The Invisible Library

by Cogman, Genevieve

  That must be the strychnine. She wouldn’t normally let her mind wander like that.

  ‘Mm, okay,’ she managed to mumble. ‘Thank – thank you. Got to – it was Bradamant, the book’s with Aubrey, not really Aubrey – ’

  Vale exchanged a meaningful glance with Kai. She could guess what they were thinking: She’s still delirious.

  She had to make herself understood.

  Irene closed her eyes for a moment, focused, thought vicious curses down upon Bradamant’s head, and opened her eyes again. ‘Three things,’ she said distinctly. ‘First. The book was posted to Dominic Aubrey. I believe Wyndham must have wanted him to keep it safe from Silver. Second. Bradamant poisoned me. She wants to get the book first. Third. I think Alberich killed Dominic Aubrey before we arrived. Think he was posing as him when we arrived. The only reason he doesn’t have the book yet is because he hasn’t checked Aubrey’s post.’

  Her leg spasmed. She leaned over awkwardly and banged it with her fist. ‘Ow,’ she said.

  Vale and Kai exchanged glances again. She had the feeling that more was being communicated than she could see. Perhaps it was a manly thing. Perhaps it was a dragon thing on one side and a Great Detective thing on the other.

  ‘Could Bradamant be working with Alberich?’ Kai asked. ‘If she poisoned you?’

  Irene shook her head and regretted it. She put her hands on the arms of her chair and struggled to push herself up to a standing position, glaring at Kai when he tried to help her. ‘Bradamant has no clue,’ she snapped. ‘Bradamant is an idiot. Bradamant ran off to get the book . . . I didn’t get to tell her about Alberich and Dominic. I’m not sure she even believed me that Alberich is here. And if he’s still around the British Library when she arrives . . .’ The thought made her throat go dry. She wanted to take some sort of painful and pointed revenge on Bradamant, but she didn’t hate her that much. ‘We have to get there first,’ she said firmly.

  She took a step, and almost fell over.

  Vale caught her elbow and supported her. ‘Miss Winters, you are in no condition to accompany us. You should rest here while Mr Strongrock and I go in search of your errant comrade.’

  ‘While I would normally agree with you,’ Kai said, ‘there are those werewolves.’

  ‘Didn’t you even deal with the werewolves?’ Irene snapped. She was aware that she was being just a little unfair here, but at least presumed allies hadn’t stabbed them in the back while they were trying to do their job. Or their neck. Whatever.

  ‘True,’ Vale said. ‘The werewolves may be a problem. We only inconvenienced them, rather than finishing them off. I have sent for the police, but they will need to reach here first. Perhaps if we—’

  ‘Perhaps if yer what?’ a snarling voice enquired. A ragged figure stood in the open doorway, hair sprouting from his clothes at neck and cuffs, with snarling teeth gaping in his mouth. ‘This time it’s too late for Mr bleedin’ Vale—’

  Kai snatched up the inkwell from the desk, and threw it straight at the werewolf’s face. Ink splattered everywhere, on the varnished floor and the papered walls, but mostly on the werewolf. He had time for a single black-drooling look of surprise before Kai’s kick caught him in the chest and sent him stumbling back into the central hall. Kai followed it up with an elbow blow to the werewolf’s chin, another kick to the back of his knee, and a two-handed smash to the back of his neck.

  The werewolf lay flat in a splatter of drool and ink. Vale half supported, half dragged Irene out of the office and into the main hall. ‘It seems you will have to come with us after all, Miss Winters,’ he said.

  ‘Quick,’ Kai exclaimed, ignoring the general mob of bystanders either shrieking or staring. ‘We need to catch a cab.’

  ‘A cab? My dear fellow, a cab would be far too slow,’ Vale said. ‘We need to get to the roof.’

  ‘The roof?’ Irene said. She was possibly being a bit slow here, but she wasn’t sure that Kai turning into a dragon and flying them there would be much use, unless . . . ‘Oh. Of course. The airships.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Vale said, hurrying her to the stairs. ‘Of course, there may be some problems with mooring subsequently, but it’s our best option.’

  Kai caught up with them, and grabbed Irene’s other elbow to assist in the dragging-her-along-like-a-giant-doll process. ‘I hear more of them coming . . . Which way, Vale?’

