want Charlie back.
He lowered his hand from the pane. His palm left a mark on the frosty glass. He pushed off from the windowsill and strode out of the tower room. The house was too quiet. When he'd first arrived at Lichfield Towers, he'd wandered through the halls and rooms, lifting dust covers, checking the plans for the hidden nooks and corridors. He'd learned every inch of every wall, cupboard, and floorboard. It was a grander residence than General Eastbrooke's house and it was all his, according to the property documents. Yet it was nothing more than a pile of bricks and tiles. If it had burned down, he wouldn't have cared.
Until Charlie came. She'd filled it with her small frame and her big eyes, and a spirit that not even the walls could contain. Without her, Lichfield was just bricks and tiles again.
He strode on, unaware of his whereabouts until he found himself outside Charlie's door. It had been locked since her departure, the key kept in his desk drawer. Every time he'd opened the drawer it had reminded him of what he'd done. Sometimes he even remembered why he'd sent her away.
He dug the key from his pocket, having collected it the day before for a reason he could no longer recall. He pushed open her door and drew in a deep breath. Then another.
No one had been inside since Charlie left, not even Doyle. Ashes clogged the grate in the sitting room, and a book lay open on the table by the window. She'd forgotten to pack it. He placed the ribbon marker inside and closed it. He tucked it against his chest and, with another deep breath, headed through to her bedroom.
The dresser drawers stood open, and a few hairpins lay scattered atop the dressing table. All of her clothes were gone except for the boys' trousers and shirt she'd worn that first day she'd come to Lichfield. Everything had changed that day. In a way, he'd known it too. Instinct had told him that the scrawny lad with the lice-ridden hair and bad attitude would be an important part of his life from that day onward. He could never have fathomed in what manner, however. Not then. Even if he'd known she was a girl, he wouldn't have guessed that he would want to marry her within a few short months.
His gut twisted. Nausea rose to his throat. He sat on the unmade bed, suddenly dizzy. From the memories? The misery? No, that couldn't have caused this physical response.
He tried to shut it off, tried to close the lock gates, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. The ability to shut himself off had vanished along with Charlie.
So he allowed the gates to swing wide open. Dizziness swamped him. The room spun around him, unbalancing him. He tilted to the side and fell onto the bed, his cheek on Charlie's pillow. He closed his eyes and reached for the seer's senses he usually kept in check.
He sat bolt upright. His heart pounded a single, loud thud then stopped. He suddenly understood—the sickening feeling in his gut and the dizziness weren't from sadness or regret. They were caused by dread.
Charlie was in danger.
Lincoln had made a monumental mistake.
THE END
Coming soon:
FROM THE ASHES
The 6th book in the Ministry of Curiosities series by C.J. Archer
What will happen when Lincoln and Charlie meet again?
Sign up to C.J.'s newsletter through her website to be notified when she releases FROM THE ASHES.
In the mean time, turn the page to read an extended excerpt of THE WATCHMAKER’S DAUGHTER, the 1st book in the Glass and Steele series, a new historical fantasy from C.J. Archer.
Excerpt of THE WATCHMAKER'S DAUGHTER (Glass and Steele, Book #1)
by C.J. Archer
About THE WATCHMAKER'S DAUGHTER
India Steele is desperate. Her father is dead, her fiancé took her inheritance, and no one will employ her, despite years working for her watchmaker father. Indeed, the other London watchmakers seem frightened of her. Alone, poor, and at the end of her tether, India takes employment with the only person who'll accept her - an enigmatic and mysterious man from America. A man who possesses a strange watch that rejuvenates him when he's ill.
Matthew Glass must find a particular watchmaker, but he won't tell India why any old one won't do. Nor will he tell her what he does back home, and how he can afford to stay in a house in one of London's best streets. So when she reads about