The Hidden Library (10 page)

As she made it so we could see the screen during the process, I can attest she looks as she’s about to scream in joy. I appear as if I am, as Mary would say, confused as all hell.

“Okay. Now that we’ve gotten my fangirling out of the way, let’s get down to business.” She drops into the chair behind her desk. “The Librarian has requested five books, but I was only able to track down three. The other two were checked out a few weeks back and have yet to be returned.”

The woman in front of me is a librarian, and yet she still refers to my colleague by the title and not name?

“That said,” Bianca continues, “I will let her know as soon as they’re in.” She tugs over a tote bag. “I’ve placed these on an extended checkout, considering I don’t know how long you all will need them. If you need to renew, please make sure you either call or come to me directly rather than do it online or at the desk.”

She passes over the cloth bag. Inside are three books, just as she said.

I thank her and stand up. She’s immediately on her feet, rushing for the door. “Do you like working for the Society?”

She really is all over the place, isn’t she? “I do.”

“I have to be honest, I would kill to work with you guys. I mean, outside of what I’m asked to do here and all. I know I’ve only been affiliated with the organization a few years now, but I’ve put in an application. Did you have to apply?”

“No,” I say simply. “Miss Jones, I thank you for obtaining these books for me. But I’m afraid I must depart now.”

“Oh!” Her face falls but she quickly pastes on a smile. “Of course. You have worlds to save, after all.”

A telephone in her room chirps, preventing her from following me. Telling myself it isn’t cowardly at all, I make a break for it whilst she is distracted.

I’ve just exited the library when a nearby voice exclaims, “Well, well. If it isn’t the elusive Alice who is new to New York.”

Standing next to one of the lions guarding the stairs is a man I never expected to see again. A number of months back, I’d met him at a dance club Mary had taken me to. We’d danced together, and at the end of the night, he’d asked to see me again.

I’d politely declined. The evening concluded on several more important notes—that of a Rosemary sighting and of a quarrel between Victor and Mary. My dance partner was quickly forgotten.

Yet now here he is, in the bright sunlight gracing the steps to the library, grinning at me as if he’s discovered something he’s lost. Tall, raven-haired, and distinguished, he’s dressed in a smart suit. A gold and cobalt ring glitters on his pinky finger.

“Hello, Mr.—”

“Gabe.” He smiles even wider and takes a few steps toward me. “Gabe Lygari.”

Ah. That’s right.

He sticks out a hand. I offer mine, but rather than indulging in a quick handshake, he flips my hand over and kisses the back of my knuckles. I bristle at this inappropriate sense of unearned familiarity. One night at a club and drinks shared does not equate an attachment, let alone a friendship.

“I have to admit, I’ve been searching for you. I was worried you might have tumbled down another rabbit hole.”

I lift my eyebrows up, unamused at both his tenacity and poor joking.

He chuckles quietly. “Sorry. I’d forgotten you weren’t into the typical Alice in Wonderland jokes.”

“It was nice seeing you again,” I murmur, taking a step down on the stairs, but he comes to stand before me.

“Let’s go get some coffee. My treat. We can catch up.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lygari, but—”

“Gabe, remember?” He flashes another smile, like we are old friends. He really is quite handsome, but looks are never enough.

“I’m sorry, Gabe, but I must be getting home now.”

He slips on a pair of mirrored sunglasses, but does not move out of my way. “I’m surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“At the library?”

“I suppose,” he says, “I didn’t take you as a reader. No—don’t take that the wrong way. I meant no offense. You just struck me as more of a take action woman rather than a reader.”

I ask coolly, “Who says a woman can’t be both?”

He chuckles again. “Let’s go get that coffee. Or, hell, an early dinner. You can explain to me how you are one of those take-action-readers.”

I step around him. “My apologies, Mr. Lygari, but I really must be going. Good day to you.”

This time, he does not stop me. But when I slip into a cab at the base of the library, I discover he is still watching me. A hand is raised in farewell as I drive away.

I do not raise mine in return.

I
CLICK OFF THE recorder and lean back in my chair, sighing.

“He’s a right prick,” Victor says. “I thought Mary was going to bloody castrate him right before my very eyes the last time we went in to ask him some questions.”

Apparently, that is not an uncommon reaction from women toward F.K. Jenkins. I can’t blame them, though. He’s pretty much the standard definition of a misogynistic dick. “Would you have stopped the bleeding?”

My brother spins his empty paper coffee cup like a top, much to the displeasure of our father. “Shite, no. That said, I don’t like where this is all going.”

That makes two of us. Or, three, considering Brom is just as baffled as the rest of us. I rub my throbbing temples and wonder what in the hell we’re going to do. “I find it hard to believe that both Jenkins and Rosemary don’t seem to know the name of who they’re working for.” Except, they genuinely don’t, or at least that’s what they claim under the influence of truth serum. During his interrogation, Jenkins mentioned all of his correspondence with said mysterious boss was done via email and the occasional courier package containing books that served as targets. Wendy is doing her best to determine where the email address originated from, but claims she’s getting stonewalled at every turn. The address is heavily encrypted and sent through a variety of servers across the world, so it could really be coming from just about anyone, anywhere, as far as we know. Our tech guru hasn’t given up, though. She’s still hammering away at it and swearing up a storm while doing so.

These fools had no phone calls with whatever psychopath was sending these order. No face-to-faces, at least with Jenkins and Rosemary. They took their orders blindly and killed without second thoughts. Well, Rosemary killed. Jenkins told them where to find people and catalysts.

It makes me crazy.

“Look,” Victor is saying, “people are scared. They thought that Todd was the big get, you know? And we don’t even have that sonofabitch yet.”

