The Dark Archive (The Invisible Library Novel)

by Genevieve Cogman

  “You said . . . decapitated,” Irene murmured, trying to keep her visualizations to black and white—rather than enthusiastic images in pink and red.

  Vale shrugged. “The skull was indeed thoroughly detached. And no firm identification could be made via the teeth. Dentures, alas. But given certain indications in the reports . . . I believe he is alive. What’s more, I can guess at his location this very evening.”

  “The report from Paris?” Singh frowned. “I read that one. It wasn’t what I’d call reliable. The writer said herself that the information was speculative and from a dubious source.”

  “We can’t be certain—but we must investigate.” Vale leaned forward, intent on his train of thought, ignoring the rest of the room. “Tonight Brabasmus has the perfect opportunity to attend an event—unrecognized and unnoticed—and meet a contact from the French government. Apparently, the contact wants the cerebral controllers, Brabasmus wants to sell them, and they will be meeting tonight at the People’s Palace. This is a chance, Winters. If we can take Brabasmus, we can question him about the Guanteses. They’ve made good use of his controllers—so why not his research on harnessing technology to alter the mind? And that avenue leads us to Alberich. Who knows . . . maybe the doctor has even visited his headquarters.”

  The sudden burst of possible hope that seized Irene was almost painful. “What is the People’s Palace, though, and why is it such good cover?”

  “The Grand Technological Exhibition is taking place there tonight,” Singh explained. “It’s that place out by Wood Green—the one they might rename after the Princess of Wales.”

  “Will technological advances actually be on display?” Shan Yuan demanded.

  “That’s the problem, sir. We don’t know what will be there. It changes every year. You see, Your Highness, the Grand Technological Exhibition is an annual celebration for, shall we say, over-enthusiastic men and women of science. The police always attend as it could end with a bonfire, explosions, or even a riot. I’ve seen giant robots bounce through the streets—and once half the drains in London ran pink and grew fluorite crystals. One year, a new underground bullet train destined for Paris went to Edinburgh instead. But a particular favourite of mine, if you can call it that, was the personal glider-suit driven by underarm flamethrowers. You might also see devices for communicating with dolphins, and usually at least half a dozen machines that are supposed to end world hunger and enforce world peace. Those are usually the worst.”

  “Come now, Singh,” Vale said, “your distress seems fresh, but they haven’t held the event in London for five years now.”

  “Maybe so. But after that last occasion, such a thing shouldn’t be allowed anywhere south of the North Pole.”

  “Inspector Singh, do you also think Dr. Brabasmus might be there?” Irene asked, trying to steer the conversation back.

  “I’m not sure, ma’am,” Singh said slowly. “Certainly it’s where all London’s leading scientists will be tonight. So it’s possible. It’s also possible that—based on the past record of some in this room, and naming no names—it’s the very last place we should go. We could end up with London in flames, flooded, and under attack, with an earthquake splitting the city from top to bottom.”

  It was awkward when people started making judgements based on one’s past record. Especially when they had a point. “Are you sure this is worth our time, Vale?” Irene asked.

  “Winters, I would hardly have mentioned it if I didn’t think it was worth trying,” Vale said impatiently, practically vibrating with a febrile keenness. “These cerebral controllers link several of the attacks upon us. We have few leads to follow, so I think we must pursue any and all that present themselves.” He gave a nod to Shan Yuan, who returned it. “The French report tells us that the rendezvous between Dr. Brabasmus and his contact is scheduled for eleven o’clock, somewhere in the building. With the three of us to quarter the place in advance and find them . . .” His gesture took in Irene and Kai. “We could apprehend Brabasmus and find out what he knows! And who is his contact, the person he’s meeting there? This could also be of interest.”

  “I dislike this option,” Singh muttered. “We’ve known each other for years, and I’m telling you that I’m not convinced. I’m unwilling to hazard your lives, based on this one report. It could be a trap. It’s certainly not safe.”

