Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(22)

"Did you see who did it?" I asked him.

He nodded. "It was Jimmy. I heard his footsteps in the moment before he closed the door."

"I heard nothing."

He rubbed his thumbs over my knuckles then let me go. "We'll be out soon. Step aside." I expected him to try to break the door down, but he turned to Gordon instead. "Have you regained your strength?"

The white face of Gordon folded into a frown. He tried picking up one of the pig carcasses, but dropped it. He tried again and again, each time lifting it a little higher, until the fourth try when he hefted it over his head.

"Ready." His voice held no trace of the rasping brittleness, and his smile was controlled, certain. He almost looked alive, especially since it was rather a nice smile.

Fitzroy and I moved away from the door. Gordon gave it a tentative push, but when it didn't budge, he ran at it and slammed his shoulder into it. If he could feel pain, it would have hurt. He laughed.

"Will a piece of me fall off if I overdo it, do you think?"

I pressed my lips together to stop myself smiling. It seemed inappropriate to laugh at such a joke, particularly when we were in danger of freezing to death if we didn't get out.

Gordon ran at the door again, using his shoulder as a battering ram. The crack of wood splintering and hinges snapping announced his victory. Lincoln helped him finish the task and set the door aside.

I fetched the candle and was about to ask Gordon to go up the stairs first, but Lincoln was already out the door. I held my breath, but heard no sounds of fighting. I followed Gordon out to the small courtyard. Our horse was missing, and so was Lincoln.

I ran to the gate and spotted him running to the end of the lane. He stopped and signaled us to follow. Gordon lumbered ahead of me, stretching out his legs in giant leaps and once, spinning around on light feet. He grinned at me.

"Care to dance, Miss Charlie?"

I smiled politely. "Perhaps later. We're in rather a hurry." Thank goodness it was too dark for him to see how appalled I was by his suggestion. Dancing with a dead man wasn't my idea of a pleasant way to spend an evening.

"This way," Lincoln said, moving off again as soon as we joined him.

I trotted to keep up. Gordon had no such difficulty. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"To visit Jimmy and Pete." We rounded a corner then hurried down a lane that suddenly turned left and stopped at a high wooden fence. The lane was so narrow in that part that I could stretch my arms wide and almost touch the buildings on either side. Something scurried and scratched in the pile of bottles and newspapers in the corner, but otherwise silence surrounded us as thoroughly as the darkness. The candle had blown out when I'd quickened my pace.

Lincoln pressed his ear to a door in the end building. Gordon joined him, and I stepped closer, but both men shook their heads no. I rolled my eyes but neither would have seen.

"They're in there," Lincoln said, rejoining me. "I can hear Jimmy telling Pete how he saw people in the butcher's cool room, and how one of the dead bodies they'd exhumed was walking and talking. He didn't seem to have recognized me. I think he was too distracted by Thackery to notice much else."

He looked to Gordon. Gordon gave a flat smile. "He sounds upset. His friend doesn't believe him. He called him a soft-headed, yellow-bellied little turd. Pardon my language, miss."

"That's quite all right," I said. "Shall we show Pete that Jimmy isn't soft in the head?"

He rubbed his hand through his hair, dragging out a clump by the roots. He frowned at the limp strands as they fell onto the cobbles. "What will you have me say?"

"Make it clear they know who you are," Lincoln said. "Ask why they dug you up, and who is behind the scheme. If you get a name, find out where he lives. We'll remain out here, hidden."

Lincoln and I kept to the shadows on the far side of the lane. "They can't hurt you, Gordon," I added when he hesitated.

Instead of breaking the door down, he knocked. I wasn't sure that was a good idea, until someone opened the door. With a startled cry, the man on the other side tried to close it again, but Gordon thrust his foot into the gap then forced the door wide. The man inside fell back onto his arse. He scampered across the floor until his back hit a bed, then he slid under it and buried his head beneath his arms.

The second fellow had fallen off a chair at the small table. He gawped up at Gordon, then he too scooted backward. "Get away from me! Devil! Monster!"

"Be quiet," Gordon ordered, stepping into the room. It appeared to be a one-room home with a small cooker, table, one chair and two beds that wouldn't have been long enough for either of the men.

The man under the bed whimpered and curled into a ball. I couldn't see his face, but the other fellow was perhaps my age and was of a sturdy build.

"Who're you?" Gordon asked. "Why did you disturb me?" His voice had taken on a deep harshness that suited the role of dead man come back to life. If I hadn't just seen him dancing along the street, I would have been terrified.

"I'm Pete," said the nearer man. He nodded at his friend under the bed. "That's Jimmy. We didn't mean no harm, sir. Honest to God, we're just poor coves tryin' to make a decent wage. Don't hurt us, sir."

The one under the bed continued to whimper. The occasional word drifted out to me. It sounded like he was praying.