  ‘Left at the top,’ Vale instructed. They dashed past two astonished tour groups and turned left, entering a wide gallery full of large glass cases. Here, stuffed hyenas menaced stuffed deer, a giant stuffed polar bear towered over some bored-looking stuffed seals, and a rainbow of stuffed birds sat mournfully among dried flowers.

  ‘Catch them!’ she heard Silver’s voice calling from behind them.

  An utterly blood-chilling howling rose up ahead of them. Panicked visitors fled the room, forcing Irene and the two men to one side as they stampeded out of the far doors.

  ‘Get me a megaphone,’ Irene said quietly to Kai. Her legs were still cramping, and she had to hold on to Vale to stay upright. But she had an idea and this time, just this time, she had the feeling it was going to work. ‘The tour guides have them . . . ’

  Kai grabbed a tour guide as he rushed past, and swiftly relieved him of his megaphone. ‘Will this do?’

  The first werewolf came howling into sight, rounding one of the glass cases. Its head and hands were totally wolflike now, and its clothing was splitting down the seams as it changed shape.

  Irene tried the megaphone. ‘IS THIS THING ON?’ Feedback fuzz echoed in the room.

  The werewolf seemed to laugh. Another one joined it. They were approaching slowly. Clearly they were just as interested in fear as they were in bloodshed.

  ‘Miss Winters,’ Vale began, ‘if you have anything in mind – ’

  Irene held up her hand in apology. Very precisely, she directed the Language through the megaphone, ‘Stuffed creatures, come to life and attack werewolves.’

  The words shook in the air and drew energy from her to make themselves real in the world. It was simple enough to tell a lock to open, or a door to shut. These actions came naturally to those objects, and the universe was glad to oblige. But stuffed animals weren’t in the habit of reanimating to attack things.

  Except now, as Vale looked at her in growing comprehension and Kai smiled a sharp-edged smile, it was coming true.

  The polar bear burst from its case with a silent roar, mouth open to display all those carefully preserved teeth. The glass panes crashed in a waterfall of shards onto the tiled floor, shattering in all directions. The seals came crawling after it, flopping in spasmodic jerks across the floor. Elsewhere in the room, more glass cracked as a flood of creatures fought their way out. A wolf pack staggered forward on stiff legs, and a carefully wired boa constrictor came writhing out of its own case, uncaring of the glass daggers stuck into its sawdust-stuffed body, and even the birds threw themselves at the walls of their cases, struggling on the ends of their wires.

  ‘Dear heavens,’ Vale said. ‘Miss Winters. What have you done?’

  ‘They’ll only attack the werewolves,’ Irene said, tossing the megaphone to one side. It crunched and tinkled as it hit the floor. ‘We need to run while they’re distracted, before Silver gets here.’

  Vale had a good instinct for knowing when to act now and ask questions later. It must be part of being a Great Detective, Irene decided giddily, wondering if the strychnine / curare cocktail was making her delirious. One of the werewolves tried to break away from the attacking mob of otters and crocodiles to get at them, but a persistent baby alligator (Observe the Young of the Species, Only Two Feet Long) chomped on its ankle and dragged it back into the melee.

  Vale navigated confidently though more stairs and corridors, and then they were on the roof. The air outside was smoggy and cold. It hit Irene’s throat and made her cough. Two small airships bobbed on the end of moorings in a darkly ominous sky, hovering perhaps twenty feet above the r
oof of the museum.

  A guard came hurrying towards them. ‘Mr Vale!’ he said, moustache quivering. ‘Now excuse me, sir, I’m sure that you have very urgent business up here, but this is off limits.’

  ‘There is no time for that, man!’ Vale declared. ‘Barricade the doors. There are werewolves at large in the museum. Inspector Singh is bringing a force from Scotland Yard to sweep the place. In the meantime, I require one of your zeppelins to stop the perpetrator before he can escape.’

  The guard’s eyes widened. He stroked his moustache nervously. ‘Is it that urgent, sir?’

