The Hidden Library

by Heather Lyons

  “Of course.” Nearly out of time, I flip to the first page in my Institute book and write her in to the lobby. The door opens before us. Alice grabs hold of Pan’s leg and drags him forward. “A quarter of an hour, Finn.”

  I give her a small salute. And that’s when the second explosion happens.

  As I hit the wall behind me, my pen goes flying past Alice into the Institute. The door vanishes right as Todd rushes past me, Victor hot on his heels.

  “He has grenades!” my brother shouts.

  I push off the wall and push past the pain. I’m off after them.

  “HELLO, ALICE. HAVE YOU found the right rabbit hole yet?”

  The door and all of the chaos I’ve just left behind vanish as I toss the fiend who attacked Finn across the lobby floor. Standing behind us, wearing a crisp tuxedo much more suited to a fine event such as the gala rather than the lobby of the Institute, is Gabriel Lygari. Or Gabriel Pfeifer, considering. He’s holding something small in his well-manicured hands. Lovingly, like it’s precious to him.

  In between us lies Finn’s editing pen. Bloody hell.

  Mary appears, but from her angle on the stairs, she cannot see Lygari. “Alice! Thank God. I can’t seem to find anybody. I’ve just gotten back from 1865/71CAR-AWLG. Where are Victor and Finn?”

  My teeth clench together. “We have a visitor.”

  By this point, she now has an excellent view of Lygari. Shock and then anger fill her face. “How in the hell did you get in here?”

  It is an excellent question.

  Lygari smiles, his teeth white and yet still tombstone-like all at once. “Some of us are more familiar with rabbit holes than others. Isn’t that right, Alice?”

  The pull of Finn’s pen between us is a siren. Finn and Victor are—I have no idea. Somewhere far away, chasing after Todd. They have no pen to edit back with. And now, here stands a man just earlier tonight we were hunting. There is no surprise at my appearance via a magical door, no awe or terror over things that cannot be easily explained. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” I say coolly, “but I concur with my friend. How is it you found your way into this building?”

  His head tilts to the side; his bright eyes almost appear regretful as he looks at the battered man-child bearing both my blades at my feet. “Sometimes, sacrifices must be made in order for an objective to be met.”

  Silent alarms ring throughout me. Where is everyone? One of our quarries has appeared within our walls, and no one is to be found? A surreptitious glance around proves that we three are the only ones within the elaborate, large lobby. “What are—”

  He extends the object until it settles within his palm, leaving my words lost between us. It is a postcard with an Asian script, featuring a series of cats.

  Prickles of unease send nearly every hair on the back of my neck standing straight up. There were so many cats on the streets I just ran upon. So many. Please, for all that is good in all the Timelines, do not let that be what I think it is.

  Mary immediately pulls out her cell phone and punches at the screen. Near-paralyzing dread fills my belly. This man with two names has hidden a library and altered the shape of his house. What more is he capable of?

  “Are you ready for the next move, Alice?”

  I reach for my daggers, but remember I have none on my person, as they’re in the Pan-boy’s belly. I am weaponless: no gun, no dagger, no nothing. Lygari must be stopped, though. If what he holds is, in fact, a catalyst, then—

  Lygari tsks again and then calmly tears off a corner of the picture-postcard in his hands. The piece flutters to the floor. But to both my and Mary’s amazement, before it touches the gleaming wood, the bit turns to ash.

  “What in the bloody hell!” Mary’s whisper is like the crack of a shot, though.

  Bloody hell indeed.

  Fast as a wink, my hands wrap around a nearby statue of a Greek Muse. It’s black and thin and has protruding edges that will do nicely. But Gabe merely laughs—throaty and amused, warm as honey in tea. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, another piece of the picture-postcard falling to the floor in soft whispers of gray and black. “Let’s see if you can strike me before I finish what I’ve started.”

  Mary’s scream is deafening as she sounds an alarm. I swing the statue toward Lygari right as he drops the remaining shredded pieces of the picture-postcard to the floor and grinds them to dust beneath his feet.

  No!

