“I really hope those help,” I told Dave as Judy wrote out his receipt. “It’s not a good feeling, being the only named Neutrality left.”
“We’ve got security surrounding this place, and stone magi monitoring the wards,” Dave said. “There’s no way we’ll let invaders get to you.”
“I didn’t remember about the security.”
“Lucia didn’t want to make a big deal about it. She said it wouldn’t help you do your job better, knowing about it. But you should know you’re protected.”
I almost wished I didn’t know, as it reminded me that Abernathy’s was almost certainly the invaders’ next target. But it was sort of comforting. “Thanks. I’m sure everything will be fine. They tried an attack once already and failed, so they have to think twice about trying again.”
“Right.” Dave put the books into the briefcase and saluted me with it. “Hang in there.”
He meant well, so I suppressed a feeling of irritation at his air of breezy confidence and went back to work.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet. Only a few Ambrosites showed up at two. “Everyone’s waiting to see what happens in Baghdad,” one woman confided in me. “As soon as we know if the Well is active again, you’ll see a deluge of questions about what wishes to ask for.”
That made sense. None of the Ambrosites’ requests drew the oracle’s attention; none were rejected. By 3:30, the store was empty again. Judy leaned against the counter as the bells jingled, saying goodbye to our last customer, and pulled out her phone. “Do you mind if I go upstairs and pack?” she said, reading something on her screen. “Mike will be here right at six, and I’d like to be able to load up and go.”
“Sure. I’ll text you if a big rush happens.”
I crossed the room to stand in front of the crystal door. The afternoon was sunnier than it had been yesterday, and tiny rainbows danced across the surface. I wondered why the light didn’t cast rainbows on the walls, like a prism. It made me realize I didn’t really understand how illusions worked, despite my reading up on them back when the oracle was under attack by the Mercy’s paper magi. If it fooled the brain, then it shouldn’t stop the door from shedding rainbow light all over the place, and only I would be able to see it. Or maybe I was wrong, and the illusion on the door altered its nature. It was a fun distraction because it didn’t matter if I figured it out.
My phone rang. I took it out and saw Malcolm’s name. “Hi. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, and no,” Malcolm said. “I’m afraid I have to go to Baghdad in two hours.”
“I hope that’s the good news.”
Malcolm laughed. “I know you worry when I go into danger. This is…it’s a tricky situation. The Well is inactive, but it hasn’t aggressed on al-Hussein’s people, and he thinks that means we have a chance of retrieving the former custodian’s body and cleansing the Well.”
“That is good news.”
“You may not think so when you hear the rest. Al-Hussein needs glass magi to locate the body, and steel magi to go in after it. But the protections on the Well are similar to an invader’s attack. When they tried to break through—not even to get the body, just to see if it was possible—it nearly killed the steel magi who tried. So al-Hussein wants to use the new steel magi to see if the alloy aegis is a more effective protection.”
I sat on the stool, feeling the need for its support. “Meaning he doesn’t know if it will work.”
“No. The odds are good, though, and we won’t take chances.”
“I know. The truth is, Malcolm, I really want not to be the only named Neutrality. That outweighs my fear for you. And I have faith in your abilities.”
“That’s reassuring. What I did not want was to leave knowing that you were miserable.”
“I won’t be miserable. Worried, yes, but I always worry, and that shouldn’t stop you.”
“You’re the strongest woman I know, love. We will survive this. With the Well and Abernathy’s…they’re the two most powerful named Neutralities, and they will make a difference.”
Surprisingly, I felt better. “I’m glad you’re able to do this. Al-Hussein couldn’t have a better partner.”
Malcolm laughed. “We’ll see if he still thinks so when this is all over. We’re both strong personalities who like being in charge. I’m steeling myself to be a helpful subordinate.”
That made me laugh. “I wish I could see it.”
“I’d say the same, but I’m relieved there’s no reason to bring you with me. This will be dangerous.”
