"And this one?" Cassie asked, showing Alex a new picture on her phone.
"Rembrandt," Alex sighed. "I know the obvious ones. I read all of Jake's papers, plus a lot that I thought might be Jake's. You gotta quiz me on stuff I don't know."
"How do I know what you don't know?" Cassie asked.
Alex shrugged. "I'm not great with postmodern stuff."
"Hmm." Cassie tapped on her screen, searching for more pictures. "You know more than I thought you would. We might have a chance at fooling Gregory after all."
"Fooling Gregory isn't the issue," Alex said. "We gotta fool the Curator."
Cassie nodded absently, her eyes on her phone. She sat on the floor at Alex's side, her legs stretched out in front of her, while Alex rested his elbows on his drawn-up knees. It reminded him of the two weeks he'd spent being tutored by a sweet redheaded cheerleader in high school, of the hours they'd poured over science textbooks and the notes she'd taken all semester. Most of their study sessions looked like this too: the two of them tucked up together against the wall of some empty hallway, entirely focused on the materials before them. Well, maybe not entirely focused. Alex had hoped the sessions might lead to something more, something that would give him an excuse to see her outside of school, but an old creditor of Uncle Danny's had found them just a few days before the end of the school year, and Alex lost his chance to do anything more than study.
But he still remembered the functions of enzymes and their roles in digestion and metabolism.
"You're good at this," Alex commented, leaning over to peer at Cassie's phone.
She blinked at him. "What?"
"You know... explaining things. You ever thought about being a teacher?"
One shoulder shrugged against his. "I didn't really think about the future at all, until becoming a Librarian."
He wanted to ask more about that, but she tilted her head as if listening to something, and he kept his mouth shut. "Do you hear that?" she asked.
Alex paused. "The auctioneer isn't talking anymore."
Cassie stood up, pocketing her phone and reaching down to pull him to his feet. Somehow the gesture came off as endearing—he was pretty sure he should have felt offended by the fact that she thought he needed help standing, but there wasn't anything malicious in her expression. "We should go," she said. "Gregory will be expecting us in the auction room."
"Too late," Alex muttered. The faint scrape of a footstep had warned him just in time; Alex pulled Cassie to his side, turning so it looked like they'd come from the auction room just as Gregory turned the corner down the hall.
"Ah, Dr. Stone," Gregory said. "I see you're eager to meet with the Curator. You needn't wait any longer. Please follow me."
They followed him down the hallway, Cassie's arm tucked in Alex's. Maybe that was a callback to the way Gregory had first found them, or maybe she was nervous and seeking reassurance—Alex didn't know her well enough to guess. But he didn't pull away, even though keeping her there meant he had one less hand to work with if he needed to fight. He eyed the bulging muscles under Gregory's suit jacket again. The man was dressed to under-impress, the way Eliot exaggerated his southern drawl when he wanted to be dismissed by whoever he was talking to. It had the opposite effect on Alex. He was so focused on Gregory that he wondered later if it caused him to miss the other clues he might have seen.
"You will have to forgive the lack of ceremony," Gregory said, leading the way to a door Alex and Cassie had passed on their first walk through the halls. "Under normal circumstances, the Curator would meet you in her office. But I told her you wished to see her today, so she has made use of the only room that will ensure privacy."
He opened the door and revealed a flight of stairs descending into darkness. "I'm afraid the lightbulb seems to have burned out," Gregory said apologetically. "Government funding, you know. Though I take it the basement is rarely used for anything other than storage, so the staff may not even know about it."
Alex knew all about government funding, but Jake wouldn't, so he kept his mouth shut. Cassie released his arm as they made their way down the steps, leaving the door open to illuminate the staircase. "Where exactly is the Curator's office?" she asked.
"Why, in the Curator's mansion, of course," Gregory laughed.
"Right," Cassie said. "And that is...?"
"On the Curator's private grounds," Gregory said.
