{"product_id":"the-lost-plot-isbn-9780399587429","title":"The Lost Plot","description":"\u003cb\u003eAfter being commissioned to find a rare book, Librarian Irene and her assistant, Kai, head to Prohibition-era New York and are thrust into the middle of a political fight with dragons, mobsters, and Fae in this novel in the Invisible Library series.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn a 1920s-esque New York, Prohibition is in force; fedoras, flapper dresses, and tommy guns are in fashion: and intrigue is afoot. Intrepid Librarians Irene and Kai find themselves caught in the middle of a dragon political contest. It seems a young Librarian has become tangled in this conflict, and if they can’t extricate him, there could be serious repercussions for the mysterious Library. And, as the balance of power across mighty factions hangs in the balance, this could even trigger war.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIrene and Kai are locked in a race against time (and dragons) to procure a rare book. They’ll face gangsters, blackmail, and the Library’s own Internal Affairs department. And if it doesn’t end well, it could have dire consequences on Irene’s job. And, incidentally, on her life...\u003cb\u003ePraise for the Invisible Library Novels\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Clever dialogue, time hopping through fun locales, plenty of action, and hints of fresh plotting will have readers looking forward to further Library missions.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A dazzling bibliophilic debut.”—Charles Stross, Hugo Award–winning author of \u003ci\u003eThe Nightmare Stacks\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Clever, creepy, elaborate world building and snarky, sexy-smart characters!”—N. K. Jemisin, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Fifth Season\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A book in which to wallow.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Guardian (UK)\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Witty fantasy...a thrilling and deliciously atmospheric adventure.”—\u003ci\u003eLocus\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ms. Cogman has opened a new pathway into our vast heritage of imagined wonderlands. And yet, as her story reminds us, we yearn for still more.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Wall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Funny, exciting, and oh-so-inspiring, this is the kind of fantasy novel that will have female readers everywhere gearing up for their own adventure.”—Bustle\u003cb\u003eGenevieve Cogman\u003c\/b\u003e is a freelance author who has written for several role-playing game companies. She currently works for the National Health Service in England as a clinical classifications specialist. She is the author of the Invisible Library series, including \u003ci\u003eThe Mortal Word\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Lost Plot\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Burning Page\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Masked City\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eThe Invisible Library\u003c\/i\u003e.PE 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My dear girl,\" the woman sitting next to Irene sniffed, \"if you      haven't opened your veins before, then do let Mr. Harper do it for      you. He's had a lot of experience with nervous young things like      you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene looked down at the scalpel lying in the saucer next to her      cup of tea. She was trying to think of a way out of the      situation-one that wouldn't involve her fleeing the house and      slamming the door behind her. She'd visited multiple alternate      worlds in order to obtain books. She was capable of dealing with      different customs and knew all sorts of polite manners. But she      didn't want to serve herself up as the dish of the day. \"Nobody      actually said there were going to be vampires attending,\" she said      mildly. \"I wasn't expecting this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Bah!\" another of the elderly women snorted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene was the youngest person in the crowded room, trapped in a      nest of chairs and little tables that were encrusted with      ornaments. The thick curtains were drawn tightly against the night      outside. The tea was cold. The cakes were stale. The atmosphere      was thick and heavy, and if it hadn't been for the fragrance of      the log fire, Irene had a suspicion that it would have smelled      even worse.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I don't wish to sound harsh, but in my day a young woman knew her      duty! If this Miss-Miss . . .\" The woman trailed off, trying to      remember Irene's name.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Miss Winters,\" Mr. Harper said. His hair was a grizzled white      that retreated in a pronounced widow's peak, and his eyes were      black as coal, sunken deep behind half-closed eyelids. He hunched      in his chair, tilting forward like a vulture scouting for prey.      And whenever he spoke he bared his fangs. The one highlight of the      evening so far was that he wasn't sitting next to Irene. He was      apparently one of the minor vampires attached to the household;      the more powerful ones hadn't risen yet that evening. Small      mercies. \"So nice to have some young blood present at our little      soirée.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Of course, if Irene had known that it was going to be a soirée,      let alone one with vampires present, she wouldn't have attended.      Which was probably why they hadn't told her. She'd thought this      was going to be just a straight book exchange. The negotiations      had all gone through smoothly, and she'd been looking forward to      collecting a new book for the Library's collection-without      violence, drama, or running down corridors screaming. Apparently      she'd been mistaken.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I had absolutely no idea I'd be mixing with such important people      when I called,\" she fluttered, putting on her best air of      innocence. \"I only wanted to exchange these books, as we agreed-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The books, yes. As we discussed.\" It was the first time the woman      at the far end of the room had spoken. The background whispers      fell silent at her voice. She touched the red leather binding of      the book in her lap; her pale fingers were thin and wrinkled,      given an artificial colour by the firelight. \"Indeed, I think we      should discuss that in private. If you will all excuse us for a      moment?\" She didn't bother pausing for any possible disagreement.      \"Miss Winters. Do take a little stroll with me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene put down her cup and saucer-and the scalpel-and rose to her      feet in a rustle of skirts, picking up her briefcase. She'd      dressed politely and soberly in response to her invitation, in a      dove-grey jacket and skirt with dark green trimmings. Given the      circumstances, she was wishing she'd accessorized the outfit with      garlic, silver, and running shoes. \"Delighted,\" she murmured, and      followed the other woman out of the room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Along the corridor and up the stairs, old-style gas lamps burned,      rather than the newer ether lamps. Dark portraits gazed out from      gilded ornamental frames. Irene could see the family nose and      brows in many of them, mirroring the haughty face of the woman      ahead of her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She really wished she hadn't come here. She'd just wanted to      exchange a book, rather than stealing it, for once. Her virtue was      not being rewarded. Quite the opposite.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Mrs. Walker-referred to as Lady Walker by the rest of the      household, even if Irene hadn't come across any trace of a title      when she was researching the family-came to a stop in front of a      particularly dramatic picture. She turned to look at Irene. Her      eye-patch hid her right eye, but the left eye was considering,      thoughtful, evaluating. Since Irene preferred to be underestimated      and ignored, this wasn't welcome.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"So, you are the notorious Irene Winters,\" she said. \"How      convenient that you've come to me, rather than my having to come      to you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Really.\" Irene decided to drop the act. It seemed she'd acquired      a reputation, so she might as well throw any plans to dissemble      out the window. Which was where she'd like to be right now. \"Might      I ask your sources?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Family connections.\" Mrs. Walker shrugged. The jet ornaments on      her dress shivered and danced in the gaslight. \"Just because I      prefer to spend my time up here rather than running off to frivol      in the fleshpots of London . . . But I digress. I assure you, Miss      Winters, I know more about you than you might think.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh?\" Irene said, in the conciliatory tone of voice she'd had the      chance to practise in the past. Do tell me more, it implied.      You're so clever.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Good.\" Mrs. Walker looked positively approving. \"Just the sort of      thing I'd have said, in your place.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Damn, Irene thought. \"Perhaps we should skip the preliminaries and      get to the point,\" she suggested.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Mrs. Walker nodded. \"Very well. Here it is. I know you're part of      a power play by one of the other families. I want to know what is      going on. I want to know who you're working for. And if you hope      to leave this house alive, you will tell me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene blinked. She'd been ready for various possibilities, ranging      from I know you work for a secret interdimensional Library to I      have evidence of your criminal acts and plan to blackmail you, but      this was unexpected. \"Dear me,\" she said. \"This is so sudden.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Your cover story was quite impressive,\" Mrs. Walker granted.      \"Claiming to be a freelance translator and book-collector, and      suggesting an exchange. A copy of Marlowe's lost play The Massacre      at Paris in return for our copy of John Webster's Guise. Both of      us would have profited by the deal. And it seemed credible enough      to be genuine. But an offer that tempting seems like a fairy      story, doesn't it, Miss Winters? And we all know that fairy      stories don't happen.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They happen more than you might think,\" Irene said. In a      high-chaos alternate world like this one, narrative tropes had an      unfortunate way of coming true. Unfortunately the traditional      heroine-gets-trapped-in-household-full-of-vampires story seldom      had a happy ending. At least, not for the heroine. \"Honestly, I      don't understand why you think I'm an-er, what do you think I am?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"A spy,\" Mrs. Walker said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"A spy?\" Irene said in tones of mild horror. What precisely did      Mrs. Walker know? Irene was an agent of the Library, and it was      her job and her duty to retrieve works of fiction from alternate      worlds. Bringing them back to her interdimensional Library home      created links with these places. And thus did the Library help      preserve the balance between unfeeling order and uncaring chaos,      across a multitude of worlds. It was a noble calling and a      lifetime commitment, and it allowed her to use the Library's      special Language to command reality. It also often involved her      stealing books and running away. So technically, yes, \"spy\" wasn't      entirely inaccurate. But it sounded as if her cover might still be      in one piece.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Even if her chance of obtaining Webster's Guise was looking less      feasible by the second.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, a spy. Scheming for one of the other families,\" Mrs. Walker      elaborated. The gaslight flickered, making her look even more like      a barely preserved corpse than before. She was thin enough that,      in her heavy black dress, she resembled a marionette from the sort      of Punch and Judy show that ended in a zombie apocalypse. \"Weren't      you listening? Personally I suspect you're working for the Vale      family in Leeds. You've been seen associating with Peregrine Vale      in London. He's supposed to be estranged from them, but that could      be just a cover story. Or maybe I should look more closely at the      Read family in Rotherham. I've been wondering about them for a      while. They'd be delighted to have a spy within my walls.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene had known, in a technical sense, that the north of England      had its share of vampires. Vampirism wasn't actually illegal in      this Great Britain, though killing people by draining their blood      was still classed as murder. She'd even been aware that this      household she was visiting had some vampires in it. But she hadn't      expected quite such a convoluted nest of plotters or network of      feuding families.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mrs. Walker,\" she finally said, \"you are completely wrong. I'm      not some sort of spy or secret agent, or a minion of your enemies.      I'm not involved with your family's affairs. I just came here to      make the exchange.\" She indicated her briefcase. \"And I have my      share of the deal.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You're wasting your time,\" Mrs. Walker said. \"We don't have the      Webster here, in any case.