  Irene looked at Kai, and he gave her a slight nod. It said that he’d abide by her choice, whatever it was. While Singh might not want to risk them . . . it wasn’t his choice, or his responsibility, and they needed information.

  “Can you arrange disguises and tickets for us?” she asked Singh. It was time to get practical and stop procrastinating.

  * * *

  * * *

  I think I prefer your brother to your sister,” Irene said, staring into the mirror as she adjusted her glamorous blonde wig. She’d seen Kai’s deference to his older brother; the direct approach wouldn’t work. But after their recent clash, Irene needed to know a bit more about Shan Yuan. Did he genuinely care for Kai, or could he have other motives for wanting him to resign? Could he even want Kai’s position for himself? The thought was unsettling.

  “You have a very limited sample size to work from,” Kai muttered from where he was sprawled on the sofa, miraculously not mussing his evening suit. “And that is faint praise, given that Indigo tried to kill us. And betrayed us.”

  “I suppose I’m just glad one of your family wanted to help you out.” Though honestly, Irene wasn’t sure if Shan Yuan was helping. He was quite obviously interested in the artificial intelligence developments. But beyond that, he’d been completely overriding Kai, whenever he tried to speak, for the last few hours. He’d even suggested going back to Kai and Irene’s lodgings “to review the evidence there.” Fortunately everyone had unanimously pointed out why this was a bad idea, as their lodgings were bound to be watched, and spared Kai from having to publicly disagree with him. But in that case, what was he after?

  She watched Kai in the mirror—his familiar posture, his dark hair, his eagerness, his casual precision of movement, all the things that had become so familiar to her in the last year. As her heart softened, she tried not to think about how much Shan Yuan’s suggestion had rattled her. She didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t intend to lose him. And if Shan Yuan thought that he could simply drop a word in her ear and she’d renounce Kai, like a handkerchief-clutching romantic heroine, then Shan Yuan was in for an unpleasant surprise.

  “I didn’t expect him to come here.” Kai had evidently misinterpreted her thoughtful expression. “I thought he’d be content with just giving me the data analysis. I suppose he couldn’t resist seeing the technological marvels it promised, if we can find them.”

  “But they might not even be in this world,” Irene had to point out. “If the process needs to be somewhere high-chaos, as we think, you and your brother couldn’t use your dragon forms there. You’d have to be prepared for that.”

  Kai’s mouth twisted in disgust at the thought. “Any news of Sterrington?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “The surgeon said he didn’t think she’d wake till tomorrow. She’s lucky to have survived.”

  “Do you find it irritating how our antagonists keep on cutting off our sources of information? Sterrington’s contacts could have been helpful—but now, who knows when she’ll be well enough to make use of them.”

  “It’s incredibly frustrating,” Irene agreed. “Vale’s dream is to cross blades with a master criminal, but I’d far rather deal with someone who couldn’t out-think and out-plan me. It makes me worry . . .”

  “Worry about what?” He rose and came to stand behind her.

  “That we’re missing something. I’m concerned about unknown dangers, Kai, as well as the known ones.”

  He stroked her shoulders, his hands warm and reassuring. “Is it Alberich? I know that for a
Librarian there’s no threat quite like him.”

  Irene tried to calm herself. “Yes. Yes, it is him. I’m trying not to panic, Kai. But what am I supposed to feel, now we’ve found out that he wants me—and alive too?”

  “I won’t let him have you.” Kai’s hands tightened on her shoulders, possessive and protective. “Trust me. You’ve always come for me, through all perils and all obstacles. I’ll do the same for you. I’d never leave you to him. Do you have faith in me?”

  “More than I do in myself.” Irene put her hands on his, grateful for his touch, drawing comfort from having someone she could depend on without limits. She didn’t always have to be the strong one. We can be strong for each other.

  For a few moments they just shared the silence, feeling their closeness.

