“…Okay, got it.” Tim scribbled something on a piece of paper in front of him. “We’ll get that run down….No, don’t be ridiculous, I’m going to make Melanie do it.”
Melanie raised her eyes to look at Tim without lifting her head. He didn’t look in her direction. “Yeah, yeah, I promise. You going to be okay?…All right. I’ll come check on you in a bit to make sure you are. Take care.” He hung up and exhaled.
“Martin?” Sasha guessed.
“Yeah. He had an appointment, which he probably should’ve skipped if he wasn’t feeling well, but he’s got a lead.” Tim slid the paper over to Melanie. “Can you run this guy down?”
Melanie palmed the paper but didn’t look at it. “Yeah, but not tonight. I’ve also got an appointment after work.”
“Fair enough. I doubt it’s time-sensitive.”
Sasha checked the corner of her laptop. “Speaking of time, it’s close enough to five to pretend it’s already five. Want to call it a day early?”
Tim snorted. “You’re taking the heat if Elias flips out over it.”
“I accept those terms.” Sasha closed her laptop.
Melanie saved the file she was working on and began packing up, too. “How’d Martin sound when you talked to him, Tim? Do I need to call him?”
Tim hesitated. “I wouldn’t yet. Like I said on the phone, I’m going to go check up on him in a few, but I think he’s resting right now. I’ll tell him to call you later.”
“Yeah, okay.” Melanie probably should have asked more questions, but half her mind was on the person she was going to meet. The other half was occupied with where the hell she’d put that bit of paper with Jude Perry’s contact information for Jon. She was almost as curious about what the Desolation wanted with the Unknowing as Jon was—or, as he’d told her after listening to the tape last week, as Gertrude had been. “Sasha, is there a scrap of paper mixed in with your stuff? A pink one?”
“Anything in particular on it?” Sasha began flicking through her files.
“Just some notes I was taking, but there was a phone number on it for someone else I needed to talk to.”
“Jude Perry?” Tim asked.
Melanie looked up sharply. “Yes,” she said slowly.
Tim shook his head. “Martin took care of that for you, don’t worry. That’s where he got that name I gave you from.”
Melanie glanced at the paper, then back up at Tim. “Did he say what it was about?”
“Said he might have something for us about the Unknowing, but he’s not sure. Ms. Perry was apparently a bit cagey.” Tim threw up his hands in surrender. “He’s got a tape, he says, so I’ll get it from him when I visit, just in case he’s not up for coming in tomorrow, and we can listen to it.”
Melanie sighed and squared up the files she’d been working on. “He wasn’t supposed to be the one meeting up with her.”
“Well, that’s why I gave it to you,” Tim said calmly. “So that the person who meant to meet up with her can do the follow-up. See you tomorrow. Last one out make sure the door’s locked.” He jangled the spare keys at them, shrugged into his jacket, and walked out whistling.
Sasha sighed, but it didn’t sound exasperated. She actually sounded…relieved. “God. I haven’t heard him do that in almost a year. Even with everything going on, I’m glad he’s doing better.”
“I know how that goes. Remember the day I interviewed? I definitely heard Martin singing one of his audition pieces. He hasn’t done that since…God, before Gerry died. Maybe even before Aunt Mary died.” Melanie stuffed her laptop into her bag. “Gotta go. You’re not going to linger, are you?”
“This was my idea in the first place.” Sasha laughed at Melanie’s expression. “Hey, before I forget, do you have any plans after work tomorrow? There’s a film coming out that’s a retelling of one of my favorite books and I’m kind of interested to see what they do with it. Thought you might want to join me.”
“What’s it called?”
“The book or the movie?”
“The book.”
“Fingersmith.”
“Don’t think I’ve heard of that one, but sure, sounds good to me.” Melanie offered Sasha a crooked smile. “See you in the morning, then.”
Sasha fluttered a wave at her as she headed out the door. Melanie hustled to the nearest Tube stop, smiling to herself at the thought of what Gerry would say if—when—he found out she was going to the cinema with Sasha. Martin she wasn’t too worried about. He understood the friendship she and Sasha were building. Melanie wasn’t exactly looking for a romantic relationship, certainly not with a coworker, but she and Sasha were getting on and that was the important thing.
She’d have to warn Jon, though. It just felt…polite to tell him when she was going to be late. Like tonight, for instance.
