Page 4 of Unbroken (Rath & Rune #4)

The next day, Sebastian and Irene sat in his office. Irene pored over the reams of architectural drawings left behind by Alexander Dromgoole, while Sebastian sorted through the jumbled mess of Nathaniel Ladysmith’s correspondence with the doomed architect.

“It’s almost time for lunch,” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall of the rhomboid-shaped room. “Have you had any luck?”

Dear Nathaniel,

I regret to say my strange dreams have continued apace.

Last night, it seemed to me I spoke to a man dressed in a frock coat whose cut recalled those from our youth.

He seemed very disappointed in me, shaking his head and sighing a great deal, as though I wasn’t what he wanted.

Later, I dreamed I was riding a tiger through Mrs. Waite’s dining room, so I wouldn’t place too much importance on any of my nocturnal ramblings!

It is interesting that your acquaintances in Arkham have suggested visiting the western part of the state. I shudder to think what might lurk in those forested hills, and with no more of a precise destination I don’t imagine it will do us much good.

At any rate, I’m considering what to do with the Book of Bone. I have some ideas, but will discuss them more thoroughly when we meet tomorrow. Until then, please rest, as I do not wish your fever to return, and I suspect neither do you!

Yours as always,

Alex

“And are you having strange dreams?” Irene asked.

“You sound like Ves.” At her look, he sighed. “None that I recall, which once again proves that the Books affect those of us descended from, well, them in a different manner. If they’d let Great-Uncle Thomas take Dromgoole’s place, we might not be in this mess now.”

“Perhaps.” She tapped the drawing in front of her. “I need to look at this more, but—”

A sharp rap on the door interrupted her. “Come in,” Sebastian called.

Librarian Amelia Cohen stuck her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a man here to see you. He asked for both or either of you. They made him wait in the grand foyer.”

Irene exchanged a puzzled look with Sebastian. “What’s his name?”

Amelia checked a note, no doubted handed to her by whatever staff member had braved the library to find them. “Mr. Paul Tubbs.”

“Tubbs?” Sebastian exclaimed. “That unpleasant fellow from city hall? I thought he hated us.”

Amelia looked shocked at the suggestion. “Who could hate a librarian? At any rate, that’s all I know. Should I ask a guard to send him away?”

The notion was tempting. He and Irene had visited the city’s Department of Records, looking for plans of the revisions Dromgoole made to First Esoteric Church while concealing the Book of Bone.

Though he ultimately cooperated, Tubbs had behaved as though they were bent on stealing the plans, along with everything else not nailed down.

“I suppose we should find out what he wants,” Sebastian said at last. Irene made a disgusted noise, but didn’t argue.

Most visitors in the grand foyer immediately gravitated to the displays of ancient animals: fossils, bones pulled from tar pits, and dioramas showing them in their ancient habitats.

Tubbs stood near what had been the saber-toothed tiger display—currently unavailable, as the skeletons had attacked them under the influence of the Book of Bone—with his arms folded and his gaze resolutely on the floor.

As though he had no intention of acknowledging his surroundings unless forced to do so.

Irene skipped all preliminaries. “What do you want?” she demand as they walked up.

Tubbs’s head snapped up, his expression souring even further when he saw them.

“What do I want? I want to be back in the records office, doing my job, far away from this place. I’m certainly not here because I wish to be.

” He pressed his lips together, as if trying to hold back the words.

“Unfortunately, I…need…something. You might be able to help me.”

Sebastian exchanged a glance with Irene. “That depends. What do you require?”

“I helped you in the records office,” Tubbs said, rather than answer directly. “You wanted the plans for the revisions to the First Esoteric Church catacombs from 1856. A few days later, I saw an obituary for the church’s sexton.”

“He died in his sleep,” Sebastian said, though of course he’d done no such thing. That had been the explanation run in the papers, however.

“It doesn’t matter.” Tubbs waved a hand. “The point is, I helped you—against my better judgment. And I didn’t tell the police about your suspicious actions.”

Irene’s impatience got the best of her. “By the dark gods, just tell us what you want.”

“I need access to your library. I’m looking for books on the sort of curses that could make a person do something against their will.”

Sebastian felt as though all the air had been punched out of his lungs. “Come with us, Mr. Tubbs. This isn’t something we should speak of here.”

* * *

Ves sat at the long table in the library’s sword room, so called for the symbol inscribed above its door. And, probably, because so many conferences of war, or at least conflict, had been discussed at its tables over the decades.

Irene had fetched him and Mortimer to meet with Mr. Tubbs. Noct remained at his job in the Limited Access Collection for the moment, as none of them trusted Tubbs to react sensibly to his appearance.

Tubbs sat nervously at one end of the table, trying to look confident and hostile, and only somewhat succeeding. Likely he hadn’t expected to be dragged into a room with four librarians when he came here.

“What is this all about?” he demanded, but his voice quavered slightly.

Sebastian folded his hands on the table. “We aren’t your enemies, Mr. Tubbs,” he said gently. “In fact, we might be allies. We’re currently searching for an artifact that has the very properties you mentioned.”

