Page 65 of No Man's Land

Alex made an equivocating gesture with one hand. “I’m no expert. I’d need help, but defined loosely, yes. Medicine.”

“How loosely?”

“More of a…potion.”

Josef raised his eyebrows. “Amagicpotion?”

“You could call it that.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Yes,” Alex said with something approaching amusement. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Josef frowned. “Hold on. If there’s a cure for this, why the fuck weren’t you giving it to the men at the front?”

This time, Alex looked uncomfortable when he met Josef’s eyes. “The Society’s policy is to eliminate the threat rather than attempt a cure that…carries some risks.”

“By ‘eliminate’, you mean kill.”

Without flinching, Alex said, “They believe it’s more effective in controlling the infection.”

“And they make no exceptions,” Josef guessed. “Even for one of their own.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So, if you can’t get help from The Society, who can help us?”

Alex’s expression turned wry, one dark brow lifting. “How do you feel about witches?”

Chapter Twenty

“This is not somewhere I’d expect to find witches.”

They were standing on the pavement outside the Natural History Museum at nine o’clock the following morning. Josef had been all for racing down there immediately, but they’d both been exhausted and filthy, and instead they’d bathed and collapsed into bed ‘for a few minutes’. Three hours later, they’d woken up tangled together with the sun streaming in through the window.

Josef had cursed the wasted time, but he could see that Alex was better for the rest. They both were, although the stiff way Alex moved his arm suggested he was in pain. Neither of them mentioned it.

Taking the steps to the museum two at a time, Alex said, “You need to adjust your expectations; the days of blasted Scottish heaths are long gone. Dr Wolsey is a botanist.”

Josef hurried after him. “The witch is aman?”

At the door, Alex turned with an amused lift of one brow. “Thedoctoris a woman.”

“Right.” Josef felt his cheeks heat. “Of course. Stupid.”

“For your sake,” Alex said as they went inside, “I’ll keep that little slip between ourselves.”

They were met on the other side of the door by an elderly museum guard, moustache bristling as he bustled over with one hand raised in protest. “Beg pardon, gentlemen, but the museum isn’t open yet. Please—”

Alex dipped two fingers into the breast pocket of his coat and produced one of his cards, wafting it beneath the guard’s eyes. “Yes, I’m afraid wearea little early,” he explained with that infuriating self-assurance that wealth and privilege bought men of his class. “Lord Beaumont. Here to see Dr Wolsey.” He pocketed his card and kept walking, Josef doing his best to remain unobtrusive at his side.

The guard hurried to keep up. “Yes, my lord, but I don’t know whether she—”

“Don’t trouble yourself to show us the way,” Alex went on blithely, heading for the sweeping staircase in front of them. “I’m quite familiar with the route. Good morning.”

And up he went, overcoat flaring out behind him. Josef touched his cap to the guard and followed, conscious that Alex was breathing harder than he should have been as he climbed the stairs. How long, he wondered, before it was too late to help him?

At the top, Alex paused, evidently catching his breath before leading Josef away from the public galleries and into a very ordinary corridor that wouldn’t have been out of place in a tax office. Green-painted doors with frosted glass windows lined each side, and Alex stopped outside one, about halfway along the corridor. Taking off his hat, he smoothed down his hair and then knocked. Josef snatched off his own hat and waited.

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