White Lies

A little while later, once your cheeks have dried and the memories have been suppressed once again, you meet with Adamo in an empty room. As soon as Adamo enters, you can tell by his posture that he is suspicious of you.

“Senora Pascale.”

“Monsieur Adamo.”

You decide to let him start the talking, keeping your cards close to your chest.

“I have uncovered much about our mutual friend, Aster. Things that I wish to share with you, for I would like for us to work together on solving this Library mystery and ensuring as many lives as possible are saved. But… I require you to be frank with me, Senora. I need the truth so that I may trust you fully.”

“If I have ever said anything to make you doubt my intentions, you have my deepest apologies, Monsieur. A lady has many secrets, but none that I would consider so vile as to warrant this mistrust. Whatever made you question my sincerity?”

Don’t give anything away. Allow him to reveal what he knows first.

“When I was last in your Personal Library, I took a sample of the blood from your handkerchief. After testing it, I found it to contain numerous toxins and poisons.” Adamo looks you dead in the eye. “Signora, you have been ingesting poisons.”

Thinking fast, you rapidly assess which lies will get you out of this with the least suspicion. Discarding ignorance, victimhood, and accidents each in turn, you decide the best lie (as it always is) is simply to tell part of the truth.

“My good Doctor, what you say is true, but if you will permit me the liberty of explaining myself, I can assure you that this is no cause for concern. You see, my area of alchemical interest is toxins, and often when testing potencies it is necessary to ingest trace amounts of the poison. I deeply apologise for keeping this from you; I was merely afraid of losing your respect, which I hold in the highest regard, since most find it unseemly for a woman of my status to be dabbling in a field so encroached with prejudices. But I… promise, my work has always been purely for scientific enquiry.”

“Scientific enquiry? So you mean to say – and I pray you will forgive me for the bluntness of my question, since I would appreciate an equally blunt answer – you have never used your toxins on another person?”

You put your hand to your chest. “On my life, I have never hurt anyone with them.”

“Now, now, Pascale… you shouldn’t tell fiibbbbsssss.”

No.

You feel your flesh prickle as two, familiar shadows coalesce behind Adamo. You watch as Shadow and Shush each place a single, skeletal-thin hand on the doctor’s shoulders. Suddenly, his eyes go wide as saucers, gaining a far away look, as though he were seeing something play out rapidly before his eyes. From his gaping jaws, you see him mouth two, damning words.

“Penguin enclosure.”

The Monitors took a memory of one of your murders. Of the one in Tokyo. You don’t remember the details of whom you murdered or why or how, but you remember running from a lion and diving into the water, and there is enough of the jagged gap for you to infer what once filled it.

And now Adamo is seeing it all.

The Italian blinks several times. He looks around, as though only just now remembering where he is. He stares at you.

You stare back.