The Last Necromancer

Chapter 11, Part 2

"Tell us about Charlotte Holloway, Lincoln," the general said quickly. "How did you learn the boy Charlie was, in fact, her?"

Fitzroy told them how he'd traced me back through the years, then went on to inform them that I'd seen a man visit my father. He finished by telling them the vicar had revealed the full name of the man they sought.

"Then you know where he lives!" Lord Gillingham said.

"I've not had time to investigate."

Gillingham looked as if he were about to chastise Fitzroy, but a glare from Marchbank kept him quiet.

"Good progress," said the general. "We're very pleased. Having a name at this point is more than we'd hoped for."

Seth and Gus had entered with the tray of tea things during the speech and now served cups to everyone. Seth also took one, but Gus did not. He fell back to the door, removing himself from our presence. Only Gillingham eyed him as if he didn't belong in the parlor. Seth, however, escaped his snobbery.

Lady Harcourt touched my hand. "Your assistance has already proven valuable. Thank you, Charlie, on behalf of not only the ministry, but the entire realm."

"The empire really is in danger from this man?" I asked.

"Yes, unfortunately. If he manages to reanimate an army of superior bodies, then we are all at his mercy."

"He will turn that army on the members of parliament," the general said. "That includes the three of us." He indicated the three gentlemen.

"And the court, too, would be in danger," Lady Harcourt finished. "The queen and her family are vulnerable to an attack from someone intent to do harm."

"How do you know that's his intention? You know him to be a murderer, but committing treason is another crime altogether."

"That is none of your affair," Gillingham snapped. "Leave these matters to your betters. You wouldn't understand them."

"Gillingham!" the general snapped. "You forget that we need the chit's help."

"Do we?" Gillingham drawled. "We have the man's name. Fitzroy doesn't need her to find this Frankenstein fellow. It seems to me we can dispense with her now."

"And leave her for Dr. Frankenstein to capture?"

Gillingham didn't answer. He sipped his tea calmly. I set mine down, unable to swallow it. Fitzroy, who'd not accepted tea, took a seat and addressed me.

"You recall we told you about the woman in Paris, whose letter to V.F. I intercepted," he said.

"I do. Her husband was murdered and you suspected she had a hand in it, or knew the murderer—Dr. Frankenstein, I assume."

He nodded. "Her husband's head was cut open, the brain removed."

My stomach rolled, threatening to toss my lunch onto the rug, but I willed myself not to throw up. Somehow I suspected that would work in Gillingham's favor. "Frankenstein wanted to put his brain into a body made up of parts from others?"

"Superior parts taken from athletes. But it was the brain of Mr. Calthorn that was crucial to his plan."

"Was Mr. Calthorn an intelligent man?"

"Yes, but it wasn't merely his cleverness that Frankenstein wanted. It was Calthorn's knowledge. He was England's spy master."

I gasped. "England has a spy master?"