“Maybe the fish has something to do with this,” I suggested. “I mean, we asked Gaynor to point us toward the fish and this is what we find.”

“Maybe,” Connor agreed, “but we still don’t know the why of it all.”

I looked down at all the people lying around us. These had to be some of the sickliest-looking people I had ever seen. Not only were their eyes sunk deep into their sockets, it seemed like their very souls were sunken as well.

“This is bad juju, Simon. It’s a taboo practice even among the more hardcore cultists. It wouldn’t be so bad if the spirits survived the process, but it absolutely destroys them when they’ve been forcibly concentrated like this. We’ve got to figure out who’s been processing these spirits. Containing them, distributing them…it’s not an easy task.”

“You mean this isn’t just Cyrus’s doing?” I asked.

Connor shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” Connor said. “It’s too large a project. Look around. This is just a flophouse. There’s no equipment set up for this type of operation here. At the worst, it looks like he was running a Ghostsniffing lair, like one of those old opium dens.”

“I’m still going to hold Cyrus accountable when we catch up to him,” I said. “This is not cool. Not coolat all.”

I wished I knew what to do to help these pathetic souls, but this wasn’t my area of expertise at all. I pulled out my phone, but there was no signal. “Once we’re outside, I’ll call it in.”

“We need to get these people help,” Connor said. “Have them send a Shadower team to watch the store in case Cyrus comes back. Make sure they put someone on Cyrus’s apartment, too.”

I nodded.

“I’m sure Greater and Lesser Arcana would like to get their hands on some of these books,” Connor continued. “They’ll probably want to get one of their agents in here to run the store until the Enchancellors figure out exactly what to do with Tome, Sweet Tome.”

I looked down at the pile of near lifeless users on the floor. They were our first priority. Catching Cyrus would have to wait.

23

As expected, the Inspectre was disturbed by our find at Tome, Sweet Tome, but both he and Director Wesker seemed quite pleased to add the Black Stacks to their list of departmental acquisitions. Representatives from every division showed up, especially a large contingent of archivists from the Gauntlet. I spied one of their rank-and-file members, Godfrey Candella, grinning from ear to ear, despite the abominations that had happened there. He and several other agents chased a few eager-to-escape books around, scooping them into fishing nets.

At that point, there wasn’t much for me to do. Using my psychic ability over and over to track Cyrus had exhausted me, and I no longer felt of any use. I’d offered to try to use my power on one of the clay pots once it came back, but Connor’s face had gone white. “I would not recommend that, kid,” he said, stricken. “You might not come back.” Since there was no update from Shadower on Cyrus’s whereabouts and I had little expertise in dealing with a roomful of ectoplasmic nose-candy junkies, I quietly dismissed myself from the store and let those better equipped to do so work the scene.

I made my way back to the Lovecraft, but stopped by my desk only long enough to grab Jane’s journal. I didn’t want to do this, but the stakes were getting higher and higher. Maybe the journal would give me some insight into the Sectarian involvement in all this. I walked out to the coffee shop after deciding to forgo the office environment entirely for the comfort of an enormous puffy chair. The steaming hiss of the espresso machine did little to relax me while I waited for a coffee. I stared at the unopened book. Its cover was gilded with astrological signs. Tension mounted thick across my shoulders.

Hadn’t this exact sinister act, reading someone else’s journal, been the very thing Tamara had accused me of? The guilt was consuming. Was I really going to learn enough about Jane from what she might have written to help the investigation? Was I in a state of mind to deal with what I read? And why was I reading it here? Was I hiding away from the office environment as well as avoiding my apartment now?

I knew why I brought Jane’s notebook to the office, though. If Irene suddenly reappeared in my apartment, I feared how she would react to seeing me nose deep in another woman’s personal thoughts in her newly unstable state. I told myself I was doing the heroic thing.

I took a tentative sip of my newly arrived drink, and opened the book. I flipped through it, starting at the back and watching the blank pages slip on by until I caught the first sign of words, and I sought out her entry from last night.

Dear Diary,

Subject: Simon Canderous-Surveillance

Next time, definitely no thong on a stakeout. Stakeouts require prolonged periods of squatting. Had Faisal not sent me out in such haste, I totally would have worn something more sensible…or at least something that didn’t feel like it was trying to cut me in half lengthwise!

It is a lonely dance I do here among the secrecy of the rooftops.

Manhattan is simply breathtaking at night, the sparkle of a million light flicking on and off across the cityscape like the fireflies back home.

Fireflies? Did I just compare Manhattan to fireflies??? Geesh. A bit of the smalltown girl coming through, I suppose. Up here, I can see the individual lives carrying on around me. Here are all the stories of the city, tucked snugly into skyscraper-shaped containers. Through one window I can see a man playing joyfully with a child who can’t be any more than three years old. I can’t make out if it is a boy or a girl, just that the child seemed to be giggling madly as the father bounces him or her up and down…

Incoming call vibrating away. BRB, Dear Diary!!

Faisal AGAIN! I’m a little tired of his grumpiness. I hope that I didn’t come off sounding too eager to please. I’ve been working on my professional tone lately, aiming for what the Sectarians call “sinister amiability.” Don’t think I’ve got it down yet. Practice, practice, practice!

He sounded agitated, especially when I told him I just got here. What can I say? I got a little lost! Up here, everything looks the same without storefronts or street numbers. Thanks to resourceful me, Dear Diary, I used the lit-up spire of the Empire State Building as a guide to get back on track. Yay me!

I am now settled in across from Simon Canderous’s place to write to you, my Dearest Diary.

The curtains are drawn but I can see in through the cracks here and there. It’s two stories down and only allows for a partial view into Simon’s apartment. I looked over the edge just now, and a slight bout of vertigo hit me. Ick! A sudden gust of wind and I could imagine myself going over. Bad news, Dear Diary!

OMG! From what little I can see, Simon’s place is absolutely GORGEOUS. It looks totally swank and fabulous in an old-world way. It sure beats my tiny Chelsea place. Does the Department of Extraordinary Affairs pay their underlings well enough to live like this? Maybe I need to trade up!

Diary, what am I to make of this Simon fellow? He was a defensive meanie the other night over the departmental dinner we had.

I know I mustn’t rush to judgment on assessing him or this situation, even though Faisal and the Sectarians have convinced me how dangerous these D.E.A. members are. But how can someone that cute be dangerous? I can make up my own mind. I’m a City Girl now. Girl Power!

I hope first impressions don’t mean anything. When we first met, I think I came off as a bitch, but he was the one brandishing a bat at me! Back to work…BRB, Dear Diary!

I checked the safety on my gun just now and released it. Push aside the feelings, Janey. Don’t think. That’s not what the Sectarians pay you for. Just obedience.