor beside her lantern. "Come over here, Miss Holloway, away from Gus."

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

I hopped across the floor to her. She reached into her skirt pocket and withdrew something. It wasn't until she slapped her hand against my mouth that I realized it was a gag to keep me quiet. To stop me sending Reginald's spirit back.

I shut my mouth. I twisted and struggled, throwing my weight into her.

"Keep still!" She hit me hard across the jaw, but still I kept my mouth shut.

Gus protested and I saw that he'd made progress toward us, but not enough. He was still too far away to do anything.

She pinched my nose. It was no use now. Her grip was too tight and slowly, slowly the air leached out of me until my chest burned.

I opened my mouth to gasp in a breath and she shoved the gag inside. Before I could spit it out, she'd wrapped another cloth strip around my head, covering my mouth, to hold the gag in place. I swallowed reflexively and almost choked. I coughed violently and fell to my knees. Snot and tears streamed down my face. I couldn't control them. Couldn't catch my breath. Surely she wouldn't kill me. Not like this.

She stood back to admire her handiwork. "I know that keeping you silent will mean you can't control my husband's spirit or send him back. I could kill you, but I'm not a violent woman, nor do I have any intention of having my husband here forever. But until he exacts his revenge, you must be quiet.”

This woman knew everything about my magic. But how, when her husband hadn't even known what a necromancer did?

"
C
harlie
! Charlie!"

I could hear Gus shuffling toward me, and then a thump and a grunt as he fell. My vision cleared a little, and I was able to breathe normally again.

Mrs. Drinkwater picked up the pistol and aimed it at Gus. "I can't have you removing her gag. Up the stairs. Now."

"I ain't goin' nowhere." Gus sat, his legs stretched out before him, doing his best to look immovable.

Mrs. Drinkwater aimed the pistol at his head. "Very well, but I no longer need you. You've outlived your usefulness. While I don't wish to kill anyone, I will do so if necessary."

I tried to encourage Gus to move, but my shout came out garbled and only made me descend into a fit of choking coughs again.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'." I wasn't sure if his grumbling assent was directed at our captor or me.

I watched him jump up the stairs, Mrs Drinkwater behind him. He managed it without falling, but he was breathing heavily by the time they reached the top.

She shut the door and locked it. I was alone.

The cloth around my head bit into my cheeks. I rubbed my shoulder against it, but it was too tight and wouldn't budge. Damn her. Damn both the Drinkwaters.

I didn't know if attempting to speak the words to send a spirit back with a gag in my mouth would work, but I tried anyway. It came out muffled and I had no way of knowing if I'd been successful.

I spent the next little while alternating between trying to remove the gag again and untying my bonds, but it was useless. All I managed to achieve was another debilitating coughing fit followed by a flood of angry tears that made me gulp and choke on the gag.

I lay on the cold flagstone floor on my side and stared at the door at the top of the stairs. Despite willing it to open, it remained firmly shut. Where was Gordon? Why hadn't he returned yet? How much time had passed?

The only comfort was the knowledge that Drinkwater was going after the man who'd killed him. If his wife could be believed, he wasn't a danger to anyone else. As soon as he had his revenge, she would let us go and I could send him back.

I sat up and scooted across the floor to the bed where I waited. And waited. My stomach growled and I needed to use the privy. The skin on my cheeks felt raw from the chafing cloth and drool seeped from the corners of my mouth. It took effort not to choke or cough reflexively.

Finally the door opened and Reginald Drinkwater stood in his body, candelabra in hand. The flickering flames picked out his bloodless face, his soulless eyes, and the gaping hole in his chest. He descended the stairs, alone. Neither Gus nor his wife was with him.

"Good evening," he said. "The deed has been done. My murderer is dead."

I arched my brows.

"He deserved it." His grim smile was made even grimmer thanks to the deathly pall of his lips.

I arched my brows higher and tried to say, "Why did he kill you?"

"I don't know his name," he said, misunderstanding my muffled words. "I'd never met him before. I only knew where to find him because he made the mistake of talking to himself after he shot me. 'Another successful job deserves an ale at The Feathers,' he'd said. The Feathers is a rough pub in Clerkenwell. I simply bought myself an ale, bided my time and waited for my murderer to enter. I lured him into the lane out the back with the promise of a job for him."

Job. He was a hired gunman? Who would hire another to kill Drinkwater?

Someone who didn't want blood on their hands.

I twisted and wiggled my numbed fingers.

"I can't release you until you promise not to send me back," he said.

No. Oh no. Why couldn't he just return to his afterlife? I shook my head.

