The Forgotten Mountain (The Collectors' Society Book 3)

by Heather Lyons

  If I’ve surprised the Librarian, she does not allow it to show. “You of all people know that anything is possible, Alice.”

  “The obvious connection between the two is the authors.” I rub at my temples; a dull headache has settled in, perhaps from lack of sleep. “Do you know of any other Timelines connected by authors? Perhaps the Janeites?”

  Her head cocks to the side, as if she’s amused by my suppositions. “All of the Janeite council members have pens that allow them to edit into each others’ worlds. None possess the natural ability to move between Timelines without help, but then, it’s a rare ability throughout the worlds.”

  “My books are connected, though. As are all of Finn’s.”

  “They were part of series that go together, yes.”

  I motion toward the books in her hands and those on the table. “And these? Are they part of a series?”

  “I suppose, in the loosest term, one might say they are, but those found in German Tales are typically described as historical legends. Some are even based on historical accounts, including that of the Pied Piper. The brother that spent the most time working on them, Jacob Grimm, considered them to be more scholarly than any found within Children’s and Household Tales.”

  “What do you mean, the Piper’s tale is based on historical accounts?”

  She waves one hand around her head. “Here. In this world. It is said that many children really went missing from Hamelin, Germany, in the late thirteenth-century.” She shrugs lightly. “Then again, an Alice Liddell lived here, too. The fact that something occurred in this world does not prevent it from happening in another.”

  I want to scream in frustration, it’s all so maddening. “Fine. Then what could be the connection between the two series of collections, if not the author? There has to be something that ties them together. Does either share the same story, perhaps, one that’s told in both collections?”

  She says nothing, but the amusement on her face aggravates me. I ought to have known better, coming to the Librarian, expecting clear answers.

  Think, Alice, think.

  “What about . . . characters? Are any featured in both collections?”

  Her lips twitch a bit higher. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  When she adds nothing further, I prompt, my voice tight, “Who is this person or character?”

  “Her name varies a bit, especially when in concern to origins found within this world, but the brothers referred to her as either Mother Hulda or Holle.”

  Why must one have to pull each morsel of information out of this woman? “What kind of person was she?”

  “A magical one, as is expected within such tales.”

  It is not much information to go on, but finally. A connection is made. “How many tales are in these German Legends?”

  “Well over five hundred.”

  Between the two collections, that makes nearly eight hundred. The Grimm’s fairy tale world must be enormous, and chances are, the Piper could be anywhere within them—or any Timeline, really.

  Then again, there is much to be said about Pliny the Elder’s old saying: Home is where the heart is.

  I have nothing to base it on but intuition, but it seems only reasonable to assume The Piper might be hiding within this immense, complex world the Grimm Brothers wrote about. Not only is the villain I hunt most likely there, so are the Wise Women. The Librarian said that while the thirteenth cursed a child, the twelfth was able to lessen the severity. If the thirteenth Wise Woman cursed the sword that cut Finn’s flesh, I must go see her.

  “Alice, a word of caution.”

  I look up to find the Librarian carefully stripping her white gloves off. “Only one?”

  My thinly veiled sarcasm only seems to entertain her. “It ought to be noted that the stories found within the Grimm collections are . . .” She taps on her chin. “Well, let us call them dark. While happy endings occasionally come to pass, so do gruesome ones. Children are eaten by animals, eyes are pecked out by birds, queens die by dancing with hot iron shoes upon their feet. Good often trumps evil, but that does not mean evil is always thoroughly dispatched. Intent makes all the difference.”

  I take a long, measured breath as I study this enigma of a woman. Then I ask, clearly, slowly, “Are you from one of the Grimm’s stories?”

  She laughs delightedly. “You are a curious little thing, aren’t you? But I fear I must disappoint you. I have never been to any Timelines associated with the Grimm Brothers.”

  “Someday,” I say, “you will tell me where you are from, and who you really are.”

