The Book of Lies

by Melissa McShane

  I turned off the lights and lay on my back with my arms flung wide. I was barely able to reach both sides when I lay like that. I rolled onto my side and curled into a ball again, and prayed, as I rarely did, for Harry and Harriet and all the other people affected by this nightmare. I slid into sleep and dreamed of being chased by monsters I fought with only a frying pan. It was a fitting weapon for Harriet. For me it was just futility.

  7

  Judy was at Abernathy’s when I arrived, logy and exhausted from being jerked out of sleep so often by nightmares. “No change,” she said before I could ask. “It’s good news. It means he’s holding steady.”

  “What will happen next?”

  “Once his magic reserves reach a certain point, he’ll do a sort of physical therapy, but for magic. His body needs to relearn how to generate magic naturally, not through the aegis. And when that’s done, he can fully recover. But he may not be a magus anymore.”

  “I thought you were a magus as long as you had an aegis.”

  “If the aegis stops working, it’s the same as not having one. With Harry’s magic so depleted, it could fool his aegis into believing he’s dead, which would render it inert.”

  “Isn’t there anything they can do about that? Give him a new one?”

  “No one’s ever survived the Damerel rites a second time. And Harry’s too old for it, anyway.” Judy perched on the stool and leaned her elbows on the counter. “I hate Ryan Parish.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s being so smug about the whole thing. Called on Father early this morning to ‘discuss the situation’ when what he really wanted was to make demands. He insisted the Nicolliens destroy all their familiars, and when Father refused, he wanted to restrict where they went even if they didn’t bring their familiars with them. He was talking like they were all infants who needed to have their asses wiped for them. Father nearly took his head off. But that’s not what really bothers me.”

  “That’s not enough?”

  Judy shook her head. “It was that he was right. Familiars have become too dangerous. I know Father still hopes they’ll be able to solve the problem, but how many more people have to die, or nearly die, before he admits to failure?”

  “Losing the familiars could set the Long War back by decades. How are the Nicollien teams supposed to work without their support?”

  “I can’t believe you’re defending them. I thought you were afraid of familiars.”

  “I am. But I also know the Nicollien offense is completely based on familiars. And maybe now it’s clear that was a stupid move. It doesn’t matter, because it would be like…what’s that game where you pull blocks out of a tower?”

  “Jenga?”

  “That one. Destroying all the familiars would be like yanking out the whole base at once. Mr. Rasmussen needs to figure out a better way to do it.”

  “You’re so reasonable it’s depressing. I just hope Harry lives. Magic’s not that important.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that. I thought Rasmussens believed in fighting the Long War above all.”

  “There are lots of ways to fight. You and I don’t have magic, and we’re fighting just by running Abernathy’s.” Judy’s smile was bitter. “That’s what I tell myself every time I have to balance the books.”

  I went to the break room to hang up my coat and purse. “That’s a valiant effort,” I called out, “and definitely counts as fighting a war.”

  Judy didn’t answer. I came back into the front of the store to find her staring at her phone. “What is it? Not—”

  “He’s awake. But he doesn’t remember anything that happened. He tried to use magic and nearly killed himself.” Judy shoved her phone into her pocket. “Give me something to do. I need a distraction.”

  “Labels for yesterday’s auguries. Being open only four hours a day means we’re falling behind on the mail-in auguries.”

  Judy nodded and disappeared into the stacks. I glanced through the window at the magi lining up, waiting for me to open. Well, I could let them in a little early.

  “Did you hear about Harry Keller?” the first man through the door said. “They say he’s dying.”

  “He’s going to be fine. I saw him last night and he’s awake and he…he’s going to be fine.”

  “You saw him?”

  I was mobbed by Nicolliens, all wanting to know about Harry. I made them shut up and repeated the highlights of what I’d seen, not mentioning what Rasmussen had said about the potential fate of the familiars. “So everything’s all right,” I concluded, “and you can tell your friends.”