The muscles in his face hardened. His lips pressed together. If blood flowed through his body, a vein would have bulged in his throat or temple. "I'm not going to harm anyone. I simply want to continue with my work." He paced from wall to wall of the cellar, his booted footsteps loud on the stones. "Imagine if I can achieve my objective and transfer my magic into the limbs I create? Imagine the benefits to mankind!" He stopped pacing very close to me. I swayed back, away from the stench of decay. "My magic still works, you know. Death hasn't affected it."

He frowned at me and I suddenly felt myself lifting off the bed. He was levitating me! I continued to rise and rise until my head skimmed the ceiling. I held myself very still in case movement broke his concentration. It was terrifying and yet oddly thrilling too. I wondered how long he could keep me up here, and if there were limitations with an object's weight.

With a derisive snort, he lowered me again. "Impressive, isn't it?"

Once I felt the mattress beneath me, I scooted away from him, even though I knew it would do no good. With his power, he could pick me up and slam me against the wall.

"I would very much like to untie you, but I can't without your promise that you won't send me back," he said. "Do I have it?"

Reneging on a promise didn't sit well with me, but I saw no other choice. I nodded.

"Good girl. A wise decision. As soon as I find a way to harness my magic and transfer it into the limbs, I'll return to my afterlife. But not until then."

Harness? How could something so ethereal and wild be rounded up like a flock of sheep?

He set the candelabra down on the floor and began untying my ankles. "Once my legacy has been established, I can go in peace. I will be immortalized in the scientific community, and outside it too, I hope."

Ah, yes, immortalization. The lure of it drove many madmen.

My feet and hands now released, he removed the gag. I spat out the ball of cloth from my mouth and swallowed several times and rubbed my jaw. It ached and my tongue felt twice its size, but there seemed to be no lasting damage.

"You may go," he said.

I couldn't believe it. I was actually going to walk free. Despite my stiff limbs, I hurried up the steps and flung open the door.

"Don't forget your promise!" he called after me.

"I won't," I croaked.

I found myself in the service rooms of a modest sized house. Across the corridor was the kitchen. To left and right were closed doors. Was Gus behind one? I couldn't leave without him and the house was large enough that it would take several minutes to search every room. There was no sign of Mrs. Drinkwater, however, but Mr. Drinkwater's plodding footsteps echoed on the cellar stairs. He was coming up. I had only seconds.

"Go back to your afterl—"

"Stop!" Mrs. Drinkwater stood in the kitchen doorway, the pistol aimed at me. "How did you get out?" Her gaze darted past my shoulder. "Reggie! You're back."

My stomach plunged.
Don't tell him. Please don't tell him.

"What are you doing, Merry?" Drinkwater asked. "I let her go."

"Charlie! Charlie, is that you?" Gus's shout came from behind a closed door to my left. Thank God he was alive.

"Gus! Yes, it's me."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm quite safe." I eyed Mrs. Drinkwater, and she lowered the pistol.

"It's done then?" she asked her husband. "Your murderer is dead?"

Drinkwater came to stand beside me. "It's done. I'll be in my workshop if you need me. Goodbye, miss. Do not forget your promise."

Mrs. Drinkwater frowned. "Your workshop? Reggie…you want to stay?"

"Of course. I have much to do. The commission may have fallen through, but that is of no consequence."

Commission?

"Then…" She glanced at me. "Then why did you release her? I interrupted her casting the spell to send you back. She won't allow you to remain, you know."

Those blank, dead eyes turned to me. "You gave me your word." His grinding tone froze my blood.

I swallowed. "Mrs. Drinkwater is mistaken. I was simply…talking to myself."

She stiffened. "I'm no fool. I overheard you." To her husband, she said, "Now that you have your revenge, you ought to go back anyway. You don't want to anger anyone up there." She eyed the ceiling.

"No one will be angry, particularly when they see what I can achieve after a few more months here. My dear, I'm close to a breakthrough. I know I am."

She winced. "You weren't all that close before your death."

"I beg your pardon! How would
you
know?"

She swallowed. "Reggie, I do think you ought to go. Besides, we can't keep Miss Holloway and Gus shut up in the cellar for weeks, or months, or however long it takes for you to succeed. For one thing, the first time I remove the gag to feed her, she'll say the words to send you back. Unless she's complicit, it's hopeless, and I can assure you, she will not be complicit."

He shrugged. "Then shoot her."

I gasped and stumbled away from him, but he caught my elbow and pushed me roughly forward. "Go on. Shoot."

His wife's jaw dropped. Her eyes bulged. "I can't do that! That's murder."

"You were going to kill her friend earlier."

"I only told them that to frighten her into summoning you. I wasn't really going to go through with it."

