Undertow (Whyborne & Griffin #8.5)(23)

Persephone wouldn’t have been hurt. She wouldn’t possibly be dead.

Curse Oliver for taking my summoning stone. I might go to the shore, but I had no way of calling the ketoi to me without it.

As it was, Mr. Quinn was the only ally I could count on now. I’d go to him, and together we’d find some way to warn the ketoi, which hopefully didn’t include the blood of any junior librarians. Find Persephone…

A sob threatened to choke me. I tried so hard to lock away the memory of her blood, her still form, but it kept intruding no matter what I did.

An empty space opened in my heart such as I’d never known. It wasn’t right; it wasn’t fair, that someone like her—beautiful and sweet and strong—should be taken out of the world. I loved the way she laughed, the way she tugged on my hair with hers, the way she grinned when she made sly comments about my manner of dress.

I lacked the funds for a cab, and unfortunately my disreputable appearance—dress torn at the knees, hair in complete disarray—meant the omnibus conductor took one look and ordered me off. As a result, I had no choice but to walk the entire distance to the Ladysmith. I could only hope not to encounter Dr. Hart once I reached the staff areas. If he saw me like this, I’d be fired on the spot.

Fortunately, I made my way through the staff area without encountering anyone save a night guard, beginning his first rounds of the evening. He looked at me in surprise, but I only shook my head to indicate I didn’t require his assistance. He was a Widdershins native, so after a long moment of hesitation, he turned away and pretended not to have noticed anything amiss.

The lights in the library still blazed when I entered, but the front desk was deserted. “Mr. Quinn?” I called. “Mr. Quinn, are you here?”

A librarian emerged from the stacks, a forbidding frown on his face. “The library is closed for the evening, Miss Parkhurst.”

“I know, but please—is Mr. Quinn here?” If he wasn’t, I didn’t know what I’d do.

“The library is closed,” he repeated.

My temper snapped. “I heard you the first time. Where is Mr. Quinn? I must speak with him on a matter of urgency.” I narrowed my eyes and stiffened my spine. “I promise, if you thwart me, I’ll make certain both he and Dr. Whyborne know about it. I can’t say for certain what they would do…”

He paled sharply at the implied threat. “One moment. I’ll fetch Mr. Quinn right away.”

Thankfully for my nerves, it was only a few minutes before Mr. Quinn himself appeared. His pale eyes focused on me, and as I opened my mouth to explain my presence, he said, “You seem unharmed. Excellent. Widdershins has been greatly distressed about your safety.”

For the first time in hours, I felt the stirrings of hope. “She’s here? Persephone?”

“Yes.” A smile crawled across Mr. Quinn’s thin lips. “She came to the library. To me. Because I have proved my loyalty.”

“Er…yes.” I bit my lip. “And she’s…all right?”

“Wounded, but we have cared for her. And she says her people are more resilient than humans.” He cocked his head. “Come. She’ll be most pleased to see you.”

I half wanted to collapse with relief. Instead, I followed him back through the library. The place was a labyrinth—literally, thanks to the mad architect who had designed the museum. As if hearing my thoughts, Mr. Quinn said, “This seemed the safest place to hide her. No one else knows all the twists of the labyrinth. Not even Dr. Whyborne.” Another smile flitted over his mouth. “Only me. When I was first hired, I walked its halls day in and day out. When I could navigate it blindfolded, I finally knew I belonged.”

“That’s…a good skill to have,” I said, though I couldn’t imagine any practical use for it.

“I could hide anything back here,” he added, “and no one would ever find out.”

“But you, um, haven’t? Have you?” I asked. “Other than Persephone, I mean?”

“Not as far as anyone knows,” he replied. “Ah. Here we are.”

One of the curtains used to block off exhibits under construction or repair stood in front of an alcove, a sign reading KEEP OUT pinned neatly to it. Mr. Quinn gestured and gave a small bow. “Summon me when you’re ready. I’ll remain nearby.”

I lifted the edge of the curtain and ducked beneath. The alcove contained a table and two chairs. A thick nest of overcoats, probably those of the library staff, formed a bed atop the table.

Persephone lay there, a long, black coat thrown over her like a blanket. It was impossible to judge her color, though I thought perhaps the darker swirls were lighter than usual against the pearlescent white.

At my entrance, she pushed herself up on her elbows, blinking groggily. “Maggie?” A grin split her face, revealing those terrible teeth. “You escaped!”

A mixture of relief and tenderness rushed over me, and I hurried to her side. “Don’t move. You’ll hurt yourself.”

She ignored my advice, pushing herself into something of a sitting position. The coat slipped down, pooling in her lap and revealing a swath of bandages around her middle. “Are you all right?” she asked. “I was worried about you. Mr. Quinn said the librarians would go to the theater tonight to save you, but I feared they’d be too late.”