The Dark Archive (The Invisible Library Novel)

by Genevieve Cogman

  “I’m interested in staying alive. What can I offer you?”

  He tilted his head like a vulture. “What makes you think I have the slightest interest in your offers?”

  You’re standing here talking to me, Irene thought, so there’s that. If you really could just possess me, and it was that simple, surely you’d already have done it. She took a deep breath. “Alberich . . . I realize you hate me. And I know taking over my body, and using it to destroy everything I’ve ever worked for, would be extremely satisfying. But under the circumstances, I may be more use to you alive than dead.”

  “So what’s your offer?” His gaze was flat and gave nothing away. “Are you going to go down on your knees and beg for mercy? Or are you going to say you’ll be a willing host, if only I’ll let your friends go?”

  “Something a little different.” Irene made herself focus on her act. She had to believe what she was about to say to be perfectly convincing. She had to lie as she’d never lied before. “I’d like to offer you an alternative host, and my assistance in securing it. They’re right here. It’d be easy. I’ll cooperate with you, doing whatever’s necessary—we’d be two Librarians working together, using the Language in tandem.”

  Alberich leaned forward, and she saw the flicker of eagerness in his face—not at her offer of a host, but at her betraying herself like this. He looked as if he was savouring her words, evidence of her willingness to debase herself to stay alive. He might claim his motivation in choosing her was pure pragmatism, but he clearly wanted to see her humbled. “Go on. Which of your friends will you give up? Your student? Your detective? Your lover?”

  “None of them.” Irene’s throat was dry as bone. She forced the words out. “There’s a second dragon here—Shan Yuan, Kai’s brother. He means nothing to me. You can have him. Just let us go.” She could hear the panicked, begging tone that entered her voice as she uttered those last few words—and the humiliation of it coloured her cheeks.

  “It’s true there are two dragons in the archive,” Alberich mused. “Probably incapacitated, given the rising chaos levels . . . And I haven’t tried transferring into a dragon before. But do you really think I could do it, given that dragons are creatures of order?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Irene forced herself to lower her voice, to walk closer and lean on his desk. “You’re the expert at transferring your essence into other people—or even into worlds like this one. Why not a dragon?”

  Alberich leaned back in his chair. “What will your lover say if you hand over his brother, so I can core out his personality like an apple and use his body?”

  “You said it yourself. He’s probably incapacitated, probably unconscious—so afterwards, I can convince him it wasn’t my fault. I’ll think of something to say.” She was talking faster now, desperate to convince him of her sincerity. He’d called her duplicitous—and it was true—but this was her biggest lie yet, against her most dangerous opponent. “How often are you going to get the chance to use a dragon? Wouldn’t the body be more resilient than a human one like mine?”

  Now she could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. But it still wasn’t the thought of a dragon host body that was pleasing him, if indeed he could use one—it was the sight of Irene abandoning all her principles. “And if I let you live, and release you and your friends, you’ll actively help me?”

  Irene swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I’ll draw a new circle for you, I’ll use the Language—whatever it takes. Just tell me what to do. Just don’t . . . not to me.” She let herself show some of her genuine horror at the very thought of being possessed and used as his puppet.

  “And what if your lover does find out you cooperated? Will he still stay with you?”

  That’s exactly what you want, she thought. You love the idea of Kai seeing me sell his brother out, then him rejecting me—before you dispose of me in turn. Come on, please, take the bait . . .

  “At least Kai will be alive,” she said. “And I never asked his brother to get involved. He tried to get me to leave Kai, he dragged Catherine into danger—and his family doesn’t even know he’s here. He’s an acceptable loss.”

  “You’re very convincing,” Alberich said slowly. “But before I decide, tell me one last thing. How did you escape the circle? I set it so only my blood could break it.”

  Irene raised her bandaged wrist. “I used my own blood—and the fact that we’re both Librarians, so metaphorically related.” A Kipling quote came to mind. “‘We be of one blood, thou and I.’”

  Alberich frowned. “That shouldn’t have worked.”