  ‘It’s a matter of life and death,’ Vale snapped. ‘Inspector Singh will explain everything when he gets here. Are you with me, man?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the guard declared, nearly snapping his heels together in his enthusiasm. Werewolves and assisting great detectives must be somewhat unusual. He turned to look up at the floating airships, waving an arm. ‘Jenkins! Throw down a ladder, girl, you’ve a run to do!’

  With a certain amount of pushing from below and pulling from above, Irene was assisted up the swaying rope ladder. She decided to be grateful that firstly, she hadn’t just been left behind, and secondly, that she was wearing traditional underpants rather than anything scantier. The rest of her mind was preoccupied with clutching the rope ladder with sweating hands, trying not to fall off and die.

  The pilot was a woman, in canvas and leather clothing – the first that Irene had seen in trousers so far in this alternate. Her goggles were shoved back over a coiled heavy braid of hair and she looked more suspicious than the guard had been. ‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ she said, ‘but I’ll have to see some authorization.’

  ‘My name is Vale,’ Vale announced. ‘I require your assistance to reach the British Library as fast as possible.’

  ‘That and a shilling’ll buy you a pound of onions,’ the woman said. Unimpressed, she leaned back in her seat, a hammock-like sling of leather straps and creaking rubber. ‘Go find some other poor sod to risk their job if you want to chase criminals.’

  Irene considered the possible mental damage of what she was about to do. Librarians were generally supposed to avoid it, because of the risks of imposing on people’s minds, not to mention the universe occasionally backlashing in interesting ways. But they were running out of time. ‘Miss Jenkins—’

  ‘That’s Mrs Jenkins to you,’ the woman snapped. ‘I’m a respectable married woman, I am.’

  ‘Mrs Jenkins,’ Irene continued, switching fluidly into the Language, ‘you perceive that the detective here is showing you reliable and acceptable authorization.’

  Mrs Jenkins frowned, staring at Vale. ‘. . . well, I can’t say as I like it,’ she finally said, ‘but that seems to all be in order. British Library, you said?’

  ‘At once,’ Vale said, with only a quick frown at Irene. ‘There is no time to lose.’

  ‘Very good, sir,’ the woman said. ‘Kindly have you and your friends hang on to the straps further back in the cabin. This is going to be a bumpy ride. The wind’s against us.’

  Irene heard shouting in the background and looked down. Silver was standing on the roof, his cape billowing behind him as he pointed at the zeppelin.

  Kai saw him too and took rapid action, casting off the mooring cable. The whole zeppelin rocked, and Irene had to grab for the straps, but they were moving, jerking away from the museum at the sudden loss of their tether.

  ‘Damn dilettante amateurs,’ Mrs Jenkins muttered, and ran her hands over the controls, flipping two switches and spinning a dial before hauling on a joystick. The zeppelin tilted and jolted into forward motion. ‘Passengers, we are now in the open air and heading for the British Library. Please talk among yourselves while I pilot this damn thing because I don’t like being distracted.’

  ‘Yes,’ Vale said, turning to Irene. ‘We need to talk, Miss Winters.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Irene could think of so many things that Vale might want to discuss that it wasn’t even funny. But she was going to sit down first.

  She decided, as she perched on a ledge which might be a seat, that this sort of transport must be reserved for very small antiques. The compartment was cramped, with hardly enough room for the three of them, let alone the storage of large items. The engine was also incredibly noisy, which was good – Irene didn’t really want Mrs Jenkins listening in on this.

  Vale himself remained standing, holding on to an overhead strap, using the advantage of his height to tower over Irene. Possibly in response, Kai also stayed on his feet, moving over to loom behind Irene’s shoulder supportively.

  Irene wished that they’d both been poisoned too: perhaps then they’d be a bit more understanding about wanting to sit down.

  ‘Miss Winters,’ Vale said, retreating into formality, ‘am I to understand that you have the Fae-like power to glamour and delude the minds of others?’

  Oh. So that was what had disturbed him. ‘No,’ she said, then qualified it with, ‘not precisely. And you’re probably wondering why I didn’t do such a thing before.’

  ‘Or why you suddenly revealed it now, after using it on me without my realizing it,’ Vale suggested, brows drawn together suspiciously.

  Damn. It was a logical suspicion which she’d been hoping that he wouldn’t have. Why did he have to use those qualities that she admired against her? ‘I’m hardly that stupid,’ she said.

