Page 68 of No Man's Land

“You’re making a poultice?” Violet asked, with clear unease.

Lottie nodded. To Alex, she said, “It’ll slow the spread of the infection, and buy you more time.”

“How much time?”

“Half again as much.”

Clearly, that meant something to Alex because he gave a curt nod. Then, remembering his manners, added, “Thank you. Thank you for helping me.”

“I’ll need a vial of live blood,” Lottie said, pulling open a drawer and starting to rummage. “Remember, the ghoul must still be living for the spell to work.”

Josef let ‘spell’ go without comment. Frankly, it was the least of his concerns. “You’re saying we have to track down a ghoul, which could be anywhere in London, andnotkill it but ask nicely for a cup of its blood instead?”

“That’s about the sum of it, yes.” Lottie retrieved a small glass bottle with a cork stopper from the drawer and held it out. Josef took it. “Now, be quiet the pair of you. Vi and I have work to do.”

As she and Violet began pulling jars and implements off shelves and out of drawers, Josef glanced over at Alex where he sat at the table. He looked ashy and exhausted, purpling shadows under his eyes, but he smiled when he caught Josef’s eye and murmured, “Don’t worry. It’ll be a doddle.”

Josef didn’t believe him for a moment.

Chapter Twenty-one

In the end, Violet threw Josef out.

“You’re getting under our feet,” she said, “and we don't need an audience. Come back in an hour. And bring some tea and biscuits when you do.”

Perhaps seeing Josef’s unease at leaving, Alex said, “I'll be all right. We can trust them.”

“More than you can trust each other,” Vi muttered and closed the door in Josef’s face.

He stood staring at the frosted glass for a few moments, considered spending the hour wandering the halls of the museum in search of tea and biscuits, and decided he could do something more useful with his time.

A few minutes later, he was crowding into a third-class carriage at South Kensington and heading straight for theClarion. He had no idea what the day would bring, but he knew one thing for sure: if the ghoul didn’t get them, The Society probably would. Which was why he needed to see May while he had the chance; he needed some insurance.

It was a long twenty minutes, but at last the train rattled into Blackfriars and Josef trotted up the stairs from the station, heading back into the bright morning. After weeks of grey skies, the day had dawned bright and clear. Once, that would have been welcome, but these days, clear skies promised more Gotha incursions. Odd, to think about that. The war felt very far away now that death was stalking him here in London, but the war couldn’t be forgotten. Not by him, nor by anyone. Besides, in a way, this was all part of the war. The slaughter in Europe had woken the ghoul to gorge on the battlefields, and from there they’d spread to London and to who knew how many other cities across the continent.

If the people knewthat…

He mulled over the idea as he pushed open the office door and climbed the stairs to theClarion’s newsroom. The disarray following The Society’s raid had been cleared up, and only the organised chaos of a busy newspaper remained. May, as usual, sat at the heart of it with her head down, reading at her desk. The door to her office stood open, and so Josef didn’t bother to knock.

“May?” he said, when she didn’t immediately notice him. “Can I have a word?”

Her head shot up, eyes widening. “Good God, Joe, you look like something the cat dragged in. What happened?”

He opened his mouth to respond—I've got tangled up with a stupidly noble, lying toff, and we both might be dead by teatime—and said, “Had a close call with one of the Gothas last night.”

“Bloody hell!” May had never been ladylike, nor wanted to be, and Josef relished that enormously. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you all right?” He had the strong impression she wasn’t referring to bumps and bruises. May still thought he was shell-shocked, after all. Well, today hewas, but not for the reasons she imagined.

“Knocked the stuffing out of me,” he admitted, stepping further into her office, and closing the door behind him. “But no damage.”

Her expression remained doubtful, but she waved him towards the visitor’s chair. “Did you get any pictures?”

“Pictures?” Christ, he hadn’t even thought about it. Some journalist he was. “Too dark,” he said. “Sorry.”

Her eyebrows rose. “What’s going on, Joe?”

Too uncomfortable to hold her piercing gaze, he dropped his eyes to the desk instead. Papers sprawled everywhere, and under a sheaf of them, he saw the corner of a photograph poking out. One of his.

“I…” He hesitated over the lie, but the truth was impossible. She’d think he’d gone doolally, and he needed her to trust him. “I need you to publish this in theClarion, not in a pamphlet that half a dozen people will see.” Reaching into his pocket, he set before her the words he’d written. No mention of ghouls, only the mundane horrors of war. The truth people needed to see and hear. It was only a first draft, but it would have to be enough. “I know people won’t like it, but what are we here for if it’s not to tell people things they don’t like?”

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