  “But it did,” Irene said, a little smugly.

  “No, really, it shouldn’t. My work was far more precise than that—metaphors shouldn’t have done the job.”

  “Had you actually tested it before, though?” Irene couldn’t quite believe she was discussing this with him, as though he was a colleague. “On other Librarians, that is?”

  His lips smirked, but his eyes were hollow. For a moment his face resembled a skull. “Oh yes, Irene, I have most definitely tested it on other Librarians. Shall I tell you some stories about that?”

  She flinched. She couldn’t stop herself. The mental image of other Librarians trapped as she was, waiting for their final conversation with Alberich . . . She should never forget who he was. What he was.

  “An improvement,” Alberich said, as though reading her thoughts. “I shouldn’t need to remind you of this again. Namely, that I am giving orders and you are obeying them. Otherwise, I will take your friends apart piece by piece, with you watching, before I deal with you. Do you understand?”

  Irene nodded.

  “Say yes,” he coaxed her. “I want to hear you say, ‘Yes, Alberich.’ And sound as if you mean it.”

  “Yes, Alberich,” Irene said through dry lips, watching him smile.

  “Very well.” He stood up. “I accept your deal . . . if we can make it work. You do understand that if we can’t, then you are—back on the menu, I suppose we could say.”

  More than anything else, this confirmed her suspicions. If he truly meant to keep this bargain, he’d have made me swear in the Language. So no, there is no bargain.

  Irene didn’t have to feign her nervousness; it was all too real. “I get things done,” she said. “You know that.”

  “We shall see. Now, come, Ray. Let’s tell your friends where we’re going.”

  The bookcases slid back, letting Irene see the others. Vale and Lady Guantes had apparently been talking. Catherine was prodding at the bookshelves, frowning at the condition of the books.

  “Winters, are you all right?” Vale demanded. “You’re as white as paper.”

  “We will be returning to the cathedral for a little while,” Alberich informed them. “I trust you will find something to read while you’re waiting.”

  “Wait,” Irene objected. “I’d prefer it if Vale and Catherine came with us.”

  “Overruled,” Alberich told her, with an air that suggested he’d been looking forward to saying that. “For the moment they’re my hostages.”

  Which was exactly what Irene had expected. Now she had to pull off the second part of her manoeuvre and get the person she really wanted. “I’m willing to cooperate,” she said stubbornly, “but Vale’s health and sanity are part of the deal. If she stays here with him”—and she nodded to Lady Guantes—“I’m not sure who I’ll find in his body when I get back.”

  A little smirk curved Lady Guantes’s lips. “You underrate my patience,” she informed Irene.

  “Nevertheless, you may be useful.” Alberich turned to Irene. “She’ll return to the cathedral with us—and assist in the operation. Are you satisfied?” He was humouring her, indulging her like a child, as if he genuinely believed she was about to betray Shan Yuan.

  Irene allowed herself to look faintly relieved. “Yes. That’ll do.”
In the back of her mind she ticked off one more item on her threadbare checklist. “So how do we get back? Or if we’re already there as well as here, how do we get to be more there?”

  Alberich smiled like a lecturer who’d been asked his favourite question. “All those who have a certain level of chaos in their nature have been raised into my world. Basically, I pulled and you responded. The Fae, the human with more of a taint than he’d care to admit, the Librarian—”

  “As a Librarian, I’m not chaos-contaminated,” Irene pointed out.

  “How little you know.” He reached into the sleeve of his robe and brought out a pendant, which he offered to Irene. It was the same as the one she’d removed earlier: a black metal teardrop on a leather thong, interlaced with circuitry almost too tiny to see. “Take this. Put it on.”

  Irene knew what a dangerous game she was playing, as she took the pendant hesitantly. Perhaps this token signals my allegiance? Or is this the crucial element he needs to possess me . . . ?

  “I’m waiting,” Alberich said.

  She could feel her pulse hammering as she met his eyes, knowing he’d see her reluctance. He’s enjoying this. Jerkily she slid the thong over her head, feeling the pendant come to rest against her bare skin.

