Page 62 of The Last Necromancer
"You may not need me to lure him out after all."
"Hopefully Holloway will give us the name without coercion, and V.F. will be found easily. If not, you will be required." His thumb and forefinger stroked the brim of his hat, and I suspected he was contemplating saying something else. But then he strode away toward the door, leaving me standing there by the hallstand.
"Mr. Fitzroy," I called. He paused and raised his brows at me. "Can I come with you? To Father's house, I mean."
He lowered his hat and faced me fully. "You wish to speak with him?"
"I…I think so. Yes."
"You don't need to. I'll get the information from him in my own way, if necessary."
I suspected his way meant beating the answer out of him. While I wasn't entirely against the idea, I did want to see my father. And speak to him. It was time, and I had a lot of things to say. "If you intend to scare information out of him, I think you may need me. He won't be too frightened of a mere human, but having the devil's maid in his midst will scare the stuffing out of him. Answers too, I expect."
"Then you'd better fetch your gloves."
***
I recognized the elderly women leaving my father's house with baskets over their arms. They were two of his most devoted parishioners, and a more pious pair never existed. As they passed Fitzroy and me near the front gate, I ducked my head so that I wouldn't be recognized, but I needn't have bothered. They were too intent on their conversation. I caught snippets as they walked away.
"Poor, poor man," one said.
"Will his suffering never end?"
"What has he done to deserve such a life?"
"Excuse me," I called out to them. They stopped and gave me benign smiles. Neither seemed to recognize me. "Has something happened to…Mr. Holloway?"
"The house was burgled last night, poor man," one said.
"While he was asleep upstairs!" the other chimed in with a shake of her head.
"The vicious animal gave him a solid crack on the head too. Poor man."
I bit the inside of my lip. "Is he all right?"
"He has a headache, but he's up and about, thank the good lord. And who are you, dear?" She squinted at me. "You look a little familiar."
"I'm new to the area," I said as I turned away.
One of the women sniffed at my rudeness, then I listened as their footsteps receded. I glanced up at Fitzroy, only to see him already looking down at me.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
"Now more than ever." I needed to check on Father.
The door opened a mere crack upon our knock. Father's face appeared, not the housekeeper's. I'd expected to be taken into a sitting room, where we'd have to wait before seeing him. The delay would have allowed me to calm my jumpy nerves. I wasn't prepared for his skittish gaze to dart between us. It merely flicked over me, as if I didn't matter, and settled on Fitzroy.
"This is not a good time." He went to shut the door, but Fitzroy forced it open with his shoulder. My father stumbled back and we entered. "Who are you? What do you want?" He picked up a heavy book from the hallstand and held it aloft like a weapon. It was a bible.
He sported a gash on his temple. The red, angry cut crossed his frown lines. He looked much older than I remembered. His hair was grayer, the lines deeper, and his shoulders stooped. He hadn't been a young man when I was born, but he looked much older than his fifty-five years.
"Do you recognize me?" I said.
He looked at me again, and this time he actually saw me. And he knew. The mask of horror that descended over his face told me that. His eyes widened, his lips moved without speaking. "You," he choked out. "You."
"Me. Your daughter. I've come to—"
"You're no daughter of mine! Get out! Get out of here, devil's spawn!" He threw the bible.