  An explosion, white and cold and terrifying, sends Mary and me sprawling across the room and into panes of stained glass. Ribbons of colored knives slice through my skin, leaving me dazed as I blink through the smoldering remnants of a once beautiful lobby.

  Gabriel Lygari murmurs, his voice gentle against the ringing in my ears, “It pains me to do that, you know. But it was time.” And then he pulls a musical pipe out of the inside of his coat and plays a few dissonant yet beautiful notes.

  Everything is liquid. I feel like I did for years in Wonderland, drugged. Has he drugged us?

  I struggle to push myself up, but cry out when my hands land upon the spiky jags beneath me. I cannot focus through my injuries. How can that be? Years of training . . . Why can’t I focus? Mary, for her part, does not move from where she lays bleeding nearby. Get up, Alice. You’ve been in worse situations than this before.

  Haven’t I?

  Haven’t I?

  He lowers his pipe. “Nowhere is safe,” the man I regretfully once allowed to press his lips against my neck in a darkened nightclub says. “And no one. Not if I don’t want them to be.” He smiles again, his teeth much too bright in the haze enveloping me. “Not even you. Not even those from the Society who think they can halt what needs to be done. I wanted you to know this tonight. It’s best to stay out of my way unless I seek you out first.”

  “Wha—” Words, garbled. Boys and girls of varying ages, dressed in brown jerkins, dance about me. They lift up the Pan-creature who stabbed Finn and carry him across the room. What magic is this?

  “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Frankenstein,” he continues softly, “were filled with irresponsible characters. Even those who originated from those Timelines resented their stories, did they not?”

  My bones and muscles are useless, even as his words sink in like rusty nails driven in by hammers.

  Glass crunches beneath Lygari’s feet as he turns away; a mournful melody trails his steps. A glowing doorway appears before him, books and shelves, glass cases filled with familiar items fill the distance.

  Bücherei.

  Colors swirl around me, light and bright and dark and heavy. Rage percolates, though. Rage and more sorrow than I thought ever possible.

  The children trail him through the doorway, swaying to the tune as they haul the Pan-boy’s body. Music swells and then falls, and then the doorway disappears.

  Clarity strikes me fast and hard in the new silence. Despite the pain, I am able to push myself up. Crawl on bleeding knees over to Mary. Fingers fumble against her neck. She’s alive. Thank God, she is alive, even though there are new gashes on her head bleeding profusely.

  The wreckage of the lobby swarms with bodies. Nobody can seem to remember much of the evening, to be honest, but one thing is for sure. A catalyst has been destroyed within the Institute’s walls for the first time. They’ve seen enough of these events to know their markers.

  A catalyst has been destroyed.

  Breathing becomes laboriously difficult.

  So many people asking what happened. So many people wondering why they feel like they’ve been asleep for a century. So many people scared, because time is missing for them.

  Van Brunt finds me once I’m upon my feet, and the look in his eyes—the questions, the fear, the assumptions—are nearly too much to bear.

  He asks me about my failures anyway. “What happened?” he barks. “Where are Finn and Victor? Who did this, Ms. Reeve?”

  “They—” I swallow. I must focus, if I am to get through the coming minutes. I m
ust focus, if I am to do what must be done. “They stayed behind to capture Todd. I came ahead with—” And yet, my prisoner is gone. “I must get the doorway opened quickly. Finn was stabbed, and I don’t think it best he continue for much longer.”

  Van Brunt swears softly before he snatches up the Muse statue I’d attempted to use as a weapon earlier. It hurls it across the room in a burst of shouted anger. The hole in the wall it leaves behind is not so small.

  “Gabriel Lygari was here in the lobby. How did he get past your security measures?”

  His attention reverts to me, his eyes glassy. “Lygari? You mean Pfeifer? The rare book collector we were hunting at the gala? He was here?”

  “The very one.”

  The Librarian appears, somber as she surveys our surroundings. When did she return? “What did the catalyst look like, Alice?”

  I tell her, doing my best to remain calm and failing all at once, “It was a picture-postcard. It was . . . Japanese, maybe. It had cats on it and appeared old.”

