And If Thou Wilt, Forget

“Okay, okay, wait, here’s a good one.” Tim held up a finger. “If you were a piece of music, what would you be?”

“Flat,” Gerry deadpanned.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a goddamn symphony played by an expert orchestra.” Tim didn’t so much kick Gerry as nudge his ankle gently with a toe. “And you know I’m not talking about the sheet music. C’mon, I answered your stupid question about only being able to eat one kind of cheese for the rest of my life.”

“With an equally stupid answer.”

“Wensleydale is amazing and don’t you forget it. Now answer the question. You. Music. What?”

Gerry laughed, in the slightly loose way he did when they were…not drunk, exactly, but more relaxed than when they were on duty or expecting to be. It was a sound Tim had come to love over the last few months, and he still didn’t hear it nearly often enough.

They’d never spent time together outside the Archives after their first meeting—most of their conversations had been equal parts playful, sexually charged banter and exaggerated, over the top “flirting” calculated to provide Gertrude Robinson the maximum amount of embarrassment—but not because they hadn’t wanted to, more because they’d had the unspoken understanding that Gertrude wouldn’t like it. Gerry, still Gerard back then, had especially seemed worried that she would somehow know and disapprove. Now that Tim knew she was psychic to a degree, of course, he understood that better. But then he’d had his six-month performance evaluation with Elias Bouchard, his first actual prolonged contact with the man and the first time he’d spoken to him one on one, and it had left him rattled and uncertain. He’d found himself in front of Pinhole Books, leaning on the bell, and Gerard had taken one look at his face and brought him in, in every sense of the phrase.

It had taken another week for him to, almost shyly, tell Tim that he’d always hoped his friends would call him Gerry.

Gertrude appeared to have accepted their friendship, and to their credit, they’d toned down the outrageousness in her presence. And most of their time really was spent in hunting down information about the Stranger, or the Unknowing, or one of the other Fears—as Tim himself had pointed out, everything else didn’t stop just because of piddly little things like the impending end of the world. There was also the fact that Gerry did still possess a legitimate business, albeit one of the sort that was largely by appointment. Still, when they had a bit of free time, more and more often they had begun to spend it together. They’d even started to spend it places other than Gerry’s flat or Tim’s house.

The pub was jammed full of people, mostly students celebrating the end of exams, and they’d been lucky to snag a table to themselves. The noise and general chaos meant they had trouble getting served, but it also meant they had some privacy. They could have talked openly about the Fourteen and the Unknowing if they’d wanted to.

They didn’t want to.

“Come on,” Tim coaxed. “First answer that comes to your head. Doesn’t have to be anything highbrow if you don’t want it to be. Just your leitmotif.”

“My what?”

“What’s the song that’s playing when you walk onto the stage?” Tim made a show of looking at his watch, absently shaking out his other hand to relieve the tightness around his ring. “Three, two—”

His phone, which was face down on the table, buzzed abruptly, cutting him off. Gerry let out an exaggerated sigh of relief; Tim stuck his tongue out at him as he reached for the phone. It never crossed his mind not to answer. He didn’t have much of a social life these days, save people he essentially honey-potted in order to get information for cases (which he only felt a little guilty about), and he hadn’t spoken to his parents since Danny’s death, which they refused to consider anything but a disappearance until they found his body. The only two people who really reached out to him anymore were Gerry, who didn’t own a mobile phone, and Gertrude.

And if Gertrude was calling him this late on a Friday, it must be important.

He thumbed the CALL button without looking. “Yes, ma’am?”

More or less as Tim had expected, Gertrude didn’t waste time on pleasantries or idle chit-chat. “My office. Both of you. Twenty minutes.”

“Sure.” Tim hung up without further fuss, tossed a couple banknotes on the table, and stood. He offered Gerry a cheeky grin that his friend could definitely see right through, but none of the people around them could. “What do you say we go somewhere a bit more private, eh?”

Gerry definitely caught Tim’s meeting, but gave him a smirk in reply. “Only if the dress code is more casual.”

