buried my face in Phillipâs shoulder, fighting more tears . I had never felt so lost .
Chapter Eleven
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âWhat were you thinking?â Colonel Worthington asked.
âI wasnât. I thought that was pretty obvious.â I flinched as he gently prodded my hand.
Phillip retreated to a far corner, cradling a brandy snifter and watching us.
Colonel Worthington shook his head. âYouâre lucky you didnât touch him any longer than that. As it is, the burns will heal. Youâll have scars, but you wonât lose any movement of your hands.â
I winked and grinned. âA good thing, in my line of work.â
He glared, but it lacked any real heat.
He chose his next words much more carefully. âWhat would possess you to try and touch Thomason? You had to have known what would happen.â
I ignored the rebuke in his words. He hobbled to the doorway in the back that led to the tiny room he slept in. I craned my neck and saw him rummaging through a chest at the end of the neatly made bed.
I turned away and took a deep breath, stealing myself for a look at my hand. In the firelight, it appeared much worse than it had in the dimness of the museum. The skin was angry and deep red. In some places huge white blisters were forming. Even the tiniest twitch of my fingers sent spears of pain driving up my arm like thin steel skewers. I didnât want to think about what it would feel like when they swelled and burst. I let my head drop to the back of the chair and sighed. Iâd done it this time.
And it hadnât answered a single question. Only added to the already existing list .
Colonel Worthington reentered the room, holding a squat , brown , ceramic pot. Pulling a chair closer, he uncorked it. A noxious smell wafted out and I gagged.
âYou arenât seriously considering putting that on my hands, are you?â
âIt â ll help.â
I could feel the hairs in my nose curling at the scent. âI think it might kill my sense of smell.â
He chuckled, but grasped my wrist. âBeggars canât be choosers.â
I didnât want to relent, but he le ft no room for movement, and I had no desire to jostle my wound any more than I had already . The pain settled into a dull throbbing ache I could feel in my teeth with each heartbeat.
His eyes moved to mine. âThis is going to hurt, but it â ll hur t more if you flinch. Should Phillip hold your arm , or can you sit still?â
I looked between the pot and my hand. The phrase âdiscretion is the better part of valorâ began to have more meaning for me. Without looking at him, I sniffed. âYou might want to have Phillip help just in case.â
Colonel Worthington watched me for a moment, nodded once, and took Phillip aside, telling him what he was planning to do, I assume d . I took the opportunity to study the gross concoction he intended to smear on my hand. It looked like someone had scraped the side of a building clean and mixed it with butter. My stomach protested the proximity of the mess, and I put it as far from me as I could without moving.
I wanted to believe that I would sit, stoic and quiet , while he fixed up my injury, but I knew better. It hurt to twitch a finger, let alone have someone prodding at the flesh. Somehow, I didnât think sitting still was going to be easy.
Colonel Worthington returned a few moments later, Phillip in tow. He looked as if he had been back down to his boilers . Sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip, and he looked green around the edges. Iâm not sure who was more upset , him or me.
â I donât think Iâm cut out for this. I could go get Walter, â Phillip said. Colonel Worthington poked a finger into his back . The closer they came, the shinier Phillipâs face became.
I grunted. âWalter? Really? You already know what Iâm going to say to that.â
His shoulders drooped. âI had to try.â
He