The Book of Secrets

by Melissa McShane

  “Now what?” I said. I had to speak loudly because the whispering was back, and it was getting louder.

  “Now I see how much damage I can do before it kills me.” Campbell climbed one-handed to the top of one of the eight-foot-tall bookcases, kicking books out of the way and shoving a whole stack of them to the floor. The high ceiling was still low enough that he had to crouch to avoid brushing his head against the invader’s pulsing body. Wielding his knife like a sword, he slashed at the tendrils, which reached to envelop his body.

  I stood there like an idiot, watching Campbell fight for both our lives, wishing I knew what I could do. A tendril wrapped around Campbell’s leg, and he struck it off, tossing it to the ground near me. I kicked it, not thinking until too late that that might be a stupid thing to do. It curled around my shoe and squeezed. I screamed and kicked my shoe off, sending it flying into a shelf and caroming off the books. Instantly the wind started again, and books flew in all directions. The howl of the no-longer-whispers echoed in my ears. Now they made sense. Help, the voices said, hundreds of voices all clamoring at me until I covered my ears and cried out.

  Distantly, past the sound of the howl, I heard Campbell shout my name, and hoped I wasn’t fatally distracting him. “What do I do?” I cried. “Tell me how to help you!”

  “… oracle… hands…”

  “I know I’m your hands! I don’t know how to stop that thing!”

  “… oracle… hands… body…”

  I felt so small and stupid. Here was this great, incomprehensible thing, and it was trying to talk to me and I had no idea what it meant. “You want me to be your body?”

  Liquid trickled from my ears and my nose. The howl was tangible, pressing in on me from all sides, filling me until I felt swollen, like a water balloon filled past its capacity. I screamed, and exploded.

  I was empty, light—no, filled with light that exerted the faintest pressure on my immaterial body. I opened my eyes. Bookcases drifted past beneath me, or at least past the part of me that was consciousness, because I couldn’t see my body at all. I looked up. The vast swollen thing that was the invader’s body still clung to the ceiling, but it was overlaid with a field of black, studded with silver stars. It should have been beautiful, but it felt so wrong I shied away from it, unwilling to touch it.

  The invader noticed me. Its attention shifted from the small figure it had nearly engulfed to focus on me. Black oozing tendrils reached out. I couldn’t let them touch me. So I reached past them for the field of stars, wove my fingers through it, and pulled.

  It felt like peeling an octopus off a rock probably would, all these points of contact with the ceiling resisting my pull like thousands of tiny suction cups. I wiggled my fingers even more closely and found the thing shriveled wherever I touched it. Then the first of the black tendrils reached me, and I felt a cold so intense it burned. I screamed, but pulled harder, because I knew if I gave up, it would kill me.

  A line of silver light slashed through the tendril wrapped around me. I couldn’t see Campbell as more than a small shadow, much smaller than me, but his knife wove a silver pattern around the body of the invader. Wherever it touched, the body fell to pieces. I tugged harder and left him to his work. I could see its face now—not a real face, but a shape that looked back at me, that was the focus of its consciousness. It looked furious, and terrified.

  I snarled at it, baring my teeth like an animal protecting its young. The oracle was mine, or I was its, and I couldn’t tell the difference between us anymore. Maybe there was no difference. I braced my immaterial, invisible body against half a dozen bookcases, pulled hard, and heard a tearing sound as the thing came slowly, grudgingly free from the ceiling. I shouted joyfully and began gathering it in, piling it up like a tablecloth being bundled away haphazardly for storage. The black tendrils flailed frantically, unable to decide who to go after. More of them fell, severed by the silver knife.

  As I bundled the field of stars to myself, it shrank, vanishing in my hands. Distantly I heard a scream of terrible rage and sorrow. Then it was gone. The black tendrils shriveled and collapsed on themselves, falling to the floor and disappearing as they went, and the invader’s body went limp and pale, then vanished. I hung wavering in the air above the oracle—or was I the oracle? It was all very confusing. And I wasn’t sure what to do next.