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Then I might as well leave,\" Irene said coldly. She made a mental      note to find out where they did keep the Webster, and then remove      it. Without offering payment this time. She didn't appreciate      being jerked around on the end of a string, even if the bait was      books.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ignoring her statement, Mrs. Walker looked Irene up and down      assessingly. \"There are ways to bind you into the family, if you      know too much. It might be the best option.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene gave in. Sometimes it was easier to play along with      conspiracy theorists than convince them they'd got it wrong. \"And      if, hypothetically, I was to decline this honour?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You are in a house full of vampires, several miles out of town,      surrounded by countryside, and it isn't even midnight yet.\" Mrs.      Walker's lips curled in a thin smile. \"The rain outside is getting      worse. No tracks will be found. It'll be days before anyone even      realizes you're missing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, they'll probably assume I've locked myself away with a good      book and didn't want to be disturbed,\" Irene agreed. \"Might I ask      what makes me particularly suitable as a member of your family?      I'd honestly never seen myself in that sort of position.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It would probably have been more truthful on her part to say No,      thank you, not in a million years. Excuse me while I kick the door      down and leave. But she was curious.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You're intelligent,\" Mrs. Walker said. \"You've proven your      abilities-and we can't allow you to leave now, anyway. You needn't      worry about your job either.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Really?\" Irene said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Of course not. Once you swear loyalty to my family, you'll be far      too compromised to keep up your current job. You can leave it to      the colleague with whom you share rooms. Incidentally, where is      he?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Out of London,\" Irene lied. Kai had gone to a family party. And      given that he was a dragon-even if he was currently in human form,      and working as Irene's assistant-that party was in an alternate      world. It was a relief to know he was out of reach. Mrs. Walker      might appreciate an extra hostage in order to persuade Irene.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm honoured to have been, um, invited into the family like      this,\" she dissembled. \"But I have other responsibilities, which I      need to discuss with my colleague-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Of course. After you've sworn an oath of loyalty in our basement      chapel,\" Mrs. Walker broke in. \"And made the usual formal pledge      of blood. I wouldn't want you changing your mind between here and      London.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Awkward. Irene was quite capable of lying, but the \"formal pledge      of blood\" sounded potentially dangerous. Besides, she didn't want      to see what sort of chapel a houseful of vampires had in the      basement. \"I'd like a few minutes to think,\" she said. \"It's a      very big decision for a young woman to make.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Mrs. Walker didn't look at all convinced, but she did nod. \"Yes,      Miss Winters. But I'd advise you not to wander around the house on      your own. The inhabitants receive their food from the local      hospital's blood depository, but there is such a thing as      provocation. Your wrists-\" Irene looked at the lacy cuffs of her      blouse. \"Are what I would call indecently exposed.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene decided to give reason one more try. \"Let me ask you to      reconsider before this goes any further. Please don't put us both      in a . . . difficult situation.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Begging will get you nowhere,\" Mrs. Walker said coldly. \"I will      expect you downstairs in a few minutes. If not, we will be coming      to look for you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She swept along to the head of the staircase, her watered silk      skirts hissing against the thick carpet, then turned to give Irene      the sort of measuring look that counted every drop of blood in her      veins. \"And that includes my husband.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene watched Mrs. Walker glide down the stairs and considered her      dwindling options.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Webster had been her latest assignment from the Library, and      this swap had been the quickest and easiest way to get hold of it.      Losing this opportunity was inconvenient, but not disastrous. Her      priority now was to get herself safely out of here. She put down      her briefcase; it would only be a hindrance to her escape. She'd      obtained the copy of the Marlowe play that it contained in an      alternate world, where the play was commonplace. So that wasn't a      significant loss.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The portrait they'd been standing beneath seemed to frown at her,      its imagined gaze a cold spot on her back. She turned to return      the glare. The dim lighting and the picture's age made it      difficult to judge when it had been painted-or, indeed, what the      figure was wearing, or even what the features were. There was an      impression of swooping brow, beaky nose, dark mantled clothing,      and terrifying eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Like everything else in this household, it showed the signs of      age. She crossed to the window and dragged back the heavy brocade      curtains.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Behind the curtains, in front of the glass, were heavy iron bars.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Irene finally smiled. Cold iron could stop a human. It could      seriously inconvenience a Fae. But it was nothing at all to a      servant of the Library.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Rain slapped against the window from outside. It was night, it was      raining, she was several miles from the nearest town, and she was      probably going to be chased cross-country by vampires the moment      they realized she'd left the house. And the river Ouse was      flooding again-apparently a regular occurrence in these parts-so      there wouldn't be any traffic on the roads.","brand":"Ace","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":44885627306213,"sku":"NP9780399587429","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399587429.jpg?v=1767740329","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-lost-plot-isbn-9780399587429","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}