  Then Kai released her shoulders, with one last fond squeeze, and adjusted her wig. “Blonde really isn’t your colour, though I like that purple dress. It’s a good thing attendees to this exhibition are supposed to be masked.”

  “I’m not trying to look beautiful—I’m trying to look unrecognizable. And if we weren’t wearing masks, you’d be the one with the problem—given how easy it is to recognize a dragon, when you know how to spot one.”

  “You could have taken me in there in heavy make-up, disguised as your latest biomechanical experiment,” he suggested lightly.

  “That would have been interesting.” She appreciated his efforts to distract her, but she was too keyed-up for the evening ahead. “I realize that we’re depending on luck to some extent, hoping this lead will pay off. But we’re running out of time.”

  “Vale’s on the scent,” Kai reassured her. “He’s in the sort of mood where he’d spend a week in disguise, staking out an opium den, in the hope of spotting something relevant.”

  “And I’m the sort of person who’d open a locked door, in the middle of a dangerous mission, just to find out what’s on the other side,” Irene said ruefully.

  “Well . . .” Kai looked amused. “If I’d been there, I would have been at your shoulder egging you on, so I can’t cast aspersions. And talking of missions, we should go.” He helped her into her coat.

  Irene couldn’t resist a bit of a dig at his brother, harking back to her previous worries. “I’m glad Shan Yuan’s not insisting on coming with us. I don’t think he has your experience with subterfuge.”

  “No, he hasn’t,” Kai said, sounding distinctly smug at the idea that he might be superior to his older brother. “Probably best we’re not taking Catherine, for the same reason.” Then he added, thoughtfully, “That does mean we have to leave them together . . . although I’m astonished that Shan Yuan’s getting on so well with her.”

  “She is on her best behaviour,” Irene said. The lure of getting a place in the Library was still working.

  “I’m just surprised. Maybe it’s because he’s never actually encountered sensible, cooperative Fae before. If we can put Catherine in that category.”

  “She’s better than most,” Irene said. “But let’s get moving. It’s nearly seven o’clock—and we have an exhibition to attend.”

  CHAPTER 18

  One could compare the road leading up the hillside to the People’s Palace to a river of people. But if so, it was a river that had been dammed and was overflowing, while simultaneously trying to cope with an overdose of pollution. Police attempted to keep the flood moving ever upwards as night fell, while preventing it from spilling out onto the hillside, but people still seemed determined to demonstrate inventions and fight duels under the ether-lamps. Or, more prosaically, to escape to buy snacks from vendors that had sprung up to serve the multitudes.

  Irene was relieved to see that few in the crowded queue were solitary—she’d been worried that the three of them together might stand out. But whether they were associates, enemies, friends, or a retinue of lab assistants, people clumped together in groups as they made their slow way forwards. Occasional attempts to hasten the pace or bypass the queue altogether provided some amusement for those waiting—especially when these attempts went wrong. Irene had spotted chancers with nitrogen-powered rocket boots, hang-glider wings, or extendable stilts. The most successful try so far had been an enterprising chap following his giant tunnelling badger. At least, Irene hoped the attempt had been successful. The huge creature’s “owner” certainly hadn’t been seen since.

  “And you are?” a black-haired woman ahead of them demanded, perhaps bored with her friends’ conversation. She was ostentatiously dressed in a boiler suit and overcoat, as though to flaunt her practicality, but the overcoat was clearly new. Her otherwise utilitarian mask was trimmed with fancy copper filigree, which glinted in the street lights.

  “Dr. Viltred,” Irene said. They’d discussed their cover identities beforehand. “Anne Viltred. Timisoara University. I don’t suppose you’ve read my work on preventing demonic interference in radio transmissions? And these are my colleagues, Drs. Balas and Waechter.” She gestured to Kai, then Vale, both of whom touched their hats politely.

  “Sorry, I’m in bioenergetic amplification,” the woman said with a shrug. “Ingrid Marie-Joseph, professor at the Sorbonne. You must have had quite a trip of it from Romania.”

