The Dark Archive (The Invisible Library Novel)

by Genevieve Cogman

  “Under the cathedral,” Irene quoted to herself, remembering Lord Guantes’s words. “The dark archive . . .”

  “Were any email addresses or other contact details supplied, connected to the project?” Singh asked, frowning. Irene hadn’t expected him to be acquainted with such things, but maybe Vale had updated him on other worlds’ developments. Or maybe there were technological advances going on here of which Irene simply wasn’t aware.

  “Unfortunately not,” Shan Yuan said. “I specifically looked for a way to trace Alberich too, and there was nothing.”

  Kai had remained silent, somehow more formal in his brother’s presence. Now he spoke. “Possibly Madame Sterrington can identify the Barcelona mentioned in those articles, when she arrives. Or her Fae contacts may have heard of this artificial intelligence research.”

  “We can’t share this with her,” Shan Yuan snapped. “Don’t be foolish, Kai. Do you want to see this information spread to more Fae?”

  “She’s extremely well-connected, and the most likely person on this world to give us useful information,” Vale said. “Are you here to help us save your brother’s life, Your Highness, or is this merely your idea of entertainment?”

  Shan Yuan’s eyes flared red, and the flames in the fireplace leapt up in response. “I am not amused by your words, detective. My brother may treat you as a favourite, but I have no such inclination.”

  “Then kindly let us use the information you’ve brought us,” Vale demanded. “I’d hoped you’d display the same broad-mindedness as your brother in putting aside prejudice against the Fae.”

  “I’ve had enough of your insolence.” Shan Yuan rose to his feet. The room became claustrophobic as the temperature rose. “My brother will be safer elsewhere. Kai, we will—”

  At that moment, the door opened as the tea Irene had ordered finally arrived. She’d never been more thankful to see a hot beverage. As the servant bustled about, Shan Yuan was forced to sit, his royal upbringing demanding that shows of emotion be kept strictly private. When they were alone again, the wind had been taken out of his sails enough for Irene to interject.

  “If I might ask you something, Your Highness . . .” Irene began, hoping her tone would soothe his ego.

  “Of course,” Shan Yuan said. Now that his temper had cooled, he seemed glad of the excuse to back down.

  “Could we have more detail on those Sagrada Familia articles?” Irene had recognized the name of the cathedral—designed by Gaudí, the great Spanish architect. In most worlds where the cathedral appeared, it had taken over a century to construct. “The Lord Guantes I met in Guernsey mentioned a cathedral.”

  “It was a collection of media reports, covering a period of two months,” Shan Yuan explained. “At first they simply recorded odd events—strange noises, computer systems in the crypts malfunctioning, lights appearing at unusual times. But the strangeness escalated and the cathedral gained a reputation as a nexus of—well, weirdness. Projections of a hooded monk were seen, loudspeakers ordered visitors to leave at unexpected times, bells were also rung at irregular hours, and strange voices were heard in the archive below the main structure . . . Explanations ranged from hackers to demonic interference to a suggestion that the cathedral’s computer system had become sentient. The final article revealed that the cathedral had been evacuated and placed under guard.”

  “The dark archive,” Irene said softly, to the room this time. “Under the cathedral. Those were his words.”

  “So the cathedral must be connected,” Kai said. “But how? And why?”

  Vale frowned, his expression intent. “Alberich must need somewhere safe to conduct his artificial intelligence experiments. Perhaps Lord Guantes caused the odd goings-on, to claim the Sagrada Familia as a private base of operations for Alberich—his patron? I believe it would fit Lord Guantes’s pattern of behaviour to keep these media reports for his personal amusement.”

  “The archive beneath the cathedral contains physical books and computer data, according to some reports,” Shan Yuan said thoughtfully. “That would make it attractive to Alberich, if his power is also connected to books and libraries, as with Librarians such as Miss Winters. And the world in the reports is both highly computerized and presumably highly chaotic, as needed for his experiments.”