  ‘But you might have been that desperate,’ Vale answered. ‘An explanation, if you please.’

  Irene sighed. She’d been hoping to avoid this. ‘All right. You know that I can use the Language to, in blunt terms, make things do things. I can’t change a door from a locked door to an open door, but I can make the lock on a door open itself. There are some subtleties to this, but I hope you’ll understand that I can’t explain everything in full detail and with footnotes. I can get away with telling my superiors that I explained some things to you, but there are limits.’

  ‘You show a sudden high regard for your superiors’ opinion,’ Vale commented.

  She was suddenly furious, his words reviving Bradamant’s taunts on not involving others and doing the job – no matter what. ‘I’m not supposed to be sharing anything with you at all!’ She could feel her control slipping, which just made it worse. She should be handling this dispassionately like a capable Librarian, as Bradamant would have done. She shouldn’t feel this sudden lurch at the thought of ruining any sort of friendship with Vale. She was not supposed to be involved with him at all. With anyone. ‘Standard procedure is getting in and out, leaving no traces. Standard procedure does not involve investigating local murders, going to local receptions, getting involved with local secret societies—’

  ‘Or visiting local detectives,’ Kai put in.

  Or forming friendships, Irene heard behind his words. She wished that she had a spare hatpin to jab into Vale. Or possibly Kai, who wasn’t helping. ‘Standard procedure tends to advise against high-speed chases in borrowed zeppelins, too,’ she said flatly. ‘Bradamant would have told you all this. Perhaps she’s the one you should have been working with from the beginning.’ Yes. Bradamant would never have got so . . . involved. ‘I still don’t understand why your, ah, foretelling urges pointed you at us rather than at her. If you’d been working together, you’d probably have managed to track things down a great deal faster.’

  Vale simply stared down at her. ‘None of this explains your ability to control the minds of others.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Irene tried to think how to explain it. ‘When I use the Language to tell something to do something which is against its nature, the universe resists. This is why those stuffed animals are going to return to that state, probably quite soon. I hope Inspector Singh is there to sort that one out. It’s easy to tell a lock to unlock – these things are in a lock’s nature. It’s much harder to order something to behave in an unnatural manner.’

  ‘Such as having stuffed animals come to life,’ Vale agreed.
>
  ‘Well, that’s only mostly unnatural,’ Irene said. ‘After all, they were once living animals. I couldn’t require a building to jump up and fall on someone, but I could tell a roof tile to come loose. Do you understand me so far?’

  ‘I can see your logic,’ Vale said, clearly interested but also clearly lacking patience. ‘But again, how is this relevant to controlling minds?’

  ‘I can tell someone that they’re perceiving something other than what they’re actually seeing,’ Irene said, wishing that English was better adapted for this sort of discussion. ‘The problem is that the universe resists, as with objects asked to do unnatural things. Specifically, the person’s mind resists, and continually resists until – ’ She paused. ‘Well, some individuals manage better than others, but generally the results aren’t pretty. That’s what I was told in classes. But that’s not the same as what I just did, and it won’t last like a glamour does either.’ She was fairly sure that Mrs Jenkins couldn’t hear this. She certainly hoped so. ‘At the moment, Mrs Jenkins’s mind is telling her that no, she did not see full authorization. When that overcomes my temporary adjustment, probably within the hour, then she will remember everything. But would you rather I’d just let Silver catch us?’

  Vale gave Irene a cold look and glanced out of the window at London beneath them, not deigning to answer.

  Irene propped her elbows on her knees. ‘If the Library told us not to meddle with minds because it was unethical, that might be virtuous. But the fact is, it’s very unreliable. And once the subject regains their memory, it can make a mission so much more dangerous.’ Irene tried not to dwell on her own lack of ethics. Surely she was more than just a book thief? Or was the only real difference between her and Bradamant, that Bradamant looked good in black leather? It was easier to think of herself as a valiant preserver of books when there wasn’t someone looking her in the eyes and questioning that. ‘All I’ve done is applied a very temporary patch.’ She looked up at Vale. ‘Because I couldn’t see any other alternative, and we were in a desperate hurry. As you saw.’