Exhaustion weighed on my eyelids. Afraid to remain and be accused of thievery to my face, afraid to leave and be accused in absentia, I stayed, as did the others. The rest of the audience began to disperse as they were questioned and released. A few still lingered, though not enough for us to hide among—not that we were well-camouflaged in any case.
After what seemed an aeon, but was in fact barely a half hour, Peters emerged from the building. He spoke with the librarians, who responded with quiet urgency. My ears still ringing from the alarms, I couldn’t make out their words until one librarian raised his voice abruptly: “You certainly may not!” Then more low voices.
Barlow turned to the remaining stragglers. “You’re all free to go. We’ll be investigating more extensively in the morning, and the library will be closed until further notice.”
The college president stalked up to him, a righteous scarecrow. “What’s the meaning of this? How dare you make such decisions on my campus, disrupting my students’ studies? Their parents will demand an explanation—I demand an explanation!”
Barlow held up a hand and gave a placating smile. “Sir—” His voice dropped, intimate, and I wished desperately for my ears to regain their usual sensitivity. Audrey frowned slightly, then masked the frown with a worried smile. She approached Barlow and the president, a subtle rhythm in her walk drawing the eye. She leaned in, pupils wide, to ask a question. Both men turned to her, and Barlow patted her sleeve and said something apparently intended to be reassuring. She said something more, wrapped her arms around herself, looked small and worried. Barlow spoke further, and her body language loosened. She gave him a grateful smile, ducked her head.
“It’ll look better if we retreat a bit now,” whispered Dawson. We followed her down the path, back toward the faculty row. Out of sight of the library lawn, we stopped to wait. Dawson shook her head. “You’re going to hire that girl, aren’t you?” she asked Spector.
“I might have to.”
A few minutes later Audrey appeared. On seeing us she produced a more genuine smile. “His brain just turns right off,” she said, miming a silent snap of her fingers. We began walking again. “You, now,” she nodded at Spector, “if I wanted you to tell me something, I don’t know what I’d do. Your brain is always going, even when you’re talking to a girl.”
“Thank you. I think. Did you learn anything?”
“Oh yes, he was at great pains to reassure me that he had it all under control. He says that someone has stolen books—wouldn’t say which ones, but implied they were worrisome choices—and that the case for the Necronomicon was damaged. That’s what set off the alarm.”
I tried to match her nonchalant attitude, but my own brain kicked into high gear as I processed this information. Had another intruder been in the library at the same time we were? Or had Barlow’s people somehow engineered the alarm as an excuse to go where the librarians had forbidden?
As Audrey had said, little could induce Spector to be a fool. “That’s very interesting. I’m not going to ask why Mr. Day was so distraught when the alarm went off, but if you did see anything, I’d be obliged if you’d get that information to—someone—who might be able to make use of it. Not necessarily Barlow and his self-appointed investigators.”
“I’m afraid we really haven’t,” said Audrey firmly.
I added, finding something I could say without confessional implications: “And I don’t know why someone would go after the school’s Necronomicon—the one they’ve a right to, I mean—when there are dozens among the Innsmouth books. They can’t have all those so thoroughly locked up, can they?”
“That’s true,” said Dawson. “But their original copy has a special reputation among the faculty and students. The Innsmouth collection is less well-known.”
We talked further as we approached the dorms, but we were exhausted, and the conversation turned in circles and skittered into useless corners. So we didn’t tarry when the time came to separate out by sex. With Spector as witness, Dawson and Caleb’s parting was friendly but impersonal.
Dawson peeled away as we neared the faculty row. A few lights still burned in Dean Skinner’s house. I gazed after her a long moment before turning toward Trumbull’s place.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I told Audrey.
A tight frown and a glare passed over her face, swiftly replaced by a more thoughtful look. “It’s power. Like magic—however much weaker it may be than what the really powerful people have, I’m not going to turn it down.” She glanced over her shoulder at Skinner’s house. “I’m lucky. Simpering for a few minutes is a small sacrifice. Haven’t you ever…?”
I shook my head. “Men don’t think of me that way—men of the air, I mean. I’m an ugly woman to be ignored, or a monster to be feared.” I recalled Jesse’s hand on my cheek. But I suspected he merely had a different opinion of monsters.
“That has its own uses.”
“I know. I’ve used it.” And would again, doubtless, before our time in Arkham was up.
CHAPTER 21
I slept late, only drowsily aware of Neko’s rising as I rolled into the patch of wan sunlight she’d vacated among the sheets. Hours later, I woke to the sound of shouting. I lay still, trying to determine whether it presaged some invasion. All I could pick out was Trumbull’s voice, furious, and Neko’s, placating.
Beside me, Audrey sat up and rubbed her ears. “What the hell?”
“Trumbull’s angry.” Likely about something related to our adventure of the previous night—and therefore something I ought to know, even if I’d rather slink back under the covers.
I threw on skirt and blouse, padded into the hall in stocking feet.
Trumbull rounded on us as we came into the dining room. “You were out when the alarm started. What do you know? What are these illiterate morons doing to my campus? The library is locked and guarded, and there were government agents waiting outside my classroom asking pointless questions!”
I held up my hands. “What did they ask you?”