CHAPTER 11

The sound of shattering glass set off a sequence of seemingly disconnected events. The room went dark—or perhaps I'd closed my eyes. I spun around and around, like I was on an out of control carousel. But wasn't Gordon holding me? My head swam. My stomach lurched. I fell.

I landed on something soft, much to my aching head's appreciation. I passed a hand over my stinging eyes—they were definitely open—and felt around me.

I touched something. An arm, a shoulder, a face and hair. The corpse on the bed. I screamed, but it was lost in the din of noise that had exploded in the room. Voices blended together like an out of tune orchestra, some shouting, others groaning. I heard my name, but I couldn't be certain who'd called it.

I stopped screaming. I pushed myself up into a sitting position. The gunshot! I checked myself over, but I was unharmed.

A fight had broken out near the door where some light filtered through from the main room. Gordon wrestled with a man who seemed to be a match for him. But how could that be? The dead possessed superior strength when raised. No mere human could dodge his rapid-fire punches then get in pounding blows of their own that had Gordon stumbling backward. Gordon reacted by kicking out, but his opponent anticipated that too and jumped out of the way. A kick to the back of Gordon's knees unbalanced him, and in the blink of an eye, my bodyguard was pinned to the floor beneath—

"Lincoln? Is that you?" I squinted into the dimness then got off the bed, only to find my legs wouldn't obey me. I collapsed back onto the mattress.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his breathing a little faster than usual.

"Yes. But why did you attack Gordon?"

Gordon grunted into the floorboards. "A good question."

Lincoln leaned closer to Gordon's face then got off him. "I didn't know it was him." He came to the bed and knelt in front of me. At least, I thought he was directly in front of me. It was difficult to tell. My eyes seemed to be playing tricks on me, and at times he appeared to be several feet away. "We need to leave. Can you stand?"

"Not very well."

He glanced over his shoulder and said a few unintelligible words to the young Oriental man standing near the curtained doorway. He held the gun loosely at his side, but his wide eyes stared at Gordon as my bodyguard stood up. Gordon took a step forward and the Oriental inched back, muttering something under his breath. Mr. Lee was nowhere to be seen.

Lincoln picked me up and I snuggled into him, resting my head on his shoulder. "Thank you," I murmured.

Gordon held the curtain back and we passed through. Mr. Lee was once more sitting on his cushion, a pipe plugged into his mouth. Some of the other smokers were sitting up, their droopy-lidded eyes following our progress as Lincoln picked his way through the collection of bodies sprawled on the floor.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee," I said to the ancient Chinaman. "Please notify us again if the captain returns."

He made no acknowledgement, simply dragged on his pipe and blew out a long chain of smoke. Gordon, my jacket in his hand, went first down the stairs, and Lincoln and I followed behind. Outside, the blissfully cool air soothed my eyes and hot skin. I never thought London's air could smell so sweet, but after the thick fumes of the opium, it was the freshest air in the world.

The young Chinaman had followed us down. He said something to Lincoln in his own tongue, pointed at Gordon, and slammed the door shut.

"I don't think he likes me," Gordon said cheerfully.

"The Chinese don't like spirits of the dead walking through their homes," Lincoln told him. "They believe it brings bad luck."

"That's not very nice." I closed my eyes and breathed deeply again. "They ought to get to know the spirits individually rather than make a blanket ruling against them."

Gordon chuckled. "Your fairness knows no bounds, Miss Charlie." We walked a few paces and then he spoke again, the good humor absent from his voice. "Are you hurt?"

Lincoln's arms tightened around me. When he didn't answer, I realized Gordon was asking me.

"No." I yawned. "What happened? I heard a gunshot then everything went black."

"The Chinaman was about to shoot you, or me. I'm not entirely sure. I managed to turn you and put my body between yours and his, but as it turned out, the bullet missed us both and hit the lamp."

That explained the shattering glass and the sudden darkness. "How could he miss? He was so close."

"I knocked him as I entered the room." Lincoln's deliciously rich voice rumbled from his chest through my skin to my bones. I placed my palm against his chest to feel the vibrations, but he'd stopped talking. I felt his heart instead as it pounded a steady rhythm.

"Well done, both of you," I murmured. "But, Lincoln—Mr. Fitzroy, sir—why were you fighting Gordon?"