The man’s face darkened. “I assume you’re going to hide it away in this wretched museum along with everything else you’ve managed to pull into your grasp.”

“Actually, we intend to destroy it,” Ves said.

Tubbs took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “I don’t trust any of you.”

“And yet you came to us.” Mortimer leaned over, watching Tubbs curiously. “Your last name sounds familiar.”

“My…my brother…” Tubbs hesitated—then his shoulders slumped. “There were four of us. Paul—that’s me—Peter, Perry, and Patrick.”

“Good lord,” Irene said. “Did your parents ever call you by the right name?”

Tubbs laughed weakly. “Not even once. My father was the town assessor until his death, and got all of us jobs at city hall. Pat, the youngest of us…he died rather horribly back in 1901.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. Sacrificed on a standing stone.” Mortimer nodded solemnly. “Sebastian, you recall—the business that ended in the First Battle of Front Street Bridge. We were both junior librarians at the time.”

“Oh!” Sebastian’s eyes widened, and Ves made a mental note to ask him for the details later. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Tubbs.”

“I was working as the town secretary back then—nasty job, dealing with the public all the time.” Tubbs shook his head.

“I took over the records office from my poor brother when he died. He had very strong views about keeping our possessions in the city’s hands, rather than hidden away in the backrooms of this museum.

” He seemed to recall his previous animosity.

“And he was completely correct! We safeguard the records—the heritage!—of the citizens of Widdershins. Everyone should have access, not just academics with the right credentials. If you want to know my opinion—”

Ves cleared his throat. “I’m merely the binder and conservator, so I fear I have no say in our acquisitions.

Most of us here do not.” With the exception of Sebastian, but he wasn’t about to mention that.

“I assume you’re not here because of your brother’s long-ago death, so perhaps you should tell us why you came looking for information on curses. ”

Tubbs sighed. “My sister-in-law, Perry’s wife. Penelope.”

Irene opened her mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it.

“She…there was a terrible accident. Or we thought it was an accident at the time. I wasn’t present, but she hosted a dinner party for some of her friends.

While they were chatting over aperitifs, she went to light the candles on the dinner table before the caterer brought in the meal.

” He looked down at the table. “Her evening gown…those gauzy layers that are in fashion now…”

“Chiffon?” Irene suggested.

Tubbs shrugged. “Whatever it was, it caught fire. She was very badly burned…the doctors don’t think…”

Sebastian paled sharply. His own mother had burned to death, and he’d been unable to save her. Even now, he didn’t care for open flames of any sort. Ves wished he could take Sebastian’s hand for comfort, but didn’t want to in front of Tubbs.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sebastian stammered.

Tubbs swallowed hard. “She’s conscious some of the time, depending on how long it’s been since her last dose of morphine.

She told me it wasn’t an accident. That she felt as though some outside force took over, puppeting her limbs.

It made her light the candle, then hold it directly against her dress so it would catch.

Then it prevented her from crying out for help, from moving, from doing anything but stand there, while everyone stared in horror as she… ”

Sebastian’s mouth formed a silent “O.”

“Good God.” Mortimer was the first to recover his voice. “I can see why you came here.”

“No one else wants to believe it’s true.

They want to think the pain has distorted her memory, that it was just a simple accident, the sort you see in the paper from time to time.

” Tubbs shook his head. “Many years ago, my brother Pat was butchered as a sacrifice to some dark force. I couldn’t save him.

And I can’t save Penny. But I thought I might…

I don’t know. Learn how to turn the curse back on whoever did this to her, perhaps.

” His shoulders straightened. “You say this was caused by some artifact?”

“Perhaps,” Ves said. He didn’t want to reveal the existence of the Books to Tubbs, in case the man got some twisted idea of laying hands on the Book of Blood himself and using it for revenge. And of course, it was possible some other magic lay behind Penny’s actions.

It would be quite the coincidence if that were true, but coincidences did happen.

Mother had made a point to seek him out and warn him about the Book. Did she know it was already in someone’s hands? If so, why not just come out and tell him?

Because information was a way of controlling him—that answer, at least, came easily. No doubt she delighted in choosing what to withhold and what to dole out. She always had.

“Is there any possibility of speaking with Penelope?” Sebastian asked. Some of the color had returned to his face. “It might help us determine if this artifact is the cause, or if something else was responsible for her misfortune.”

Tubbs looked conflicted. “The doctors have recommended complete rest.”

“They’ve also despaired of her life,” Irene pointed out. “If they’re right, we can’t wait until she recovers to talk to her. If you want whoever did this to pay for their crime, we need all the information we can get.”

“And you’ll share your theories with me, after?” Tubbs asked. Sebastian opened his mouth, and Tubbs added, “I insist.”

Sebastian didn’t look happy, but said, “Fine.”

“You won’t cut me out of this. I won’t allow it.”

Mortimer gave Tubbs a smile that seemed sincere, though Ves doubted it actually was. “Of course, Mr. Tubbs. We wouldn’t dream of it.”