From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(40)

I had never known Lincoln to ramble, and I wasn't sure if his rushed speech could be considered as such. It was out of character, however. "I assume you came to that conclusion in my absence." And fetched me home because of it. If there was one thing that would make Lincoln retrieve me, it would be that. The ministry was, after all, everything to him.

He simply nodded and continued to watch me.

"We know that someone hired Captain Jasper to produce a serum to bring the dead back to life," I said. "Jasper never did make the serum. The man who commissioned him most likely killed him in the holding cell to keep him from talking to us."

He lowered his head, breaking off his unnerving stare. "Agreed."

"The same man contacted both Frankenstein and Drinkwater after hearing they were also trying to reanimate bodies, although his information was incorrect in Drinkwater's case as that wasn't what he was attempting to do. Once he learned that they used magical means, he ended his correspondence. In Frankenstein's case, he left him in peace, presumably because he's not magical, yet he killed Drinkwater, presumably because he is. He also killed Joan Brumley because he heard through Frankenstein that she was a necromancer. He's been trying to kill me too, almost from the moment I revealed myself to be Charlotte Holloway, necromancer."

"He doesn't want to use magic to reanimate the dead," Lincoln went on, looking up again but not with the same intensity in his gaze. "But he does want to reanimate them in some other way."

"And he doesn't want anyone to use supernatural methods to do the same. Because he's afraid of us, perhaps, or dislikes us intensely and is simply murdering out of spite."

"The former reason is more likely than the last," he said. "The fact that the murders only happened after Frankenstein used you would indicate as such."

"My thoughts exactly. He's afraid because he knows what we can do, yet it's the same thing he wants to do. He's afraid we'll do it first and reap the rewards of such a discovery." I extended my hands, palms up, presenting my theory to him. "What do you think?"

"It's possible." He crossed his arms and ankles. "Or he's afraid of not being able to control the reanimations if someone else develops a way of doing it. A magical way."

I nodded slowly, warming to the idea. "That's clever, Lincoln. I think you may be right."

"Financial gain is a very real possibility too."

"Perhaps it's a combination of both." I smiled and his face lifted.

"Charlie," he said quietly.

I held up my hand. I did not want to take the conversation into unchartered and treacherous waters. "The reasons why don't matter yet. What does matter is the who. And that brings us to my next point, and something I've been considering. What if the murderer succeeded in commissioning another doctor after Jasper's death? Perhaps even another military doctor? The military component throws suspicion onto General Eastbrooke."

Lincoln's fingers tapped. "Jasper was dismissed from the army's medical corps by the time he was commissioned, but I agree that a link to Eastbrooke exists there. However, we shouldn't limit ourselves to medical corps doctors."

It would seem he'd followed my train of thought without me having to voice it. Because of his seer's link to me or a more personal one? "So you think we ought to investigate other doctors."

He nodded. "One specializing in hematology and serums, as Jasper went on to do. We'll start at the major hospitals."

"We? Are you suggesting I join you?"

He opened his mouth but paused before saying, "If you'd like."

I got the distinct impression he'd been referring to himself, Seth and Gus in the "we", but I wasn't about to admit that. "I'll be careful, of course," I said, anticipating his response. "I won't allow myself to be seen leaving Lichfield. At the hospitals, you can pretend to be a doctor and I'll be your assistant. Or a journalist, perhaps. Yes, I think that's a better disguise. Blood research is most likely a small field. All the doctors would know one another. They're unlikely to know any journalists."

He inclined his head in an unconvincing nod.

"I can't be cooped up in here forever," I said. "At least this way I'm not being exposed to any of our suspects."

Another incline of his head.

"Shall we start this afternoon?" I asked.

"We'll visit one or two hospitals after lunch." I waited for him to leave, but he merely sat on the edge of the desk as if he were waiting for me to say something. About the case? His birthday gift? Or about his banishment of me?

I got to my feet and he quickly stood too. "I'm finished in here. I'll speak with you after lunch." I turned to go, but his long strides meant he easily beat me to the door.

"I came up here to talk to you," he said, his voice as smoky as his eyes. His hair was pulled back at the nape, but a few strands escaped and dripped over his forehead in black twists.

"We are talking."

"Not about work."

My pulse quickened. "I need more time to think about your gift."

"Not about that either."

"As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing else to talk about." I went to move around him, but he blocked my exit. "Don't," I growled, low and harsh.