‘It was the way Hu handled me.’ Irene tried to gesture in explanation without moving her head. ‘He had the same sort of bearing and authority, and he mentioned his lord. He’s not just a casual minion, he’s someone’s trusted assistant.’
‘Unfortunately that still doesn’t mean I know who he is. Turn your head a little to the left . . . yes, thank you.’ The shears brushed her skin again. ‘There are more dragons than there are Librarians, and it’s not as if you know every Librarian.’
Irene had admittedly been thinking it was a nuisance that Kai didn’t know every single dragon, but she tried to look innocent. ‘Could a dragon change his or her status?’ she asked. ‘If they were spectacularly good at their job, perhaps?’
There was a long silence from behind her. She had the impression that Kai was picking and choosing between several possible answers. Maybe the intricacies of dragon rankings weren’t for Librarian ears. ‘Well, there are standards,’ he finally said. ‘Blood does count. You can’t expect it to be as it is with Librarians. Some dragons are simply born superior to others. Most human cultures accept that sort of thing, too. Nature and abilities do make a difference, though good service would naturally be recognized. The situation in the Library is different, of course . . .’
Kai’s apologetic tone was only because he knew Irene had strong opinions about hereditary superiority. He didn’t actually think she was right, but he was generously making allowances for human sensibilities. Dragon courtesy towards lesser beings.
And who was she to judge, Irene wondered with a vast weariness. She was someone who stole books for a living. Even if it was theoretically to protect the balance of the universe, it was still stealing books. What gave her any sort of greater moral perspective or superiority?
‘There.’ Kai smoothed her hair, and for a moment it felt as if he was stroking it. She suppressed a shiver. He stood back. ‘What do you think?’
Irene pulled herself to her feet and walked over to the nearest mirror. To her surprise, her hair actually looked quite elegant. ‘Good job,’ she said.
Kai shrugged, but he looked pleased. ‘So what are our next steps?’
‘Burn my hair, in case anyone can use it to track me. Take some clothing. Pack a suitcase.’ She saw his mulish look and reluctantly added, ‘Leave a suitable payment in the tills, of course. Then reach the railway station and catch a train to New York.’ She thought for a moment. ‘And don’t forget to stop off in the book department of this store while we’re packing. We don’t want to be stuck on the train with nothing to read.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
The train came rattling into New York as dawn spread across the sky and began to colour the surrounding world. Irene gazed out of the window, trying to come to terms with the fact that it was morning and she needed to wake up. The countryside had been left behind, as had the out-of-town residences of the wealthy and famous, with their surrounding greenery and walls. Now the train was sliding along a complicated diagram of parallel tracks, through a landscape of warehouses and industry, brown brick and grey brick and concrete. Looking ahead, she could see the city itself: the morning light caught on the high buildings and skyscrapers, making them gleam like silver and ivory. Their dozens of windows stared back at her like dark eyes. The sky was clear – unnaturally clear, after her time in Vale’s fog-shrouded London – and the city unfolded in front of her like a treasure-box full of possibilities.
Kai was still asleep next to her, his hat tilted over his face and his breathing steady. Around them, other people in the carriage were waking up and rubbing their eyes. A few women had pulled out compacts and were making repairs to their make-up, repainting the curves of their lips and patting powder onto their faces. Two elderly white-bearded men packed away the miniature set of draughts which they’d been playing on through most of the night. They spoke softly to each other in a Slavic dialect which Irene couldn’t quite catch. The noise level in the carriage rose as other groups of travellers began to chatter, and three young men in cheap sharp suits lit cigarettes almost in unison as they sneered at the world around them. The train was moving through the city now, alongside apartment buildings and tenements, close enough that she could glance through the windows as they passed and catch fragmentary scenes of life. A mother corralling her family for breakfast. A boy leaning out of the window with a boxy camera.
They’d reached North Union Station in Boston without being caught by their pursuers. Unfortunately there hadn’t been many people catching a train at that hour of the morning, so there was no way to get lost in the crowds. On the positive side, Irene thought determinedly, it also meant that if someone had been following them, she or Kai should have spotted him. So with any luck, Hu would have lost their trail for the moment – whatever he wanted with them.
A few hours of sleep had dramatically improved her mood. Admittedly she wasn’t properly awake yet, and she needed coffee, breakfast and a bathroom. And she still didn’t know what was going on, only that it might be immeasurably bad. And yet . . .
Tunnels loomed ahead of the train, dipping down under the city of New York. The train rattled into them with a whoosh and a deep chuckle of wheels, and abruptly the carriage was darker, lit only by the electrical lamps along the ceiling. It was a setting that invited paranoia. There was no way to get off now. Irene found her perspective shifting: previously she’d been journeying into a city of possibility, but now it felt as if she was being delivered into the darkness to an inescapable destination.
Irene took a deep breath. The situation would not be improved by mental nail-biting. Instead she nudged Kai gently in the ribs. ‘We’re coming into Grand Central Station,’ she murmured. ‘Time to wake up.’
Kai raised his hand to tilt his hat and inspect the world around him. ‘Not for another few minutes yet, surely,’ he said hopefully.
‘We’re closer than that, I think.’ Irene edged her own powder compact out of her handbag and checked her face in the mirror. She looked passable. Certainly not worth anyone’s interest. Which was exactly what she wanted. ‘Hopefully we can get our business out of the way and be heading home as soon as possible.’
The train finally jolted into the station, bursting out from the darkness of the tunnel to come to a stop next to a platform walled in white tiles, with GRAND CENTRAL inset mosaic-style. Kai got to his feet and reached their suitcase down from the overhead rack, then offered Irene a hand to help her rise. ‘Any priorities?’ he asked.
‘Breakfast and coffee.’