  “Today,” she responds lightly, “is not that day. Now, you have much work and planning ahead of you, and I have much research to delve into.” She turns away, back toward a bookshelf next to her desk. “Try not to anger the Wise Women, will you? Sometimes you can be a bit . . . prickly.”

  I suppose it would be unbearably rude to throw one of her books at her head, wouldn’t it?

  I have just crossed the threshold of the office when she calls out. “Oh, and Alice? Remember who you are at all times.”

  I walk away without another word.

  Once I make my way through the myriad of security mazes and measures and am back upstairs, I immediately head to the interrogation room. Inside, I find Van Brunt and Mary situating a still-sleeping Grethel Bunting into a chair.

  “She’ll wake up with the worst crick in the neck,” Mary says cheerfully as she straps the woman’s arms to the chair. She obviously has gotten some sleep herself.

  I tell Van Brunt, “I’m going to edit into 1812GRI-CHT.”

  He looks up from the Piper’s lieutenant to meet my eyes. “One of the Grimm Timelines?”

  “According to the Librarian, it’s where I can find the Wise Women.” I briefly recount what I’ve learned. “While it appears Finn is not following the same trajectory of others inflicted with the transformation enchantment, I cannot stand by, simply waiting to see if he will finally succumb. I do not think we can fight his infection with mere medicine. If magic is what has done this to him, we must assume that it is magic which may cure it.”

  He says quietly, “Agreed.”

  “If 1812GRI-CHT and 1816/18GRI-GT are, in fact, connected as Bunting claims, then such a trip would also provide an excellent opportunity to hunt the Piper on his playing field. It’s not ideal, but there it is.”

  Mary frowns. “But, in a land that is home to hundreds of fairy tales—”

  I tell her, “Nearly eight hundred by my estimation.”

  “—wouldn’t searching for the Piper be akin to hunting for a needle in a haystack?”

  I turn to Van Brunt. “Has anyone in the Society ever edited into a fairy tale world?”

  “None of our active agents have, no.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “That said, it isn’t as if none of us have ever interacted with Timelines associated with collections of stories. I, myself, hail from such a Timeline.” He glances down at the unconscious Grethel Bunting. “If Ms. Bunting’s experiences are anything like those of yours, we still have hours before she wakens. Perhaps we can go to the conference room and discuss this further.”

  “I will go, whether with Society permission or not,” I say.

  “I would have it no other way.”

  On the way to the conference room, Van Brunt expands upon his previous revelation. “The truth of the matter is, growing up, I was not aware of the other stories and characters much. Some, yes—King James I of Scotland, for example. But most of the others . . .” He shrugs, tapping away on his phone. “The others within the collection that comprised The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. were quite diverse, I’m afraid. There were humorous tales, those which were melancholy or picturesque, or those that even served to terrify, like mine. Together, they helped build a world much like any other. If the fairy tale worlds are anything like mine, it’s quite possible that the people you encounter in certain regions may have no knowledge of the others, no matter ho
w popular their tales may be to us in this day and age. Ms. Lennox does have a point. It may be difficult to track one man amongst so very many others.”

  “How many stories originate in Hamelin, though?” I press.

  “An excellent point, Ms. Reeve.”

  “We should still hunt for the Piper on multiple fronts, though,” I say. “As he has been sighted here many times, we must take that into consideration. But it seems too coincidental to ignore that he has hidden away his library, doesn’t it? Libraries do not simply disappear. I cannot help but think he would hide it somewhere he wouldn’t think we could find it. Somewhere like in Timelines such as 1812GRI-CHT and 1816/18GRI-GT. If he’s truly been infiltrating the Institute, he might very well know that we’ve yet to ever go to such a place.”

  “Another excellent point.”

  The conference room, by the time we get there, is already filled. Interestingly enough, though, the Librarian is absent. Van Brunt makes his way to the front. “This meeting will be short. Hopefully everyone has received the communiqués I sent while on the way back from our trip to Connecticut.”

  A quiet murmuring fills the room.