“I know. I’ll be fine here. I miss you. I don’t suppose I’ll see you before you leave?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’m pushing it to be ready in two hours. But I’ll call you the moment it’s over. I’m having someone drop your car off at the store so you can get home.”
“Thanks. I love you, you know.”
“And I love you. Take care.”
Malcolm hung up, and I sat staring at my phone for a few moments. I’d been telling the truth; my fears about being the last named Neutrality standing were greater than my fears for Malcolm. Maybe some of that was not knowing the details of his mission, and maybe some of it was the numbness that still hovered nearby after witnessing the destruction of the Sanctuary. But I had faith in Malcolm’s abilities, and it relieved my mind to know that he would be one of those tackling what might be the biggest challenge to the Wardens in modern times.
The day wore on—almost literally, since it felt time had slowed to a crawl. I managed not to check my watch every two minutes, counting down the time to when Malcolm would leave. I cleaned every surface of the store’s front, starting with squeegeeing the windows and ending with mopping the floor. I polished the crystal door and regretted that no one but me would appreciate it. I dusted the bookshelves and moved a few piles from the floor to the empty spaces on the shelves.
That took forty-two minutes.
Inspired, I took my cleaning show into the break room, scrubbed the microwave, wiped down the refrigerator, and mopped that floor too. I didn’t mop the office, just swept it, but polished Silas’s picture and then removed it and scrubbed the front of the wall safe. As I replaced the picture, Judy came in from the back and said, “I’m about finished packing. I was going to offer to clean, but it looks like you’ve already done more of that than any sane person should do.”
“I’m tackling the basement next.”
“Oh, I can do that.”
I set down my bottle of cleaner. “Malcolm’s going to Baghdad in less than an hour. I need something to distract me.”
“Oh.” Judy nodded. “I’ll sit up front and holler if someone comes in.”
There really wasn’t much to clean in the basement. The wooden file cabinets needed dusting, as did the metal safe deposit boxes, but we never did more than dry-mop the floor so the file cabinets wouldn’t take water damage. I’d always wondered why someone, maybe Silas, had opted for wood instead of metal, but it was one of those questions I would never have the answer to. I scrubbed the porcelain sink in the corner and put away all the cleaning supplies, feeling tired and satisfied. I might even be able to sleep tonight.
My watch told me it was 5:32. Less than half an hour before I could go home. I remembered I didn’t want to cook and began going over options. Fast food? Leftovers? Could I drop in on Harry and Harriet without warning? Thinking of Harriet reminded me that she was a glass magus with experience in the Middle East. It wasn’t impossible that al-Hussein might call on her to help, in which case Harry might want company.
I texted Harry as I went up the stairs: MALCOLM GOING TO BAGHDAD, HARRIET TOO? No response.
Judy was flipping idly through the pages of a Stephen King novel at the counter. “I’m so bored,” she said. “Are you done cleaning? We should plan something to celebrate Viv’s aegis. Oh, and how she’s alive.”
“They said it would be a few days before she’s released. Saturday? We could do dinner and a movie.” It felt so odd to be ma
king ordinary plans when the world was in such turmoil.
“Sounds good.” Judy closed the book and slapped it down on the counter. “Have you heard the conspiracy theory?”
“About what?”
“That reporter the invaders killed. There’s a theory going around that he surprised a black ops group that has been spreading the bioweapon.” Judy smirked. “They got part of it right, anyway.”
“Interesting. Who’s the black ops group supposed to work for?”
“I have no idea. There’s lots of theories. I like the one that it’s really our own government spreading discord so the President can take a hard stand against terrorism and look good.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?” Judy’s phone buzzed. “Looks like Mike’s here a little early. Mind if I—”
I shooed her away. “Go. Make his nest your own. Don’t forget the dishes.”