He clicked his tongue. "Weak."

"Reggie, please. Don't ask that of me. They'll hang me for it. I missed on purpose before. I'm really quite a good shot with this thing," she said with an apologetic smile.

Well then, if she wasn't going to shoot anyone… "Return to your afterlife, Mr—"

He struck out. Long fingers circled my throat and squeezed. "Shut up!"

"Charlie!" Gus's shout was almost drowned out by the blood thudding between my ears.

I couldn't utter a sound. Not even a squeak. It felt like everything in my throat was closing under the pressure from Drinkwater's fingers. He was much stronger in death than life, and fearless too. Besides, he'd already killed once…why not again?

I thrashed at him, tried to shove him off and kick him, and when that failed, I scrabbled at his fingers, scratching and digging into his rotting flesh with my nails. I struck bone.

"Reggie! Stop!"

Drinkwater didn't stop. My lungs screamed for air. It felt like a ton of bricks pressed on my chest. Silent tears streaked from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks.

A gunshot deafened me. Drinkwater's body jerked, and his fingers loosened.

"I'm already dead. Foolish woman," he added with a mutter that could be barely heard over Gus's shouts and bangs against the closed door.

Drinkwater's weaker grip allowed me to draw in priceless air. I wasn't far enough away to speak all the words necessary to send him back, however. I needed a few feet between us at least or he'd catch me. I gasped in a few strong breaths then smashed my fist into his face. His head snapped back. He couldn't feel pain so stomping on his toe wouldn't do anything, nor would kneeing him in the nether regions. I had to use brute force to send him off balance. Unfortunately, with my size and his superior strength, brute force wasn't something I possessed.

Nevertheless, I threw myself at him, swinging my fists to distract him with my punches. It worked. He stumbled and swayed backward. Unfortunately, he also caught me and used me as an anchor.

"Damned girl." Ignoring my fists and kicks, his fingers closed around my throat again.

"Reggie, please! You can't kill her. She's done nothing wrong!"

"You've been a good wife to bring me back, my dear. Now don't spoil it with your foolish sympathies. Think of what I can achieve! I must finish my work. The girl's life is unimportant when you consider the greater good."

She nodded numbly, like a puppet on a string. I tried to speak, to implore her help, but no sound came out of my mouth, and she simply stood there, her stunned gaze on my face as she watched me die.

Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. I felt my life slipping away with every slowing pound of my heart. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I heard Gus's shouts and thumps, but he seemed so far away.

Another voice joined his, high pitched and feminine. I didn't recognize it, nor could I see who'd arrived.

Suddenly Drinkwater's hands were ripped from me. I fell to my knees and clasped my throat. I sucked in sweet, sweet air. Noise surrounded me—shouts from a number of different sources, and the slap of skin against skin, and the snap of…bones?

Mrs. Drinkwater knelt near me and peered into my face. She was shaking. "If you want to live, you have to get away. Now. Your friend is gallant but she is merely a woman."

I glanced up to see a woman dressed in a crimson and peacock blue dress fighting Drinkwater. She was smaller than him and her skirts hindered her kicks, but she was nimbler and the better fighter. Her punches struck true whereas his were wild and had little effect when they connected. I didn't need to see the pock marked face to know this woman was dead. Her strength alone was indication enough.

It took a moment for my addled, air-starved brain to put all the pieces together. The dead woman must be
Gordon
.

She—he—thumped Drinkwater, over and over, with well-timed punches. There was nothing feminine about her movements, from the way she balanced herself with her feet apart, to the way she disregarded her breasts as she slammed into Drinkwater, driving him into the wall.

I got to my feet, eyeing Mrs. Drinkwater carefully, but she made no move to raise the pistol. She looked defeated, numb, and somewhat lost. The competent woman who'd presented herself at Lichfield Towers was gone.

"She's dead too?" she asked me in a small voice.

I nodded. "Release Gus." I scrambled far away from the two fighters, just as Gordon slammed into the wall.

Drinkwater hadn't touched him. Gordon hit the wall again and again, like a ragdoll thrown at full force. He was at the mercy of Drinkwater's powers. And so was I.

Drinkwater turned to me.

Just as I was at the mercy of his magic, he was at the mercy of mine.

"Return to your afterlife, Reginald Drinkwater." I spoke the words in a rush and hoped it was fast enough. "I release you."

He stumbled to his knees. His bloodless lips pulled back in a snarl. "No! No, I'm not finished!" His body slumped forward, smashing his face against the floor. The white mist drifted out and up toward the ceiling. He hovered a moment, in which he growled his fury at me, before disappearing altogether.