  “By now you know we have captured what may be one of the Piper’s lieutenants. She is still sedated, but once she is coherent, she will be thoroughly interrogated under the guise of truth serum. No stone will be left unturned. Our hand has been forced—the time for gentleness has passed. The risk of further catalyst destructions is too great.”

  The murmuring grows louder, more appreciative.

  He turns to a pair of men sitting on the right side of the table. “Mr. Holgrave, Professor Lidenbrock, assemble a team. You are needed to journey to whence I just was, as John and Paul School for the Exceptionally Gifted has been officially associated with the Piper. While we still do not have concrete proof that the Pied Piper of Hamelin and Gabriel Pfeifer, née Lygari, née Koppenberg are one and the same, I do not hesitate to have us working under that auspice. There is a man there named Mr. Pfriem, one that Grethel Bunting claims is from 1812GRI-CHT. Find out everything you can about him, but be warned, he has a rifle and is not afraid to use it. Mr. Dawkins will send you all the photographs taken from our trip, alongside the building blueprints. I want it searched and its residents identified to the best of your ability. We must know the extent of their capabilities. Please remember that they were able to infiltrate the Institute and weaken us through some kind of hypnotism.”

  “Of course,” Professor Lidenbrock says. If memory serves, Finn has informed me that this man is a great adventurer. Such a mission must surely be ripe for his interests.

  “Mr. Blake.” Van Brunt addresses another man, this one much closer down the table. “Have we had any luck tracking down either F.K. Jenkins or Rosemary Lovett?”

  “Not yet.” Franklin Blake taps his pen against the conference table. A man who loves a good mystery, Blake has always been one of the Society’s better riddle solvers. “And there’s been no sign of either returning to the Ex Libris bookstore.”

  “Keep searching.” Van Brunt turns to Marianne. “Can we be assured that the Institute is clean?”

  She looks up from her laptop. “Indeed. We thoroughly searched the entire building. Once I obtained a live bug, I was able to manipulate a tracking signal to detect the others. Nearly forty others were located, including one in your office and one here in the conference room.”

  His face darkens.

  “All were destroyed save a pair set aside for studying. One was neutralized with liquid nitrogen for the time being. The other is carefully being deconstructed by one of my assistants. Anyone in the lab is under strict instructions that there is to be no speaking of any truths or legitimate Society business during the examination, or any communication of any kind until I return. It’s taking longer than I had hoped to trace the signal, but I am most determined to solve this riddle.”

  “As am I.” He coughs into a hand before falling silent for a moment. And then, standing a bit taller and looking all the more fierce for it, the leader of the Society says, “In the coming days, we must remain vigilant. Treachery the likes we’ve never seen before has come to darken our doorsteps. Our sanctum has been invaded, our secrets stolen, our people compromised. Lives and Timelines have been lost, and there is no guarantee we can stem the bleeding before another is taken. Make no mistake about it: we are at war. We fight not only for ourselves, but for those who will never meet us, who will never know our names. I am asking much of you all. When you joined the Collectors’ Society, you probably could not fathom that someday you would be asked to put your life on the line for those you will never know. And still, I will ask that you stand with me and do so. If you feel you cannot, please do not jeopardize any of our missions or assignments by coming along only to renege when adversary appears. Our goal, as always, is the protection of Timelines. For many years, we have been able to fulfill this by collecting catalysts. Today, though, we must go above and beyond that. We do not have armies at our disposals, nor do we have local law enforcements. We are the only defense many of these worlds have.”

  The A.D. says, “To quote the Bard, ‘We happy, chosen few are a band of brothers and sisters, and will be kicking arse on St. Whatever-The-Bloody Day it was’.”

  “It’s St. Crispin’s Day, you heathen.” Mary regards him blandly. “That’s not even close to the original quote. Your Shakespeare is terrible.”

  He smiles impishly. “Why, thank you.”

  “Now hush,” she says. “I’m rather dazzled here by Van Brunt’s Henry-ish fortitude.”

