Kai sneezed.
“Found anything?” she called across, not bothering to turn and look.
“Only dust,” he said, and sneezed again.
Irene went down on her hands and knees to check the bottom edge of the cabinets, looking for traces that they’d been moved. If this didn’t get her anywhere, then she’d forget about confidentiality and go through the drawers of Dominic’s desk. She didn’t seriously expect him to keep anything incriminating or important there, but it might at least give them his home address. Failing that, she and Kai could check with the British Library administration. Failing that—
Kai sneezed again.
“If there’s that much dust,” she called across, “then any secret doors should be fairly obvious.”
“It’s not just dust,” Kai said. He took a step. Paused. Took another step. “There’s something in this room which smells odd.”
Irene gave up on the cabinets and pulled herself to her feet, brushing off her skirt. “What is it?”
Kai sniffed. “I’m not sure. Spicy. Salty. Somewhere round here . . .” He wandered along the bookcases, sniffing again.
She followed him, fascinated by this new approach to finding secret doors.
“Got it!” Kai leaned in and pointed at the small cabinet at the end of the shelves. Half a dozen volumes of The Perfumed Garden Summarized for the Young were piled on top of it, but the actual door of the cabinet was accessible, if locked.
“Let me see.” Irene went down on her knees again to check it. “Hm. Looks like a normal cabinet. Anything odd about the lock?”
“Not that I can see,” Kai replied, joining her at ground level. “Do you want to open it or shall I?”
“Oh, allow me.” Irene leaned in and ordered the lock open in the Language.
The cabinet door didn’t open.
“That’s interesting,” she said.
“How can it not open?” Kai asked.
“The easiest explanation is that it’s sealed by some other method, on top of the lock,” Irene explained. “Something that’s not obvious, so I wouldn’t know it’s there to tell it to open. Or then again . . . you were saying you could smell something. On which side of the cabinet is the smell strongest?”
Kai gave her a look suggesting that he wasn’t here to sniff on her behalf, but he complied after a moment. “This side,” he said, tapping the right-hand panel of the cabinet.
“Right.” Irene shuffled round to get a better look at it, then prodded carefully at the corners and the inlaid design.
“Hm. Yes. Thought so. When is a door not a door?”
Kai just looked at her.
“When,” Irene said triumphantly, “it’s a fake. Here.” She pressed the upper corners simultaneously, and the whole side of the cabinet swung open on a hidden hinge. “There. Now . . .” She would have said more, but a powerful stink of vinegar hit her, and she rocked back on her knees, fanning the air in front of her nose.
“That’s rather raw,” Kai said. “Is it a Library way of preserving documents?”
“Not one that I’ve ever heard of.” Irene regained her self-control and drew out the contents of the cabinet. It was a single Canopic jar in the ancient Egyptian style. “So let’s see what’s in here.”
“Should we?” Kai asked.
“Kai,” Irene said gently. “If Dominic really wanted to keep this secret from us, he wouldn’t have hidden it and then been late for work, knowing we’d snoop around.”
“Just purely for information,” Kai said, “are all Librarians like this over private stuff?”
Irene didn’t dignify his question with an answer. Besides, he’d learn better. A Librarian’s mission to seek out books for the Library developed, after a few years, into an urge to find out everything that was going on around one. It wasn’t even a personal curiosity. It was a simple, impersonal, uncontrollable need to know. One came to terms with it. She lifted off the Canopic jar’s stylized jackal-head lid. “There’s something in here,” she reported.
Kai forgot moral scruples and leaned in closer. “What is it?”
“Some sort of leather.” Irene rolled back her sleeves and pulled it out. It was larger than it looked, thin, delicate stuff with long trailing attachments. She shook it out to get an idea of its full length and shape, then froze, horrified. Behind her she could sense Kai’s stillness and shock.
It was a complete human skin, all in one piece, with a single slit down the front from chin to groin.
It was Dominic Aubrey’s skin.
CHAPTER 8
Kai drew back with an indrawn hiss, raising his hands in front of him like claws. The skin lay there on the floor, limp and wet, staining the polished boards with vinegar.
Irene swallowed, holding on to the smell of the vinegar to keep her own nausea at bay. Dominic Aubrey’s features looked so different like this. The flattened face was recognizable but lacking shape, spirit, and the congenial warmth that had animated it just the day before.
“Is it some sort of fake?” Kai demanded.
Irene flipped it over. The Library mark ran across its back in a complex tracery of flourishes. It was unmistakable; the Language couldn’t be faked, even if someone tried to copy it. She felt the mark across her own shoulders twitch in a kind of sympathy. “No,” she said, numbly. “It’s real. But it’s not possible for someone to shed their skin like this . . . I mean, it may just be possible to remove your skin, if you consider some wilder fictional texts, but you couldn’t remove the Library’s mark and survive.”
“Alberich,” Kai said.
Irene didn’t need to ask him what he meant. “Certainly possible,” she agreed. “Even likely. But there’s the Fae to consider as
