Page 97 of From the Ashes
I cradled his head in my lap, and continued to stroke his hair and watch for signs that he would live. But there was no flutter of eyelashes, no parting of lips, and he remained deathly pale.
"Fool!" the general spat. "He wasn't supposed to set it off yet."
I followed his gaze to the dismembered leg, still clad in trousers and a boot. It belonged to neither Cook, Gus nor Lincoln.
"You orchestrated that explosion?" Marchbank demanded. "Are you mad?"
"We could have all been killed!" Harcourt growled.
"Idiots!" the general snapped. "All of you! There can be no battle without casualties, but not once did I putyourlives in danger. Only those who are expendable."
"Lincoln is not expendable!" Lady Harcourt screamed.
The general's face fell. His gaze softened as he looked at Lincoln. "Something went wrong. The explosion shouldn't have gone off yet. It was too soon. Too damned soon."
"You tried to kill Charlie in the dining room," Seth snarled, pulling hard on Eastbrooke's arms.
The older man winced. "She's a danger to society! Every single one of you knows it. Even you, Vickers."
Buchanan wound up his fist to punch the general, but he moved and hit Seth's jaw instead. Seth fell back and must have loosened his grip. The general muscled free and scooped up the gun I recognized as Lincoln's from the floor. He aimed it at me.
"Damned idiot, Buchanan," Seth snapped, rubbing his jaw. He went to raise the gun, but the general aimed his at me. Seth swore and lowered his weapon.
The imp straightened and stretched tall again.
Eastbrooke eyed it with a mixture of fear and wonder. "It only saves you, doesn't it?" With a derisive snort, he aimed the gun at Gus, now coughing and spluttering on the floor. Blood dampened his shirt at his waist.
Cook sat up, swayed, and rubbed his eyes. He quickly took in the situation and tried to come toward me, but the general ordered him to stay.
"All of you stay," he said. "Or Iwillkill him."
"What do you think will happen?" I asked. "You think Lincoln will treat you like a father after this? You truly are mad if you believe that."
"You've turned his head." He momentarily aimed the gun at me before pointing it at Gus again.
I closed my eyes and muttered a prayer, a familiar one from my childhood that I hadn't recited in so long.
"That's why he agreed to the committee's vote to end his tenure as leader," he went on. "Because of you. Because he thinks it's what you want. He won't listen to anyone else."
"Why do you want him to be the leader so desperately? Because of an ancient prophecy, the origins of which no one can trace?"
"Forget the prophecy. I want him to be leader because it's who he is. It's part of him, like being an army man is part of me, and a necromancer is part of you. It's his life, hisessence." His tongue darted out and licked his top lip. "What is he without the ministry?"
My hand stilled on Lincoln's cheek where I'd been absently stroking him. As much as I hated to admit that the general was right, he had a point. Lincoln and the ministry were tied together as much as my necromancy was part of me. While I didn't want to be labeled as a necromancer, or a gutter rat, or an orphan, I couldn't deny that I was all of those things. I was the sum of all my experiences, yet I was so much more, too.
I couldn't let Lincoln give up the ministry leadership for me, no more than he would ask me to stop being a necromancer. He'd tried that and it hadn't worked. He'd learned from his mistakes. It was important that I didn't make the same mistakes now, with him.
"Put the gun down," Seth said calmly. "You don't really want anyone to get hurt."
The general grasped the gun in both hands to steady it. "If you believe that, then you don't know anything. I've killed vast numbers of men, Vickers. More than you'll ever know. I've led my own men into certain death." He choked then wiped his nose and mouth on his shoulder.
"The campaign in Bhutan?" Marchbank asked. "I recall when you returned. You were…a different man."
"Twenty-five years ago. So many dead…my boys. It was supposed to be an easy battle against a weaker foe, but…it was a bloodbath."
"So you wanted to raise them, using a serum," I finished.
"It's too late for them, but not for others. Imagine if we had an army that kept rising and rising again. We wouldn't need fresh soldiers. So many lives could be spared. No more fine young men would be cut down."