  “Forward planning helps,” Vale said. Even with his mask off, it would have been near impossible to recognize him. His hair was grey and unruly, matching eyebrows curling over the edge of his mask. His slight Romanian accent was perfect, and his back was hunched in the sort of stoop that could easily have stemmed from decades of bending over experiments. “Though even forward planning couldn’t help with this.” He gestured to the queue ahead of them.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Ingrid said. She checked the watch hanging from her lapel. “The programme isn’t starting for an hour yet.”

  Vale snorted, managing to sound about twenty years older than he was. “And I am expected to wait out here, wasting my precious time—”

  “Utterly abominable,” agreed a man from Ingrid’s group, whose mask resembled a pair of binoculars, with different focusing levers on each lens. His drooping white moustache puffed out with every breath. “I can see that you’re a man with the right priorities, sir. Prudvark here—I’m from the Sorbonne too, for the moment at least, but I work in microphysics . . .”

  His introduction was cut short by a shout, and some pointed as parachutists began to drift down from a Zeppelin overhead. “Trying that trick again,” Prudvark said with a sigh. “One would have thought they’d know better.”

  “Did we miss something?” Kai asked.

  “No, dear, it was two years ago in Helsinki—didn’t you get to that one?” Ingrid didn’t wait for an answer. “That year, the organisers used lasers to prevent queue jumpers—it’s become quite a sport. But they had issued warnings beforehand, and I think at least one person made it to the ground without serious injuries.”

  “And there they go,” Prudvark said, as the parachutists changed vector, blown off course as they descended. “That hill was bound to interfere with wind patterns. What I want to know is what they’ve put in place to prevent intrusions via underground waterways.”

  “But there isn’t an underground river here,” Kai pointed out. As a dragon whose element was water, Irene reflected, he should know.

  Prudvark merely smirked. “That’s what they said in Tokyo, and look what happened there . . .”

  Irene reflected, as the queue shuffled forward, that Inspector Singh might be right to distrust the Grand Technological Exhibition.

  The wide stone steps leading up to the building’s entrance were flanked by uniformed police. They were kept busy monitoring attempts to avoid the checkpoint. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and flash powder as newspaper photographers took constant snapshots of anything interesting or disastrous. They had plenty of material.

  Vale proffered their three highly sought-after tickets when they finally reach
ed the guards, after what felt like years. His sister, Columbine, had supplied them, which guaranteed they were authentic. Even so, Irene couldn’t help feeling the usual prickle of suspense that went with handing over documents under a false identity.

  Of course, the guards here were probably far less dangerous than the guests inside . . .

  “All in order,” said the official, barely looking at them after all that. “Next.”

  The entrance hall was thick with decorative palm trees. Groups of people were dissolving into furiously networking singletons, who then formed new groups. It would have made a splendid demonstration of molecules combining if anyone had been watching from above.

  Irene looked around, orienting herself. “Time to split up. See you in an hour at the theatre.”

  Vale was already strolling away. The twitch of Kai’s mouth indicated just how little he wanted to leave her on her own in this crowd, given the dangers they all faced. But they both knew that splitting up gave them a better chance of hearing something useful. “In an hour,” he said, heading in a deliberately different direction.

  Irene took in the main nave of the People’s Palace, where she stood, a room about three hundred yards long and already full of people. Three shorter corridors branched off from it like the three tines of an E, the middle one ending with a theatre where demonstrations would be held. An ornate dome reared high above, but the arabesque decorations were difficult to make out under the glare of artificial light, and its windows cast no light at this hour. The maze of cellars beneath the palace had been locked and barred for the occasion, which cut down on the area they needed to search.

  The thickness of the crowd was reassuring, in a way. While it might be difficult for Irene to locate anyone in this mob, it would be just as hard for anyone to spot her. Even a werewolf would have problems following her scent here. To Irene’s merely human nose, it already stank of too many people, too many perfumes, and too much sulphuric acid.