“More fidgety.”
“Where are you?” I asked. Matthew had waited until after I left for England, then started driving north and east toward Central Europe.
“I just left Germany.” He wasn’t going to give me any more details in case I encountered an inquisitive witch.
“Be careful. Remember what the goddess said.” Her warning that I would have to give something up if I wanted to possess Ashmole 782 still haunted me.
“I will.” Matthew paused. “There’s something I want you to remember, too.”
“What?”
“Hearts cannot be broken, Diana. And only love makes us truly immortal. Don’t forget, ma lionne.
No matter what happens.” He disconnected the line.
His words sent a shiver of fear up my spine, setting the goddess’s silver arrow rattling. I repeated the words of the charm I’d woven to keep him safe and felt the familiar tug of the chain that bound us together.
“All is well?” Fernando asked quietly.
“As expected.” I slipped the phone back into my pocket. “Let’s get started.” We had agreed that the first thing we would try was simply to replicate the steps by which Ashmole 782 had come into my hands the first time. With Sarah, Linda, and Fernando looking on, I filled out the boxes on the call slip. I signed it, put my reader’s-card number in the appropriate blank, and carried it over to the spot in the Arts End where the pneumatic tube was located.
“The capsule is here,” I said, removing the hollow receptacle. “Maybe Andrew was wrong and the delivery system is still working.” When I opened it, the capsule was full of dust. I coughed.
“And maybe it doesn’t matter one way or the other,” Sarah said with a touch of impatience. “Load it up and let her rip.”
I put the call slip into the capsule, closed it securely, and placed it back in the compartment.
“What next?” Sarah said a few minutes later.
The capsule was right where I’d left it.
“Let’s give it a good whack.” Linda slapped the end of the compartment, causing the wooden supports it was attached to—and which held up the gallery above—to shake alarmingly. With an audible whoosh, the capsule disappeared.
“Nice work, Linda,” Sarah said with obvious admiration.
“Is that a witch’s trick?” Fernando asked, his lips twitching.
“No, but it always improves the Radio 4 signal on my stereo,” Linda said brightly.
Two hours later we were all still waiting by the conveyor belt for a manuscript that showed absolutely no sign of arriving.
Sarah sighed. “Plan B.”
Without a word Fernando unbuttoned his dark coat and slipped it from his shoulders. A pillowcase was sewn into the back lining. Inside, sandwiched between two pieces of cardboard, were the three pages that Edward Kelley had removed from the Book of Life.
“Here you are,” he said, handing over the priceless parcel.
“Where do you want to do it?” Sarah asked. “The only place that’s large enough is there,” I said, pointing to the spot between the splendid stained-glass window and the guard’s station. “No—don’t touch that!” My voice came out in a whispered shriek.
“Why not?” Fernando asked, his hands wrapped around the wooden uprights of a rolling stepladder that blocked our way.
“It’s the world’s oldest stepladder. It’s nearly as ancient as the library.” I pressed the manuscript pages to my heart. “Nobody touches it. Ever.”