The Unbound

The sentinel’s grip tightens on my shoulders, and Roland’s voice rushes in my ears. Once she has access to your mind, anything she finds there can be used against you. If she found you unfit, you would be sentenced to alteration…. Do not grant her permission.

“No,” I say, the words brimming with panic. “You can’t.”

Agatha pauses, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t have my permission,” I say, reminding myself that this is law, even though it feels like suicide. Agatha’s false warmth dissolves, and she considers me coldly.

“You are denying me access to your mind.” It is not a question. It is a challenge.

I nod. “It is my right.”

“Only the guilty plead the Fifth, Miss Bishop. I strongly advise you to reconsider.”

But I can’t. I have chosen my path, and she must respect it. She can’t hurt me, at least not right now. It may only be a reprieve, but it’s better than a sentence. I roll my sleeve down over the bandages, and she reads the gesture for the denial it is.

The sentinel’s grip retreats from my shoulders, and I’m about to push myself to my feet when she says, “We are not done.” My stomach twists as she rounds her chair and curls her gloved hands around the back. “You still haven’t explained the crime scene or what you were doing there.”

Lie, lie, lie pounds my heart. But a lie has to be as quick as truth, and the fact I’ve paused yet again means I won’t be able to sell a line. She’ll see through it. If I was standing on ice before, my refusal has driven cracks into it.

“Someone I met was abducted,” I say, the words coming out too cautiously. “I thought I might be able to see something the cops had missed. The man, Gregory Phillip, went missing from his home. The room where the abduction took place was trashed, and the police didn’t have any leads. They couldn’t make sense of the evidence, couldn’t figure out how the man had vanished. Because they couldn’t see it. But when I broke in, I saw it clearly.”

“Saw what, Miss Bishop?”

“Someone had made a void.”

Agatha’s eyes narrow. “That,” she says, “is a very serious accusation.”

It is. Voids can only be made using Crew keys, the only people given Crew keys are Crew, and Agatha is personally responsible for every member of this branch, Keeper and Crew alike. Which is why she should be more interested in finding the person behind this than in burning me.

“I understand the severity—”

“Do you?” she says, rounding her chair. “Do you truly know what you’re suggesting? Voids are tears in the world. Every time one is created, it puts the Outer and the Archive at risk. As such, the intentional creation of one is punishable by alteration. And you think that a member of Crew would disobey the Archive—disobey me—and create such a tear in the Outer in order to dispose of one human?”

“Three,” I correct. “There have been three disappearances in the last week, and I believe voids were created in every instance. And I’m not convinced the Crew responsible is doing it for themselves. I think it’s possible that someone in the Archive has given them the order.”

“And why on earth would someone do that?”

“I think”—god, I sound mad; I can barely will the words out—“someone’s trying to frame me.” Agatha’s eyebrows go up as I add, “I crossed paths with each victim before they vanished.”

“And who would want to frame you?” she asks, her voice dripping with condescension.

“There are members of the Archive,” I say, “who disapprove of your initial ruling. Those who are opposed to my continued service.”

Agatha sighs. “I’m well aware of Patrick’s feelings toward you, but you honestly believe he would break Archival law to see you terminated?”

I hesitate. I’m not sure I do. It was easy to believe he would send Eric to find evidence, but I have a harder time believing he would plant it.

“I don’t know,” I say, trying hard not to waver. “I’m only telling you what I found.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“I know what I saw.”

“How can you?” she counters. “Voids are not truly visible, to anyone. You got a bad feeling, you thought your eyes slid off a bit of air, and you assumed—”

“I read the wall. The memories surrounding the creation of the void were all ruined. Whited out.”

She shakes her head. “Even if there was a void, how do I know you aren’t to blame? Do you have any idea how rare a void door is? You’ve already been tied to one—”

“I was doing my job.”

“—and now this. You yourself said three disappearances, and you crossed paths with each.”

“I don’t have a Crew key.”

“There was another one, was there not? On the roof? The one belonging to that traitorous History? What happened to it?”

My mind spins. “It got sucked into the void,” I say, “along with Owen.”

“How convenient.”

“I could have lied, Agatha,” I say, trying to stay calm, “and I did not. I told you the truth. Someone is defying you. Defying the Archive.”

“Do you think I would allow such crimes and conspiracies to happen under my nose?”

I stiffen. “With all due respect, less than a month ago a Librarian plotted to unleash a restricted History into the Outer and tear down an entire branch from the inside, and she nearly succeeded. All of it under the Archive’s nose.”

In a flash, Agatha is upon me, pi

“Which is more likely?” she says, her voice a low growl. “That a member of the Archive is conspiring against you—out of personal distaste or retribution, fashioning some elaborate scheme to have you found unfit, constituting treason—or that you’re simply delusional?”

I take a few shaky breaths as the pain sears across my skin. “I know…you don’t want…to believe—”

Agatha’s nails dig into my arm. “My position is not built on what I want to believe, Miss Bishop. It is based on truth and logic. It is a very complicated machine I help to run. And when I find a broken piece, it is my job to fix or replace it before it can damage any other parts.”

She lets go and turns away.

“I’m not broken,” I say under my breath.

“So you claim. And yet the things that come out of your mouth are madness. Am I correct,” she says, turning back to me, “in assuming that you still refuse to grant me access to your mind? That you make this claim against the Archive, against Crew, against me, and yet you deny me the ability to find you i

I feel sick. If my theory is wrong, then I’ve also signed my execution, and we both know it. I force myself to nod. Agatha looks past me to the sentinel.

“Go get Sako,” she says.

A moment later, I hear the door close. Agatha and I are alone.

“I will start with the Crew then,” she says, “because none of them would be foolish enough to deny me permission. And when I’ve scoured their minds and found each and every one of them loyal and i

The threat is clear and cold as ice. If you wish to remain a Keeper.

The door opens, and Sako stands there waiting.

“Take Miss Bishop home,” says Agatha smoothly, her hand abandoning my collar. “And then come back. We need to talk.”

Something flits across Sako’s face—curiosity, confusion, a shade of fear?—and then it’s gone and she nods. She slides her key straight into the door behind her, takes my elbow, and pushes me through.