"I didn't know it was him. I saw him holding you then drop you on the bed. I thought it was the captain, perhaps."

I smiled as the vibrations of his voice met the thump of his heart. "You were saving me? That's very noble. I can ordinarily take care of myself now, but the opium smoke affected me. I wasn't expecting that."

"Clearly," he muttered.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I read your note. It was considerate of you to leave one, and not rouse Cook."

"I'm not so affected that I can't detect your sarcasm," I told him around another yawn. "I'll have you know that Cook was in no state to come with me. He almost cut off a limb tonight."

"We'll discuss this in the morning, after you've had a good sleep."

"By discuss, do you mean you're going to rail at me?"

"I'll let that be a surprise for the morning." He didn't sound in the least angry. His arms tightened around me and his warm breath fanned my hair. "Thackery," he said.

My jacket came around my shoulders and I felt like I was being tucked into bed. I must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing I knew, I was on the back of a horse, still in Lincoln's arms. Gordon rode beside us, holding my horse's reins. I still felt like my eyes had sunk deep into my head, and my mouth was bone dry, but my brain appeared to be functioning normally again.

I put my arms around Lincoln and sighed into him. He tensed and I tensed too, but after a few moments, as my body relaxed, I felt the tension leach out of him. Was that because he thought I'd fallen asleep again? I didn't dare look up at him or move a muscle. I didn't want him to feel anxious for holding me. I liked it when he was more relaxed.

Some time later, we stopped, and I finally glanced around. We were at the cemetery, near Gordon's grave. He walked ahead of the horses, a spade in hand.

"Where did you get that?" I asked him.

"One of the groundsmen must have left it out." He clicked his tongue. "They ought to be more careful. There are so many thieves in these parts of late."

He handed the horses' reins to Lincoln then began shoveling soil out of his grave so that he could access the coffin. The effort would have left a living man breathing heavily and sweating profusely, but he simply leaned on the spade handle and smiled at me when he finished.

"I have to go now, dear Miss Charlie. Thank you for the adventure. I enjoyed most of it." He gave Lincoln a flat-lipped smile. "You've got a lot of tricks up your sleeve, sir. I've never met anyone who fought like you."

Lincoln inclined his head in a nod. "Next time, declare yourself."

Gordon's lips tightened even more. "If I get an opportunity, I will."

Gordon bowed to me. "Good bye, Miss Charlie. Take care. Don't go inhaling anything you shouldn't."

I grinned. "Thank you, Gordon. I appreciate everything you did tonight." I held out my hand and he took it without hesitation. Some skin flaked off at my touch, but I pretended not to notice. He let me go and bobbed down into his grave, out of my line of sight. "Ready?" I asked.

I heard the coffin lid close then a muffled, "Ready!"

"You are released, Gordon," I said. "Return to your afterlife."

I watched as his misty spirit rose from the grave and hovered above the headstone. He saluted me then swept up into the dark sky.

Lincoln turned the horses around and we rode out of the cemetery. Now that we were alone, and I was fully awake, it felt somewhat awkward. I should ask him to let me ride on my own, but I didn't. Nor did he suggest it. He continued to hold me in his lap, although both his hands were now occupied with all three sets of reins.

"Lincoln?" I said, peering at him in profile. There was just enough light from the streetlamps to see him clearly at such a close angle.

"Yes?"

"I saw no other option." When he didn't answer, I added, "This opportunity might not have come again."

"I know."

"Don't be angry with me. I hate it when you're angry with me for no reason."

"It's always for a reason."

"It doesn't always seem that way from my position."

I felt rather than heard his sigh. "You don't understand."

"Then make me."

Several heartbeats passed before he said, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not sure I understand myself."

The ache in his voice plucked at my heart. I shifted a little to see him better, but he was staring straight ahead. I touched his jaw and gently forced him to look at me. His Adam's apple jerked fiercely and his warm gaze settled on my eyes.

I stroked the strong line of his jaw with my thumb, wishing I dared touch more of him. "I think you do understand," I murmured. "And I think you're afraid of what you feel."

He jerked his head away, breaking the connection. I didn't need to be touching him to know that his jaw hardened. "You're still affected by the opium."

I didn't bother to protest. I simply sighed and settled my head against his shoulder again.

