Page 38 of Grave Expectations
"Why'd she leave?" Gus hopped off the bed again but didn't advance. There was no point. With the door locked, there was no possible escape.
"I don't know. Hopefully Gordon will return before she does."
"Don't hold your breath, Charlie. We could be in the Scottish Highlands, for all we know. If we do escape, how will we get home?"
"I doubt we're that far from London. I don't feel either hungry or thirsty, which means we couldn't have been unconscious for long. I would say we're somewhere in the city."
The lock tumbled again and the door opened. Mrs. Webb came down the stairs, the lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other. I gasped. Gus moved in front of me.
"That's very brave but rather foolish of you, Gus," she said with a smile. "It's not Miss Holloway I plan to shoot. Why would I do that when she's the one who's going to summon my husband?"
"W…what?" he spluttered.
"I'm going to shootyou, you big idiot. Why do you think I went to all that trouble to bring you along? I simply drugged the others, but decided to take you too, in case she refused to do as I asked. Refuse again, Miss Holloway, and I'll shoot him."
"Don't!"
She smiled. She knew she had me. "Move a little away, Gus. You wouldn't want me to miss you and get her now, would you?"
Gus hesitated then hopped to his right until he was well away from me.
"Listen to me, Mrs. Webb." My voice trembled. My heart thundered. We could no longer delay her in the hope that Gordon would return. I had no doubt that she would shoot Gus if I didn't do as she wanted. "Raising a spirit is not safe. It should only be done in extreme circumstances, and only when I can be sure nothing will go wrong."
"Nothing will go wrong. We're good people, Miss Holloway, although you probably don't believe that at this moment."
"You're quite right there."
"My husband was a little eccentric, but all brilliant men are. He helps people. Or he used to, before he died." Her face crumpled before she reigned in her emotions and schooled her features again. "I only wish to punish his killer."
"Killer?" I whispered. "He was murdered?"
She nodded and pointed the gun at Gus. He winced but otherwise went very still. "For no reason at all that I could see. It was horrible. Quite horrible." She placed a hand to her heart before returning it to the pistol again with the other. "I want him to avenge his death, Miss Holloway, and for that, I need you. Only he knows his killer's identity."
I had a very bad feeling about this. How did the widow of a murdered man come to know about necromancers and, in particular, me? "Mrs. Webb, was your husband magical?"
She tilted her head to the side. Her sad smile softened her gaze. "Yes, he is. Was. He can—could—move things just by thinking about it."
I closed my eyes against the nausea rising up my throat, the sick worry settling into my chest. If I summoned him and he entered a body, he might know how to override my control like Estelle Pearson had. But if I didn't do it, Mrs. Webb would shoot Gus.
He swore under his breath. "Don't do it, Charlie. It'll go wrong."
The woman I knew as Mrs. Webb gave an uncharacteristically inelegant snort. "The only thing that will go wrong will be me shooting you, if she doesn't do as I say."
I opened my eyes. "Your name's not Webb, is it?"
"It's Merry Drinkwater."
Drinkwater. One of the murdered supernaturals had been Reginald Drinkwater.
"Merry. Ha!" Gus must have worked it out when I did, because he didn't sound surprised.
"My husband's name is Reginald Rochester Drinkwater." She adjusted her grip on the pistol. "Summon his spirit, Miss Holloway. Now! Or I will shoot."
I swallowed. "Reginald—"
"No!" Gus shuffled toward me.
The gun went off. The shot deafened me for a second. Its echo seemed to reverberate around the walls for an age.
