Seemingly comforted, the boy swung one leg over the sill. Nova helped him get started, showing him how to reach out with his hands while keeping his ankles locked around the rope.
He was halfway down and she was just beginning to relax, debating whether she would traverse the rope, too, or take the faster route of jumping, when Oscar yelled up to her, “Where’s Adrian?”
She tensed. “He’s not with you?”
Oscar shook his head. “We haven’t seen him since you came out of the basement.”
Nova leaned back from the window and glanced around. The air inside the library made her feel like she was inside a sauna. A smoky, stifling sauna.
Adrian wouldn’t still be in here, would he?
Unless the smoke had gotten to him. Unless he was unconscious somewhere, dying of smoke inhalation, or trapped beneath a burning bookcase, or—
A scream cut over the roar of the fire. Nova stilled. It wasn’t Adrian.
But that only meant that someone else was still in the library.
She followed the screaming to the far corner of the third floor, where a walled-off room stood off from the main stacks, its contents visible through a glass window in the shut door. A sign beside the door read RARE BOOKS AND FIRST EDITIONS. Nova threw it open and found a room mostly clear of the smoky haze that had filled up the rest of the building, though it immediately began to spill in through the open doorway.
Gene Cronin and Narcissa stood before an open window. Narcissa spun toward Nova and shrieked, “Shut the door!”
Nova did, slamming it with a defiant shove.
The Librarian did not even glance over at her. He was too busy pulling books out of glass cases and hastily wrapping them up in paper towels, before throwing them out the window in great armfuls. “Help me!” he cried. “Narcissa—quick! The manuscripts case. We have to save the manuscripts!”
“They’re just books!” Narcissa yelled back. “We have to save ourselves!”
“Just books?” Cronin roared. “My life’s work! Some of these are the only known copies left in the entire world! First editions … signed copies…”
“Narcissa is right,” said Nova, stepping farther into the room. She scanned the space again, thinking Adrian would appear from behind one of the cases, but it was only the Librarian and his granddaughter. Adrian wasn’t there. She gulped, and tried not to picture him trapped in the fire below. “The ground floor is compromised. The whole building is going to collapse in on itself any minute. You have to get out of here.” She scanned the room. Two walls held double-hung windows, all of which had already been opened, perhaps in an effort to let out what smoke seeped through the cracks in the door. A brick fireplace stood on the western wall, looking ironically as though it hadn’t seen fire in decades, with an ornate mirror hung over the mantel. Nova guessed this decorative element was intended more for Narcissa’s convenience than an attempt at decorative elegance.
Otherwise, there were four glass cases displaying ancient books, scrolls, journals, and manuscripts, and even an assortment of antique scribing and printing tools, from ink wells to lead type. More bookcases along the walls, crammed full of works that weren’t quite as rare or valuable as those in the cases. There was the door Nova had entered through, and … that was it. No other escape routes. They would have to go through the window.
“Why did you bring them here?” Narcissa wailed, furious.
Nova spun to face her. “What?”
“You did this! You and the Detonator—you tricked us. Why?” Frightened tears were pooling in Narcissa’s eyes and her fists were clenched so tight they were shaking. It occurred to Nova that she, at least, was not trapped here. There was a mirror. She could leave anytime.
But she hadn’t left yet. She was still trying to save her grandfather.
Nova bit the inside of her cheek, trying to think clearly, while Narcissa’s hateful look cut into her. She’d always liked the Librarian’s granddaughter. She didn’t know her well, but she’d always seemed nice enough when Nova had come with Ingrid to conduct their business. Though she was the Librarian’s granddaughter and obviously knew about his activities, she’d never struck Nova as particularly … villainous.
For the first time, she started to wonder what Narcissa thought about her. In their few interactions she’d seemed quiet, even meek. Nova had assumed that was just her personality, but now she questioned if Narcissa might be afraid of her.
Because she was Nightmare?