We arrived home to a house that was more awake than asleep. Cook was nowhere to be seen, but Seth and Gus ran into the courtyard when they heard the horses. Lincoln handed me down to Seth, much to my disappointment. I tried telling them that I could walk, but when Seth set me down on my feet, my legs buckled.

He caught me and looped his arm around my waist. With his help, I was able to stumble to the house. Gus and Lincoln took the horses to the stables and Seth sat me down at the kitchen table. He poured me a cup of water and I drank it greedily.

"You don't look injured," he said, his narrow gaze eyeing me up and down.

"I'm not. The residual effects of other people's opium smoke did this. Apparently it affects novices. The dead are immune, fortunately."

His eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Who died? And did you kill them? Or did Fitzroy?"

"I took Gordon Thackery with me as a bodyguard."

"Ah, yes. I read your note." His eyebrows remained halfway up his forehead as he regarded me with more admiration than concern. "That was clever of you to summon him. Your note also mentioned the captain was at Mr. Lee's. Did you see him?"

"No more questions," Lincoln barked as he strode into the kitchen. "Charlie's exhausted."

I would have argued with him, but I was much too tired. "I think I'll go straight to bed." Both of them came to assist me, but I held up my hand as I rose. "I can walk, thank you."

"Have the effects worn off?" Seth asked, hovering nearby.

"It would seem so." I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and maintaining my balance. I yawned as I reached the doorway and had to grasp the doorframe as a bout of dizziness swamped me.

"Perhaps not yet," Seth said with a chuckle.

I thought it was his arm that circled my waist to steady me, but I quickly realized it was Lincoln's. "I'd know those muscles anywhere," I murmured, tucking myself into his side.

Behind us, Seth chuckled again.

I reached the main staircase before another jaw-aching yawn engulfed me. Lincoln must have become frustrated with our slow pace, because he picked me up and carried me up the stairs. I looped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his throat.

"I'm so fortunate to have you," I murmured.

"You're fortunate I'm not furious with you."

I pulled away and frowned at his profile. "Why aren't you angry with me? It's most unlike you."

He didn't answer and I forgot all about my question by the time we reached my room. He set me gently on the bed and, of all things, removed my boots. Having this important gentleman take off his maid's boots so he could tuck her into bed suddenly seemed like the most ridiculous thing in the world, and I began to giggle.

Lincoln drew the bedcovers over me. Even though my eyes had closed of their own volition again, I knew his fingers were near my throat. I could sense him close. "You've disarmed me, Charlie," he whispered. "That's why."

By the time I registered what he was talking about, and pried my eyelids open, he'd gone.

***

"Charlie, have you seen my coat and gloves?" Seth asked before I'd stepped both feet in the kitchen.

Gus glared at his friend. "Why would she know where they are? You left 'em somewhere, dolt."

"I can't have. I haven't worn that blue coat since last winter. And who leaves their coat behind, anyway?"

"Men who have to escape from ladies' bedrooms in a hurry."

Seth gave Gus a withering glare. Gus ignored him and turned to me. "Feeling better?"

"Much." I inspected the contents of the pots on the stove. One was filled with simmering beef broth and another contained warm water. "I thought I'd wake up with a headache, but I'm none the worse for my adventure. Is this broth ready?"

"Aye, help yerself."

I fetched a bowl from the cupboard and ladled thick creamy broth into it. "Where's Cook? How is his thumb?"

"More painful than anything that anyone has ever felt before," Seth said. He stretched his legs under the table and crossed his arms. "So he'd let you believe, with all that moaning and groaning."

"We sent him to the hospital," Gus told me. "We couldn't stand listening to his whining no more."

"And Fitzroy?"

"Working upstairs. He wanted to know when you woke up. Seth, go tell him."

"Why me?"

"Because I'm busy watching the broth." Gus was nowhere near the range. Like Seth, he'd stretched his legs out under the table and sat reclined in his chair, as if he might nod off at any moment. "Cook gave me instructions."

"Slack arse," Seth muttered as he got up.

"Thank you, Seth," I said sweetly. "You're very kind. Oh, and now that I think about it, I recall you gave your coat and gloves away to a young boy who desperately needed them. He was freezing, poor lad."

He frowned. "Did I? I don't remember doing that."

"It was a wonderful turn you did."

"When was this?"

"Just last night." I winked, earning me an eye-roll.

