Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(47)

An ancient Chinaman shuffled over to meet us. As with the fellow downstairs, he wore his hair in a long ponytail. His face, however, was quite a shock. It held little more life than Gordon's. The pallor was almost the same, the eyes and cheeks were just as sunken, and the bones at his shoulders protruded through his clothing. The corpse-like figure bowed at us and we bowed back.

"Mr. Lee," Gordon said. "It has been some time since I've been."

Mr. Lee searched Gordon's face for signs of recognition. Either he found some or he thought he must be a friend since he'd greeted him by name, because he ushered us inside. He didn't seem to realize he'd welcomed a dead man in. Now that I was closer, I could see the smokers more clearly. They were from all walks of life; some with English faces, but others different shades of brown, Oriental and one even appeared to be a woman with red hair that fanned out on the pillow like a disheveled aura. She opened her heavy lidded eyes, muttered something, then closed them again and rolled on her side, away from us.

Mr. Lee led us to the table, where a small lamp burned and some pipes had been laid out beside a box. He indicated we should sit, and I realized he was going to prepare us an opium pipe.

I shook my head. "No, no. We're looking for someone. A man." I left Gordon to explain while I moved around the room, checking each face. Of the Englishmen there, none wore spectacles and all were under the effects of opium. If the captain had been there earlier, he wasn't there now.

I rubbed my temple and my fingers came away slippery with sweat. I removed my jacket and slung it over the back of one of the chairs then plopped down on the chair itself. My legs felt heavy, as if they didn't belong to me, and I worried I wouldn't be able to walk out again.

A hand settled on my shoulder, startling me. I jumped, but it was Gordon. Except his hand bore no skin. It was only bone and sinew now. How had he deteriorated so quickly? I blinked and his hand returned to normal. How peculiar.

"Are you all right?" he asked me, frowning.

"I think I'm seeing things."

"Hallucinations. It's the opium doing that to you. You're small and unused to it. It'll affect you easily. We'll go soon."

I nodded again, but wasn't sure how well I managed the motion with such a heavy head.

"There's another room through there." He pointed to a doorway I hadn't seen before. There was no door, only a curtain hanging from a string. "That's where the wealthier customers go. That's where we'll find him."

"Him," I repeated dully. "The captain?"

His hand patted my shoulder then he headed toward the curtain. Mr. Lee settled down onto a floor cushion in the corner of the room and picked up a pipe. He didn't seem to care what we did.

I hauled myself to my feet and followed Gordon. The room beyond the curtain was just as smoky but a lamp burned through the haze, providing more light than the candles in the main room. There was only one bed with one man lying on it, his body so thin that he was almost flat. Another man sat on the bed at his side, his back to us. He held a syringe against the unconscious man's arm. He was going to inject him!

"Stop!" I cried, lunging forward. I lost my balance and Gordon caught me, but I lost sight of the men in the process.

Then someone appeared at my side. Not Gordon. He wore spectacles and seemed quite alert, compared to the opium addicts. The captain! He held up a syringe filled with dark red liquid. Blood?

Bile rose to my throat. I covered my mouth and somehow managed not to vomit.

"Who're you?" the man said in cultured, crisp tones.

"Good evening, Captain," Gordon said.

I'd sunk to my knees at some point, and now looked up to see the man known as the captain stare at Gordon, his jaw slack. He lifted a hand to Gordon's face, but pulled back without touching. Gordon smiled and the captain recoiled altogether.

"My God." The captain shuffled backward and fell on the bed. The figure in it groaned but didn't move. He was still alive, but an air of death hung around him. I could sense it, despite my addled brain.

I got to my feet and lurched to the bed. I rested a hand on the man's chest and felt for a heartbeat. It was terribly weak and slow. He wouldn't last much longer.

"What were you doing to him?" I shouted.

But the captain wasn't listening to me. He was intent on Gordon. He looked as appalled as he was fascinated. "Thackery?" he squeaked. "What trick is this?"

"No trick."

"My god!" The captain set aside the syringe and got up again. "Come here so I can see you. Are you Gordon Thackery's twin?"

Gordon chuckled, and the brittle sound sent a chill down my spine. I was glad I wasn't the focus of his attention at that moment. I was the focus of no one's attention. My legs once again felt too heavy to hold me up, so I sat down on the bed. My foot hit something solid. A bag, like the sort doctors carry. I bent down to inspect its contents but it was whipped away by the captain.

He clutched it to his chest. "Who're you and what do you want?" he snapped at me.

"I want to know what you're doing to these men." I indicated the near-dead fellow on the bed, and Gordon. "Tell us why you're killing them? What are you doing with them? What do you want with them after their death?" A thousand other questions and thoughts flittered through my head like bees, all buzzing about. My mind would see one, run for it and try to grasp it, but the bee would dash off before it could be caught. It was maddening, confusing. I pressed a hand to my forehead.