They headed out into the cool June night air, stumbling towards the nearest Tube station and singing two different sets of words to an old drinking song while somehow both supporting the other. Once they were settled in their seats on a car to themselves, though, Gerry turned to Tim with a serious expression. “Gertrude?”

“Wants to see us in her office.”

“Jesus Christ.” Gerry pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought having you working for her meant she’d stopped being in her office all hours of the night.”

Tim twisted his ring absently as he stared at the window opposite him, with its view of the concrete wall of the tunnel occasionally broken by the flash of emergency lighting. “She hasn’t been working late. Not at the Institute, anyway. Dunno what she’s been doing on her own time. If she wants us to meet her at the Institute, it’s for a specific reason.”

Gerry stared at him. “You just…know that, do you?”

“Just a guess. You know how paranoid the old bat is.” Tim shrugged and refocused his attention on Gerry. “Not without reason, but still. Has she ever visited you at the shop?”

“No, come to think of it.”

“And she won’t ever. It’s too well-known in…” Tim hesitated. He still tripped over saying it, but it was true. “Our world. Too likely someone might think to look for her there, or lay a trap for her.”

Gerry exhaled. “Yeah. Mum’s reputation precedes me. And she won’t go to your place because—”

“Probably because she’s trying to keep more people than necessary from knowing how involved I am,” Tim answered. “Or so she has someplace They don’t know about to go if things go pear-shaped.”

“Yeah, you’re her secret weapon for sure.”

Tim studied Gerry for a moment, then decided he was probably actually being serious. “Something like that, I guess.”

It took them eighteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds to get to the side door of the Institute that led directly into the Archives. Tim was surprised to find it locked. Before he could go around to the front door—or pick the lock—he heard a voice from the shadows behind him. “You’re early.”

“You’re surprised,” Tim noted.

Gertrude stepped up beside him and produced a key from her pocket. “I can’t Know the future, Tim, only the time it should have taken you to get here.”

“We cut through a couple back alleys.” Tim automatically clicked on the pocket torch he’d taken to carrying everywhere after the Night Market; it really didn’t do a whole lot to illuminate more than the barest bit of space ahead of him, but it turned back the darkness enough to remind him which side of it he was on. The Archives were the last place in the Institute to see daylight and the first to lose it, and Gertrude often didn’t bother to flip the switch when she arrived. He’d started to suspect she could see in the dark and just hadn’t realized it yet. He, however, could not, and not tripping over his feet was always a plus. A tiny bit of light was preferable to a whole lot of noise if he knocked over a shelf.

Sure enough, Gertrude didn’t put anything on until they reached her office, at which point she switched on only the old-fashioned desk lamp. Tim knew then it was serious serious. She didn’t want to risk being spotted if a cleaner or the night watchman took it into their heads to come into the Archives for some unknown reason. And if this was something she didn’t want anybody knowing about at all, it could mean one of the rituals was closer than they’d suspected, or it could mean she’d learned something about the Eye’s ritual—although he’d like to think she wouldn’t discuss that right at the Ceaseless Watcher’s seat of power—but whatever it was, he’d have to be on his guard.

“Do you have your passport with you?” she asked Gerry without preamble, before she’d even sat down behind her desk.

Gerry patted his jacket pocket. “Never leave home without it.”

“Good. There is a flight leaving Heathrow at three minutes to midnight, and we are going to be on it.”

“Where to?” Gerry asked.

“Eleven fifty-seven out of Heathrow? Either Paris or Helsinki,” Tim said with a slight frown. “Finland’s more likely to be the Dark than the Stranger, so unless you’ve got a good lead that their ritual, whatever it is, is going to come sooner than the Unknowing, or it’s a stopover on your way somewhere else, I’m guessing France.”

Gertrude paused in what she was doing and raised an eyebrow in Tim’s direction. “Do you simply have that information memorized?”