"You owe me, Charlie."

"Whatever she owes, I'll cover it," Lincoln said, striding into the kitchen. "But you shouldn't be taking advantage of a novice gambler, Seth."

"I wasn't!" Seth threw up his hands. "She gave away my coat and gloves."

"You have others?"

"Yes."

"Then what does it matter?"

Seth sat down again with a sigh. "How do you do that, anyway?"

"Do what?"

"I was about to come up and fetch you, but you saved me the trouble. Somehow you always seem to appear when you're needed."

"Not always," Lincoln said darkly.

Seth's observation triggered a thought that was lodged in the back of my mind. I couldn't extract it from the fog shrouding most of last night, however, no matter how hard I tried.

Lincoln fetched himself a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with broth then sat next to me. "How did you sleep?"

"Deeply." I struggled to recall how we'd parted the night before. Had he been angry? I didn't think any harsh words had been spoken between us, but there were just too many holes in my memory for me to be certain of anything. He could have told me he loved me and I wouldn't remember.

No, that wasn't true. I would certainly remember that.

"The coat and gloves went to the boy Mr. Lee sent to fetch me. Er, I mean you. He was very cold, the poor lad, and he'd walked a long way in the night. I couldn't send him out again in nothing but his thin shirt."

"There you go, Seth," Gus said, grinning. "You did a good turn, for once. Never thought you'd be the charitable sort."

Seth grunted and returned to his position of repose in the chair. "May we change the subject? What happened at Lee's?"

Gus raised a hand. "First of all, how did Cook cut his thumb?"

"I startled him as he was cleaning knives."

Gus and Seth both chuckled. "Afraid of girls now, is he?" Gus said.

Seth snorted. "It'll be fun to tease him when he returns."

Lincoln lowered his spoon and regarded me. "I understand you saw the captain at Lee's."

I watched him carefully for any signs that he was about to admonish me for not waiting for him, but he seemed perfectly calm. Perhaps he got all his anger out last night, but in my dazed state, I'd not realized. "I did. He wasn't a particularly distinctive fellow, but I would recognize him if I saw him again."

"He won't go back to Lee's now," Gus said.

I bit my lip and concentrated on my broth. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't stop him or find out more about him."

"Shut up, Gus," Seth hissed. "You didn't do anything different to what I would've done, Charlie."

It wasn't quite the comfort he'd intended to be. If Lincoln had said it, on the other hand…

He simply finished his broth in calm silence. It was maddening.

"I do know the captain was holding a syringe full of blood," I said. "He was either about to inject it into the man on the bed, or was extracting it out of him."

"Before or after his death?" Lincoln asked.

"Before. The captain is also a doctor, I'm quite sure. He had a medical bag." That I remembered. I'd thought the captain was going to hurt me for trying to look inside it.

"Definitely another Frankenstein." Gus shifted his crossed arms higher on his chest and pulled a face. "That's all we need."

"He didn't cut up the bodies," Seth said, holding up a thumb. "He's not searching for a necromancer." His forefinger joined the thumb then a third finger popped up. "And he wasn't injecting electrical currents into the bodies. He's nothing like Frankenstein. Now who's the dolt, eh?"

"So what does he want with them?" I asked before they could exchange further snide remarks.

"If I had to guess, I'd say he's experimenting," Lincoln said. "The experiments have something to do with the liquid he's spooning into their mouths as they lie dying from malnutrition, exhaustion and too much opium. His experiments must continue after their deaths, hence the need for the bodies."

"You mean he's studying them?" I asked.

He nodded. "Specifically, the effects of the liquid on them."

"How awful."

Seth shrugged. "They're dead. What does it matter?"

"It matters because he might be trying to bring them back to life," Gus said before I could.

"How many times do I have to tell you? He's not Frankenstein!"

"Enough," Lincoln said with quiet malice that cut through the tension. "Bringing them back to life is a possibility. One among many."

I folded my arms too and rubbed them. "I wish I'd learned more about him."

"Did you speak to the spirit after he died?" Lincoln asked.

I gasped and sat up straight. "Yes! I believe I did. He was terribly rude. I didn't like him much. I have a feeling he said something important to me…" I dragged my hands through my hair and down my face. There was definitely something there, on the edges of my memory, but I couldn't catch it. It was so frustrating! "Why can't I remember?" I said, thumping the table.

