Read The Last Necromancer (Book 1 of the Ministry of Curiosities series) Page 24
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Cook emerged from the rear of the house when we arrived back at Lichfield. He met us near the stables before we pulled to a stop, and lifted his lantern. His eyes widened when he saw me jump down from the driver's seat. They widened even further when he spotted Gus and Seth in the back. He shook Seth's foot.
"Are they…?"
"Asleep," was all Fitzroy said.
"What'll we do with 'em, sir?"
"They can sleep in the stables tonight. The fresh air will do them good."
Cook nodded. "You know about our prisoner?"
"Charlie told me. Is he alive?"
"Aye, but he needs a doctor."
Fitzroy handed the reins to Cook. "Give Charlie anything she needs from the kitchen." To me, he said, "Will you be having a bath now?"
"Bloody hell, yes." My gutter language elicited neither a smile nor a frown.
"Then I'll see you in the morning." He walked off, but I raced after him.
"What are you going to do with Holloway?" I asked.
"Turn him over to the authorities."
I blew out a measured breath. "Oh. Good."
"You assumed I would kill him?"
"I…may have."
"I only kill those who threaten the queen and her family."
"Just the royal family? Not the government, prime minister, or those you care about?"
"I don't care about anyone. I can't afford to."
I halted but he continued. His stark words spun in my head. How could he not care about anyone? Even I'd cared about Holloway, right up until I learned he wasn't my father. In the gangs, there'd always been a boy or two that I'd tried to look out for, simply because I liked their company and didn't want to see them harmed. And in recent days, I'd come to care for Seth and Gus. And Fitzroy, although he didn't seem to want me to.
Perhaps it made it easier for him to do his job if he didn't care. A job that involved protecting England and the royal family from people like Frankenstein, who could do them harm using supernatural methods.
I frowned at his retreating back until he disappeared into the house. Something Frankenstein had said nibbled at the edges of my memory. I'd been so distracted with his declaration of fatherly love, that I'd almost forgotten it. But now his words came flooding back. I wracked my brain, until I finally remembered.
'They think anyone who isn't like them is unnatural, wrong. If that were so, then you would be a monster, and you're not…'
A monster. To some people—perhaps many—I was little better than the creatures Frankenstein had created. I'd been of service to Fitzroy and the ministry, but now Frankenstein was dead and I was no longer needed. What if the decision about my future wasn't merely a matter of whether I would stay on at Lichfield?
What if Fitzroy needed to decide whether I—a necromancer, an abomination—should be allowed to live?