Once I passed the threshold the strange sensations faded. All was much as we’d left it, save that the chairs to which they’d tied us had been restored to other locations. The sliver of waning moonlight limned everything with a sallow glow.
I went immediately to their bookcase. Three years in the bookstore had given me a quick eye for changes to a shelf, but I saw no additions to the titles I’d noted before, and nothing that looked like it came from the library’s restricted section. It was all theoretical texts and modern math, mostly in English. I did note a few titles missing—perhaps taken to their hotel for late-night study. And it occurred to me now, in the midst of our trespass, that they might sensibly have done the same with stolen volumes.
Across the room, Trumbull made a little huff of discovery. Joining her, I saw a notebook crowded with diagrams and equations and notes, written in English but marred by unfamiliar terminology.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Proof that they’re trying to learn the art of body switching—and making progress, in spite of some severe gaps in comprehension. There are ideas here, in their most recent notes, that strongly imply access to On the Sending Out of the Soul, but I doubt it would constitute proof to anyone not extremely well-versed in the literature.”
“We should take it,” suggested Caleb. “Set them back in their studies. Though they’d still have the book.”
Trumbull hefted the notes thoughtfully. “On the Sending Out of the Soul is an important work, but crude, as are most human works on the topic. There are key insights in these notes that they may not have duplicated elsewhere.” She flipped through. “They seem to have some concept of how to overcome geographic separation, though they aren’t quite there yet. Impressive. Human magic so often treats spatial distance as an inflexible barrier.”
I looked at the notebook with renewed respect, as I might a venomous jellyfish. “It would make a difference, then, if we took this. They could use these ideas to start wars, or massacre millions.”
“Most ideas can be used for that purpose by most sapients, given the opportunity.” She examined the notes again, eyes darting quickly over the pages. “So very frustrating. They’ve almost begun to reach true understanding on a technical level—but their comprehension of the art’s obligations is nil. Petty creatures.”
“Then let’s relieve them of the burden.” Caleb held out his hand. His lips twitched. “It’ll make a fine addition to your collection, don’t you think?”
She put the book firmly back on the pile. “Take it, and they’ll seek twice as hard for spies, and keep their hold on the library until they regain confidence in their understanding. Which could be a long time. We need the infestation removed from campus, not fully entrenched.”
“We need them not to start another World War!” I said. Audrey shushed me frantically, and I held back further exclamation. Trumbull gave me a cool look. Of course, she knew precisely how many more such wars would be started, and the tallies of the dead. “I know we’re not likely to have world peace any time soon,” I said more quietly. “But I intend to do what I can.”
“You may not,” she said firmly, “render this age’s best repository unusable. Not if you want your own people’s library preserved.”
“I don’t want it enough to sacrifice millions of lives.” Half nauseated, half elated, I tried to reach for the book. I expected her to try and block me, but found myself simply unable to touch the notebook: as if it sat under still water, it wasn’t quite where I put my hand.
Audrey stepped around us and, with a grimace of effort, picked it up. “This is not the Maltese Falcon,” she announced. I must have looked confused at her apparent non sequitur, for she added: “Got to take you guys to the Belvedere sometime—terrific second-run movies. This is not a one-of-a-kind artifact holding all their knowledge and power. They’re researchers—human researchers, who work in teams and worry about fires—they’re going to have notebooks full, and they won’t have brought them all to Miskatonic. We need to stop them, not steal one notebook.” She put it back on the pile.
“Thank you, Miss Winslow,” said Trumbull.
“Save it. Just because it isn’t Crowther Library versus more lives like my brother’s, don’t think I didn’t see you make that trade.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” I said, foolishly.
“I don’t. Haven’t for about four years.”
We stood awkwardly for a moment. Then Trumbull said, “Let’s see if we can find anything that is of use, and leave before someone catches us arguing.”
“Suits me,” said Audrey stiffly.
I put a hand on her wrist. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
I glanced back at Trumbull, now returned to her browsing. “It must drive her crazy that you can resist her. I don’t know how you do it.”
Audrey shrugged. “She telegraphs. I know what someone trying to manipulate me looks like, and I don’t appreciate it. Especially when they’re so smug.”
“I don’t like it either, and it doesn’t help.”
She shrugged again. “Well, if it isn’t secret rock powers, maybe I can teach you something.”
We searched the room. There were plenty of fascinating items—I examined the interrogation talismans at length, despite the discomfort—but nothing from the narrow range that either university administration or federal government might object to. I reluctantly classed the expedition as a failure, though if nothing else it helped us better understand our foe. If Audrey was right, we’d eventually need to confront them directly, and we’d need that understanding to have any chance of stopping them.
I knew it was possible that we couldn’t stop them—that they would have their desired arts, and their wars to follow. Trumbull’s presence was a constant reminder that every human civilization, every earthly race, eventually reached some peril that could not be overcome.
At last we regrouped. We surveyed Barlow’s domain, checked and checked again for signs that might tell of our entry. Trumbull renewed her counter-ward and, skins crawling with impossible numbers, we left.
The moment I stepped into the hallway, I realized what I’d been missing. “Wait, I’ve figured it out!” Audrey shushed me, and I lowered my voice again. “I know where it is.”
“Where what is?” said Caleb, and “Where?” asked Audrey. She turned on her light, but let it dangle, tracing little infinity signs on the floor.
“The evidence.” I was already moving, and the others hurried to keep up with me. I struggled to turn my moment’s intuition into a logical explanation. “Of course they wouldn’t keep anything that could get them in trouble with the university in that office—everyone knows they’re there; there are probably administrators in and out all day. But I think I know where they’d go to be more discreet.”