Page 6 of Unbroken
“I suppose we should find out what he wants,” Sebastian said at last. Irene made a disgusted noise, but didn’t argue.
Most visitors in the grand foyer immediately gravitated to the displays of ancient animals: fossils, bones pulled from tar pits, and dioramas showing them in their ancient habitats. Tubbs stood near what had been the saber-toothed tiger display—currently unavailable, as the skeletons had attacked them under the influence of the Book of Bone—with his arms folded and his gaze resolutely on the floor. As though he had no intention of acknowledging his surroundings unless forced to do so.
Irene skipped all preliminaries. “What do you want?” she demand as they walked up.
Tubbs’s head snapped up, his expression souring even further when he saw them. “What do I want? I want to be back in the records office, doing my job, far away from this place. I’m certainly not here because I wish to be.” He pressed his lips together, as if trying to hold back the words. “Unfortunately, I…need…something. You might be able to help me.”
Sebastian exchanged a glance with Irene. “That depends. What do you require?”
“I helped you in the records office,” Tubbs said, rather than answer directly. “You wanted the plans for the revisions to the First Esoteric Church catacombs from 1856. A few days later, I saw an obituary for the church’s sexton.”
“He died in his sleep,” Sebastian said, though of course he’d done no such thing. That had been the explanation run in the papers, however.
“It doesn’t matter.” Tubbs waved a hand. “The point is, I helped you—against my better judgment. And I didn’t tell the police about your suspicious actions.”
Irene’s impatience got the best of her. “By the dark gods, just tell us what you want.”
“I need access to your library. I’m looking for books on the sort of curses that could make a person do something against their will.”
Sebastian felt as though all the air had been punched out of his lungs. “Come with us, Mr. Tubbs. This isn’t something we should speak of here.”
Ves sat at the long table in the library’s sword room, so called for the symbol inscribed above its door. And, probably, because so many conferences of war, or at least conflict, had been discussed at its tables over the decades.
Irene had fetched him and Mortimer to meet with Mr. Tubbs. Noct remained at his job in the Limited Access Collection for the moment, as none of them trusted Tubbs to react sensibly to his appearance.
Tubbs sat nervously at one end of the table, trying to look confident and hostile, and only somewhat succeeding. Likely he hadn’t expected to be dragged into a room with four librarians when he came here.
“What is this all about?” he demanded, but his voice quavered slightly.
Sebastian folded his hands on the table. “We aren’t your enemies, Mr. Tubbs,” he said gently. “In fact, we might be allies. We’re currently searching for an artifact that has the very properties you mentioned.”
The man’s face darkened. “I assume you’re going to hide it away in this wretched museum along with everything else you’ve managed to pull into your grasp.”
“Actually, we intend to destroy it,” Ves said.
Tubbs took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “I don’t trust any of you.”
“And yet you came to us.” Mortimer leaned over, watching Tubbs curiously. “Your last name sounds familiar.”
“My…my brother…” Tubbs hesitated—then his shoulders slumped. “There were four of us. Paul—that’s me—Peter, Perry, and Patrick.”
“Good lord,” Irene said. “Did your parents ever call you by the right name?”
Tubbs laughed weakly. “Not even once. My father was the town assessor until his death, and got all of us jobs at city hall. Pat, the youngest of us…he died rather horribly back in 1901.”
“Ah, yes, I remember. Sacrificed on a standing stone.” Mortimer nodded solemnly. “Sebastian, you recall—the business that ended in the First Battle of Front Street Bridge. We were both junior librarians at the time.”
“Oh!” Sebastian’s eyes widened, and Ves made a mental note to ask him for the details later. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Tubbs.”
“I was working as the town secretary back then—nasty job, dealing with the public all the time.” Tubbs shook his head. “I took over the records office from my poor brother when he died. He had very strong views about keeping our possessions in the city’s hands, rather than hidden away in the backrooms of this museum.” He seemed to recall his previous animosity. “And he was completely correct! We safeguard the records—the heritage!—of the citizens of Widdershins. Everyone should have access, not just academics with the right credentials. If you want to know my opinion?—”
Ves cleared his throat. “I’m merely the binder and conservator, so I fear I have no say in our acquisitions. Most of us here do not.” With the exception of Sebastian, but he wasn’t about to mention that. “I assume you’re not here because of your brother’s long-ago death, so perhaps you should tell us why you came looking for information on curses.”
Tubbs sighed. “My sister-in-law, Perry’s wife. Penelope.”
Irene opened her mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it.
“She…there was a terrible accident. Or we thought it was an accident at the time. I wasn’t present, but she hosted a dinner party for some of her friends. While they were chatting over aperitifs, she went to light the candles on the dinner table before the caterer brought in the meal.” He looked down at the table. “Her evening gown…those gauzy layers that are in fashion now…”
