The Impostor by Lily Lang

open to reveal a fat, balding man, even shorter than Tessa. He wore a red waistcoat, a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, and a truly ferocious scowl that made him look like an outraged mole rat.
    “Hello, Brears,” said Sebastian calmly.
    The man’s scowl somehow managed to deepen when he saw who stood in the doorway.
    “What the hell are you doing here, Montague?” he demanded, baring all his long teeth.
    “I have permission from Old Hooky himself to come here,” he said. “And I brought a lady, Brears, so you may wish to reconsider your language.”
    Brears scowled at Tessa as well. “Who’s she?” he asked, looking even more suspicious.
    “She is my assistant,” said Sebastian, which made Tessa scowl at him as well.
    Brears snatched the letter, read it closely and finally took a grudging step back. “Very well,” he said, sounding as though he considered it a personal insult to invite them inside. “You might as well come in then, since the General says I’m to let you look through whatever you like.”
    They followed him into a large, cavernous room filled with rows and rows of wooden crates, as well as shelves crammed full of books. Tessa blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. There were no windows.
    “Tell me, Brears,” said Sebastian, as he looked around him. “Did Sir Francis Hughes ever come here?”
    “Hughes. Hughes.” Brears frowned, and then his brow cleared. “Ah yes. That ass from the War Office?”
    “Ah, yes. Youngish sort of chap. American accent.”
    Brears snorted as he unlocked a door at the back of the room. Beyond him, Tessa could see a room full of even more crates. “That’s the one. He certainly did.”
    Tessa exchanged a quick glance with Sebastian. Excitement coursed through her.
    “When was Sir Francis here?” she asked.
    The old man shrugged. “He was here several times,” he said. “Started coming, oh, over a year ago, I suppose. But I haven’t seen him in quite some months.”
    “What did he want to look at?” asked Sebastian. “War dispatches?”
    The corners of Brears’s mouth drooped into a considering frown. “War dispatches? I suppose he went through some of those, yes, but mostly he was interested in documents the American consulate sent here a year and a half ago.”
    The answer was so unexpected that Sebastian came to a dead halt in the center of a room. “What documents?”
    Brears shrugged his sloping shoulders. “Some papers by a man named Robert Fulton. The Americans didn’t want them, so they sent them to us for safekeeping.”
    “And Francis wanted to see these papers?” asked Sebastian.
    “Yes.” Brears shrugged again. “Don’t know why. A lot of nonsense.”
    “Can we see them too, Mr. Brears?” asked Tessa.
    “I suppose so,” said Brears grumpily. “The General said you were to see whatever you wanted, didn’t he? Come along then.”
    He led them to a table on the far end of the room, waving a hand as though indicating they should sit. Then he brought over a large box full of papers and slammed it onto the table, narrowly missing Tessa’s hand.
    She snatched her fingers back, alarmed.
    “There you are,” said Brears. “Good thing for you I knew exactly where they were. Will you need anything else?”
    “Yes,” said Sebastian, already reaching into the box. “Bring over all dispatches that were classified Omega .“
    Brears glared at him. “At your service, your lordship. Anything you want, your lordship. Not that I have anything else I have to get done.”
    When the man had disappeared down an aisle to rummage through boxes, Sebastian let out a breath.  
    “What else can he possibly have to get done here?” he whispered.
    Tessa couldn’t repress a smile, her heart lightening for the first time in days. “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “Perhaps he needs to make a nest or a burrow somewhere.”
    Sebastian snorted. He pulled a large envelope out of the box and handed it to her. She