“Manuscript I read through last spring. Interesting premise, but the guy couldn’t put together a decent sentence to save his life, and his sleuth couldn’t deduct his way out of a wet paper bag.” Tim shrugged. “Anyway, one of the major plot points centered around needing to locate exactly which plane had got off the ground first on a particular night, and I remember that in particular—that it was always either the Helsinki or Paris flight that left at that particular time and it was just a matter of finding out which one had been cleared for takeoff before the other. Stuck with me, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Gertrude resumed her rummaging. “Well, you’re correct, Tim, it is France. To start with, at any rate. I’m not certain where this is going to lead, but we may be gone for quite a while.”

A look flickered across Gerry’s eyes briefly, mingled resentment and fear. Tim reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. He knew, because Gerry had told him, how much he’d hated his mother dragging him around the world without a warning, how much he’d hated not being able to put down roots, but also how frightened he had been every time that this would be it, that this trip would be the one she left him behind or fed him to something. Gertrude wasn’t like that…probably…but the fact that she just expected him to drop everything and go had to be stirring up feelings. “So what are we telling Elias? Or are we?”

“If he asks, which I’m sure he will, tell him I’ve gone on another research trip and that I will report in as necessary, as usual.” Gertrude laid two cardboard folders, a thick leather zipper folio, and a bunch of keys on the desk. “Do not mention Gerard.”

Gerry’s hand tightened. Tim hadn’t consciously realized he was still holding it. “Wait, Tim’s not coming?”

“I need him here, Gerard. Among other things, if Elias believes Tim to be unaware of what I am doing, he likely won’t pay too close attention to him.” Gertrude studied Tim. “And he may be less…on his guard with you.”

“If he is, it’ll be deliberate,” Tim rejoined. “Something ultimately harmless but that he can test out, you know? To see if I’m passing it on to you. Because I’m sure you’ll check in with me more often than you will Elias, if only to make sure things are running smoothly here. So he won’t relax until he’s sure—either that I’m not telling you or that you’re not…prying my secrets out of me.”

Gertrude looked momentarily nonplussed. “I…yes, quite. Do you have a solution?”

Tim considered for a moment. “Maybe. There was a code my mates and I would use for passing notes in school sometimes where only every third or fourth word was important and the rest of it was nonsense. Took a bit to write, but it was doable. I could send you reports—daily, maybe—and if there’s anything…clandestine you need to know, I can put it in code.”

“How would you know if it was the third or fourth word?” Gerry asked curiously.

“We’d doodle in one of the corners, either a tree or a tusked pig.” Tim grinned at the confused look on Gerry’s face. “Because it rhymed. Tree…three. Boar…four.”

“Clever,” Gerry admitted.

Gertrude nodded slowly. “I admit, I can’t come up with anything better. All right, we’ll give it a try. Only contact me through your Institute email address.”

“Why?” Gerry began, then stopped. “So Elias doesn’t know you suspect anything. He’ll pay more attention to any private emails.”

“Correct. I’m fairly certain my email is securely encrypted, and beyond even Elias’s prying, but I am less confident about Tim’s. Regardless of what VPN you might be using.” Gertrude had a degree of familiarity with technology Tim wasn’t accustomed to among people of her age; she was old enough to be his grandmother, if only on a technicality. But despite the fact that everything in the Archives ran on carbon paper and magnetic tape, and the fact that she had as recently as that morning got into an argument with Elias over the fact that they weren’t tied into the Institute’s intranet, her knowledge of modern software was eclipsed only by her knowledge of the Fourteen.

“What’s the wireless password down here?” Tim asked, and he was only partly joking. He usually used his phone as a hotspot when he was using his laptop—instructions from Gertrude, who did the same on the rare occasions she openly used her laptop on Institute property, usually on Tuesdays or Thursdays when Elias was preoccupied with his budgeting and his meetings with department heads respectively—but if he was going to make it easy for Elias to spy on his emails, might as well go the whole hog. He could probably play it off as having finally escaped the paranoid old bat.

“The Institute doesn’t have a wireless network. Everything is hardwired,” Gertrude informed him.

“I could set up a router.”

“Not necessary. That’s another reason I need you here.” Gertrude grimaced. “I…acceded to Elias’s request that we—how did he put it?—‘bow to the inevitable march of time and progress’. He’s sending someone to install a desktop computer on Monday. I will need you to be here, and I will need you to get it up and running while I am away.” She slid one of the cardboard folders towards him. “This should give you a head start on what to put in. After that, use your discretion.”

