The Lost Plot (The Invisible Library #4)

Irene’s heart was in her mouth as she waited to see if he’d swallow it.

And then he smiled. ‘Of course we’ll do our best to help you,’ he said, reaching across to touch her wrist reassuringly. ‘We’ve worked with the Library before, after all. You might know some of the Librarians we’ve collaborated with? Petronia, Julian, Evariste . . .’

Irene was reasonably sure that her face didn’t give anything away as he dropped those names, but she couldn’t be sure about her pulse. If you can’t hide a reaction, then cover it up with something else, she thought. She dropped her gaze to his hand, and worked on recalling every single moment of holding onto Kai in the lift. She could feel a blush coming to her cheeks. ‘Ah, no, I don’t think so,’ she whispered.

He patted her hand and released it. It wasn’t the sort of I’ll seduce you later, I’m just too busy right now sort of gesture that Lord Silver (the most notorious Fae rake in Vale’s London) would have bestowed. It conveyed more of a There, there, you poor humans simply can’t help yourself attitude. Which was what Irene had been hoping for. She kept her expression timid and awed. And she wondered if he realized that he’d just betrayed himself by mentioning those names.

‘I should go and meet my colleague before he gets too worried,’ Irene suggested. She considered clasping her wrist where Hu had touched it, but decided that would be overkill. ‘Is there some way we could contact you again?’

He reached into a pocket, flipped out a card-case and offered her a card. It had only a phone number on it. ‘Ring this and leave a message for me. I’ll be glad to talk to you and your supervisor. With any luck, we’ll be able to dispose of the Fae who did this. Can I drop you anywhere?’

‘No, thank you, it’s within walking distance,’ Irene said, tucking the card into a pocket. ‘I’m so very grateful. Thank you again.’ She’d have liked to ask more questions – who his superior was, for a start. She regretfully decided that she’d settle for getting out of this car alive and with a little more information.

‘Think nothing of it,’ Hu said. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

If you had anything to do with this library being blown up, then it’s definitely the very least you can do, Irene thought venomously. She murmured further thanks, and let Hu wave her out of the car. The mobster Rob, who’d been standing next to the car door in a position of casual readiness, nodded to her as she walked away.

There was no immediate sign of Kai, but Irene was sure he’d be in a position where he could watch the car and could see her. She spread her right hand casually in one of their prearranged signals – five minutes – and began walking down the street.

A part of her unwillingly fizzed with the buzz of excitement that any Librarian had on entering a new alternate world. Even though they had a mission to complete, she could still appreciate the thrill of new surroundings and different – well, different everything. The wide streets, broader and straighter than most of London’s roads, were well lit by street lamps and glaring shop windows. Rather than the plain black or navy or grey of many of London’s inhabitants, bright colours surrounded Irene as she jostled through the early-evening crowds – fur collars, silk and rayon jackets, wide-shouldered suits on the men. Tight cloche hats clung to female heads, ornamented with ribbons in particular styles as if to convey the wearer’s intentions, while male fedoras were tilted in such a wide variety of angles that Irene was surprised they didn’t fall off. Even the perfumes were different. Artificial violet and rose odours warred with cigarette smoke from all the smokers – both men and women. Semaphore signals flapped on a traffic light at the intersection nearby, and long-bodied cars prowled down the road like wolves amid the urban jungle, overshadowed by the tall buildings rearing a dozen storeys above her head.

She pulled herself back to focus on the job. There was a lot to do: get to the bank for cash and documents, obtain some new clothing to blend better into this world, and most importantly, work on locating Evariste. But the first item on her list was losing her pursuers. Even if she’d managed to convince Hu that she was an utter novice, he would certainly be having her followed.

And right now, Hu was the last person she wanted to know about her whereabouts. She had too many unanswered questions about him.





CHAPTER SEVEN

It was past midnight before Irene and Kai could stop running.

They’d met up outside the Northern Bank just before it closed. Irene had been aware of the men following her: they’d been getting closer and taking an interest any time she stopped to talk to someone, even if it was just to ask for directions. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Hu hadn’t so much let her go, as let her run on a long leash with the intention of picking up her contact – the presumed other Librarian – as well. She did her best to make it look as if she and Kai just happened to be entering the Northern Bank at the same time, but she wasn’t sure the watchers were fooled.

On the positive side, requesting a private interview with a bank clerk did mean that she and Kai were escorted into a private room, out of public view. And after using the Language to convince the poor clerk that she’d showed full identification, Irene now had an extremely large amount of local dollars. She also secured the unfortunately out-of-date identity papers that the previous Librarian had left in the cache. They’d left through a back door, after some lies about avoiding newspaper reporters, and hadn’t stopped since.

Admittedly the men following them hadn’t been overtly flashing guns, or making suggestions such as ‘Stop or we’ll shoot you.’ But they were the same breed as those who’d captured her earlier – calm, professional, and definitely armed. Other people saw them coming and moved out of the way, or answered questions (such as ‘Did you see where that man and woman just went?’) with respectful terror. Irene would have bet money that in the event of a police line-up, nobody would have admitted to recognizing these men, even if they were standing in a row of potato sacks. It wouldn’t be good for the health.