CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
‘Put your hands there, Winters.’ Vale positioned her hands to hold the pad in place while he bandaged the gash across Kai’s midriff.
Irene tried to focus, but it was too much effort. She simply knelt there and let herself be used as a convenient surgical clamp, while Vale applied strips of torn-up shirt and Kai bled. The gashes weren’t life-threatening, but they were nasty and they might leave scars.
‘I hope your uncle isn’t too annoyed that you came here,’ she said, vaguely following the thought through to a logical destination.
‘And thank you for favouring us with your attention, Winters,’ Vale said, sitting back on his knees and wiping his hands on the remaining rags. He seemed to have pulled himself together with barely a moment’s pause, all self-possession and control once more. ‘I take it that inferno was a success?’
‘It looked quite successful to me,’ Kai said. He tried moving his bandaged arm, and winced. ‘Irene, I’m sorry. I should have had more faith in you.’
‘It was hardly how I’d have planned it,’ Irene admitted. She was feeling more coherent now, though horribly exhausted. The knowledge of what she’d done to the books lay like a lead weight at the bottom of her mind, dragging all her other achievements down with it. She’d burned them. Unique books – stories that would never be found again – and she’d burned them all. There should have been some other way. There must have been some other way. If she’d tried harder, if she’d been more intelligent, then perhaps she would have found a way to save the books, as well as stopping Alberich. She realized that Kai deserved a better response for his apology, and forced a smile. ‘I nearly got killed. Several times,’ she said. ‘Li Ming was quite right. It was reckless. I wasn’t expecting you two. I really wasn’t. Thank you.’ Her voice shook, and she had to bite her lip not to cry.
To Irene’s surprise, the arm that went round her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze was Vale’s. She let herself relax, assuring herself that it would be only for a moment. I’m not being weak. I’m simply leaning on him for a moment, just till I get my strength back.
‘We should have been there sooner,’ Kai said firmly.
‘What happened to the Fae woman?’ Vale asked, in tones of academic interest.
A lump rose in Irene’s throat. ‘She’s dead,’ she said, not looking at either of them. ‘She pushed me out of the way of a falling bookcase. I’d have died if she hadn’t. She got me there safely, but . . .’
‘Save your sympathy for someone who didn’t try to kill you multiple times over, Winters,’ Vale advised sharply. ‘She knew perfectly well what she was doing. If she didn’t make it out alive, then she has nobody to thank but herself for getting into that situation in the first place.’
Irene scrubbed her arm across her stinging eyes. Her face was smeared with ashes. ‘Believe it or not, that doesn’t help much, either.’ She knew she should try to be more gracious, but her stock of patience had run dry. ‘I would have liked her to get out of this alive. Even if you don’t think she “deserved” it.’
‘And your Alberich. Dead, I hope?’ Vale asked.
‘I hope so. I hope he burned.’ Irene’s own vengefulness surprised her.
‘Along with his books. It’s a shame they couldn’t be saved,’ Kai said.
She was going to have to confess it sooner or later. She might as well get some practice in now. ‘That was my fault,’ Irene said. ‘I started the fire. I ordered them to burn.’ She could smell the ashes all over her, and she wondered morbidly if any of them came from the unique books in the cages. The ash felt ingrained into her skin, a mark of irredeemable sin more permanent than any scarlet letter.
Vale shrugged. ‘A shame, but it clearly worked.’
‘Yes, but . . . they were unique,’ Irene protested. She wasn’t getting the sort of disapproval she’d expected. ‘And I burned them.’
Vale and Kai exchanged glances. Kai shrugged. ‘I can sympathize,’ he said. ‘Even if I wasn’t training as a Librarian, I’d sympathize. They were books. They were unique. But I know you, Irene. You wouldn’t have done that if you could have found any other way to stop him. It’s not your fault. If you’re blaming anyone other than Alberich, then you’re wrong.’
Irene struggled with the urge to tell him that he’d got it all wrong and that she should be blamed, but the thorough lack of condemnation from either man made it difficult. ‘How did you get here?’ she asked, changing the subject.
Kai lay back and looked at the ceiling. ‘I found Madame Coppelia and passed on your message,’ he said. ‘Then Vale and I decided to come after you.’
‘That’s suspiciously vague,’ Irene said. ‘And rather lacking in details.’
‘But substantially correct. Besides, this way you can’t claim it was all your fault and that you should be punished for getting me into trouble.’ Kai sounded positively smug.
‘True,’ Vale agreed. ‘Strongrock can apologize for all of it, together with whatever reparations he needs to make to his uncle’s servant.’
‘Oh dear.’ Irene wasn’t sure she really wanted to know what had happened to Li Ming. She was finally starting to relax. It helped if she didn’t think about some of the things that Alberich had said. ‘I’m having trouble believing it’s all over. Part of me is afraid that the lights are going to start going out again, or that I’ll open the door and . . .’ She let the sentence trail off.
Is Alberich really dead? Irene’s paranoia whispered. I’ve seen his skin ripped from his body, I’ve seen him thrown into chaos, and now I’ve seen him caught in an inferno, in a world that’s falling apart. It should be enough to kill anyone – human, Fae, dragon or Librarian. But how can I be sure?
For a moment there was silence. Then she shook herself and clambered to her feet. ‘All right,’ she said firmly. ‘Time to move.’ It felt as if time had started again. This little moment of stillness couldn’t last. Her personal clock was ticking. There were things to do, people to see, questions to ask. Books to read.
‘Couldn’t we wait a little longer?’ Kai asked pathetically. But he let her and Vale help him up.
‘Nonsense, there’s far too much to do.’ Irene finally put a name to the sensation she could feel rising in her, like a kite catching the wind. Possibility. Anything seemed possible now.