Death walked in. His assessing gaze took in the book and my relaxed repose. "You met Lady Harcourt." He did not mention my attempted escape.

"She's very nice."

Behind him, Seth and Gus crowded in the doorway.

"I'm hungry," I said.

"I'll fetch you something from the kitchen." Seth trotted off.

"My chamber pot needs emptying," I told Gus.

He screwed up his nose. "Should've offered to get the food." He slid the pan out from beneath the bed and left the room in much less of a hurry than Gus. I was alone with Fitzroy. With Death.

He moved toward the bed, his long, easy strides bringing him close to me much faster than I anticipated. With my heart in my throat, I pulled the pistol out from under the pillow, aimed at his shoulder and fired.

Next thing I knew, he was sitting on top of my thighs, pinning my wrists to the headboard. I bucked but couldn't dislodge him. I went to butt my forehead into his nose, but he dodged the blow. I hawked up a glob of saliva, but before I could spit it into his face, he'd shifted his weight, lifted me, and threw me face down onto the mattress. He resettled his weight on my legs and pressed a hand into my back. He took the pistol off me. Just like that, I was rendered immobile and defenseless. It had been far too easy for him.

"Lady Harcourt will be pleased to have this returned," he drawled.

A grunt was all I could manage.

Footsteps pounded along the corridor and stopped at the door. Gus and Seth's faces peeped around the corner and, seeing their leader in control, they entered the room.

"We heard a gunshot," Gus said, his eyes huge.

"Sir!" Seth cried. "You're bleeding!"

I'd shot him? He'd not shown any signs of pain or even a little discomfort, nor were his movements hindered. He'd attacked me so fast that I'd not seen him coming. I tried to look back at him to see how badly he was hurt, but the angle was too awkward and he pressed his knee into my lower back, locking me in position.

I sucked air through my teeth as the bruises inflicted by Lord Gillingham flared with pain.

"You should tend to it," Seth went on.

"It's nothing." Fitzroy let me go and climbed off the bed. A patch of blood bloomed on his shoulder, but it was hardly a significant amount. "Go." He spoke to the men but didn't take his gaze off me. His eyes were like two pools of black ice.

Gus and Seth exchanged glances then left the room again. They shut the door.

I scooted back up the bed, as far away from him as possible. When it came, his retaliation would be swift and brutal. I braced myself.

"Your hands shook."

I blinked slowly. "Wh-what d'you mean?"

He balanced the weapon on the flat of his palm. "You didn't hesitate and your gaze was focused, but your hands shook. If they'd been steady the bullet would have hit my throat."

I hadn't been aiming for his throat, but his shoulder. My aim had been better than he thought, but not good enough. The bullet must be lodged somewhere in the wall. "You moved. If I didn't hesitate, how did you know I was going to shoot?"

"I can't give away all my secrets."

All? So far, he'd given away nothing. "So I am to remain your prisoner. I have tried escaping, twice today, and yet here I am. What will you do to me?"

Despite his bleeding shoulder, he remained standing. Perhaps he thought sitting was a sign of weakness. "I will not do anything to you, child."

I was beginning to hate it when he called me that. Nobody called me "child" anymore. Not since I was a thirteen year-old girl. "Then you will let me go?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I will wait."

"For what? For Hell to freeze over? Because that's when I'll give you answers, and not before."

"I'm a patient man, Charlie, but the situation requires some urgency. The lives of British citizens are in danger, perhaps the life of the queen herself."

I snorted. "You think that ridiculous fairytale will have me telling you anything?"

"I thought you said you had nothing more to tell me."

Damn. "I don't. You're wasting your time and mine."

"Have an appointment to keep?"

I gave him a withering glare. His expression didn't change from his usual bland one.

"I returned to Clerkenwell today," he said. "I spoke to your friends."

"They're not my friends."

After a moment he said, "I'm glad you realize that. They were quick to tell me what I wanted to know."

"You gave them money."

"Not much."

I folded the book in my arms against my chest. "And what did they tell you?"

"They told me where they think you came from before they met you mere months ago."