Okay…so maybe Melanie was thinking about a romantic relationship. Maybe.
She pushed into the pub. Thanks to them having called it a day early, the place hadn’t started to fill up yet; there was the man behind the bar, a grizzled old man at the end of the bar who was as much a fixture here as the art on the walls, and a slim woman with a round face and a sleek auburn pixie cut just settling into a corner booth.
Melanie slid in opposite her. “Hi, Georgie.”
Georgie Barker looked up with a smile. “Hey. I thought it’d take you longer to get here. Cutting out of work early, Miss King?”
“We closed down a bit early tonight.” Melanie looked up as the bartender approached. “Gin rickey. Make it a double.”
Georgie put in her order as well. When the man walked away, she added to Melanie, “So it’s that kind of a job, huh?”
“Mm.” Melanie considered how to phrase it without sounding insane. What the Ghost was in the same class as Ghost Hunt UK, except that it was very difficult to run a podcast out in the field, but that didn’t mean that Georgie actually believed in this sort of thing. “It’s not really that different from what I was doing before, just…more academic than showmanship. And I sort of hit the ground running. There’s a lot going on, but the job itself isn’t too bad.”
“What are you doing, anyway? You were so cagey about it when we talked before. I thought you were embarrassed about it. For a minute I thought you might’ve decided to be a call girl.” Georgie laughed at the horrified look on Melanie’s face. “You’re attractive enough to make good money at it.”
“My brother would skin me alive.” Martin wouldn’t have minded, as long as she was happy and taking care of herself, but Gerry would have pitched a fit and fallen in it. “No, it’s, uh—so, have you ever heard of the Magnus Institute?”
Georgie blinked. “Oh. I didn’t realize they were calling for a reference. Took long enough to get back to you, though.”
That, admittedly, threw Melanie for a loop. “I—what?”
“They called me last year—around this time, actually. Wanting to verify that I’d introduced you to Sarah Baldwin.” Georgie frowned. “I hope I didn’t say anything that kept you from getting the job.”
“No, that—that wasn’t related.” Of course they’d called Georgie about her statement. Hell, Melanie had already called any number of people to follow up on statements. Her hand strayed briefly to the pocket where she had the paper Tim had given her. “I didn’t actually apply. Not really. I stopped in to—what they called you about was because I made a, a statement. I told them about what happened at the Cambridge Military Hospital, and they were just…doing their due diligence.”
“Right, right. Because they’re serious academics.” Georgie put a lot of sarcasm into that phrase. “God forbid they take anything on faith.”
“Some of them do,” Melanie said, a bit defensively. “And some of them have a pretty good sense of what’s bullshit and what’s not. But, you know, anyone who wants to can come in and make a statement, really, so they have to verify what they can. We do, I suppose.” She sighed. “That is where I’m working, but I really didn’t apply. My brother works there. I’d just gone in to say hello, tell him I was back, maybe find out how his little workplace crush was advancing. The head of the Institute popped in while I was there and offered me a job.”
Georgie whistled. “Your brother’s direct boss, then? You’re not working for him, are you?”
“With, not for. Martin’s not the Archivist, just an assistant. So am I, now.”
“You’ve got a degree in Library Sciences?”
Melanie shrugged. “That matters less in the Archives at the Magnus Institute than you’d think. But…” She tried to think how to describe her relationship to Mary Keay. “My stepmother’s best friend owned a rare book shop, and Martin and I used to help out some, so I know how to handle delicate manuscripts and store them and all that. Martin’s the only one of the bunch with actual library training—he came down from the Library at the Institute. Tim and Sasha—those are the other two assistants, Tim Stoker and Sasha James—they both came down to the Archives from the Research department when Jon got appointed Archivist. He’s on a—a leave of absence at the moment, which is why Elias Bouchard hired me directly, but at least I’ve met him before, he’s the one who took my statement.” Melanie paused. “He might have been the one who called you? I dunno how they handled that. Jon, uh, Jonathan Sims.”
Georgie gave a bark of startled laughter that almost made the barman drop their drinks. She quickly took both glasses and set them on the table. “Sorry. That’s just…how did he end up as an Archivist? He doesn’t have a degree in Library Sciences either. He was an English major.”