  Van Brunt’s glare could wither the Queen of Hearts’ roses, it is so heated. “As I was saying, there is a man who appears to not think twice about eradicating Timelines. He has underlings who follow his tenants, vicious ones like Todd who thought nothing better than torturing and killing for pleasure. There are children who may be children in appearance only, who possess the ability to hypnotize and murder. There may be people and beings we have not even dreamed of, waiting and ready to stop us.”

  When the door creaks open and Victor appears, no one turns to look at him, they are so focused on Van Brunt.

  “A possible link between 1812GRI-CHT and 1816/18GRI-GT has been found, one that leads back to the Piper. While several teams will still hunt for him here in this world, at the multiple places of residence we have for him, along with John and Paul School for the Exceptionally Gifted, it is clear that we must also search for him within those worlds. I will be putting together a team to be heading out to do so within the next three hours. No stone must be left unturned.”

  “What happens if we find him?” an older woman asks. I wrack my mind to remember her name. Josey . . . Josephine? No. She prefers Jo. Jo Bhaer. While we’ve had little interaction together during my tenure at the Society, I’ve always admired her outspoken feistiness. “Prior to today,” she continues, “a live capture was preferable.”

  “It is still the directive,” Van Brunt allows, “providing it can be done safely. If not, I urge each and every one of you to consider not only your safety but that of the Timelines. Remain aware that the Pied Piper of Hamelin is infamous for his ability to lull his prey into mindless obedience. So far, we’ve seen this happen with a set of pipes and have personal testimony from Mrs. Carrisford that recordings may have been in use. Furthermore, it appears he has the ability to install some kind of trigger into his victims, causing medical maladies if they attempt to discuss anything concerning him or his agenda. From what we can tell, Ms. Darling is subject to seizures when speaking of her assailant; Mrs. Carrisford to blinding headaches. If you forget that he has this power over any of you for even a second, you risk your downfall. On that note, be wary of any and all weapons the Piper’s associates might carry, especially those that might glow. We have learned that at least some of them are enchanted and have the ability to transform people into what are called the Piper’s Chosen.”

  “Is this what happened to Finn?” Jo Bhaer asks.

&n
bsp; Van Brunt is silent a moment, his eyes tracing the length of the room until they fall upon his other son. “It appears so,” he says without emotion.

  Even now, even though this is what I already know as fact, my stomach plummets from great heights, only to be replaced with cold determination. The rest of the room explodes in anger and astonishment. C. Auguste Dupin asks, “How long until he turns on us? What are we doing to protect our—”

  “Do not. Say. Another. Word.” My words are cool as I force his attention to where I sit. “He has not yet transformed, at least not in the way that Ms. Bunting has described. And he won’t, if I have any say about it.”

  It’s enough to calm the room. But the fool has yet to learn his lesson, because the detective says, red-faced, “You can’t—”

  “Oh,” I say frostily, “but I can. And if I hear about you even entering his room, you will sorely regret the consequences. That is a promise I readily can offer.”

  “Wendy Darling was placed into isolation!” Dupin snaps. “Are we to treat Finn Van Brunt different simply because he is Brom’s son?”

  I’m on my feet when Mary places a hand on my arm. “Wendy Darling sold out our secrets,” she says, “whether willingly or unwillingly. Initially, she was placed in the medical ward due to the seizures overtaking her. Once she was assessed to not be a high-level risk, she was retired to her room to convalesce. The reason you do not see her at this table, you prat, is that when she regained speech, she specifically requested to not be present at any meetings until she could assure whatever has happened to her would not be an issue. Another agent is present with her at all times, as is the case with Finn. Speaking of, Finn has yet to do anything to jeopardize the Institute. Don’t you think the pitchforks are a bit premature?”

  Before the man stupidly opens his mouth again, Van Brunt says darkly, “I suggest you listen to the ladies.”

  It’s finally enough to silence the detective. Still, it leaves me apprehensive. If I leave for 1812GRI-CHT, what is to stop a paranoid agent from attempting to neutralize Finn?