"How can they know where I came from?"

Again he hesitated, as if weighing up how much to tell me. "Your accent and a few words you used were more common in the Whitehall area."

"I don't have no accent." So I'd thought. Yet he'd been correct. I'd lived in Whitehall before Clerkenwell.

"I traveled to Whitehall and asked around. A boy matching your description lived there for six months or so. They thought he'd come from Finsbury. Tomorrow I'll send Gus and Seth there to find out about a child who kept his brown hair over his face to hide it." He took a step toward me and lowered his voice. "I will find out where you came from, Charlie, and I when I do, I'll discover how it is you can bring the dead back to life."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I couldn't look away. His gaze held me, pinning me as thoroughly as his body had done moments ago on the bed.

"Here you go," Seth said, carrying a plate of food in. Gus entered behind him.

Fitzroy stepped back and marched out the door. "Follow me. Bring the boy and his books. I see he's already in possession of the spare shirt."

I was too stunned to do anything but follow meekly. Fitzroy had not only dodged the bullet intended for him, but he'd learned more about my past than I'd have liked. And his methods were going to lead him to discover the truth. My only hope was that the further back in time he went, the slower his investigation would become. Gangs broke up, and children died or moved on. And then, of course, he would hit a wall altogether. He would be asking about a boy with hair covering his face, not a girl. My secrets were safe until I chose to reveal them.

If I chose to do so. I didn't believe his silly story about the queen's life being in danger. I certainly didn't want to reanimate the dead for him or his cause, no matter what it was. On the other hand, Lady Harcourt was his ally, in whatever scheme they had in mind, and surely such a fine noblewoman wouldn't want me to do anything wrong.

"Where are we taking him, sir?" Seth's question might as well have fallen on deaf ears. Fitzroy strode ahead, heading down two flights of stairs then swiftly along the corridor that housed the bathroom.

Gus prodded me in the back with the clean chamber pot he still held and I had to trot to keep up with Fitzroy. Finally we reached the end of the long corridor and stopped at a door.

"He's to stay in here until I give further word," Fitzroy said, opening the door.

Seth gasped. "But these are your chambers?"

I was as confused as he and Gus. Why did Fitzroy want me in there instead of the tower room?

"It's larger and more comfortable for two."

"Two, sir? Are you going to remain here?"

"He seems to be able to outwit you both too easily. I'll guard him, from now on."

Seth shuffled his feet and Gus's cheeks colored. I wondered if they would be in more trouble later or if that was the extent of it.

I hugged the book to my chest. He was right. I could trick Seth and Gus, but Fitzroy was too clever to fall for my ruses. On the other hand, he was only one man, and even he needed to sleep. He was not a machine.

He stepped aside and motioned me through the door. I entered and took in my surroundings. It was a large room with a sofa and leather armchairs at one end gathered around a fireplace, and a solid desk at the other. Paintings of country scenes hung on the dark green papered walls. A large freestanding iron candelabra was tucked into the far corner beside a bookshelf that took up almost the entire wall. It reached to the ceiling, and a ladder leaned against it. I stared at it in wonder, amazed at so many books under one roof. I hadn't realized Seth and Gus had left until the door clicked closed.

Fitzroy locked it with a key that he tucked into his waistcoat pocket. "We sleep in there." He indicated a closed door.

"We?" I said on a breath.

"I'll have a trundle brought up for you. Unless you prefer the bed. It doesn't matter to me."

I blinked at him. "I...I am to be held prisoner in here now? With you?"

"I know it's not ideal, but you're too quick-witted for them."

"You were present when I sent them away to shoot you. You fell for my ruse too."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and I suspected he'd known that I was sending Gus and Seth away in order to escape. I suddenly realized how difficult it would be to get out of Lichfield Towers. He may be only one man, but he was efficient, clever and ruthless. I had no doubt he played jailor better than his men, and even better than those at Highgate Police Station. My escape attempts would need to become more sophisticated.

I sat on the armchair near the window and opened my book. Instead of reading, I thought of ways to outwit Death himself.