  “I’m not going to wait for it to happen to me,” a woman shouted. “I’ll destroy Bane the minute I get home.”

  “I don’t—” I shut my mouth. Preemptively destroying the familiars was probably a bad idea, but I wasn’t going to advise anyone to put themselves in danger. “They’ll figure out what’s causing it.”

  “Not good enough,” the first man said. “It could happen to anyone. And the familiar that killed Patty is still out there. It could come after you next, Ms. Davies.”

  “I feel safe,” I said. “This building is warded securely, and I have faith in the hunting teams.”

  “To do what?” said a voice from the back of the crowd. The Nicolliens parted to reveal Rebecca Greenough, casually dressed in jeans so new they still had creases and a button-down plaid shirt. She looked like a model for lumberjack chic. “What do you expect your hunting teams to do?”

  “Protect us against escaped familiars,” I said.

  “I’ve heard about that. Paul Pittman has already ordered all the familiars in the United Kingdom and Ireland destroyed. I wonder your Nicollien leader hasn’t done the same.”

  “It’s a drastic step. Mr. Rasmussen hasn’t exhausted all the possibilities yet.”

  “I’m sure that’s comforting to all the people who die.” Greenough took a few more steps toward the shelves. The crowd moved away from her as if they could smell the poison on her. “This is what Abernathy’s has become? This ramshackle collection? These shelves aren’t even finished wood!”

  “It’s camouflage.” Her disdainful tone of voice made me want to hit her with one of the heavier books. “And it replicates the store as it looked in Charing Cross Road. Of course, you wouldn’t know this, not having Silas’s diary.”

  “My grandfather always talked about how beautiful Abernathy’s was. This clearly is the result of years of inept management. Oh, I don’t blame you. You’ve only had its care for a year. It was that idiot Briggs who let it come to this, I’m sure.”

  I bit back a harsh reply. Arguing with her was pointless. “You’ve come for the augury? Do you know how it works?”

  “Of course.” She pulled an augury slip from her jeans pocket and handed it to me. Should Abernathy’s be restored to its proper place in London? “Straightforward enough, don’t you agree?”

  “It’s definitely straightforward.” And wrong-headed. I can’t wait to see your face when Abernathy’s turns you down. “Excuse me.” I turned my back on her, ignoring the warning itch between my shoulder blades, and entered the stillness of the oracle.

  It was impossible for me to continue to feel angry while I was surrounded by such peacefulness. But I was too surprised to feel peaceful, either. The light of the oracle was blood-red, the light of a dying star, and the stillness felt oppressive, a giant thumb pressing down on my skull and driving me into the ground. “Oh, come on!” I shouted. “What do you mean, no augury? Listen to this. She wants to know if Abernathy’s should be restored to its so-called proper place in London. There’s so much wrong with that question, even I could tell her no!”

  Silence spread outward as my words echoed away among the shelves. I paced between them, looking in vain for the blue light of an augury. “Do you not understand what’s at stake here? You have to remember what it was like to move the first time. Silas said it was dangerous and you were nearly killed. You can’t possibly want tha
t again. Please, just give me an augury that will tell her you don’t want this.”

  Still nothing. I rounded a corner and leaned face-first against one of the bookcases. “All right,” I whispered. “I’m your hands. And I’ll be your hands even if it’s to deliver you into potential destruction. And no, I don’t think that’s too dramatic.”

  Greenough was examining the cash register when I returned. “You know, I believe this was original to the London store,” she said, then eyed my empty hands. “Did you fail?”

  “I don’t fail,” I said, which was cocky, but I was miserable and I didn’t care what Greenough thought of me. “The oracle has declined to give an augury. It’s not going to weigh in on your question.”

  “What does that mean?” For once, she sounded uncertain.

  “It means it’s up to the Board to make the decision. Go ahead and try to persuade them. I’ll do my best to stop you.”

