Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(25)

"Do you know the man Jimmy and Pete referred to as the captain?" Lincoln asked.

"I think so," Gordon said. "If it's him, then I can't say for certain if he is, or was, an army man. I met him after I was invalided out. I use the term 'met' loosely."

"You were suffering the effects of opium at the time," Lincoln suggested.

Gordon nodded. "He would visit me, talk to me, but my memory fails me and I can't recall what was discussed or his name."

"Drat," I muttered.

"I do remember that he gave me something."

"An object?" Lincoln asked.

"A liquid. He would spoon feed it to me."

"How odd," I said. "Was it water, perhaps? Soup?"

"That sounds like the act of a good Samaritan." Gordon's dry, flaky lips flattened. "That doesn't fit with what we know of our grave robber."

"No," I said quietly. "You're right. Do you think he was poisoning you?"

"Possibly. But why? The addiction would have got me anyway."

"Did he visit you at the opium house or at home?" Lincoln asked.

"The opium den. I rarely went home. I lived and died among strangers who profited from my weakness. It's not a noble way to be, Miss Charlie. I hope you never have to see the miserable souls wasting away their lives on the stuff."

"Where is the house?" Lincoln asked, abruptly.

"Lower Pell Lane, off Ratcliffe Highway, at the docks."

"I know it."

I blinked at Lincoln. "How do you know it?"

"I've been there. A Chinaman named Lee is the so-called pharmacist."

Gordon snorted. "He's no pharmacist."

Lincoln didn't elaborate and I doubted I'd get further information out of him. That didn't mean I wouldn't try at a later time.

"What about them?" I pointed to the bodies behind us, squashed ungainly into the back of the small cart. "Do you recognize them from Mr. Lee's den?"

Gordon shook his head. "That doesn't mean they didn't frequent that hell too. I wouldn't have noticed the queen if she'd wandered in wearing a crown."

We pulled up the cemetery gates and deposited the bodies where the groundskeepers couldn't fail to see them in the morning. "I do hope they put the right body back in the right grave," I said, stepping back to inspect our handiwork.

"The extent of the decay on each should help them determine the order in which they were dug up." Lincoln passed his hand over the eyes of one of the corpses to close them. "Thackery?"

Gordon lay down on his back, hands by his sides. He looked quite peaceful. "Ready," he said.

I knelt and touched his hand. It wasn't necessary to do so to release the spirit, but I wanted to give him a connection to the living world right to the end. "Thank you, Gordon. You've been very helpful. Rest easy, now. Return to your afterlife. You are released."

White mist floated up and the now empty body subsided as if it had expelled a deep breath. I closed its eyes then gave the spirit of Gordon Thackery a small smile.

He returned it. "If you ever require my services again, Miss Charlie, please summon me. I'd be happy to help." He waved then his spirit mist dispersed and blew away.

"He's gone," I said rising.

Lincoln held his hand out to me to assist me up into the cart. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." My answer surprised me. I was all right. The experience hadn't been awful at all.

Lincoln climbed up beside me and urged the horse forward.

"Let's hope they stay buried this time," I said, looking back at the bodies. "Do you think the captain will try to retrieve them again?"

"Perhaps. I do know that he'll need to find other diggers. I doubt Jimmy and Pete will venture near the cemetery again for some time."

"Gordon did perform rather well." I chuckled, but it ended with a yawn.

"So did you," he said quietly.

I glanced at him, but he was looking directly ahead. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking at the best of times, but the darkness made it impossible. "Does this mean you'll allow me to do more work for the ministry?"

"If and when required."

"I suppose this makes me Her Majesty's Necromancer." I laughed softly. "It sounds rather grand, if one ignores the macabre nature of it. I wonder what official positions receive? A medal? A sash?"

"A warm fire and soup."

"I prefer hot chocolate."

"I'll make you a cup when we get home."

I rested my head against his shoulder. To my surprise, he neither moved away nor tensed. I closed my eyes and stifled another yawn. "I wonder how many spirits my mother—my real mother, that is—raised."

"We may never know."

"If she's still alive, we can ask her."

He was silent, and I suspected he was trying to decide whether to warn me not to hold out hope of her being alive. I wasn't a fool. I knew she was most likely dead, after all this time, but I still wanted to find out for certain.

"We should make a list of all the London orphanages and cross off the ones we've both visited to save time. We can begin with the one in Kentish Town."