  “Did you discover anything further about the archive—either on the laptop or through your research?” Irene asked.

  “Something, although not as much as I’d like. It actually pre-dates the Sagrada Familia in that world. It was originally a storehouse for the Church—housing dubious materials such as heresies, apocrypha, and the like. When the Sagrada Familia was updated with new technology, the archive was expanded to hold servers and data stores. The equipment there was even further upgraded recently. This coincides chronologically with black market transactions between worlds, on the dark web, trading in extremely rare technology. Perhaps that equipment was suitable for the work described in the project.”

  A dark archive indeed, Irene reflected.

  “That device Lord Guantes used to track you troubles me, Winters,” Vale said. “What if they have more than one of those things? They may have pinpointed your location again.”

  “I’m no more comfortable about it than you,” Irene agreed. “But nobody attacked me last night, when I was hiding with Catherine. Maybe they did only have one—and we have it now. Or if they do have another . . . It’s marked like a traditional compass—so maybe it can point in the right direction to locate me, but no more than that.”

  “I think it only a matter of time before they can triangulate on your current location,” Vale responded. “Your confrontation will make them even more determined. It is entirely possible that another Lord Guantes is on our trail already. Did you discover how long the process takes, Your Highness?”

  “They had it down to a few hours,” Shan Yuan said. “Although that doesn’t include the revived personality coming to terms with their new body and reality, and reconciling any inconvenient memories.”

  “Lady Guantes must be good at those explanations by now,” Irene said grimly. How many “husbands” would she have used up, always seeking the perfect version? What must it be like to see a version of the person you loved degrade and die, multiple times? She thought of that happening to Kai—of losing him, regaining him in such a dreadful way, then losing him again—and repressed a shudder.

  “In that case—” Singh was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come in!”

  A servant entered, suitably anonymous, with watchful eyes. “Sir,” he said quickly, “there’s been a shooting on the doorstep. We brought the victim in and they’re under guard downstairs.”

  “Details?”

  “A woman, madam—Madame Sterrington, of the Universal Exports firm. She had just given her name at the door when someone shot her from a distance. Lung wound, critical condition. A medic is attending to her in the King Charles Room.”

  Vale led the charge with Kai beside him, and the room emptied to follow them.

  As Irene rose, Shan Yuan caught her arm and drew her to one side. “I’d like a private word,” he said quietly.

  “Why shouldn’t your brother hear this?” Irene responded, freeing her arm.

  “He is in danger.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Irene stopped in her tracks, her heart suddenly clenching in panic. “Another danger . . . besides the assassination attempts?”

  “Yes,” Shan Yuan said shortly. “And I believe you genuinely care for him.”

  “Of course I do,” Irene replied. She held back from commenting on his patronizing tone. Next he’d be describing her as a credit to the Library and mean it as a compliment.

  “Good. In that case, leave your job.”

  Irene stared at him blankly. “Explain yourself, sir.”

  Shan Yuan snorted and Irene had a sudden mental image of
flames rolling from his nostrils, like a fictional dragon. He certainly expected people to do his bidding. “Pass the role of treaty representative to some other Librarian. Go back to collecting books. Then Kai can resign his position to some older dragon who’ll do a better job, and he can spend his time more usefully. You’ll both be safer that way.”

  Safer—and apart. “Your lord father, His Majesty Ao Guang, placed Kai in his current position,” Irene said, controlling her anger at his interference. “Isn’t the decision up to him?”

  “If Kai himself requested assignment elsewhere, my lord father would consider it,” Shan Yuan replied. He now spoke with the patience of a man who’d already solved a problem to his own satisfaction. “And if you aren’t the Library representative . . . I doubt Kai would be interested in the dragon representative position.”

  Irene was silent, lost for words, and Shan Yuan nodded. “Consider how much you care about his safety—and make the right decision.”

  “And hide the fact that it was all your idea?” Irene demanded, her throat dry, bitter with murderous fury.