“Wait, you know him?” Melanie blurted. He hadn’t so much as flicked an eye when she’d mentioned Georgie during her statement, and surely if he knew her it would’ve made more sense for him to go to her, since she had no connections to the Archives.
“About your height, thin and weedy, dark hair going grey early?”
“Yeah. How do you know him?”
Georgie sipped at her Tom Collins, her eyes taking on a slightly distant look. “He’s my ex.”
Melanie, who’d been about to take a sip of her own drink, set it down rather abruptly. “You dated him?”
“That’s what the term ‘ex’ generally means, Mel.”
Melanie didn’t bother correcting Georgie about calling her Mel. It was obviously a losing battle, since they had that conversation at least once every time they hung out, and there were more important things to discuss right about then. “How…what…how’d you even get together?”
“We met in uni. Moved in some of the same circles. I ended up with an extra ticket to see a band he’d made an offhand comment about enjoying and asked him if he’d like to come along. One thing led to another and we started dating.” Georgie’s eyes darkened slightly. “And then we broke up, not long after we graduated.”
Melanie’s curiosity was definitely piqued, but she knew she’d have to be cautious about getting the information out of Georgie. She took a sip of her own drink. “Can’t blame you. He seems like an annoying prick,” she said, trying to draw on the way she’d felt about him after giving her statement last year, and when he’d first turned up in her house after the whole Prentiss thing. It was almost as hard as trying to pretend she didn’t like Martin or Gerry would have been.
Georgie pursed her lips thoughtfully as she refocused her gaze on Melanie. “He…can be. But…well, he’s not all that bad of a person. He’s got a good sense of humor—a bit like yours, actually. And if you get him talking about something he’s interested in, as opposed to lecturing, he’s a fun conversationalist. And he likes cats.”
“And they like him.” Melanie blinked. “I’d imagine. Decided you’d make better friends than lovers?”
At that, Georgie’s whole face clouded over, and Melanie realized she’d inadvertently hit a nerve. She was about to apologize on instinct when Georgie said, “At the time, I just wanted him out of my life entirely. Now…I don’t know. Might be willing to give the whole friends thing a try again. After all, we were good friends before we started dating. But the relationship? I wish I could excise that out of my brain entirely. God, what a…” She shook her head.
Melanie made sympathetic noises. “I take it it was messy, then.”
“Ugh.” Georgie tossed off half her drink in one go, which was probably going to be a problem for her later. “He was just so…ugh. We’d been together almost two years at that point, and God, I had been trying to…it wasn’t a religious thing, wasn’t even a moral thing from what I could tell. He just never showed any interest in staying overnight, or if he did, he always took the couch or the floor or whatever. I finally told him, point blank, that I wasn’t looking for him to do the gentlemanly thing, I wanted him to sleep with me.”
“And he broke up with you instead?”
“No…no, we had sex. And it was, frankly, the worst sex I’d ever had in my life, including my first time, and I told him so. I told him he’d do better next time, and then he blew up at me.” Georgie scowled. “All right, I probably shouldn’t have phrased it that way, but still, there was no call for him to say he never wanted to see me naked again. And I told him that, but I don’t think he was really listening to me. I ended up throwing his trousers in his face and ordering him to get out of my flat. He didn’t even stop to get dressed first.”
Melanie silently cursed her vivid imagination. To her mild surprise, she felt a sudden stab of sympathy for Jon. It wasn’t like she’d never been in the same situation, except in her case…
Wait.
“He actually said he never wanted to see you naked again?” she asked, hoping she sounded incredulous enough that Georgie thought she was horrified on her behalf.
Georgie threw up her free hand in an exasperated gesture. “Right?” She pulled down the corners of her mouth, stuck her nose in the air, and did a very poor impression of the voice Jon used when he was trying to be professional. “‘Don’t ever do that again, Georgie, I never want to see another unclothed genital in my life.’ And then he had the nerve to pretend he was going to throw up. God, I was so angry with him. Still am! Like I said, he’s not the worst person in the world, but for that…”
Melanie was saved from having to answer by the chirrup of her phone. She glanced at it to see a text message from, surprisingly, Tim: [Martin will call you tomorrow. He’s going to be out until Monday.]
It was as good an excuse as any. Melanie pushed back from the table with one hand while quickly typing out a reply. [Tell him we love him.] “Gotta go. Family emergency. Thanks for the drink. We’ll have to catch up later. Good luck with the next episode.”
