The Burning Page

‘I wouldn’t dream of bothering you,’ Irene said politely, and tucked the folder under her arm before climbing up the ladder.

Once back on the streets of London, somewhere south of Waterloo, Irene’s next problem was hailing a cab while in her current state of dress. Fortunately an upper-class accent combined with a promise of a large fee did the job. She finally had a chance to open her folder and flip through it, as the cab headed for Vale’s lodgings.

The report was nearly ten years out of date. And there was a note that the Librarian who’d done the research had been given the Potocki manuscript as an optional target, but had decided it would be too dangerous to make a try for it there and then. The target-world’s political structure was fairly stable, with the main powers being Russia on one side and the United Republics of Africa on the other. Smaller confederations of states were scattered in between. Magic existed and was commonplace, mostly musically based and sung, or involving the control of natural spirits. However, it was generally under state control in the Russian Empire, the focus of this report. The technological level was a bit behind the current position in Vale’s world, too – as often happened, having magical ways to get things done meant there was less impetus to create technological solutions.

But at least she probably wouldn’t be chased by giant automata this time.

Research done, Irene reflected on the woman behind her kidnapping. She had apparently told the werewolves to deprive her of anything written, or anything that could be used to write. This argued that the woman knew Irene was a Librarian. So, maybe it really was Lady Guantes? But in that case, why so lax and incompetent an attempt at killing her? And if it was someone else . . . who else was it?

At least Alberich couldn’t get into this world directly to hire kidnappers, even if he could send her threatening messages and blow stuff up. His antics last time had meant permanent banishment from this world. That was one little ray of sunlight, to quote Alberich himself, in the general mess. More to the point, Irene herself would shortly be leaving this world for a while, so Alberich would have no idea where to find her. Even better.

She riffled through the papers absently as she considered what she’d need. Kai, for a start. Information on the layout of the Hermitage, which was part of the Winter Palace. Could she get anywhere by going through as a tourist? Did they even allow tourists in? There wasn’t time for her normal approach of getting an unobtrusive job, to check the layout and plan the theft. Maybe she and Kai could fake being foreign dignitaries? Kai was very good at impersonating foreign dignitaries: he had the perfect air of affable condescension which had people believing it was a pleasure to roll over and grovel for him. And they’d need clothing, money, a place to stay . . .

The cab drew up outside Vale’s lodgings. With a sigh, Irene handed over the fee, plus a sizeable tip. There weren’t any signs of drastic kidnappings, murders or anyone trying to crash a zeppelin into the building, and she relaxed a little. Now she just had to explain everything – well, most things – to the men, and then be off.

The housekeeper met her at the door, answering the bell with a surprising turn of speed that suggested she’d been expecting someone. ‘Oh, Miss Winters!’ She looked at Irene with an expression of shock. ‘What happened to you?’

‘I’m very sorry,’ Irene apologized. ‘It’s been one of those days. Are Mr Vale and Mr Strongrock in?’

‘Oh yes,’ the housekeeper said. ‘They’re just upstairs and . . .’

For a moment Irene let herself relax in a great upswelling of relief. They were here; they weren’t dead or kidnapped. And if the housekeeper was running around answering the door, then there hadn’t even been anything dramatic like a zombie assault on the house or an attack by killer bees.

Are my expectations possibly getting a little lurid? she wondered. Not really. After all, there is someone out to get me.

‘. . . and so is everyone else,’ the housekeeper finished her sentence.

Irene’s sense of well-being and security popped like a balloon and sank without a trace. ‘Everyone else?’

‘Well, the visitors.’ The housekeeper pursed her lips. ‘I must say, they were arguing quite a lot. Perhaps you might ask them to keep their voices down, miss? Mr Vale’s an excellent lodger, but really there are limits . . .’

‘I’ll have a word with them,’ Irene promised, and took the stairs at a run.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Irene could hear the shouting through the door even before she reached the head of the stairs. She recognized Kai’s voice and Vale’s clipped tones, but the woman’s voice was unfamiliar . . . Wait, was that Zayanna?

She groaned to herself. Zayanna’s involvement would be so much easier to explain if Zayanna herself wasn’t actually there.

‘. . . and I don’t care what you say, I’m not risking her safety any longer!’ That was Kai. ‘I’m going to go and find her right now—’

Another voice, unclear through the door, interrupted, and Irene took advantage of the momentary pause to push open the door.

All of the people in the room turned to look at her. Vale. Kai. Zayanna. And Li Ming. Wonderful – just the person to make an already volatile mix even more explosive. A Fae and two dragons in the same room was asking for trouble under the best of circumstances, and Irene herself was probably about to set light to the fuse.

‘Irene!’ Kai made it across the room in three steps to grab her, his hands biting into her shoulders. ‘Where have you been?’