"Mmm-hmm." Alex didn't need to look back at her to know that she was rolling her eyes. "You're a wealth of information, Gregory."
"I strive to be informative," the man answered, smiling. He'd reached the bottom of the staircase, and he gestured toward an open door to his right. "The Curator will be along shortly. Please wait here."
"The lightbulb in this room burned out too?" Alex said in a flat voice. All he could make out in the darkness was the faint shape of a table and some chairs within the room, and the prickling sensation that he shouldn't go inside.
"The light switch is beside the door," Gregory said. "Please make yourself comfortable while you wait. The Curator will be along shortly."
"There's something weird…" Cassie said. Her voice was small and hesitant, like she hadn't finished her thought before speaking.
"I'll return soon," Gregory said.
Alex frowned at the uncertain look on Cassie's face. "Then I think we'll wait in the hall."
Gregory smiled. "As you wish. It will only be a moment."
He turned and made his way back up the stairs, closing the door behind him. Alex relaxed his suddenly tense shoulders; if Gregory had pushed them to enter the room, he'd been prepared to fight back. But Gregory didn't seem to mind them waiting in the hall, which meant the room was probably safe... unless that's just what Gregory wanted them to think, in which case—
"The walls," Cassie said. She reached out and brushed her fingers against the wall before them, her brow furrowed. "They're too short. I mean, the distance between the stairs and the wall is too short. Though, now that I mention it, the ceiling is short too. It's like everything is being squashed together."
The hallway didn't look short to Alex, but he wasn't about to question her assessment. If what Jake had said about her was true, it would be quicker just to assume she was right in her calculations. "Back up we go," he said, starting up the steps. "We can wait for the Curator at the top of the stairs just as well as we can wait here."
"Too late," Cassie murmured. It took Alex a moment to understand what she meant; it wasn't until he turned around and found that he was still on the second step after climbing half a dozen that her words really sunk in.
"Magic?" he said weakly.
"I told you there were more dimensional rifts than you'd think," Cassie said. "This one's probably just a spell to keep us from leaving the basement. I doubt the building itself is the problem. Most buildings don't have that kind of magical pull."
"I'll take your word for it," Alex said. His mind was occupied with increasingly horrible worst-case scenarios—being trapped forever in the basement of a historical site wasn't how he'd imagined himself dying. Bleeding out in some alley after an assignment gone wrong, sure, or maybe an explosion or something suitably dramatic, but this? Just wasting away in the darkness? He could already feel his heart rate rising. Facing an enemy was one thing, but magic was cheating. There was no way he could fight back against this.
Alex forced himself to close his eyes. I am one with my breath. Cassie was talking again, something about the incantation used to trap them and how she might have been able to counter the spell if she had the right books. "I don't have service," she lamented, blinking in the light of her phone screen. "I guess we'll do this without Mr. Jenkins then."
She sounded far too chipper for their situation, but Alex did his best to swallow his anxiety and match her light tone. "The Curator will still want to see us. She must want to get her artifacts back."
"Then we'll just have to wait," Cassie shrugged.
Thankfully, they didn't wait long. Alex only had time for a round and a half of meditative breathing before the door above them creaked open to admit a stream of pale electric light. A shadowed figure descended the steps slowly, clinging to the rail. It wasn't Gregory—the thin frame and calculated movements made that clear.
"I was hoping to catch a Librarian," the figure said, soft words sinking down the stairs like the weak light from the doorway. "And look—I've caught two. Based on your reputation, I assumed it would be more difficult. It turns out all one must do is issue an invitation."
"Well, Librarians are accommodating people," Alex said dryly. "I take it you're the Curator?" Cassie had moved to his side, presenting a united front against the enemy. Her presence provided more comfort than it should have for such a small and unarmed person.
The Curator stopped halfway down the steps, resting her hand on the railing at her hip. "Clever and accommodating; the reports do not do you justice." A hood obscured her features, but she spoke with a slight British accent that Alex struggled to place. Affected, he thought—not a true dialect.