  I drifted across the shelves, greeting the books, who were mostly grumbling about being disturbed. I patted a few of them in reassurance, then did a back roll, enjoying the way this body moved so fluidly. I still couldn’t see myself, but I discovered that didn’t bother me. All that mattered was the freedom, and the peace of finally being myself.

  I saw Campbell clearly now, a small figure crouched on the floor over someone lying prone there. Idly I wondered who it was, and reached out to prod the woman so she’d roll over. My immaterial hand went through her without disturbing her. That’s right; I needed hands to do my work. She was probably the hands.

  No, that was wrong. I was the hands. So why was I up here?

  Panic struck, and I fluttered away in a wind of my own making. Helena. I was Helena, and that was my body. I didn’t know how I’d gotten free of it and I certainly didn’t know how to get back into it. I tried to take a calming breath and freaked out a little more when I discovered I didn’t have lungs. Finally I relaxed and drifted back toward my body.

  Campbell was leaning over my body, which was now on its back—oh, good, he was giving me CPR, of course he knew how to do that. Maybe that would draw me back. I waited. Nothing happened. I started to panic again. It wasn’t working and I was going to be trapped within the oracle forever. Maybe that’s how the oracle had started, one person leaving her body and never returning, then another and another—

  Stop it. You can do this. No giving up. What would Viv think if she knew you were behaving this way? I drifted lower until I was pressed right up against my body, between it and Campbell. What had happened? There had been pressure, and my nose bled—there were still traces of blood on my cheek—and then I’d exploded. So maybe I needed to reverse that.

  I drew myself in as small as I could get, then smaller, picturing myself shrinking the way the invader had. If I could be small enough, I could fit back into my body, probably—

  I blinked. Then I drew in a breath and started coughing uncontrollably. Hands supported me to a sitting position. “Thank God,” Campbell said. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I might have been if I hadn’t figured out how to come back.”

  “Come back? From where?”

  “From being the oracle, I think. I’m guessing no one’s done that before.”

  “Not to my knowledge. I had no idea Abernathy’s had that kind of power. That creature of light was you? You destroyed that invader single-handedly.”

  “Not really. I had your help.”

  “I’m not sure I did much, but you’re welcome.”

  I realized he still had his arms around me, and disentangled myself as gracefully as possible, which wasn’t very. I needed his assistance to stand and walk the few steps out to the front counter. Books lay in drifts all around us. “That’s going to be quite the mess to clean up,” Campbell said.

  “Not really. Abernathy’s likes it that way.”

  “Well, I’d be happy to help, if you want. If you tell me what happened to Dunlop—oh, damn.” There was a dark smear of blood on the linoleum, but Dunlop was nowhere in sight. “I knew I should have shot to kill, but I thought he might need to go to trial.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t kill him. I don’t need to see three murders in one week.”

  Campbell smiled at me. His dimple really was devastating. “You’ve just turned into the embodiment of the oracle. I doubt anything as mundane as death could faze you.”

  I leaned on him a little more than I probably needed to. “I’d rather not find out.”

  think I’ve reconstructed it all,” Lucia said, lounging against the office desk. “Dunlop wanted
to be the next head of the Ambrosites here, and went to Briggs to convince him to give a fake augury. Briggs declined. Dunlop weakened the wards so he could travel between them and returned to kill Briggs, figuring the weakened wards would allow the invaders to destroy the oracle. Don’t know whether he knew you were in line to be the next custodian or not, but he certainly seems to have believed Briggs’ death would upset things enough to prevent the augury.”

  “And then, when it turned out there was still a custodian and the invaders weren’t acting fast enough, he tried to get me arrested and then killed.” I played with the string of paper clips Viv had made. “You know he came in here offering to ‘strengthen’ the wards? When what he was probably doing was weakening them further.”

  “You know so much, why don’t you tell me the rest of the story?”