When she was gone, I looked at the Stephen King novel. ‘Salem’s Lot. I didn’t read Stephen King because I was, frankly, a big fat chicken when it came to being scared, but Viv swore he was one of the great American masters. This one was an older book, very battered, with a scary-looking bald man poised to attack the reader. I picked it up and jammed it onto one of the shelves, maybe even in the place she’d taken it from, given that there was a gap the right size. These were not books that would ever be auguries, because they were outside the oracle’s space, but I couldn’t help wondering if they contributed to the oracle’s body regardless. There was so much about it I didn’t know.
I glanced at the rest of the books on the shelf. A title caught my eye: Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore. That sounded like it could be about Abernathy’s. I pulled it off the shelf and flipped it open, intrigued by the cover flap copy. My watch said 5:42. I could read this while I waited for six o’clock to roll around, maybe even take it home with me.
I settled behind the counter and started reading. It was fascinating, and the first bit did remind me a little of my interview with Mr. Briggs, though Abernathy’s concealed a different secret, naturally. It would be funny if Abernathy’s only loaned out its auguries rather than selling them. We’d be so busy tracking down returns we’d never be bored.
Reading the book also made me wonder, not for the first time, how things would have been different if Mr. Briggs hadn’t been murdered. He couldn’t have kept the secret of the magical world long, and I would have had a much different reaction if I’d come to it slowly instead of in the aftermath of finding my boss’s dead body.
I glanced at my watch. 6:14. Amazing that reading had distracted me to such a degree. I used the cover flap to mark my place and stretched. Outside, evening shoppers passed by, chatting or holding hands or pointing at things I couldn’t see. It was a peaceful scene that relaxed me further.
A couple strolled past the door, which turned them into diffuse smears, and came to a stop beneath the ABERNATHY’S sign painted on the plate glass window. Both of them were pointing at something down the street. Then they took a few tentative steps backward, and I heard their muffled voices raised in argument.
No—it was fear.
I stepped forward to look in the direction they were pointing just as they turned and ran, screaming. I couldn’t see anything that might scare someone, but then some people across the street turned and did the same thing, and suddenly the street was full of terrified people, caroming off the few cars noodling down the narrow road and shouting warnings I could barely hear.
I hurried to the door, but paused with my hand on the knob. A terrible, uneasy feeling crept over me. I returned to the window and pressed my face against the glass, peering into the distance up my side of the street. The street looked unreal, like a painted backdrop for a play, with the light all wrong for early evening and the air thick with impossible fog. Dark figures moved within the fog, too angular to be human. I involuntarily clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle a shriek as the first invaders emerged.
27
They slipped through slits in reality, two-dimensional paper cutouts that expanded into fully-formed, horrible shapes made more horrible by the obscuring fog. It had to be real, I couldn’t have seen it if it were an illusion, but it looked ridiculously fake, a bad special effect in a horror film with no budget. The invaders strolled or loped or flew along the street as if they had all the time in the world—but that was a different kind of illusion, one born of my fear, because even as they moved slowly, they caught up to the fleeing people, and then the screams turned agonized.
I stood frozen at the window, watching people die. Security. Dave had said Abernathy’s had a security detail. So where were they? No fatigue-clad men and women challenged the nightmarish figures. Which meant the invaders had taken them out first. Aside from the wards, Abernathy’s was defenseless.
But if the security force was dead, that meant no one was around to report the attack except me. I had to tell someone. The Wardens needed to know Portland was under attack. The invaders couldn’t touch me, not with the store as well warded as it was, but the Wardens could save everyone else. But I couldn’t stop watching the carnage, was unable to even take the few steps to the counter where my phone lay.
The first people collapsed, drained completely, then others joined them. Soon the street looked like a scene out of a disaster movie, bodies lying everywhere, blood red or moss green or chitinous black invaders leaping on new victims. A screaming woman fled past the store and was pounced on right in front of me, and I screamed along with her, my heart trying to beat its way out of my body. The invader, its blue body glistening like a scarab, its eight legs gripping its victim and its terrible jaws clamped on her throat, ignored me. I backed away, fumbled for my phone, and tried to find Lucia’s number without taking my eyes off the invader.