"I've really looked forward to meeting you," the Curator went on. She reached for her hood and lowered it to reveal a nondescript face that might have been 20 or 40, with a pair of dark eyes sunk into jutting cheekbones. Her short, silver hair gleamed like a ghost in the shadows, drawing the color from her gaunt cheeks, bright as ash against coal.
"Go on," she said. "Admit it. You're surprised."
"About what?" Alex asked.
She tossed her head. "You were expecting some ancient crone, weren't you? A hag to horde the artifacts. I was hoping to surprise you, Jacob. May I call you Jacob? I've been looking forward to meeting you for so long. I know you've been looking for me."
Cassie shot a glance at Alex, which he read as a direction to stay quiet. "Who are you?" she asked.
"Let's not rush things," the Curator said. "Savor the moment. After all, a Librarian has never met a Curator before."
"Then Jake was right," Cassie said. "Curator is a title."
"Of course it's a title," the Curator laughed. "A kind of anti-Librarian, if you like—and so much more interesting. We've been around almost as long as you have, you know. Working in the shadows, building our collection. We're not supposed to interact with the Library or its busy little worker bees, but… well, where's the fun in that?" She grinned, flashing white teeth that gave her face a feral look.
Alex shifted uneasily. "This is about your missing artifacts, I suppose," he said, hoping to keep the conversation moving. "They're safe, don't worry. Much safer with us than they were with you."
"Oh, those," the Curator said. She flicked her hand as though she were clearing a wisp of smoke from the air before her, one dismissive movement that sent Alex's trump card flying from the argument. "Those were a gift. Payment, really, if you want to look at it that way. Good exchanged for services yet unrendered. I needed something to draw you out, after all."
Cassie's face fell, and the Curator chuckled. "Oh, come now. Jacob, you've met Flores. Do you really think he could have orchestrated anything without my knowing?"
A cold feeling sank through Alex's stomach. Flores hadn't struck him as particularly devious, but Alex had never imagined that he'd been a pawn. Jake had almost died trying to recover those artifacts, and for what? So the Curator could flush him and the others out of the Library?
"What do you want from us?" Alex growled.
The Curator smiled. "Ooh, are we taking this seriously now? I hoped you would. I brought you here because I'm looking for something. I've exhausted my resources, so now I'm turning to yours. Help me find what I seek, and I will set you free. Fail, and… well. I think that's fairly obvious."
"How are we supposed to find anything from down here?" Alex asked.
"If we could go back to the Library—" Cassie started, but the Curator snorted.
"Don't be so old-fashioned. There's this thing called the internet now, you know. Books are obsolete." The Curator waved to the room at the bottom of the stairs. "There's a computer in there, all hooked up to my network and database. I've blocked some things, obviously—secrets, you know—and you won't be able to send out a message for help, though of course you're welcome to try. I welcome the challenge."
Cassie frowned. "What are you looking for?"
"The Gifts of the Magi."
"Magi?" Alex said. "Like the three wise men? Like gold, frankincense, and myrrh?"
The Curator rolled her eyes. "Yes, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. I have set up this elaborate trap to capture you because I couldn't come up with gold, frankincense, and myrrh. So much for Librarians being clever."
"Why do you want them?" Cassie asked.
"To take over the world," the Curator said. "Why else?" She grinned, and the cold sensation in Alex's stomach stretched and crawled up his spine.
"We're not going to—" Cassie started, but the Curator threw her hood back over her face and started back up the staircase.
"That's the nice thing about having more than one Librarian," she said over her shoulder. "Either you find the artifacts to free yourselves, or your friends will find them to free you. It's a win-win for me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an auction to wrap up. And I believe one of my pets escaped. Busy, busy, busy."
She swept up the stairs and let the door slam behind her, leaving Alex and Cassie alone in the darkness.