  “Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

  “Anyway, by the time he learned you were abdicating, it was too late to fix the wards, so he had no choice but to go forward with letting the invaders suck the magic out of Abernathy’s. I think he suspected you were on to him, because of the fiasco with his so-called personal ward, but that was only guilt talking. He couldn’t have guessed you wouldn’t have the sense to mention it to someone.”

  “Hey, I’m still new to all of this. And Mr. Dunlop was incredibly lucky no one caught on, because he had so many plans going all at once. Like stealing the instruction manual.”

  “We’re having his home searched. If he has it, we’ll find it.”

  “That’s good, but I can wait.”

  Lucia arched an eyebrow. “You can? I thought this was urgent.”

  “Not the way it used to be.”

  It had been unexpectedly difficult, the previous day, to tell Judy I wasn’t abdicating after all. Rasmussen had been furious, Judy resigned, as if she’d expected my change of heart. But with dozens of magi running around Abernathy’s, restoring the wards and cleaning up the books, my story of the enormous invader and its destruction had been very convincing.

  “I know there’s still a lot I have to learn,” I’d said, “but I’ve done something no one else has ever managed—something no one believed was possible. And if that doesn’t make me Abernathy’s custodian by right, I don’t know what would.”

  “You’ll regret this,” Rasmussen had said.

  “Is that a threat, Mr. Rasmussen?”

  “A prediction.” And he’d swept Judy out of the store in his wake. Judy had looked like she wanted to say something, but only followed her father, head bowed. I’d followed them as far as the door, caught it before it could slam, and watched them drive away. Maybe he was right. Maybe I’d still made the wrong decision. But I felt at peace the way I hadn’t all week.

  “Well, I guess you know best,” Lucia said, bringing me back to the present. “Any sign of those detectives?”

  “None. I think they’ve run out of reasons to come after me. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Detective Acosta put me on some kind of watch list. Is there any chance he might, I don’t know, sense something unusual about me?”

  “Some people are more aware of magic and the invaders than others. What you might call ‘second sight.’ But sometimes suspicion is just suspicion. Don’t read too much into it.”

  “All right. I plan to be grateful not to be under scrutiny anymore.”

  Lucia pushed off the desk and headed for the door. “When are they arriving?”

  “At noon exactly. I’m nervous about meeting the Archmagus. What’s she like?”

  “I’ve never met her, but I know she’s a powerful wood magus who defended Hokkaido single-handedly for seven years. And she’s tough enough to have risen in the Ambrosite ranks fairly quickly. I don’t think she’s more than fifty.” Lucia shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it. After that invader, I’m sure she’ll be easier to handle than a kitten.”

  “Wait,” I said. Lucia paused with her hand on the doorknob and gave me an inquiring look. “I still don’t know why Mr. Briggs hired me. He seemed awfully nervous when I was signing the employee agreement, like he was afraid he might be in trouble.”

  “Because he was going to be in trouble. The Rasmussens, for one, would have made his life hell when they found out.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why he did it in the first place.”

  Lucia shrugged again. “Because he wanted a change. Because he needed someone who wouldn’t interfere with his blackmail. Because he had a premonition. Take your pick. It’s not like he’s in a position to tell us.”

  “I guess. I don’t like mysteries, that’s all.”

  “With luck, that will be the last one you have to deal with.” Lucia shut the door loudly behind her.

  I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. It was tempting to think Mr. Briggs had intended me to be the next custodian, especially since Silas seemed to have written his book for me. But if he’d known that much, didn’t that suggest he’d known Dunlop planned to kill him? And I just couldn’t imagine anyone willingly turning their back on the knife like that. Lucia was right; I couldn’t ask him, so all I could do was guess. And ultimately it didn’t matter.