She tossed a few pound notes onto the table to cover her mostly untouched drink and hurried out the door, leaving a slightly startled Georgie in her wake.
She hit the Tube station just right and, ten minutes later, burst through her front door and strode into the living room.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were ace?” she demanded.
Jon stared at her, frozen like a deer in the headlights, his eyes huge. “I—what?” he managed after a moment.
“Ace. Asexual. You don’t like getting physically intimate with people.” Melanie flapped her hands helplessly. “You don’t fuck. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I—w-was that something I should have been concerned about?” Jon’s voice cracked slightly.
“Well, I’m not going to ask to fuck you, I’m a lesbian, and I don’t really like it all that much either.” Melanie frowned. “Just…why didn’t you say anything?”
“I…” Jon tightened his grip on what he was holding. “I didn’t…know that was…th-there’s a word for that?”
Melanie pulled her brain up and looked at Jon. He looked like he’d sprung up from the chair in a panic, like he was three seconds away from fleeing into the woods and never coming back. One of her old photo albums, full of pictures she’d taken with Gerry and Martin, lay open at his feet, and he had the throw Martin had knitted in his arms like a, well, like a security blanket. He was shaking faintly, too. She realized he was really and truly scared.
“Yeah, there’s a word for it.” Melanie took a deep breath. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Hi. How are you? How was your day? Are you asexual?”
A faint smile flickered across Jon’s face, just for a moment. “It’s—it’s not you. I’m…sorry. Uh.” He, too, took a deep breath. “What, ah, what brought…that up?”
“Oh. I had drinks with Georgie. Barker.” Melanie dropped onto the loveseat and gestured for Jon to sit back down. “I didn’t realize you knew her, but she was telling me why you broke up.”
Jon flinched and curled up in the chair, looking a bit washed-out and guilty as he picked up the photo album and closed it carefully, then brushed his hand over the cover before setting it on the end table. “I…probably could have handled that better.”
“What? No, it’s not on you.” Melanie frowned.
“She didn’t force me,” Jon said hurriedly. “She didn’t—I, I’d never been interested before, but I-I was curious, I was willing to try, so, so I said I would, but it just—I realized I didn’t—it wasn’t—I-I should have, there were better ways to phrase it and—”
“Jon,” Melanie interrupted. She took a deep breath and tried to marshal her thoughts properly. “Look, let me tell you what Martin told me when one of my girlfriends tried to coerce me, okay? There is nothing wrong with you. You’re allowed to not enjoy something even if you wanted to try it, and you’re allowed to not want to do it again, and you’re allowed to change your mind even if you said yes to it initially, and you don’t have to make excuses. No is a complete sentence, and anyone who doesn’t respect that isn’t worthy of you. Anyone who really cares about you will care about you even if you only have sex once a year, or once a decade, or never. If they only want to be in a relationship with someone for purposes of having sex with them, that’s fine, that’s their prerogative, but you don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to just to keep someone in your life. It’s not fair for someone to force you to do something just because they want to, regardless of what that thing is. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jon said quietly. He wiped his face, then said more strongly, “Okay. I…thank you, Melanie.”
“Sure.” Melanie sighed. “Sorry for springing that on you right when I walked in the door. It was just in my mind, and I’ve kind of been steaming about it the whole way over, if I’m being honest.”
“It’s—it’s fine.” Jon stared vacantly at the wall opposite him—the one where Melanie had the framed photos hung, she couldn’t help but think—and said under his breath, “Asexual.”
“Yeah. It’s a whole…spectrum. You can look it up sometime.” Melanie gestured to the tablet she’d left him. “I’m grey-ace. Or at least that’s the label that feels closest to right for me.” She hesitated, then added, “And for the record, I think Martin’s on the spectrum, too, except I don’t think he’s ever put a label on it.”
Jon swallowed hard and rolled the throw blanket between his thumb and forefinger, seeming not to realize he was doing it. Melanie watched him for a few minutes until he seemed calmer, then added, “So. How was your day? Any new statements come in?”
Jon started out of his daze and refocused on her. “Oh. Uh…yes. I…I think it was a statement about…the days and weeks leading up to the Sunken Sky. It seems to be the right area, and I think Gertrude Robinson turned up at the very end of it.” He glanced at the recorder, then took a deep breath. “I…just after I finished recording it…something got in.”