Tim nodded. He didn’t bother opening it; there would be plenty of time for that on Monday. “What are the other two?”

“This one is a description of the usual duties of an Archivist in general, and at the Institute in particular.” Gertrude placed the second, much slimmer cardboard folder on top of the first. “You’ll need it in order to keep things running while I’m gone, nominally at least. Elias won’t expect perfection, of course, or even much in the way of effort, but you might further allay suspicion if you’re attempting to follow a set of strict instructions.”

“Class clown was always my favorite role.” Tim grinned. “And the last one?”

Gertrude held it out to him with both hands, her expression as serious as he’d ever seen it. “This is a copy of everything I have on the Unknowing so far. Keep it safe, and keep it close. I may not be able to give you any more until I return, but if anything happens to me before then, this may be the only record of our progress thus far.”

Tim took that with the solemnity it deserved. He knew that, however much she trusted him—or purported to trust him—she had yet to fully take him into her confidence. That she was giving him this information was the final confirmation that she truly, genuinely believed he was fully on her side. If he had been a spy for Elias, or anyone else, this would be enough to set him up for life. Possibly eternity.

“I’ll take this home with me tonight,” he said. “But—will you take a suggestion?”

“Of course I will, Tim. You’ve more than earned that.”

Tim tried hard not to blush as he slid the two cardboard folders back to her. “Put these on my desk. With a note telling me you’re going away and aren’t sure when you’ll be back, but that everything I need to keep things going while you’re gone is in here, and that you want me to focus on getting the computer set up. Maybe add that you want me to email you progress reports every night? Just…” He shrugged. “If we want to keep Elias from knowing how much I know, the last thing you want is for him to know I was here tonight. That I had any advance warning.”

“That…is an excellent point,” Gertrude admitted. “Very well.” She took the folders, withdrew a piece of stationery, and carefully wrote the note he had suggested, then handed it to Gerry. “Will you?”

“Sure.” Gerry accepted the folders and slipped out of Gertrude’s office.

Once they were alone, Gertrude turned to Tim. “I know you two are close, but—”

“Don’t call asking to talk to him?” Tim completed. “I get it, boss. We think Elias is going to be watching me, or watching you through me. And as long as he doesn’t know for sure that Gerry’s with you, or that we’re close, it’s an advantage. So no, don’t worry. I’ll survive a few weeks without my best friend.”

“It may be longer than a few weeks,” Gertrude cautioned him. “As you rightly surmised, the Dark’s ritual is approaching as well.”

“Over sea and under stone,” Tim murmured, not quite under his breath.

Gertrude, however, had ears like a lynx. She actually smiled slightly. “If the ritual is to take place somewhere in the United Kingdom, I suppose Cornwall is as likely a place as any. But that’s just my point, Tim, we don’t know. Any one of these rituals could be taking place in any country. The Buried’s ritual was to have taken place in Washington—I’ve already stopped that one, thank goodness—and I rather suspect the Hunt’s might as well.”

“Right, I know. I still say the Slaughter’s is probably going to be in the Middle East.” Tim sighed. “So you’re not coming back until you’re sure you know where they’ll all be.”

The door opened, and Gerry slipped back into the room as Gertrude said, “Not quite that intense. I am simply letting you know that, while we are primarily searching for the Unknowing and the Stranger, I won’t ignore any other hints, and that may delay our return.”

Tim hesitated. On the one hand, he didn’t really want to be left alone with the Archives longer than necessary. On the other…

“I think maybe you should, though,” he said slowly. “Even if they’re not coming any time soon, and even if they won’t be as cataclysmic even if they don’t work, wouldn’t it be to our advantage to know where we need to go? And, you know, if we don’t have some kind of hint we might not be as lucky as you were with the Buried. I could be wrong about the—what did you call it? The Risen War—but even if I’m not, there’s a lot of ground that covers. The United States is huge. And what if the Vast’s is taking place in, like, the middle of the Pacific Ocean?”