  Shan Yuan shrugged. “If you think it more likely that he’ll resign that way, yes. How many times will you let him risk his life for you?”

  “Kai is an adult and capable of making his own decisions,” Irene spat. “I am not going to lie to him.”

  “You’re barely older than he is, and you are both children,” Shan Yuan snapped back.

  She could feel the heat radiating from him now, even without touching him.

  “Do you want him to remain in danger? Don’t you care about him?” He stepped closer, features so very like Kai’s as he glared at her. “Well? Will you do it?”

  “What will you do if I say no?” Irene demanded. “Will I have a tragic accident, removing me from my position that way? Or will you simply deny everything if I mention it to Kai?”

  “My little brother will certainly believe my word over yours.”

  Irene twisted away from him. “A word of advice, Your Highness. Don’t make threats when your position is weak. My friends are within earshot and witnesses are plentiful. Intrigue is clearly not one of your talents.”

  “And that’s your answer?” he growled.

  Irene curved her lips in a smile. “I will take your suggestion into account when making my future decisions. I thank you for your concern for our safety.” She turned to join the others.

  His voice pursued her. “You already have enough enemies, Irene Winters. This is not a good time to be acquiring more.”

  She was already walking away and didn’t turn back. But his warning about Kai stayed with her, and she couldn’t help wondering if some of what he’d said had been true.

  * * *

  * * *

  The King Charles Room was notable, unsurprisingly given its name, for its huge portrait of Charles II. The monarch dominated the room, looking down cynically while spaniels played around his stockinged calves. Otherwise it was surprisingly bland for an expensive London club, with modern tables and chairs. The very latest ether-lamps ensured the room was brightly lit, despite its lack of windows.

  Sterrington lay unconscious on one of the tables, her upper clothing cut away, and a doctor in the club’s livery was bandaging her chest wound. Irene wondered if many clubs boasted a house medic, or just the government-sponsored ones. Vale was going through the contents of Sterrington’s briefcase on another table, with Singh watching over his shoulder, while Kai and Catherine stood nearby looking strained.

  Kai seized on Irene the moment she entered the room. “Where’s my brother?”

  “He’ll be along in a moment, I think,” Irene said, touching his shoulder. She didn’t want to let go of him. “Situation report, Kai, please.”

  The familiar words visibly settled him. “The bullet went right through Sterrington, so we don’t need to worry about removing it. And some servants are cleaning the doorstep, in case anyone tries to use the blood for unholy purposes.”

  Irene nodded. Every world had its own specific metaphysical inconveniences. “Has Sterrington spoken yet?”

  “No—she was conscious only briefly, and the doctor gave her a sedative.”

  Irene bit back a curse. At least she’d recover. But now they couldn’t ask her about the Sagrada Familia and its possible location.

  “Sterrington may not be able to speak, but her possessions are quite communicative,” Vale commented, not looking up from her papers. “Can we have you over here, Winters?”

  “Of course.” Irene inspected the briefcase. There were papers, handwritten and printed; three fountain pens; a purse; a powder compact; and a copy of today’s Times. “What have you discovered?”

  “Nothing here, except the type of cocaine she preferred.” He nodded to the powder compact. “The papers concern her office’s insurance—she’s been checking her cover following the arson and has reached some interesting conclusions.”

  “She’s come to the same conclusion as our police investigation,” Singh said. “That building was torched for profit. Though the assassination attempts might have been the primary goal; we can’t know for certain. Additional cover was taken out in case of arson, deliberate or accidental, a fortnight ago. The insuring company is Weston Liability—a shell company with a large number of criminal investors.”

  Vale nodded. “And now we come to this letter here. It was in her inner pocket, rather than the briefcase. Do you recognize the handwriting, Winters?”

  Irene took the letter and stared at it. Then the writing snapped into focus and she remembered where she’d seen it before, only a few months ago. “Oh dear,” she said.

