“You know, this would be terribly romantic if it weren’t for all the undead stuff,” she said.

Most of the doors to the library were revolving ones, but all the way toward the right side was a set of standard doors. I retracted my bat, reholstered it at my side, and fished around inside my tuxedo pocket for my lock picks.

I hesitated as I recalled pulling them out to use for Mina’s break-in. Then I looked Jane square in the eyes and pulled the leather case out. I unrolled it, exposing the pick sets.

I gulped. Though things had been much better between us lately, the stuff Jane had said about being more open in our relationship was something I really needed to work on. “Jane,” I said. “You’re not the only one with a dark past around here. I haven’t been honest about everything lately . . .”

She glanced down at the lock picks, eyebrows raised, then stopped me by putting her hand on my arm.

“There will be time for all that later,” she said, “but right now, I think we have a problem.”

“That’s the understatement of the evening,” I said, almost laughing and feeling relieved just for having opened up and owning a small part of my past.

Jane rolled her eyes, then pointed toward the door. “A more immediate one,” she said. “Are you sure those picks are going to work?”

I looked where she was pointing, only to realize that the door had an electronic lock. I slid the lock picks back into my pocket and started feeling around in my jacket.

“Crap,” I said.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t pick it, but I can use my power on it.” I thought about the last time I had done this. Mina had put a gun to my head that time at the Museum of Modern Art, but I figured I could read the lock the same way, and without that kind of pressure on me this time. “Thing is, I’m out of Life Savers, and if I use my power, I don’t want to pass out once we get in there.”

“You’re out?” she asked. “You always have them on you!”

“They’re in my regular jacket,” I said. “Sheesh, when you switch out purses, haven’t you ever left something in the old one by mistake?”

Jane turned away and looked toward the street. I thought she was pissed at me. We really didn’t have time for this.

“Will a pretzel do?”

“What?” I said. I turned and looked. One of New York’s thousands of street vendors was set up at the corner of Fifth and Forty-second.

I nodded and knelt down in front of the lock. “Umm, sure. The carbs in it should convert to sugar. I’ll get working on the lock if you go get me one.”

I handed her a five.

“Keep the change,” I said. “And thanks.”

“What change?” she said. “When’s the last time you bought street food?”

Jane hiked up her dress and ran down the steps toward the vendor cart. I turned back to the door and grabbed the electronic keypad in both hands. This time I felt an immediate connection with it, and my mind slipped into the psychometric past of the object.

It was nighttime in my vision, and I was in the head of a guard. He was at the door, punching his code in, and quick as that, I had what I needed. I pulled myself out of the vision to find that Jane had returned and was holding out a pretzel.

“You look kinda creepy when you do that whole thing, hon,” she said.

Feeling shaky, I stayed on my knees and took the pretzel from her.

“Your face kinda glazes over and your eyes go all dull.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll work on that.”

Jane shrugged. “No big. Just thought you might want to know.”

I wolfed down the pretzel and waited several minutes until I started to feel better before pulling on my gloves and punching in the code for the door. Anything I could do to keep my power in check under the craziness that was tonight helped. The little light on the electronic lock turned green. I pushed the door open and stepped into the spooky darkness of the library.

I eased in, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. Jane followed right behind me, clutching my hand.

“You sure this is where Cyrus is?” she whispered.

I spied something off to the left of the interior doors. It was the unconscious body of the guard I had just seen in my psychometric flash.

“Pretty sure,” I said.

We had to be brief, but we took the time to check him to see how badly he was injured. Aside from a lump on the back of his head, the guard looked like he was in good enough condition to leave there for now.

“Well, if we just follow the trail of bodies, we’ll be okay,” I said. I grabbed Jane by the hand and the two of us headed farther into the library.

The sound of the battle outside in Bryant Park was hard to miss as we entered the library’s main room. Books ringed the room behind rails that led down to a sunken research area filled with long wooden tables and hooded lamps. The ceiling rose several stories above us, marble walls and vaulted windows to either side. Four-tiered chandeliers hung from a faux blue sky with fluffy white clouds on it. It was a calming scene, given the circumstances. I thought maybe I should start using my library card after all this was over.

Jane and I stopped when we reached the center of the cavernous room.

“Where do you think he is?” Jane whispered, continuing to look around.

“I’m not sure,” I said. I listened for any sign of him, but all I could hear was the sound of continuing chaos outside the library in the big Fashion Week tent. “But we’ve got to start somewhere. Any suggestions?”

Jane thought a minute. “How about we start with the N’s?”

“Why there?” I asked.

“Well, that’s where I’d keep a necromancer,” Jane said, giving a wan smile. “Under the N’s.”

Her logic made as much sense as anything else tonight, so we set off toward the shelves around the edge of the room.

The N’s turned out to be along the wall facing Bryant Park and, lo and behold, when I entered the aisle, I could make out the silhouette of Cyrus Mandalay standing on the ledge of one of the high-arched windows up ahead. His attention was focused outside, and given the noise, we didn’t need to be especially careful in sneaking up on him.

About two-thirds of the way down the aisle, I motioned for Jane to stop and wait while I continued ahead. All I needed was to get close enough to knock his legs out from under him with my bat as he stood on the window ledge. The backs of his calves were about eye level, perfect for my natural swing.

Winding up behind Cyrus’s back, I caught his face in the reflection of the glass. It was a mask of concentration as he stared down into the park. The thought occurred to me that if I could see Cyrus’s face in the reflection, then he could probably see mine, which explained why his reflection shifted from the park to me in that instant. Before I could swing, his foot lashed out and caught me in my temple. A flash of blinding whiteness hit my eyes and I couldn’t help but drop my bat and clutch my head as I reeled backward.

Cyrus jumped down from the window ledge and landed in front of me. Even without the added height, he still towered above me at well over six feet. He grinned, his facial tattoos warping as his sharklike smile spread wide.

“See?” Jane cried out from behind me. “I told you he’d be under N for necromancer!”

Cyrus grabbed me by the hair, wrapped his arm across my throat, and held me there. “What?” he said. “Is this really the N section?”

I nodded, my chin digging into the taut muscles in Cyrus’s arm.

Cyrus chuckled, and the sound echoed throughout the quiet hush of the library. “Nice detective work, Ms. Clayton-Forrester, but I’m afraid you’re wrong. It’s just a coincidence that you found me in this section of the library. It simply had the best view that I needed for today’s theatrics.”

I pushed against Cyrus’s arm, but it was no use. He had been an imposing fellow when he had been the owner of Tome, Sweet Tome, but cultish crazy had pushed him into the realm of unearthly strength, and there was no way I was breaking free.