Page 92 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
I cleaned my feet, ensuring the cuts were free of grit, then climbed out of the tub. I dried off but realized I had no clean clothes with me. I wrapped the towel around my body and opened the door.
Lincoln looked up from where he was leaning against the wall opposite and a little down from the bathroom. His gaze heated as it settled on my bare shoulders then moved down to my legs.
"I need clean clothes," I told him as a blush crept up my throat.
His gaze flicked to mine then he quickly turned, presenting me with his back. But not before I saw something I'd never seen before on his face. He looked confused, like he didn't know what to do or say.
I hobbled to my room and quickly dressed before making my way outside again. I didn't get far. Lincoln stood in the corridor, the medical bag in hand. Seth, Gus and Cook stood behind him. When he didn't move, Seth and Gus edged around him. They stood on either side of me, looped their arms behind my back, and carried me to the armchair.
"Sit down," Seth ordered.
I sat, and Lincoln crouched on the floor in front of me. He gently took my foot in his hands and inspected it.
"Did the police arrest Jasper?" I asked Seth.
He nodded and sat on another chair. "He was still in his rooms, dazed from a blow to the head. He sported a rope burn around his throat too, similar to your wrists and ankles. Know anything about that, Charlie?" he asked with a lopsided grin.
"I may. Was he really that dazed?"
"He was. Had a bruise here too." He tapped his temple. "That's quite a punch you must have delivered."
"It was my elbow."
"Ah. Good girl. Elbows are stronger than fists. Clever thinking."
"I wasn't really thinking at all. Not then, and not earlier when I managed to hit Pete. It was instinct."
"Thanks to all that training," Gus said with a decisive nod.
"It be paying off," Cook added.
"Yes." I smiled down at Lincoln, but he wasn't looking at me. "I hope we can resume as soon as possible."
"We can modify training until you're healed," Seth said. "Perhaps some weapons training while you have to stay off your feet."
"Knife throwing," Cook said. "I can show you how from sitting."
"Guns too." Gus rubbed his hands together and blew on the fingers. "I know someone who'll sell me a little muff pistol at a good price."
Seth smacked Gus's shoulder. "The price doesn't matter." He nodded at Lincoln who was now bandaging my foot.
"We can set up targets out back." Cook ran his hand over his shiny head. "One point if she hit a biscuit tin and two for a tea tin."
"If you turn the biscuit tins on their side, they present a narrower target." Seth rubbed his jaw. He hadn't yet shaved, and the pale bristles leant his face a ruggedness it was otherwise missing. "I propose five points for a small tea tin, three points for a biscuit tin on its side and 1 point for when its presented front on."
"You got something smaller than tea?" Gus asked Cook. "We could make that ten points."
Cook nodded thoughtfully. "Tobacco tins be small."
"None of you smoke," I said, laughing.
That didn't seem to concern them. They continued to discuss the best tins for target practice, and how many points each should be worth. They had quite a system arranged by the time Lincoln finished bandaging my foot.
"There are a set of crutches in the attic," he said, rising. "Gus, go fetch them."
Gus obeyed without complaint, and Cook headed out too in search of tins. Seth yawned and sprawled in the chair.
"You've been up all night," I said. "Go get some rest."