  Her eyes close. The room around us falls silent. Van Brunt’s fingers curl into fists when he takes in her sorrow.

  I ask what I fear anyway. I ask, “What Timeline was that a catalyst for?” When neither answers me, I shout the question anew.

  “1905/06Sōs-IAAC,” the Librarian tells me, and for the first time in a long time, I do not think she is playing word games with me. “It is for a book about a cat that takes place in Japan in the early Twentieth Century called I Am A Cat.”

  No. No. I stumble backward, my balance lost.

  “Ms. Reeve,” Van Brunt says flatly. “What Timeline are my boys in?”

  I shake my head. They—they could be anywhere. We were in Japan, yes, and there were cats, but . . . but it does not necessarily mean 1905/06Sōs-IAAC. It could—it could be any Timeline. There are thousands of books written about Japan at this time. There—

  My name is said. Hands take hold of me, but I shake them off. Van Brunt asks me again, but I simply shout my denial.

  I would know if Finn was dead. I would sense it, wouldn’t I? My footing would no longer be on firm ground. Gravity would abandon me and I would once more be adrift.

  Marianne weeps openly. Flemming and Holgrave are pale and shaken. Mary is still blissfully unaware of how our world has just been so very horribly altered, and the A.D. is shrill in his insistences about how they need to get her to a hospital immediately.

  “You must go, too.” Van Brunt’s words are hollow. “You’re in bad shape, Ms. Reeve.”

  These words mean nothing to me. I fight for logic. Fight for clarity. “Lygari went through a doorway, into a library.” I turn to the Librarian. “It must be Bücherei. It must be.”

  “You are going nowhere except for the hospital,” Van Brunt is saying. Sirens in the distance grow with each passing second. “There is no time to root through Ms. Lennox’s medical supplies from various Timelines. We first must ensure all are safe and accounted for.” A tiny catch in his voice sounds. “The local doctors will take care of you, Ms. Reeve.”

  “No.” Anxiety crawls up my throat. It’s the only word that makes any sense right now. “No.”

  “Ms. Reeve—”

  “Whatever you are insinuating—you, of all people, should know better than to say it, let alone think it.”

  Van Brunt is undeterred. “Ms. Reeve—”

  I refuse to allow him to vocalize such a cowardly belief. “You are wrong. Know this now. I will never give up on finding him. Never.”

  Van Brunt simply stares at me.

  “Lygari had a magical pipe,” I say coldly. “It is time for us to determine who is capable of altering reality with a musical instrument, and then go after him with all our might. Did you not all claim that the flying boy had pipes with him, as well? It is not a coincidence.”

  Yet he does not address this. Instead, Van Brunt asks brusquely, “Did my sons have their pens with them?”

  Strength, do not fail me now. My knees wobble once more, but I remain strong as I reach down into the rubble. Finn’s pen is miraculously in one piece and yet it is still here, with me and not with him.

  I have to force the words out. “Victor forgot his upstairs.”

  Van Brunt does not query me as to why Finn’s is here at the Institute rather than with him wherever he currently is. But he does not have to, not when it does not matter in the least. Because, without their pens, he is reminding me that Finn and Victor had no way out of 1905/06Sōs-IAAC.

  I cannot accept this.

  I cannot.

  More importantly, I will not.

  The urge to pluck at my hair finally proves irresistible. One by one, tiny golden strands float down as I begin formulating my plan. Lygari will be stopped. He will pay for what he’s done. Todd will, too. He will never have the chance to exit this building again alive. I will find Finn—and Victor. They will be fine.

  He will be fine. Our story is not done.

  I will save him as he saved me.

  “She’s in shock.”

  I blink and the room slowly comes back into focus. There are medical personnel here, examining Mary. There are medical personnel strapping something to my bicep and inspecting the cuts zigzagging up and down forearms. I am sitting, and Van Brunt is no longer standing with me but over where Mary is being placed onto a gurney.

  The Librarian is here, though. She reaches a slim hand out and strokes my bloody head as one of the men in a blue uniform flashes a light in my eyes. And then, before I am placed within the waiting beast of a machine outside alongside a still-sleeping Mary, she leans in and kisses my cheek.

