From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(47)

He made a strange noise that I suspected would have been a snort if he were capable of drawing breath. In the light of the lamp hanging near the door, I could clearly make out the deathly pallor of his face, almost the same shade of gray as his beard.

"We need your help in combatting a great danger to the country, if not the world," I went on. "If we don't stop this menace, we could be overrun with undead corpses."

Lincoln lifted his brows. Perhaps I was being melodramatic, but there was no time and no point beating around the bush. Besides, it was all entirely true. If our killer succeeded in developing a serum, all of that could come to pass, and more.

"I fail to see what that has to do with me," Mannering said, attempting to lift his arms, one at a time.

"You used to work at Barts, and we believe Dr. Bell, currently of that establishment, is working on a serum to bring the dead back to life."

His lower jaw flopped open and his teeth almost fell out. He slowly managed to lift his hand to push them back in. "Bell? Why would he do such a thing?"

"Someone is paying him."

"Who?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Lincoln said. "You will go to the hospital and search his papers. Look for evidence of private benefactors in ledgers, letters, anything you can find in either his office or his laboratory."

Mannering tilted his head to the side to regard Lincoln. "Why would I do this for you?"

"Because I can make you," I said. "I don't want to, but if it comes to it, I will force you. Please, Mr. Mannering, this is important and urgent. People are dying because of this secret serum, and you are our best hope. It's dangerous for us to gather this information. Someone may get hurt and we wish to avoid that at all costs. You, however, cannot be harmed, and you know the hospital layout well, don't you? You worked there for many years, according to your obituary."

"You saw my obituary? How detailed was it? How much space did it occupy?"

"A good several inches of one column. It was the largest listed for the day. Very eye catching."

His lips inched up at the corners.

"So you're willing to do as we ask?" I said.

"It seems I have no choice in the matter."

Lincoln spent the rest of the journey telling him precisely the sort of paperwork to look for. Mannering spent much of the time attempting to lift both his arms together and by the time we reached the hospital gate, he'd succeeded.

"You will get used to moving your body soon," I told him.

"You've done this before?" he asked.

"A few times, yes."

"What an odd little woman you are."

I gave him a grim smile. Lincoln opened the door. "Good luck," I said.

"Wait." Mannering paused, half out of the carriage. "The gate will be locked, as will the north wing and the laboratory door."

"I'll pick the locks of the gate and north wing," Lincoln said. "As to the laboratory door, break it down. You have the strength."

"Or you could try knocking first," I said. "If Dr. Bell is inside, he'll unlock it. Overpower him without hurting him, then search his laboratory and office."

Lincoln opened the compartment beneath the seat and pulled out a length of coiled rope. He handed it to Mannering. "Tie him up with this."

Mannering's facial muscles jumped and twitched. It reminded me of the convulsive movements of Frankenstein's creations after he electrified them. The cold, damp foggy air drifted through the open door. I shivered and pulled my fur coat closed at my throat.

Mannering took the rope and lumbered toward the gate. Lincoln fetched the blanket from the compartment and laid it across my lap, then he followed the dead man. We'd covered the external coach lamps before leaving Lichfield, but I kept the internal lamp on with the curtains closed. I didn't even dare peek out for fear the light would be seen, and I didn't want to extinguish it altogether.

I heard Lincoln's voice mere minutes later. "Be prepared to leave quickly," he told Seth and Gus, both sitting on the coachman's seat.

Seth responded but I couldn't hear his words and then Lincoln rejoined me inside. I blew out a long, ragged breath, and released my hands. I'd been clutching them so tightly my fingers ached. My relief didn't surprise me, but it did irritate me somewhat. I didn't want to care for his wellbeing as much as I did.

We waited in silence. No sounds came from the direction of the hospital. Occasionally one of the horses snorted or moved, rattling the harness, but even those noises were muffled through the thick fog.

I'd never been very good at waiting. Doing nothing while others worked was an excruciating exercise in patience. It must have been even more difficult for Lincoln, however. Being a man of action meant he rarely had to sit and wait, yet he managed it without fidgeting, sighing or shivering. I failed miserably.

He leaned over and lifted the blanket on my lap higher. "Don't get cold," he said before sitting back again.

I inched the blanket to my chin. It didn't help. The longer I sat, the colder I became. My toes and fingers turned numb and my face felt as if frowning or smiling might crack it. How did Lincoln manage to remain so warm? He looked so…inviting. Mere weeks ago I would have curled up on his lap and nuzzled his throat. He would have wrapped his warm arms around me and—