  “I have one myself,” Lady Guantes said, touching her bodice. “A necessity, if Alberich is to move us between worlds or enable us to use his doors.”

  “Ah yes, the doors.” Alberich gestured again—far too dramatically, Irene thought—and another bookshelf slid back. This revealed a door, standing by itself in its frame. It was marked with the Language, the words a perfect match to those on the one beneath the Sagrada Familia. Irene wondered if this was the other side of that door. “Walk through. I’ll meet you on the other side—in my virtual form.”

  “We need to wait for the chaos levels to stabilise,” Lady Guantes volunteered sweetly, flaunting her superior knowledge.

  “Correct,” Alberich said with a smile. “It’s something like a canal lock—the chaos levels on each side have to equalize for us to pass through. The Language creates a solid connection between the worlds, while the computing power sustains my manifestation. But we still have to wait until the chaos levels stop fluctuating before we can pass.”

  Irene’s heart sank. Kai and Shan Yuan were badly incapacitated within high-chaos worlds, and fluctuating levels of the stuff would make its effects even worse. This made it even less likely that they could help her with any plan she might have in mind—and Alberich knew it. He nodded her towards the door.

  “Interesting,” Vale said, breaking the tense silence. “So you require a link to move your projection to another world—and without that you’re trapped here?”

  “I’m a solitary and retiring man,” Alberich said smoothly. “I don’t like to go where I’m not invited.”

  “Isn’t that vampires?” Catherine asked. She set her jaw mutinously when Alberich turned to look at her with a vivisectionist’s eye. “Don’t tell me. You’re the origin of all vampire stories.”

  “Oh, it’s worse than that,” Alberich said. “Much worse. Now, Ray. Prove you mean what you say. Go through that door—and get things ready for me. I’ll allow your friends through when I’m . . . satisfied.”

  Irene didn’t give herself time to hesitate, or to look at Vale and Catherine. She set her hand on the door and pushed.

  It swung open into the room they’d just left a few minutes ago, though it felt like hours . . . the dark archive with its empty experimental table and shadowy pillars. Kai and Shan Yuan lay crumpled on the floor, shuddering as if stricken with an ague. The light itself seemed to have dimmed and become somehow less wholesome. And whether or not it was still midnight, the bell was still ringing far above.

  Tablet screens glowed and then suddenly jumped to brilliant life as the door closed behind Irene and Lady Guantes. Irene caught images and lines of text flickering across their surfaces in columns and helixes. Other screens, deeper within the archive, lit up like distant polluted fires—flashing their own workings into the darkness. A singing hum rose in the background, as if some distant storm was coming ever closer.

  Please, Irene thought, not sure who or what she was petitioning, or if this was an appeal to her own courage. Let Alberich be distracted for one moment. Just half a moment, just long enough . . .

  Irene grabbed Lady Guantes by the arm and pulled her close. As the other woman blinked at her, taken aback by the sudden aggression, Irene leaned forward and breathed into her ear, “You perceive that Alberich has utterly betrayed you and destroyed your husband, and that you must take immediate steps to stop him.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Lady Guantes pulled away, her face tight with anger and horror, but she also looked far from surprised at this news of betrayal. Most importantly, she still looked in control—like a woman with a plan. A Fae couldn’t knowingly break her given word. However, if Lady Guantes honestly believed her bargain with Alberich was already broken, she could do whatever she wanted. And if she thought he’d destroyed what was left of her husband . . .

  The Fae woman plucked the pendant from her neck, dropping it and kicking it into the shadows. Then she withdrew an exquisite cell phone from her jacket and began tapping in commands.

  Irene desperately wished she could remove her own pendant—but that would alert Alberich. And he’d be watching her more closely than his ally. Trying to ignore the pulsing lights, she moved towards Shan Yuan and looked for Alberich’s projection. “Alberich?” she called. “Are you there?”

  The screen lights settled to a regular glow and Alberich’s shadow coalesced in the centre of the room. More shadows seeped into being around him, hinting at towering bookshelves and ruined flooring. It was as though the two worlds grew closer with every second. “I’m most assuredly here,” he answered her.

