Rook, page 22
A pair of dirty knees dangled over the side of a small cot, and two scowling eyes glared out at me. My mouth hung open. “Grim?”
“I knew I should never have trusted you,” she growled. “You were working with the bad guys all along!”
“We’re working with the bad guys?” I said. “No, you’re working with the bad guys!”
“What?” She threw her hands in the air. “That doesn’t even make any sense!”
“Back at the hospital,” I said, “you tried to kidnap me!”
“I didn’t try to kidnap you, stupid! I tried to warn you!” she yelled.
“Wait—if you didn’t put the spell on my back, then who did?”
“The bad guys!” Grim declared emphatically, as if that cleared everything up.
“I keep telling her . . .” a familiar voice said from the second story of the bunker. Agent Garabrand stood on the catwalk that encircled the room. “We’re not the bad guys.”
chapter twenty-seven
Agent Garabrand’s aura flickered with calculating caution, but he remained fundamentally confident. It was a confidence I was rapidly growing to dislike. He had something in his hands. From a distance it looked like a medicine bottle, the sort with brown-tinted glass.
“What’s happening, sir?” said Agent Kit.
“The same thing that’s always happening,” Agent Garabrand answered. “We are doing our job.”
“This is your job?” I said. “Was kidnapping in the fine print of the contract, or right up front in the perks and benefits?”
Garabrand shook his head and tutted.
Agent Kit’s eyes shot between me and his partner. “Mr. Garabrand. I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know right now.”
“You always do.” Garabrand sighed. “This is well above your pay grade.” He considered his partner for a moment, one hand running along the railing as he gazed down at us. When he reached the stairway, he paused. “But you’re a good agent—one of the best I’ve trained in a long time. I would have preferred to introduce you to this next level of security more incrementally, but here we are.”
“I’m waiting,” Kit said.
Garabrand shifted the bottle from one hand to the other and began to make his way down the steps. “Do you know why you were selected for this detail, Agent Kit? Your exemplary record. Sharp, clever, never afraid to wade right into the fray. People just like you have been protecting this country from behind the scenes for generations. Our organization is larger than any government body—older and more significant than any president.”
“No, it’s not.” Kit scowled. “I do my homework. The Bureau of Curiosities was founded in 1861 by special order of Abraham Lincoln.”
“That’s right.” Garabrand chuckled. “Lincoln had one slightly haunted mirror, so he created an entire covert federal agency to look into it. Makes for a good brochure. But who did the leader of the nation trust to investigate paranormal phenomena both in his own home and all across his country? Paper pushers? Flashy charlatans? No. He trusted experts. He trusted people who knew what they were doing, because they had been doing it already. The name Bureau of Curiosities came about in 1861, but the organization itself is far older. And like a snake shedding its skin, that title, too, will eventually crumble away. The body beneath will live on—called something else, but steadfast in its purpose. The world has always needed us, carrying out our work in the shadows. It is a thankless, solemn duty, but for those worthy of it, there is no greater honor.”
Kit swallowed, his brow knit.
“Sorry,” I said, cutting in. “Not to interrupt this lovely bit of propaganda that you’ve clearly rehearsed with such care, but there’s not much honor in kidnapping innocent people and locking them up in prison cells.”
“Honor is just ego. I do what’s necessary for the greater good.”
“It was in the greater good to try to kidnap me, then? Back at the hospital?”
“It was,” Garabrand confirmed shamelessly. “Would’ve been better for us all if I’d succeeded, but I didn’t account for Dr. Mudgett and his nasty cold snaps. Rookie mistake. Oh, you acted quickly to put it out—full marks for that—but I suspect the specter’s chill gave you the time you needed to pull it off. Not fond of flames, the old doc. He blew me clean out of the room before I could put match to paper for a second attempt. The silver lining, of course, was getting to see you perform under pressure. You have proven yourself quite capable, Miss Rook. A nuisance, yes, but a resourceful one. I respect that. I’ve said as much since I first read your paperwork. You will make an excellent asset.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, that’s obviously not happening,” I said.
Garabrand smiled and shook his head patronizingly. “I think you’ll find any reasons that you have for distrusting us will be easily forgotten in the face of the good you could do with the bureau.”
“Is that so?” My fists clenched. “You’d have me do what, exactly? Help you protect the world from magical beings? From where I’m standing, it’s increasingly clear that they are the ones who need protection from you.”
“I understand how things look,” Garabrand said, gesturing at the cells with the bottle in his hand. “But you’re wrong. You can trust me. What we do—what our organization has done for generations—it isn’t as simple as protecting the world from magic. Magic is a part of the world that we protect. I have the utmost respect for it.”
“You respect it so much, you kidnap it and lock it up in a cage?”
“Yes.” Garabrand was without shame or contrition. “Yes, I do. I admit, it may appear blunt and crude—and perhaps it is—but it is also necessary. Good must counteract evil. Wild magic must be tamed and turned toward productive ends. That snallygaster I caught so many years ago—it was an unruly, dangerous thing. My fellow agents would have destroyed it, but under my care it became an unlikely asset and an ally. All of the individuals we’ve detained have a part to play—whether they see it now or not—just as you have a part to play. What we are doing here is curating a world in which magic need not be seen as a threat.”
