Chelle reached out and touched his arm. “There is nothing you can do.”
Nolan covered her hand with his, gave it a squeeze, and then walked away. Chelle angrily murmured something in French before rearranging her cap, pushing back her shoulders, and rejoining the others. Ingrid and Vander stood alone in the corridor.
Vander held a finger to his lips and parted a curtain, indicating that he wanted Ingrid to go inside. She should have been more reluctant—these were obviously bedrooms. But her feet moved quickly and Vander shut the curtain behind them. He sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I would have warned you if I had known Carrick would be like that. Nolan’s right. He’s gotten worse.”
She still didn’t know what that meant. “Worse how? Is he ill?” He didn’t look sick at all. He was older, in his late forties, perhaps early fifties. He was still robust and vibrant, though.
“In a way,” Vander answered. He came away from the curtains, toward her. “Nolan’s father is one of the best hunters the Alliance has. He’s fought almost every kind of demon we know about, and he’s trained hundreds of us. But that also means he’s been exposed to a lot of mercurite over the years.” Vander passed Ingrid and pulled aside another wall of curtains. Behind it was a door. He opened it and Ingrid saw steps leading both up and down.
“Come. I have something to show you,” Vander said.
Curious, Ingrid climbed the twisting set of steps up to the fourth floor, coming out into a long, empty corridor. Electric lamps lit the way, though sparely. There were four doors, two on each side of the hallway, the walls covered in deep maroon silk. More bedrooms, was her initial guess. But why hide bedrooms away like this?
She kept in Vander’s shadow as he walked along the rust-red carpet. “What has the mercurite done to Mr. Quinn?” Ingrid asked.
Vander twisted the handle to one door and held it steady. “Have you heard about the mad hatters? The toxic amounts of mercury hatmakers are exposed to?”
“The mercurite has made him insane?” she whispered.
“Not quite. But he’s changed. The mercury has started to break down his tissues and organs. Some days he can’t even get out of bed. It’s also changed his behavior.”
Vander opened the door then, and every thought about Carrick Quinn and poisonous mercury was set free.
All she could see were books. The room was filled with them. Ingrid glided over the threshold, her jaw unattractively slack. Vander laughed.
“I remember the first time I saw this room, too.” He shut the door behind them. It was completely silent inside. Ingrid could almost hear the dust motes floating through the air.
“It’s beautiful.”
Vander scratched his head. “No, not really. It’s a mess.”
Yes, the shelves along all four walls sagged from the weight of so many books, and where some were placed upright with spines facing out, there were just as many tipped onto their sides, spines facing in. On most shelves, books and scrolls had been stuffed in to rest on top of other books, and there were at least a half-dozen towers of homeless books piled up on the floor.
“It’s a beautiful mess,” she said, compromising.
Vander straightened one leaning tower with his knee. “I thought you’d like it. But the collection is limited. This is an Alliance library. You won’t find Chaucer or Shakespeare, but if you want to know anything regarding the Alliance, demons, the Dispossessed, or the Angelic Order, this is where you’ll find the answer.”
There was a book about the Dispossessed? Ingrid’s pulse fluttered in her neck. Luc will have felt that.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, running her hand along the top book of one towering pile.
Vander came up behind her without disturbing the floorboards. Not a single creak. It reminded her how much of a hunter he really was.
“I don’t want you to fight demons,” he said. “I don’t want you in the sewers looking for crazy Dusters, or in any situation that puts you at risk. But I do want you here.” He touched her then, sliding his hands up her arms. “You belong here.”
Did she? The words fell through her, unable to find a foothold anywhere. Did she truly belong there, with the Alliance? She didn’t want to fight, not like Gabby did. Ingrid couldn’t even imagine holding a sword and stabbing at a demon. It was all so violent and dangerous. But if she didn’t belong here, where did she belong?
“I was supposed to go through this room … organize, categorize, read and research, and then be that one person any Alliance could turn to for answers,” Vander said, his hands still on her.
A mellow spring of electricity went down through her arms, the way it usually did when Vander touched her for longer than a few seconds. She had started to wonder whether it was because they both had demon dust.