  “Ah good, you do. Give me your opinion on it.”

  “Is it the Cardinal’s handwriting?” Kai said eagerly. Sterrington’s patron was incredibly powerful but hugely mysterious.

  “Yes,” Irene replied. “. . . And are you sure we should be reading this, Vale?” She was in no doubt as to its author. Irene had seen multiple documents in the Fae’s own hand during the Paris treaty business. And his spies were everywhere.

  He shrugged. “If we don’t pursue leads, we won’t secure answers.”

  She began to read the letter aloud, noting that Shan Yuan had just entered the room. “‘My dear Sterrington, I am glad to hear that you have the situation under control. I wouldn’t want to think I had favoured an incompetent.’”

  “A mere two sentences and he’s intimidating his subordinates,” Kai said. “I see he hasn’t changed.”

  “He’s very good at intimidation.” Irene remembered a darkened room and the Cardinal’s dark presence. He’d given her an oh-so-calm description of exactly what would happen if she didn’t solve a murder to his liking. She suppressed a shiver and continued reading. “‘Your theory that Lady Guantes is plotting against us seems valid, given the arson attack and other indications. I cannot discover her current patron’s identity, which is not a good sign.’”

  “Why is that suspicious?” Shan Yuan interrupted. “Is patronage now a matter of public record?”

  “Of course not,” Vale answered. “But nothing can be concealed from the Cardinal—supposedly. So keeping this patron hidden must seem highly unusual.”

  “Ah.”

  Irene continued. “‘However, my network has unearthed some intelligence. The lady has been linked to a number of Fae groups involved in technology research and development. Their details are in the appendix.’” Irene caught the sharpening of Shan Yuan’s interest. “‘I’ve recently lost several agents and am therefore concerned that a move against you may actually be a move against me. You’re authorised to take whatever actions you consider necessary to preserve your life—and my interests—and I’ll send assistance as soon as possible.’”

  Irene folded the letter. “His signature follows, then the appendix—though I don’t know any of the names in it.”

  �
��I’ll check the Fae names,” Catherine said, taking the letter. “I might recognize someone.”

  “That’s all. Unless there’s spycraft involved—an encryption code, a cipher in the watermark, or something . . .”

  Shan Yuan turned to his brother. “Kai, your thoughts?”

  “It is a positive that the Cardinal is on our side,” Kai began, then saw his brother’s growing frown and added hastily, “As much as any Fae ever is. And all clues seem to point towards artificial intelligence in some way. However, if the Cardinal is sending more agents here, this London could become increasingly . . . dangerous.”

  The euphemism hung in the air. If the Cardinal considered Lady Guantes to be a serious threat, he’d want to kill her and tear up her organisation root and branch. And God help poor London, caught in the middle.

  “We really need a lead,” Irene said firmly. “Inspector Singh, does the arson insurance fraud offer anything useful?”

  “No,” Singh said with a sigh. “I’m afraid not—in the short term, at least. My opinion on the situation, ma’am, is that you should let your enemies come to you. We know the city—so you’ll have the advantage. And London’s police will be on hand to shut them down.”

  “I disagree.” Vale had a new look in his eyes: the hound on the scent, the hawk who’d spied a rabbit in the long grass. “We have no idea what our adversaries might bring in from other worlds, through these doors that Winters has described. And we do have a lead, based on something most of the attacks have in common.”

  Singh frowned. “Yes, I remember you saying. So what exactly did you find in the Foreign Office reports? The ones your sister provided?”

  “They covered the cerebral control devices, which were present in several incidents. It seems possible that their inventor, Dr. Brabasmus, isn’t even dead. When the local police checked his laboratory, after the explosions that destroyed it, they found a decapitated body. The evidence suggested multiple physical invasions via the cervical spinal canal, and exit wounds via various orifices. The head was thoroughly destroyed. Under the circumstances, at the time, everyone made the logical assumption that the doctor had perished.”