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almost found myself smiling along with him.
    "Weren't my fault the water got spilled." Gus didn't continue to unbutton his jacket, nor did he do them up again.
    "No, but it was your fault there was still hot water in the pot. You were supposed to empty it."
    Gus gave Seth a rude hand gesture. Seth ignored him and bent to untie me. "Guard the door," he told Gus.
    Gus did. He was a solid man, a wall of brawn that I would never get past without a distraction.
    "Don't think about running off," Seth said. "Death will get you before you even leave the house."
    I tilted my chin. "How will he know I've escaped?"
    "He'll know. He knows everything. That's how we found you."
    "Death's a machine," Gus chimed in. "And like God, too. A god-machine. Don't push him or he'll come down on you like a ton of bibles."
    "He probably knows you just said that," Seth said with a wink at me.
    Gus swallowed heavily and glanced around the ceiling, as if looking for the god-machine himself up there.
    With my hands and ankles finally free, I felt more human. I stood and walked around the room, checking the drawers in the dresser—they were empty—and looking out the window. Definitely too far to climb down.
    "Go get the water," Seth said. "I'll fetch him something to eat."
    Gus narrowed his eyes at me. "He'll escape."
    Seth grinned and pulled a key out of his waistcoat pocket. "Now, why would he want to leave this comfortable room and return to the sewers anyway?"
    "I didn't live in the sewers," I growled at him.
    "You lived in a cramped, dark cellar that stank like a sewer. You're better off here, lad. Don't forget it."
    "Do I have my freedom here?" I snapped. "Can I come and go as I please? No? Doesn't seem like I'm better off."
    Seth's mouth flattened into a sympathetic grimace. Gus shook his head and opened the door. The two of them filed out and quickly shut it again. The lock tumbled and I was left alone.
    I suddenly felt weary to the bone. I stared at the bed, so soft and inviting. The pillow was plump too, like a cloud. But it was too clean for the likes of me. I didn't want to get any lice on it. Same with the chair. It was upholstered in nice brocade fabric patterned with gray and crimson flowers.
    I stood by the window instead and looked out upon the garden and lawn. Large trees rimmed the edge of the property, and beyond that I could see buildings in one direction and parkland in another. It was a lovely vista, and one I could have happily stared at, yet my stomach wouldn't let me enjoy the view. It churned with worry. The last time I'd been locked away had been the morning before and men had tried to rape me in the police cell. While I didn't think Death and his men had that in store for me, their reasons for abducting me couldn't be good. Nothing associated with my reanimation of dead bodies had turned out to be good, on the two occasions I'd done it. The first time I had been thrown out of my house by my father, and the second time, scary people came looking for me. First the doctor, then Death.
    I sank down onto the floor and drew my knees up to my chest. I had a sickening feeling that I wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long time.
    ***
    Death visited me after I'd washed and eaten. Seth and Gus allowed me to bathe in private when I asked to be left alone. Still, I didn't undress entirely, nor did I put on the clean clothes provided for me. For one thing, the trousers and shirt were too big. For another, I didn't want to get comfortable at Lichfield Towers. If I succumbed to the comforts, I might never want to leave. And I had to leave. Death had something in store for me, the re-animator of corpses. Something I suspected I wanted no part of.
    He stood with his back to the closed door, arms folded across his chest. He'd dispensed with jacket, tie and waistcoat, and the informality made him seem less like a gentleman and more like a wastrel. Indeed, his dark, disheveled looks wouldn't have been out of place on a carnival gypsy.
    "What's