  Greenough smiled, a nasty expression. “I think your appointment was a mistake,” she said, “and I’m going to do my best to have you removed.”

  “Who is this, Helena?” Jeremiah appeared from between the bookcases. His T-shirt read THERE ARE 10 KINDS OF PEOPLE WHO UNDERSTAND BINARY and there was the beginnings of a hole in the knee of his jeans.

  “This is Rebecca Greenough, custodian of the Bailey Node in London.” I didn’t feel like elaborating any more than that.

  “Hmm. Rebecca Greenough of the Bailey Node.” Jeremiah approached Greenough and looked her over. “I think you may be overstepping your bounds.”

  “Who are you?”

  “No one, really. One of the countless magi who fight the Long War while you sit safe in your node, passing judgment on things you don’t understand.”

  “How dare you!”

  “I dare because, unlike you, I know how well Abernathy’s is run. I don’t know what your beef is or why you think you can have Helena removed, but I’d like to remind you that the Board of Neutralities doesn’t operate out of rank prejudice as you seem to. You have your augury, or at least the knowledge that you don’t get one. I suggest you leave.”

  In the face of Jeremiah’s calm demeanor, Greenough sputtered, unable to find words. Jeremiah treated her to his dazzling smile. “This isn’t over,” she spat, and turned to leave. The crowd parted for her silently. When the door shut, Jeremiah said, “I hope I didn’t just make things worse.”

  “Not at all,” I said, and hugged him.

  “What was that about?” a magus said. “She can’t get rid of you.”

  “Probably not, and I’m not worried about it. Now, who’s next?”

  I kept myself busy for the next several hours, too worried about Harry and Greenough to be pleased that the division of the store hours implemented by Rasmussen and Parish was being ignored while Abernathy’s hours were so curtailed. By two o’clock I was exhausted and ready for a nap, but I had to go to the conference. Claude was giving the keynote address, and I looked forward to that. Plus, I might actually get to go to a party. I didn’t really want to, but I knew Harry would be furious if I sat around moping just because he’d been hurt.

  I bade Judy goodbye, but she had her head down over the books and just grunted at me. Shrugging into my coat, I walked through the stacks and exclaimed, “Jeremiah! I thought you left hours ago.”

  “I did. I came back.” He had his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets and, hunched over, looked a little like the flamingo he’d had on his shirt last week. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Oh? About what?”

  “About Viv.”

  “Really?” I’d sounded a little too eager there, but Jeremiah didn’t comment on it. “Were you going to ask her out?”

  “I was thinking about it, yes.”

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic. Are you afraid she’ll say no? Because I’m pretty sure she won’t.”

  “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea, her and me. She’s exciting, and funny, and I feel like an idiot whenever I’m near her—”

  “Stop right there.” I grabbed Jeremiah by the collar of his coat and made him look at me. “For two really intelligent people, you’ve both been acting stupid. Just go out for coffee. Talk to each other. See if you have anything in common beyond both of you acting like you’re out of each other’s league.”

  He smiled. “Your mysterious boyfriend is a lucky guy. I’d love to meet him someday.”

  I wish you could. “I’ll have to introduce you. Here, give me your phone and I’ll give you Viv’s number. And I don’t want to see you again until you’ve asked her out, got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He meekly held out his phone, and I entered her number in his contacts list and handed it back. “Do you think—”

  “I’m not giving you any more advice. Stop overthinking it and just call her. Coffee. Maybe a bagel. She likes muffins. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Have a good time tonight, Helena.”

  I waved goodbye to him and locked the front door, turned the CLOSED sign over, and headed back through the store to the rear door and the parking lot. Judy was still busy with the computer when I passed through the office. “You can go home now,” I said.

  “I’m trying to balance the checkbook. Go to your meeting and stop bothering me.”

  “Geez, you’re cranky when the books don’t add up.” I waved and shut the office door behind me.