The call went straight to voice mail. “Lucia, invaders are attacking Portland—maybe you know—they are outside Abernathy’s right now and I don’t know where the security is—I need help!” I gasped in one long breath. I ended the call. The invader had finished draining the woman and was gone. I went back to the window and gazed helplessly at the carnage. Cars idled in the street, their drivers having abandoned them, and invaders crawled or hopped over them, scoring the paint with their claws.
In the middle of the road, between two cars, a vertical black line cut through reality as if it were the stage backdrop I’d imagined it as. The line glowed bright blue all down its center, like light leaking through it from the other side of the backdrop. And a thing slipped through it, flattened like paper. Insert Tab A into Slot B, I thought madly. Whatever the thing was, it fit the line perfectly.
Then it shook itself, and became three-dimensional. Numb horror struck me. I’d seen that thing before. Its clawed, multi-jointed legs scraped the asphalt as it walked with deliberation toward me. A dozen beady eyes like drops of fresh blood focused on me, and the tentacles in the place where its mouth should be undulated slowly, as if it were tasting the air with fat, sucker-coated tongues. One eye was a ruined mess, and I remembered jamming a broken baton into that eye and felt sick.
I took an involuntary step backward and ran into the counter. That startled me out of my horrified, frozen state. I raised my phone, not sure what else I could do. Knowing the wards were there was no comfort to my primal animal brain, which was screaming at me to flee.
It had no mouth, but its tentacles curled in what was nearly a smile. “Custodian,” it said in a voice that cranked my instinctual panic to eleven. “This is the end.”
Its words were muted by the glass, but it was perfectly intelligible. “You can’t get in here,” I said, proud of how my voice didn’t shake even though the rest of me wanted to. “The wards are too powerful.”
The invader cocked its pointed black head to one side. It was such a human gesture I wanted to run—but I had nowhere to run to. “Suppose I told you we will go on killing humans until you let us in,” it said.
“In the first place, I wouldn’t believe you, and in
the second place, I can’t take that offer.”
“Oh? Not soft-hearted Helena Campbell? You’d let thousands die to save your own life?”
I swallowed. “It’s not about my life. You can’t be allowed to get at Abernathy’s. Not even at that cost.”
“Hmm. I suppose there was never any chance that appeal would work.” Its tentacles caressed the glass window, leaving smeary streaks of blue ichor. “But we had to give you the chance.”
“You…what?”
It ignored me and walked away. I pressed against the glass to watch it as it went to the nearest lamppost and uprooted it as easily as plucking a daisy. Mystified, I took a step back. The invader dragged the lamppost behind it, sending up the scraping, shrill noise of metal on concrete, until it once more stood in front of the window. “Stand back,” it said.
I realized what it had in mind just as it grabbed the lamppost with two sharp limbs and slammed it into the glass like a battering ram. I ducked behind the counter in time to avoid the shower of glass that sprayed the store’s front with a tinkling crash. Shaking my head and shoulders to rid myself of the sharp splinters, I stood and glared at the invader. “That won’t be enough,” I said. “You can’t get past the wards.”
The sounds of screaming had grown distant. The invader turned its head as if it were listening to the cries of agony. “I’m sure they believed that,” it said. “How unfortunate for you it’s not true.”
“You’re trying to frighten me into doing something stupid. It won’t work.”
The invader shook its head, another human gesture that made me feel sick. It held up one of its forelimbs and waved it slowly, moving as if the glass were still there and it was wiping it with a cloth. A red glow pulsed wherever its “hand” moved, like someone turning up an adjustable bulb. At first, it was nothing but a haze, like fog lit from within, but as the creature’s forelimb continued to move, strands like fine wires, almost too thin to be seen, became visible. The wires stretched randomly in all directions as if they extended far beyond what I could see, weaving in and out of each other to form a heavy red mesh. Soon, the invader was hidden behind the wires of what must be the powerful wards Campbell Security had installed. It made me even more afraid, not being able to see the thing.
The Book of Destiny Page 30