  My phone chimed an alarm. Fifteen minutes to twelve. I went into the store and did a little nervous, unnecessary tidying up, setting the CLOSED sign in the window to dissuade ordinary customers. The augury was another thing I was guessing at, and if I was wrong, I was going to look like a fool and cause upheaval among the Ambrosites. I wandered among the bookcases, straightening the shelves and squaring off stacks of books. An old Nancy Drew book caught my eye, its binding clean and fresh. It was probably worth money all by itself and not just as an augury. Dunlop had been right about one thing: you never knew where you’d find something interesting.

  The door slammed open. I walked back to the counter, not hurrying but not taking my time, either. A small crowd stood inside the door, which Campbell was closing. Two more men and a woman surrounded a group of three in the center of their protective circle. I didn’t know any of them except Campbell, who smiled briefly at me before turning impassive.

  One of the women in the center had shining blond hair pinned high on her head and wore an elegant pantsuit with pearls. I guessed she was Serena Parker, local leader of the Ambrosites for a few minutes longer. The Asian man standing next to her, holding a slim laptop, wore a suit as expensive as Campbell’s. He was speaking to the woman, also Asian, who was dressed in red robes—not a kimono, but the sort of costume a monk in a medieval movie might wear. Though I didn’t think any monk would dress in such garish colors. Her black hair was threaded with silver, and there were tiny lines beside her eyes. She turned her attention on me, and bowed. “Yamane Mitsuko,” she said in a sweet, lilting voice.

  I did my best to mimic her bow. “Helena Davies, my lady Archmagus, and welcome to Abernathy’s.”

  “Thank you for your welcome,” Yamane said. She had no trace of an accent, but I’d expected that. Campbell, in preparing me on the etiquette for this visit, had said wood magi were usually fluent in several languages. “You are prepared?”

  I smoothed my skirt over my thighs. “I am.”

  Yamane held out a hand toward the man, who reached inside his suit coat and removed a small envelope, the kind you get with elaborate floral arrangements. He put it into her hand, and she extended it to me. I took it with both hands and bowed again. “Excuse me.” Without opening the envelope, I turned and entered the oracle.

  The stillness was that of tens of thousands of books holding their breath, waiting. I walked until I reached the center of the oracle, the place where four bookcases faced each other. I couldn’t help glancing up at the ceiling, but it was bare and high and free from monsters. I set the unopened envelope on one of the shelves, stepped back, and closed my eyes.

  “I don’t know all your rules yet,” I said. “I know there are certain questions you won’t answer. But you spoke to me, and I think you know how to answer this question if it’s what you choose to do. So… show me.”
/>   I heard the shifting of covers across covers, like the movement of a vast snake sliding its dusty coils across the shelves. Gradually, lines of light played across the inside of my eyelids. Angles appeared, outlining books, then curving lines spelled out titles on the spines and covers. Still with my eyes closed, I held out both hands and felt a book settle into them. Then another. Then another. The pile grew, and yet I had no trouble holding it, as if the books were supporting their own weight.

  The golden lines faded. The shifting stopped. Something nearby breathed out, a hot, dry wind that brushed my cheeks and filled the air with the scent of fresh apples. I opened my eyes. Ten books balanced neatly on my outstretched hands, but not in a perfectly aligned pile. I looked at the spines, let my eyes go unfocused briefly, and the augury sprang into view. I let out a long, relieved breath. I’d half expected that to fail.

  I cradled the stack in the crook of my arm, retrieved the envelope, and walked back through the stacks. The books still weren’t as heavy as they should have been, and I hoped that would stay the case until I could set them on the counter. One of them was an encyclopedia of North American birds that probably weighed ten pounds all by itself.

  No one had moved in however long I’d been gone. It felt like ten minutes; it might have been an hour. I’d never worked out whether time ran at exactly the same speed within the oracle, but if it didn’t, it wasn’t that far off the outside world. I set the books on the counter and straightened a few so they fell into the proper alignment. “This is your augury.”

  The man said something in what I guessed was Japanese. He sounded cranky.

  Parker said, “It will take days to go through all those books. Are you sure you’ve done it properly?”

  “Absolutely. And you won’t need to go through the books. The augury is simpler than that.”