The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(96)

Not that I would experience it for long this time. If I could tie together the sheets and blankets, I wouldn't need Rapunzel's hair. I could simply attach one end to the bed and climb out the window. I glanced at the window and bit my lip. Perhaps not. It was a long way down.

Ugly dropped me onto the bed. I bounced on the mattress and had to suppress a smile before they saw it. The mattress was soft.

"How're we supposed to bathe him up here?" Ugly said.

"I don't need a bath."

"Smelled yourself lately?"

Seth looked me over and I made sure to keep my face dipped so that my hair hid it. "You stink worse than Gus."

"Oi!" Gus protested. "I ain't that bad."

"Besides, our orders are to get you bathed."

My face flushed and I was glad my hair covered it. My filth was a foolish thing to be ashamed of, but I couldn't help it. My mother had been a stickler for cleanliness, scrubbing my skin with carbolic soap and my fingernails with a slice of lemon every day. She would have a fit if she saw the grime that had been deeply ingrained into my nails and skin now.

"Fetch a washstand and bowl of water," Ugly—Gus—said.

"It won't be enough," Seth said. "The water will be black before he's even half clean."

"Take him to the bathroom and fill up the tub."

"The bathroom's two levels down. Besides, Death didn't tell us to take him to the bathroom. He said to bring him here."

"Then what'll we do?"

"A jug of water and a bowl will do me well enough," I said, sitting up. "There's no need to bother with a bath."

Seth jerked his head at Gus. "You get it. I'll strip those rags off him."

"No!"

They both blinked at my vehemence. "Why not?" Gus asked. "You ain't got nothing we ain't seen before. Only smaller." He chuckled as his gaze focused on my crotch.

"You'll be perfectly safe with us," Seth said, somewhat soothingly. "Neither of us care what you look like."

They would if they knew I looked like a girl. "I've got scars. I don't like folk seeing them."

"Me too." Gus began to unbutton his jacket. "I'll show you mine first. Ain't no reason to hide scars. Shows you're a fighter."

"Or careless, in your case." Seth's eyes gleamed with humor. I almost found myself smiling along with him.

"Weren't my fault the water got spilled." Gus didn't continue to unbutton his jacket, nor did he do them up again.

"No, but it was your fault there was still hot water in the pot. You were supposed to empty it."

Gus gave Seth a rude hand gesture. Seth ignored him and bent to untie me. "Guard the door," he told Gus.

Gus did. He was a solid man, a wall of brawn that I would never get past without a distraction.

"Don't think about running off," Seth said. "Death will get you before you even leave the house."

I tilted my chin. "How will he know I've escaped?"

"He'll know. He knows everything. That's how we found you."

"Death's a machine," Gus chimed in. "And like God, too. A god-machine. Don't push him or he'll come down on you like a ton of bibles."

"He probably knows you just said that," Seth said with a wink at me.

Gus swallowed heavily and glanced around the ceiling, as if looking for the god-machine himself up there.

With my hands and ankles finally free, I felt more human. I stood and walked around the room, checking the drawers in the dresser—they were empty—and looking out the window. Definitely too far to climb down.

"Go get the water," Seth said. "I'll fetch him something to eat."

Gus narrowed his eyes at me. "He'll escape."

Seth grinned and pulled a key out of his waistcoat pocket. "Now, why would he want to leave this comfortable room and return to the sewers anyway?"

"I didn't live in the sewers," I growled at him.

"You lived in a cramped, dark cellar that stank like a sewer. You're better off here, lad. Don't forget it."

"Do I have my freedom here?" I snapped. "Can I come and go as I please? No? Doesn't seem like I'm better off."

Seth's mouth flattened into a sympathetic grimace. Gus shook his head and opened the door. The two of them filed out and quickly shut it again. The lock tumbled and I was left alone.

I suddenly felt weary to the bone. I stared at the bed, so soft and inviting. The pillow was plump too, like a cloud. But it was too clean for the likes of me. I didn't want to get any lice on it. Same with the chair. It was upholstered in nice brocade fabric patterned with gray and crimson flowers.

I stood by the window instead and looked out upon the garden and lawn. Large trees rimmed the edge of the property, and beyond that I could see buildings in one direction and parkland in another. It was a lovely vista, and one I could have happily stared at, yet my stomach wouldn't let me enjoy the view. It churned with worry. The last time I'd been locked away had been the morning before and men had tried to rape me in the police cell. While I didn't think Death and his men had that in store for me, their reasons for abducting me couldn't be good. Nothing associated with my reanimation of dead bodies had turned out to be good, on the two occasions I'd done it. The first time I had been thrown out of my house by my father, and the second time, scary people came looking for me. First the doctor, then Death.