  The bell finally fell silent, no longer tolling out those deep notes that throbbed in her chest and throat. Instead, speakers formed Alberich’s words; she could hear other computers echoing them in distant whispers throughout the room. She shivered at this, imagining a shadowy choir of lost souls. The air tasted ripe with chaos, and the Library brand on Irene’s back burned with it.

  “This is Shan Yuan,” she said to him. She considered prodding the sprawling dragon with her foot but decided that would be overdoing it. “As I promised.”

  Shan Yuan glared up at Irene. His eyes could barely focus in the rush of chaotic power that swelled around them. And she was about to make things worse for him, as her betrayal would—had to—seem genuine. Yet if she didn’t distract Alberich, and he noticed Lady Guantes plotting, they were all dead.

  “You did indeed promise,” Alberich replied. “Very well. This confirms our bargain—this dragon’s life for yours. Render him helpless for me.”

  Kai lifted his head to look at Irene, trying to struggle to his knees but unable to raise himself from the floor. “Irene?” he gasped, his voice uncertain as he tried to understand what was going on.

  Lady Guantes was still typing, gloved fingers sliding across her phone’s surface in a paroxysm of fury.

  “Trust me,” Irene said, desperation seeping into her voice, “trust me, Kai, everything’s under control, just relax for a moment.” She could see Alberich smiling. Yes, smile, enjoy it, gorge yourself on my despair, but don’t look round . . .

  “I think I’ve changed my mind,” Alberich said.

  “Oh?” Irene said without much hope. There were still two other possible hosts in the room, her—and Kai.

  “Yes. I’ll take your lover instead.” The pendant on her neck flared, hot enough to make her wince. “Or you. Your choice, Ray.”

  In the mix of emotions that followed, relief won. Alberich could be distracted by his own sadism. But how much time did she have? “Fine!” she snapped, playing for even a few more seconds—she was relying on Lady Guantes to get them out of this. “Tak
e him, then. Better him than me. I’m like you, Alberich. I want to live—and I’ll sacrifice whoever it takes to stay alive.”

  Kai was still watching her, his eyes full of a trust she felt she didn’t deserve. Her heart clenched. He thinks I’m faking it, that I have a plan in mind. But if it doesn’t work, this is the last thing he’ll remember me saying . . .

  “Perfect,” Alberich said with amusement. “I wondered how far you’d go for just a little bit of hope.” Distant computers continued to whisper his words. “Humanity is so adaptable. Now, how far can I push you, before you reach your limits? Perhaps you should dispose of this one’s brother first, to get rid of witnesses? If I give you a knife, will you cut his throat with your own hands . . . ?”

  Lady Guantes made a final, abrupt motion over her phone and slid it back into her jacket, vengeful satisfaction on her face. Then almost in slow motion, a horrified realization took its place. The Language’s effect had worn off. The Fae reached for her phone again.

  Then the archive’s lights flicked from dim to blinding, and the ambient whispering and humming of computers rose to a piercing shriek. It drilled into Irene’s head and she pressed her hands against her ears. The books and papers lining the shelves shivered and trembled, stray pages floating out and down. Alberich’s simulacrum froze, its colour draining to black and white like an old film.

  Irene body-tackled Lady Guantes before she could reverse whatever she’d just done. The two of them went rolling across the floor, Irene’s long skirts tangling both their legs. Lady Guantes tried to struggle free at first, then attempted to incapacitate Irene by any means possible. She didn’t waste her breath on cursing or calling for help. Instead she brought her knee up viciously, before elbowing Irene in the side of the head.

  The blow wasn’t enough to knock Irene out, but it made her dizzy. She clawed at Lady Guantes’s eyes in desperation—and when the other woman pulled away, she thrust her forearm across the Fae’s throat to pin her down. Lady Guantes slammed her right fist into Irene’s side, and as she retaliated, Irene felt the bandage on her wrist give way and her wound start to bleed again.