Melanie froze. “What do you mean, something got in?”
“Just that. The light went out, and I realized all the candles but the one for the Buried had gone out. I was going to try and relight one of the others, but…” Jon quickly recounted what had happened, to Melanie’s mounting horror. “I checked, Melanie, there’s no way she could have got in through the doors, and the kittens didn’t seem aware she’d been there. I know I should’ve been more careful with the wards, I’m sorry, but—”
“They’re more a guard against…mental attacks, I guess? They don’t stop things from physically getting in. We never found much that worked for that.” Melanie waved a hand. “I should’ve checked the candles last night, but even if they’d been fully stocked, most that would’ve happened was the candle getting a little brighter, and I know you, when you’re that deep in the statements you wouldn’t have noticed.”
“I—I suppose you’re right. Still. It…it shook me, badly.” Jon fidgeted with the throw again. “And I was already worrying about the statements. It occurred to me—and I can’t believe it took me this long—that they might be from Elias, who still thinks I don’t know what’s going on. So score one for everyone’s ability to keep that away from him, I suppose. But if he knows where I am, that’s probably why he hired you in the first place—so he can filter information to me through you.” He sighed, then looked up at Melanie. “Um, what about—how was your day? O-other than…drinks with Georgie.”
“From what I’ve gathered, pretty typical of a day.” Melanie hesitated, then pulled out the piece of paper. “I looked into Jude Perry for you, but…”
“Is that her contact information?”
“No. It—I guess it got mixed in with another file. Martin found it,” Melanie admitted. “At least, that’s what Tim said. He already met with her. She gave him another person to get in touch with…” She glanced down at the paper. “Mike Crew?”
Jon frowned. “I know the name, he’s come up in connection with…a-actually, both statements where he’s been named have involved Ex Altiora, so I assume he’s to do with the Vast. What…?”
“I dunno, but the Martin-Tim telephone said he might have some information on the Unknowing. Tim’s going to get the tape from Martin tonight. He’s been feeling off all day, so he’s not coming in tomorrow.” Melanie tried not to wince at the pained, worried look on Jon’s face. “He’s…probably fine. It’s probably nothing.”
“But if it’s bad enough Martin isn’t coming in…”
“Tim probably bullied him into it. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and let you know what he says.” Melanie handed the paper to Jon. “I think Tim has some idea that I might know where you are. The way he phrased it was that ‘the one who meant to meet up with her can do the follow-up,’ so…”
Jon nodded. “I’ll go tomorrow. While you’re at work. Then we can compare notes when we’re both home and…I don’t know what. Figure out how to get the team any information they need.”
“Sounds good—oh, right, I forgot, I told Sasha I’d go see some new movie that’s coming out with her, so I’ll be home late again. And since I very much doubt she badgered you into having sex with her and then blamed you for not liking it, I probably won’t leave early.” Melanie snorted at the look on Jon’s face. “Sorry, that was a bit blunt.”
“Good Lord.” Jon palmed his face. “No, Sasha’s not an ex. I—were you and Georgie getting drinks as friends, or was it a date?”
“Just friends, not that I wouldn’t have wanted more before tonight if she’d asked,” Melanie said immediately. Then she became aware of the static in her head and scraped her tongue against her teeth. “Ugh. You need to work on controlling that compulsion thing of yours.”
“What? Oh.” Jon covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s fine. I’d have answered anyway.”
Jon licked his lips and took a couple slow, even breaths, before asking, very delicately, “You…aren’t interested in dating her now?”
“Nah.” They could be colleagues, even friends, but they were never going to have a relationship in the traditional sense. It was partly the casual aphobia, even if Georgie probably hadn’t realized she was being aphobic, but it was also a more concrete thing, and Melanie shrugged. “Even if I was, you don’t date your brother’s ex.”
Jon blinked. “She dated Martin, too? Or Gerry?”
“No, you, you chump.” Melanie pushed herself to her feet. “Want some cocoa while I make dinner?”
Jon stammered, and looked incredibly flustered for a moment, but suddenly his shoulders relaxed and he straightened a little. He gave Melanie a shy, but pleased smile. “Yes, that sounds…perfect.”
Melanie gave him a crooked grin in reply. “Come on, then. You can feed the cats while I get that ready.”