Confidence thrummed off him like a heartbeat, and it was almost mesmerizing—he believed his own words, he really did—and yet, there was a brittle, silver streak running through it all. “You’re lying,” I said. “To me or to yourself, you’re lying. Of course you want magic to be a threat. You need it to be a threat. You just want it to be your threat.”
Garabrand nodded, thoughtfully. “Hmm. I suppose there is a truth to that. I have always preferred the gun that’s in my holster to the one that’s pointed at my head. But is it really such a bad thing to be made into a threat, Detective? The Bureau of Curiosities turned a rudderless kid like me into a force to be reckoned with—just as I’m now doing for Agent Kit—and not unlike how Mr. Jackaby made a veritable weapon out of you. Sharpened you up good and keen, didn’t he?”
“That’s entirely different,” I said. “I chose this.”
“Did you really? You left England thinking you were going to hunt mythical monsters in America? That was your exact plan? No. I didn’t think so. But you’re good at it. They will be good, too.” He gestured to the cells. “You’ve already seen how instrumental powers like Maeve Finkin’s can be. The ability to abduct persons of interest without leaving a trace—it’s stunning. Witches who can craft deployable hexes? Tailors who can stitch vests as strong as steel and light as feathers? Soldiers with the strength of ogres? These individuals are being given the same opportunity that you and I were—to become a threat, yes, but against the forces of evil.”
I rolled my eyes. “You want to force midwives and greengrocers to be your soldiers?”
“What I really want,” Garabrand answered, “more than fear or trust—is order. Establishing order means establishing peace. Threats can be useful to that end. After all, what is a law if not a threat, Miss Rook? You know as well as I do that we cannot make change through empty promises. We make change through fear—real and legitimate fear.”
“Spoken like a frightened little boy who got paddled one too many times at primary school,” I said. “I’ll take hope over fear any day.”
Garabrand tutted. “You can’t have one without the other, kid. Together, hope and fear can accomplish great things. Yes, hope inspires, but fear is what bands people together. Fear strengthens armies and tightens bonds. Fear accomplishes the things that hope dares only to dream about.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I snapped. “You’re the ones causing strife in New Fiddleham. All the new dangerous magic flooding the streets. The spells being passed around freely to petty grifters. You gave Squiffy Rick that spell sheet, knowing it would stir up tensions between the human and paranormal populations when he used it. That’s why all that stolen property was just abandoned at the hospital. It makes perfect sense now. You didn’t need it—you didn’t even want it—you just needed people to be mad about it. You say you want order, but you need chaos! The faster things got out of hand, the sooner you could put the city under your jurisdiction and seize total control.”
Garabrand nodded his head, his eyes frustratingly keen. “You’re so close to getting it,” he said, encouragingly. “But this is about much more than one little city.”
My mouth felt dry. “The veil-gate.”
“The veil-gate!” Garabrand snapped his fingers and nodded. He was holding the shiny brown bottle by the neck. It had sort of a spigot head, like a soda siphon, and the liquid inside looked dark and thick. “A major metropolitan city on the coast of these United States sits totally defenseless, Miss Rook, borderless, ripe for an attack. Invasion is not merely possible; it is inevitable. The lid is off the cookie jar. Foreign powers would be fools not to take advantage of our weakness.”
“You’re being dramatic. We’re not about to be invaded.”
“We already were invaded!” Garabrand burst out, his placid calm shattering for just a moment before he composed himself again. “Or have you forgotten so soon? I’ve read your file. You were there. Do you deny it?”
I pursed my lips.
Garabrand nodded. “Less than a year ago, New Fiddleham became home to the single most significant threat to the stability of our nation since the Civil War. I do not hold Mayor Spade to blame. It’s a miracle it ended as well as it did—the world as we know it mere moments away from being torn apart. You all must think yourselves terribly heroic for preventing that cataclysmic disaster. But there are no such things as heroes, Detective Rook, only more disasters. You can survive them, pat yourself on the back for thwarting one or two, or you can get to work preparing for the next one. There remains a very real and imminent threat of invasion through that gate. It could happen at any time and take any form. The diversity of paranormal life in this very city is evidence of that.”
“Even if you were right, the people in your cages aren’t soldiers,” I snapped. “They’re not foreign invaders. They’re people—most of them citizens who have lived here for years. But you know that already. And you don’t care.”
Garabrand stiffened. “On the contrary, Miss Rook, I care very much. I am neither cruel nor naive. I know very well that paranormals—like all people—can be good or bad. They can be with us or against us. I do not assume the worst in any of them. Quite the opposite—I am giving them the chance to show us their best. I’m giving them the opportunity to prove which side they’re on. Those paranormals who are with us will be proud to see their unique abilities become their country’s strengths. As for those who are against us”—Garabrand cleared his throat meaningfully—“it is our responsibility to do whatever it takes to protect our people.”
“Is that what you told Juliette D’Aulaire when you murdered her?” I spat.
Agent Kit’s eyes fixed on his partner, but Garabrand did not respond right away.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” I said. “Even you can’t pretend she was an outsider. Heck, she might have been your greatest mouthpiece. She spent every day spreading hate and fear for you.”