  She whispers, regret and pain and sorrow lining her beautiful face, “I am so sorry, Alice. More than you can imagine. I failed. Remember to trust your instincts.”

  The door shuts behind her. A siren blares above us. I glance at Mary and think savagely: I always do.

  London

  “FINN! HE’S EDITING!”

  Sure enough, Todd is scribbling in a book, all the while hacking his way through the growing yet terrified crowd. People are screaming and it’s chaos once more, but there isn’t time to calm them all down. Victor and I take off after him, pushing our way through the alley.

  I can’t let him edit out. Not after what he’s done.

  I also can’t shoot him. There are too many innocents in the way. I can’t risk hitting anyone—I’m a damn good shot, but even I don’t think I can target him in this crowd, both of us being jostled around by terrified civilians trying to get to safety.

  An explosion goes off right behind us, one that feels different from the rest. I nearly fall, it’s so strong, but dammit, he’s got his door open.

  “Don’t let him get through!” I bark at Victor.

  Another explosion sounds. Bright lights fill the sky; a loud buzzing drowns out any further sound. The earth shakes below us. People are dropping all around us, hands frantically pressed against their ears to stem the pain. Cats howl, their plaintive cries nearly matching the din.

  I think my ears are bleeding, it’s so bad.

  In the confusion, my brother leaps forward, his long arms stretching just far enough to grab a corner of the asshole’s shirt. And then I’m right there with them, hurling ourselves through the doorway and onto the hard, wet, dirty cobblestone street of a deserted alley that reeks of piss and trash. The doorway winks away, and as there are no longer any crowds to stop me, my gun is out.

  Fuck it. The time for talking is done. I give no warning. I shoot the asshole in the shoulder. He roars, dropping his book and pen into a puddle that looks more yellow than anything else. But rather than stopping him like I’d hoped, his rage propels him toward us. Instead of a book, he now wields a dagger pulled from his boots. What the hell? Where did he get that?

  “Gonna slice you pretty boys up, nice and neat!”

  His words are garbled. My ears still hum from the buzzing of the last Timeline.

  “Finn, my gun—I lost it in the fight!” I think Victor in
terjects, and that only solidifies my decision.

  I shoot again, right in his knee. And then in the other knee, so I know he’s in pain. Thank God for silencers.

  He screams and then wobbles, but goddammit, Todd keeps coming at us. What the fuck are these people taking? Are they all high on meth or something? Between blackened teeth, he hisses, “My hands were all over her body. Did your pretty little girl tell you that? Did she tell you how she liked it?”

  Oh. Hell. No.

  My shot runs clean through the middle of Todd’s forehead. He drops to the ground, blood from his arm and legs puddling beneath him as his crazed eyes stare up into the gray, cloud-covered sky. As if on cue, it begins to rain.

  Hearing becomes easier and yet still painful.

  I shoot the fucker again, just to be sure. This time, I aim directly for his heart. The body spasms as my bullet strikes true. That one is for Alice, because he tried to take my heart from me.

  “May I?”

  I pass Victor my gun. He shoots Todd directly in the nuts.

  “That’s,” he says quietly, “for our mother, you sonofabitch.”

  We both stare down at his body, neither of us feeling a single shred of remorse. I can only hope he was lying to me in the end, because the thought of Todd touching Alice in any way makes me want to physically rip him apart with my bare hands. “Too bad you didn’t do that when he was still alive.”

  Victor laughs quietly, but there’s no humor there. He passes me my gun so I can slip it into the holster beneath my coat. When fingers brush against my side, I wince. Shit. With all the adrenaline of the last chase, I’d almost forgotten about how Pan stabbed me. “You lost your gun?”

  He sighs. “Yeah. The arsehole managed to land a good kick.” More sheepishly, “He got me right in the bollocks.”

  “If it’s any consolation, Pan landed the same kick on me.”

  He claps me on the shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s not the best of days for men and their bollocks, is it?”

  God, I love my brother.

  His fingers tighten on my shoulder. “Let’s get back to the Institute. I want to know how this one got out.”