  My hand was on the outer door’s knob when my phone rang. Rick Blaine. I fumbled the phone in my excitement. “I’m so glad you called. I missed you—”

  “I don’t have much time. Are you somewhere safe?”

  “Yes, I’m just leaving for the conference.”

  “Be careful going to and from your car. Portland is crawling with invaders and loose familiars.”

  “I thought it was just Patty Henriksen’s.”

  “Rasmussen’s keeping it quiet, but he hasn’t been able to hide it from the teams. With the Nicollien teams distracted, there have been fewer fighters to destroy the other monsters, the free ones. It’s only a matter of time before the news stations pick up on a surge in ‘dog attacks’ and fatalities. Like the ones this morning.”

  “Malcolm, are you in Portland?” A surge of irrational disappointment that he hadn’t called me sooner struck me.

  “I came back this morning. I’ve been on the streets since six, trying to clean up the mess Rasmussen made.”

  “He’s been doing his best.”

  “Don’t defend him. I saw a familiar savage a child today, Helena. A six-year-old child. They think she’ll live. I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “I’m sure you did your best.” I winced at how inane that was.

  “Not good enough,” Malcolm said. “If Rasmussen had ordered the familiars destroyed the second the first attack happened, I wouldn’t have had to put seven steel rounds through the head of one dragging that little girl through the streets. Quincy had to think fast to keep the illusion going. That’s definitely going to be on the evening news.”

  “I know it’s bad. Harry Keller was attacked yesterday, and he might not live.”

  “At least he knew what he was getting into.”

  I drew in a startled breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He had a choice. That little girl didn’t.”

  “So you’re saying he deserved to be attacked.” I remembered how Harry had looked, lying shrunken and still in his bed, and felt a flash of anger.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you were thinking it.”

  “It’s nothing I haven’t said before. It was only a matter of time before the Nicolliens got what was coming to them.”

  I paced the tiny space between the door and the stairs. “Because all Nicolliens are fundamentally wrong-headed and part of the problem, is that why?”

  “Helena—”

  “Shut up. Harry Keller is my friend and I thought he was a friend of yours, too. I’m sorry you couldn’t save that little girl, but her sufferi
ng doesn’t make it all right for their familiar to attack Harry.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Malcolm said again.

  “You didn’t have to. Go back to the fight. It’s what you’re good at, killing things.” I stabbed at my phone to end the call and dropped it into my purse. Then I leaned against the door and shook, tears of fury streaking my cheeks. How could he be so callous about another man’s life?

  My purse vibrated with my phone’s ringing. I checked the display. Malcolm again. I didn’t have anything I wanted to say to him. I wiped my eyes and ran to my car, looking around for monsters, but the parking lot was empty of anything living. If you could call invaders living.

  My phone rang three more times as I drove to the hotel. I kept ignoring it, though every time it made my heart ache more. What was I supposed to do when the person whose comfort I wanted most was the one making me need comfort? This is stupid. It’s just a fight. Our first fight. But I couldn’t help feeling this was a problem that went deeper than just a fight.

  I’d always thought Malcolm was fair and even-handed when it came to Nicolliens and Ambrosites, even if he did fundamentally disagree with the Nicolliens’ principles. If he could be so callous about Harry’s injuries, maybe that meant I was wrong. I realized I was crying again and swiped at my eyes. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. It certainly wouldn’t change Malcolm’s mind.

  I ran from my car to the hotel doors, seeing invaders in every shadow. But nothing attacked. I paused inside the door to remove my coat and caught sight of my reflection in one of the mirrors. I looked haggard, my hair falling down on one side, my eyes and nose red from crying. Quickly I went to the restroom and brushed out my hair, deciding to leave it down rather than pull it into a ponytail that would make my scalp ache. This was where powdering my nose seemed like a viable option, if it would cover its reddened tip, but I didn’t have one of those powder compacts women always had in old movies. Marilyn Monroe probably was never without hers. I had to settle for splashing cool water on my face and patting it dry.