“I rather suspect that one will be happening in space, actually.”

“Great. I’ll work on charming Elias into funding for a rocket ship while you’re gone.” Tim ducked the pen Gertrude threw at him. “Seriously, though, boss. Unless you get some kind of clue that something is kicking off soon back here—and if I do, I’ll pass it on—why not knock it all out in one fell swoop? After all, you’ve got me here to run things. And the longer you’re gone, the more Elias will think he’s getting me on his side.”

Gertrude studied Tim intently, possibly judging how serious he was, possibly trying to decide if he was, after all, looking to go over to Elias’s side. Tim didn’t break eye contact, but he did find himself fidgeting with his ring, which suddenly felt a bit tight. He hoped she wouldn’t take it as an indication of his guilt, because it wasn’t. It was just hard to sit under her scrutiny and not squirm a little. Gertrude Robinson had a way of looking at you that indicated she was staring into your very soul, and the fact that she likely could do exactly that if she wanted to didn’t help matters.

After a long moment, though, she nodded and seemed to relax. “You do have a point. All right. That folio contains another copy of the same instructions on your desk, just…annotated a bit. Instructions on how to keep this place a touch on the disorganized side and hopefully slow Elias down a shade or two. I will reply to your emails at least every other day, and call you in case of emergencies.” She hesitated, then added, “Keep your passport up to date, and a bag packed for emergencies. I may need your assistance in a hurry.”

Tim nodded. “I’ll be waiting for your call and hoping I don’t get it.”

“That’s the spirit.” Gertrude rose from her desk, then handed over the keys. “The iron one is for the outer door to the courtyard. The brass one is for the main door between the Archives and the Institute. The one with the green key cover is to my office, the red is to Document Storage. These small ones are for the filing cabinets, and this one is for my desk drawer. Do try to stay out of my office unless strictly necessary, at least when Elias might be watching.”

“Thanks.” Tim accepted the ring and jangled them at her. “Two questions: Can we lock the doors on our way out without these, and if not, how do you want me to explain why I already have these before I get your note?”

Gertrude pulled out the lone key she had used to get them into the building in the first place. “Fair point. Go unlock the interior door, then leave the keys on your desk as well. I’ll lock us out.”

Gerry shadowed Tim—rather literally—as he made his way to the door. He waited until the lock opened with a soft snick, then took Tim’s elbow. “Will you be all right to get home?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’ll be fine,” Tim assured him quietly. He reached out with the hand not holding the keys and the torch and touched his cheek lightly. “Wish I could go to Heathrow to see you off, but I think that might defeat the purpose. Look after yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah. You, too.” Gerry hesitated, then took the torch from Tim’s hand and clicked it off.

By now, Tim knew the feel of Gerry’s lips on his well enough not to be surprised, even though he literally couldn’t see it coming.

They made their way to Tim’s desk to leave the keys next to the folders and note. Tim took a moment to memorize the way they lay against the paper, just so he could know, even if he could never prove, if they’d been moved come Monday. Then he nudged Gerry, and together they headed to the outer door to the courtyard, where Gertrude was waiting.

She opened the door, ushered them out into the crisp, cool night, and locked it behind them, then pocketed the key and turned to Tim. “Good luck,” she said solemnly, holding out her hand.

Tim shook it seriously. “And to you, Gertrude Robinson. Safe travels. I’ll see you in a few months.”

He shook Gerry’s hand, too, but the look he gave him—and got in return—said everything they didn’t want to say in front of Gertrude. With that, the two of them turned and headed down the street. Tim stayed where he was, not moving, until they disappeared from view, swallowed up by the darkness.

“Good luck,” he whispered again, a lump in his throat and an unaccustomed flutter of nervousness in his stomach. Would he ever see either of them again?

He chided himself as superstitious. Of course he would. They’d be back inside of six months, with news of all the rituals they had disrupted and a plan to stop the rest. And Tim would be right here to help.

For now, though, he turned, checked to ensure his wallet and phone were still safely in his pocket, and sloped off in the opposite direction, towards the late running bus stop that would get him home.