“That wasn’t us,” Kit blurted from beside me, although his voice had lost its confidence. “We didn’t do that. That was your friend Alina.” He turned, again, to his partner. “Tell her.”
Garabrand did not speak. He was watching me intently.
“She confessed,” said Kit, his aura churning frantically now.
“She did,” I agreed. “And she truly believes that she’s guilty—but Agent Garabrand doesn’t. Isn’t that right?”
“You’re making a rather bold accusation,” Garabrand said, at last.
“You’re not denying a rather bold accusation,” I said.
“Alina Cane is guilty,” he finally answered, but his aura spun with the discordant hues of a half truth.
“You’re lying,” I said. “And all for a tactical advantage. You would kill, kidnap, and frame innocent citizens just to weaponize their powers. I shudder to imagine what you would do with the access the veil-gate would grant you. How would you weaponize an entire world full of magic?”
“That’s not how the bureau works,” said Kit. “We’re the good guys.” The man’s aura was shaking apart as he desperately tried to maintain that conviction.
“The only reason that’s not how the bureau works,” I corrected him, “is because until now, the bureau hasn’t been able to work that way. But suddenly a door opens up and the sole obstacle between the kid and the magical sweet shop is a dutiful pack of guard dogs.”
“The Om Caini should never have been given control over the crossing,” said Garabrand.
“Which is why you had D’Aulaire killed,” I said, “and had Alina framed for it.”
“No!” Agent Kit blurted. “He crossed some lines, clearly—but we don’t go around killing innocent people. If we wanted the veil so badly, we have more than enough agents to just take it without all that nonsense.”
“But all that nonsense is necessary,” I said. “Your partner knows that. He knows that most of the city would have sided with the Om Caini if a bunch of government thugs had come and kicked them off their sovereign land. The whole of the Annwyn might have sided with the Om Caini. You might have started a war with a hundred enemies at once—and that would have only reinforced the need for Alina to regain control and protect the gate even more fiercely. No, you needed the city to think that it needed you. So you caused a bunch of chaos, made daily life dangerous and awful, and then framed your greatest obstacle for a murder she didn’t commit.”
“Stop saying that,” Kit demanded. He turned to Garabrand. “Tell her it isn’t true.”
“I have the utmost respect for Alina Cane,” Agent Garabrand answered, calmly, his eyes locked on me, “but make no mistake—she did kill Juliette D’Aulaire. You saw the evidence with your own exceptional eyes, Detective. You just don’t want to believe it.”
I faltered. His aura was infuriating. Truth and lies wove together in seamless ribbons. His confidence was absolutely ironclad. I tilted my head. He was too confident. “You know it’s true,” I said.
Garabrand nodded. “Finally ready to accept the facts?”
“No, I mean, you know. You don’t suspect. You didn’t infer it. You said Alina killed that woman—because you know that she did. And how would you know . . . unless you were there when it happened?”
Garabrand closed his mouth.
“And I’d wager you made it happen.” I shook my head. “Ugh. Of course you did—it’s what you do. You turn other people into your weapons. When Dr. Mudgett attacked, you let Agent Kit fire the first shots. You got Maeve Finkin to craft the spells that would capture her friends and neighbors. You kidnapped all these people just to use them the same way. So? How did you make Alina do it? Mind control?”
“Hardly,” Garabrand answered. “It didn’t take much. Your dear, sweet friend is no innocent. She only needed the right provocation, the right circumstances, a moment of confusion at just the right time. It wasn’t pretty. She realized what she had done almost at once, even tried to stop the bleeding—made a mess of herself.”
“That’s horrible,” I breathed.
“Our work is not always clean,” Garabrand conceded. “Our aims are not accomplished without sacrifices—but the ends do justify the means. I have not committed a single act in the service of our mission that I would not repeat. We will control the veil-gate, Miss Rook—because we must. The well-being of this nation and of the entire world is at stake.”
“Stirring,” I said. “But it’s over. You’re caught.”
Garabrand let out a laugh, and his eyebrows rose slightly as he shook his head. “Mr. Kit, if you don’t mind.”
I turned my head. Kit hesitated for a moment, and I could see his eyes dart from his partner to me. His aura was awash with electric hues of confused integrity. Ultimately, he drew a deep breath and plucked the handcuffs from his belt. “Put your arms behind your back, Miss Rook.”
“Seriously?” I said.
Kit took me roughly by the wrist. I tried to pull away, but I heard the click and felt cold metal pressing against my skin. He tugged at my other wrist, pulling both behind my back. “Don’t struggle,” he grunted. It was not the brusque command but rather the unexpected urgency hiding just beneath his words that made me pause. In the glow of his aura, I could sense strands of desperate, reckless hope. I heard the second shackle click shut, but rather than cuffing my wrist with it, this one he pressed into my palm. I blinked. Along with the cool metal, he had slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand.
“She’s secure,” he lied, his voice even.
I tried to avoid letting my surprise play across my face. I put on my best look of angry betrayal as my mind spun to reassess the situation. Kit was helping me.