"Opium," Gus said knowingly.

"Thackery might remember more," Lincoln said.

I nodded slowly. "He might, but I have a better idea. Let's ask the spirit himself. That way we're not relying on Gordon's memory either."

Lincoln stood abruptly, startling me. It would seem my nerves were somewhat jumpy this morning. "Are you recovered enough to go now?"

"I'll fetch my coat."

"Be sure to get your own!" Seth called after me.

***

Lincoln apologized for keeping us waiting when he joined Seth, Gus and me at the carriage house. "Deliver this message to the general," he said to Gus, passing him a piece of paper.

Gus pocketed the note and headed out of the carriage house. Lincoln finished helping Seth prepare the horse and carriage, then assisted me into the cabin. He climbed in after me, and Seth took the driver's seat. I wanted to ask Lincoln what the message for the general was about, but held my tongue. Well, only until we passed through the gate.

"Are you inquiring into his own investigation?"

He nodded. "I told him we're getting close to learning a name, but if we fail, the names he's managed to uncover so far will give us something to work on. Hopefully Gus will return with a list."

"Good idea. I like to have a plan of action." And I liked to be involved in that plan. I was rather surprised that Lincoln was allowing me to go back to Lee's with him. Perhaps he thought I'd stay out of trouble with him there, even if the opium affected me again.

The drive was a long one and the silence excruciating. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was awkward, and I didn't really know why. Something must have happened last night but my rotten memory was playing tricks on me. Eventually I could stand it no longer.

"Mr. Fitzroy…last night…did something happen?"

"Many things happened last night. Are you referring to something in particular?"

"You know I am."

His gaze flicked to mine then away. He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "Nothing happened, Charlie. I carried you to your room and put you to bed. I would hope you know that I would never take advantage of a woman in such a state."

My face flamed, even though I'd asked the question. In truth, I'd expected him to avoid answering. My embarrassment was amplified by the fact that he seemed so nonchalant about it. His face didn't redden.

"I, er, of course I do. I'm sorry for implying otherwise."

"Then let's speak no more of it." He turned to the window but his gaze seemed unfocused. Something about last night bothered him.

"I do remember something else," I said.

His head snapped around so fast that it was a blur. "Yes?"

His intense interest unnerved me and it took a moment to regain my composure. "It's regarding the fight you had with Gordon."

He let out a measured breath. Had he been expecting me to mention something else? Something from later in the night, when he put me to bed?

"It might be nothing," I went on. "It's just that I've noticed how keen your instincts are in a fight. You seem to anticipate blows a moment before they happen. It gives you a definite advantage against a stronger opponent like Gordon."

"Visual cues," he said. "You'll learn to look for them too with practice."

"I doubt it's something one can learn. I've seen Seth and Gus fight one another and their instincts aren't as good as yours."

"What are you implying?"

I swallowed heavily. His steely tone dared me to say it aloud. Dared me to accuse him of something quite extraordinary. I wasn't sure I was up to taking the dare if it meant getting on his bad side, but I'd come this far. It was too late to back away now.

"It's not just in a fight," I forged on. "You often anticipate when someone is about to ask you something, or come to your rooms. You also win at cards and dice much too often to put it down to luck. It's an uncanny gift." I cleared my throat, determined not to wither beneath that frosty stare of his. "Uncanny to the point of supernatural."

He searched my face until finally his gaze settled on mine. I tumbled headlong into the endless depths of his eyes, and I didn't care. Didn't want to escape. Time seemed to stop. We might as well have been in another world inside the carriage. The outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of us, connected by a charge more powerful than an electrical current.

He leaned forward and my heart ground to a halt. Would he kiss me? Berate me?

But he simply rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head. Unruly strands of hair fell across his face.

"What is it?" I dared ask. "What have I said?"

He half shook his head, or perhaps he was merely turning away. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No one has ever noticed that about me before."

"And?" I whispered.

"And I am coming to terms with the fact that you have noticed."

Was that a good thing or bad? I couldn't tell from his reaction. My observation had shaken him, however, and that was something. The unflappable Lincoln Fitzroy was rattled—by me.

"But…what does it mean?" I asked.

He leaned back again and once more held my gaze with his own. "It means you have discovered a secret I've kept from everyone my entire life. Even from the general."