I’m going to have to see a dentist, I’ve been grinding my teeth together so much lately. “I know.”

“You have to promise me something. No matter what, we’re still going to get that arsehole. We’re still going to make him pay for what he’s done to our family and countless others.” He slams a fist down against the table. “They all will.”

“You think I don’t want that too?” I lean forward, dropping my elbows against the wood spanning the length between us. “You think—”

“No, I know you do,” he says quickly. Brom reaches over and lays a hand on his shoulder, and my brother smiles sheepishly. “We all do, obviously. I’m just saying, none of us can lose that objective. Someday, I want to be the one to shoot his bloody bollocks off.”

Brom sighs meaningfully.

I think that, given the chance after such a shooting, my brother would happily use Todd, Rosemary, and Jenkins for parts to reenact his birth father’s experiments in a bloody blaze of vengeance. Truth is, I wouldn’t stand in his way. Hell, I would happily pass him whatever limb he wanted.

Suddenly, I’m reminded of a time long ago, one I haven’t thought of in ages.

The book was big and heavy and seemed to take up the width of the love seat we were crammed onto, two teenagers and their mother, but Katrina didn’t mind. For such a beautiful, fragile-looking woman, she was strong. Brom would tease her about it, but that’s all it was—teasing. Everyone at the Institute knew that Katrina was the backbone of everything. Katrina had nerves of steel, and a stare that could cut down the densest forest. Her heart was massive and her belief in doing the right thing was astounding. She was strong, both physically and emotionally, and it was one of the things that I loved best about my mother.

She tried so hard with me. So, so hard. She never let me run, and the truth was, because of her, I eventually stopped wanting to. She’s the one who taught me that settling down was an okay thing. She’s the one who taught me I could let my defenses go and rely upon family. That opening up my heart didn’t mean losing myself like I once feared.

“Why is this book important?” she asked us that afternoon.

Victor looked across the space and met my eyes. He rolled his and I fought back the urge to laugh. I liked Victor. He was smart—smarter than Sawyer, but he never lorded it over me. He sounded so smart, too, and for the first few weeks I was at the Institute, I was too embarrassed to speak around him. Some of the kids in the neighborhood told me I spoke like some hillbilly hick on TV, one that should have all their teeth missing and live in the swamps with gators or have fleas or something equally horrifying and yet all too painfully realistic. I nearly got my ass kicked a number of times and a few black eyes when I did talk to those kids because language changed over the years. Attitudes and society had changed for the better. Words I grew up with were no longer okay to use, and it scared the shit out of me that I never knew that before coming to New York. I wasn’t smart like any of the rest of them. I didn’t have the schooling or upbringing they all did. It didn’t take long to realize I
was
that hick they said I was. But Victor, smart, clean, cultured Victor, never got on me about any of those things. Granted, Katrina would have verbally tanned his hide had he, but still.

I let Victor answer Katrina’s question, because I was afraid to say something stupid. Hell, even with all the tutors they’d hired for me, reading was still something I struggled with at that point, so it wasn’t like I could even tell either of them what the title was.

“It’s a book of fairy tales,” he said. “Popular ones.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but she didn’t belittle him for it. “Why do we need fairy tales?” But before he could answer, she said, “Huck?”

Katrina was the last person I ever allowed to call me Huck, but even she stopped when I changed my name permanently.

My tongue felt thick, and I think I may have even started to sweat as they waited for my answer. I debated not answering, actually. But then I looked into her eyes and understood that she genuinely wanted to hear what I had to say.

So I told her, “They give people hope for happy endings.”

“You are so right.” She’d smiled. It was so beautiful, like that of one of the princesses’ pictured within the thick volume. I loved those smiles of hers, and she was so generous with them. “It’s funny, so many of the stories within this book are actually dark and rather violent, and yet, over time, we have come to associate fairy tales with the happiest endings we could ever imagine. This book represents the undying belief in good that people have. That’s the power of books, boys. Stories such as these endure because of hope.”

Children’s and Household Tales
, otherwise known as
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
, was the first book I voluntarily ever read once I knew how. And it was all because my mother taught me to hold on to hope.

My mother did not get a happy ending.

“They’ll pay for what they did.” My vow is quiet. Angry. “Make no mistake about that.”

Victor slumps back into his chair. “Where do we go from here, though? How do we find somebody whose name even their employees don’t know?”

Todd is still a big get,
our father writes on his whiteboard.

I nod. “Our picture has expanded, yes, but let’s narrow our focus back onto Todd. We’ll find him and then go from there. I think that neither Rosemary nor Jenkins told us everything they know.”

“You think the truth serum was ineffective? You might want to mention that to the Librarian—she’s requested Mary and I go get more in the morning.”

I shake my head. “I think it’s more like a genie granting wishes, where you have to be specific with your questions. And I think Rosemary and Jenkins figured that out pretty fast. We need to question them again. Repeatedly if necessary.”

Victor nods and then moves as if to stand up. But just as quickly, he sits back down. “Before I leave . . . rumor has it Sawyer called this week.”

Brom perks up at this.

Dammit. “And?”

They both wait patiently, and yet I add nothing. So my brother says, “And I had words with Wendy and the A.D., reminding them that all of those arsehole’s calls go through me.”

“I am going to reassign liaisons,” I tell my father. And like a dick, I’m glad he can’t argue with me about it right now.

Victor smacks the table again. “Good. Not everybody deserves a second chance.”

Sawyer sure as hell doesn’t. He needs to rot in hell for what he’s done—at the very least, prison. Fuck him. Fuck St. Petersburg for being such a shithole. Fuck the whole lot of assholes who thought what he did wasn’t wrong in the least. Fuck the whole region and their fucked-up mentalities about what constitutes a person. Fuck my entire Timeline.