The Last Necromancer

Chapter 9, Part 2

We had to wait a few minutes for the carriage to be brought around. When it stopped, and Seth opened the door, Fitzroy dislodged me from his shoulder onto the bench seat. I bounced and hit my arm against the other side. Before I'd recovered my balance, he'd climbed after me and shut the door.

The coach took off with a jerk. I lunged for the door, but Fitzroy was too quick. He barred it with his arm.

"You're a prick." I sank into the corner and pushed the hairpins that had come loose back in place.

"It's not too late to change your mind," he said. "Help me willingly and you can live at Lichfield Towers under my protection."

I snorted. "You cannot guarantee my safety once he learns what I am. He'll not stop until he catches me."

"Then I'll have to stop him before he catches you."

"How?"

"By killing him."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tore my gaze away from his icy one to stare out the window. We left the Lichfield Towers estate, and drove past Highgate Wood, onto streets lined with shops and taverns. People went about their business, blissfully unaware that a necromancer was in their midst.

"And what will happen to me if you stop him?" I asked. "What will you do with the inconvenient necromancer?"

"I don't know yet. Perhaps I'll employ you as a maid."

"I don't want to be anyone's maid."

"The work won't be too hard."

"I'm not afraid of hard work. I don't want a master. I haven't had one in years, and that's the way I like it."

"Every woman has a master."

"Lady Harcourt doesn't."

"That's different. She's a widow, and a wealthy one at that."

I said nothing as we passed by the Highgate Cemetery gates. The breeze rustled the leaves and it began to rain. A small dog scampered away from the curb, afraid of the horses thundering hooves and the carriage's clattering wheels. Its brown fur was bedraggled and knotted, its eyes weepy as it watched us pass. Sadness welled inside me at the pathetic creature.

"You're taking me to Tufnell Park," I said. "To my father."

He didn't answer.

We continued through Tufnell Park, going nowhere near Father's house. I frowned at Fitzroy, but he stared out the window, his gaze intent yet unseeing. A muscle pulsed in his throat above his collar. It would seem his thoughts had distracted him. Perhaps I should try escaping again.

I waited for the coach to slow, but by the time it did, Fitzroy was once more alert. The time for leaping from the coach had passed.

"This is Whitechapel," I said, looking around.

I'd lived there twice before, including when the Ripper had been doing his worst, but not in this street. It was a narrow lane, paved with uneven stones made slick with slops and rain. There were no shops or taverns, only crumbling, crooked buildings divided into rooms. I knew from experience that those rooms were crammed with as many people that could fit into them as possible. Barefoot children watched us, their hollow faces reminding me of my own. A group of them approached the horses and coach, but Gus's hiss sent them scurrying back.

A woman with a crying baby clamped to her hip emerged from one of the buildings. She put out a hand and mouthed please. Seth tossed her a coin. That only drew out more women, and some men too.