Irene abruptly wanted to be sick. She’d maintained some control during werewolf attacks, zeppelin near crashes, and silverfish fatalities, but this was different. Questioned him. Assumed his skin. “It was you, wasn’t it? The first time?”
He understood her question, ill-formed as it was. “Oh yes. I was the one who met you and your student when you first came through. To be honest, you’ve been rather a surprise to me.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Irene said primly, counting seconds in her head.
Something else was clearly ticking over behind Alberich’s eyes too. “If you’d found the book in the Natural History Museum, you could have gone straight back to the Library by forcing a portal elsewhere. You wouldn’t have needed to come here. And you’ve admitted Wyndham knew that Aubrey was a Librarian. Answer me, Ray. Did Wyndham send the book to Aubrey?”
“Yes,” Irene said. The word came grating from her mouth in response to his question and his use of her name before she could waltz around the subject any further.
A high colour showed on Alberich’s cheeks. It must have been some sort of anger reaction transmuted by the skin he was wearing. “Are you telling me that the book came here?”
Irene could feel the response dragging at her throat, trying to say itself. Vale’s eyes met hers for a moment, as she weighed the benefit of distracting Alberich further against the risk of his cutting Vale’s throat if he lost his temper. “Yes,” she said quickly, giving in and letting the word out, before Alberich felt the need to make good on his threats.
“And it’s the book on the desk?”
Irene opened her mouth to deny it but couldn’t. The word dragged itself from her lips. “Yes.”
Alberich exploded. “You pitiful little idiot! Do you have any idea how much effort I’ve had to put in here over the last few days?” He was shrieking like a harridan, and though the knife at Vale’s throat was steady, Alberich’s face was wrong—his mouth open a little too wide, his eyes staring furiously, spittle spraying the side of Vale’s face. “I shift skins twice. I take my attention away from very important projects. And because you have been running around hiding this book, my efforts have been wasted. Do you think that’s funny, Ray? Do you?”
The room began to shift and crawl around him. The papers on the desk ran into liquid and dripped away, running down to splash against the floor. Dead silverfish dissolved into vapour that blew outwards in widening curls, as though Alberich and Vale stood at the centre of a whirlwind. The panes of glass in the display-cases began to vibrate, thrumming as if someone were singing at an impossibly high pitch. And now Irene could feel it pulsing at the back of her skull, humming in her ears. “Stop it!” she cried out.
“No,” Alberich said. He smiled at her, abruptly calm. “No, it isn’t funny. I’ll take that book. You will give it to me.”
“Or you’ll cut your hostage’s throat?” Irene said. She was still shaken from the sudden flux. Everything about it had been wrong. The Fae were bad enough, but this softening of reality had been much worse. She’d been ready to face death, even, but that—no.
“Be reasonable,” Alberich said. “I’ll need a new skin soon. Another Librarian’s skin would suit me quite well. So would Vale’s position in society. Don’t give me any excuses, Ray. Don’t give me any more reasons to slit this man’s throat and then rip your skin off. Be very polite, be very helpful, and listen to what I’m about to tell you.”
Irene simply jerked her head in a nod. She was afraid of touching off that anger again, afraid for Vale’s sake—and, more honestly, terrified for herself.
“Where was I?” For a moment he reminded her of Dominic Aubrey, making her wonder how much of that charade had been imitation and how much had been genuine Alberich, filtered through a dead man’s skin. She’d liked Aubrey. “Ah yes. Motivations. Tell me, Ray, what is the purpose of the Library?”
“To preserve,” Irene said automatically.
Alberich nodded as though he’d expected that answer. “Now tell me—tell me honestly and sincerely—that you’ve never thought about using the knowledge you’ve helped preserve. To change the worlds around you for the better. Or do you think that they’re already perfect?” His voice dripped sarcasm.
Irene felt as if she were having to run through a minefield blindfolded, with no idea what the correct answers were.
“Of course I’ve thought about it. But you know that they don’t send us”—for a moment she wished she hadn’t used the word us; it brought them onto the same level—“out on missions unless they’re certain that they can trust us.”
“And you accept that so readily?”
“It’s the price I chose to pay to get what I wanted.” She’d never wanted anything else.
“Don’t think I make this sort of offer to just any Librarian,” Alberich went on. “You’ve shown a degree of intelligence which has impressed me. Not all Librarians know when and how to break the rules.”
“Excuse me a moment,” Vale said politely, while Irene wondered if Alberich gave the normally I wouldn’t spare your life, but you’re special spiel to every Librarian he met. “Might I ask what happened to the original Miss Mooney?”
“Who?” Alberich said blankly.
“The woman whose body you are occupying.” Vale’s tone dripped with cold disdain. “Jennifer Mooney, one of the more influential
