by Jim C. Hines
“And then what?” Deb’s mental pressure made my temples throb. Was she doing it deliberately, or had this kind of mental manipulation become habit? “More sneaking around and doing nothing, like an impotent, helpless—”
“That’s enough.” Lena grabbed Deb’s shoulder with one hand. Deb opened her mouth to protest, but Lena squeezed, eliciting a squawk of pain and protest. “We drive to Virginia and assess the situation. Then we figure out our next move.”
“You mean Isaac figures it out,” Deb muttered. “While you go along with whatever your boy-toy decides.”
“This would be an excellent time for you to shut up.”
I turned to Lena. “To change the subject, how did you stay submerged for so long in the water out there?”
“I grew a hollowed wooden tube and used it like a snorkel.”
“Nice.”
Deb folded her arms and glared out the window, but she didn’t say anything more.
I rubbed my forehead. The Commandant of the Coast Guard had ordered his people to seek out these sirens, to kidnap them and destroy their homes, killing who knew how many in the process. He’d also sent them out to assess the vampires’ strengths and weaknesses.
Someone was using Vanguard to supply them with expendable lab rats.
I watched Deb for a while. She had connections in Vanguard, and she was certainly capable of selling people out. But her fury felt genuine, and she’d been telling the truth back at the airport. She wanted whoever was behind this as much as I did.
Thomas Hayes had ordered the Coast Guard’s assault, but who had infiltrated Vanguard? Who was passing along Porter information and equipment? Who coordinated the attacks in Lansing and elsewhere?
My thoughts kept circling toward Senator Alexander Keeler. In addition to chairing the Joint Committee on Magical Security, Keeler served on the Appropriations Subcommittee on Defense, reviewing and approving military spending. How many high-ranking contacts had he made in his years on that subcommittee?
He’d also summoned any number of Porters to testify in D.C. How many of his questions had been for the public record, and how many had been his way of probing our attitudes and beliefs, searching for someone who would be sympathetic to his goals?
Perhaps someone like Babs Palmer.
My jaw was clenched so tightly my teeth were starting to hurt. I forced myself to relax. “Wake me up when we reach Virginia.”
I woke up four times: twice from nightmares, another time when Lena hit the brakes to keep from hitting a deer, and finally when my tooth beeped with an incoming call.
“Hitto soikoon!” I swore, repeating one of my grandfather’s favorite Finnish exclamations. “All right, I’m awake. Who’s this?”
“I’ve been asked to help investigate a possible Vanguard attack on three Coast Guard vessels earlier tonight.”
“Hi, Nicola.” I sat up and rubbed my neck, trying to work some of the stiffness out. “How’s life in D.C.?”
“Aggravating. According to your staff, you left New Millennium for an unscheduled weekend in Michigan.”
“Yah, that’s right. After the week I’ve had, I figured I’d earned a little time back home. What time is it, anyway?”
“Five thirty-four in the morning. You say you’re home right now?”
“Trying to get some rest.”
“In that case, you might want to call your cell provider. According to this, your cellphone is currently on its way to Virginia.”
Shit. I grabbed my cell from my pocket and powered it down. I had no easy way of removing the battery, and a determined libriomancer could probably track it even turned off. “Lena, could you do me a favor?”
She glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I pantomimed destroying the phone. She reached back to take it, and crushed it in her hand.
Nicola was humming to herself. Her magic spilled over the connection, sending a faint buzz of energy through my skull. It wasn’t a cohesive spell; she probably didn’t realize she was doing it. “Why would Vanguard target Coast Guard ships, Isaac?”
“Theoretically? I’d start by looking into where those ships were when the attack happened, and what their mission was.”
Nicola sighed. “I don’t have time for this.”
She could have knocked me unconscious or dispatched a team of field agents to intercept us if she really wanted. “They were bombing siren nests and taking prisoners.”
“I see.”
“The ship’s captain was carrying a JG-367.”
“Are you working with Vanguard?”
“No. I think someone is using them. Nicola, I spoke with Babs Palmer before I left Vegas. She was spooked. Do you think she—”
“The council put Babs through a very strenuous . . . let’s call it an interview process. Whatever differences we might have, she genuinely wants New Millennium and the Porters to succeed. I can’t see her providing magical weapons to people who could turn them against us, whether that’s Vanguard or the Coast Guard or anyone else.”
That was a good point. “She knows more than she was telling me. Something frightened her, Nicola.”
“I’ll look into it. Don’t do anything stupid, Isaac. Things are precarious. Derek tells me people are using this attack as one more lever to push additional anti-magic legislation through, and to increase funding for magical and military defense.”
“What do you want me to do? Sit around and wait for more people to die?”
“I didn’t tell you to do nothing. I told you not to do anything stupid.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” I muttered.
“I have the New Millennium org chart, and it turns out I am.”
“Curses. Foiled by the org chart.” I smothered a yawn. “Thank you, Nicola.”
As soon as I hung up, Lena reached back to hand me a packet of Saltines, followed by a two-liter bottle of Sprite. “I know how you get after too much magic. We’re in a hurry, and we don’t have time to stop at Urgent Care to get you rehydrated.”
I made a face, but untwisted the cap and forced myself to take a swallow. I washed down three crackers, then massaged my fingers. The numbness had faded a bit with sleep, and the flesh had regained some of its normal coloring. I grabbed Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said. I didn’t need to create anything new; I simply had to tap into the tracking spells I’d created before.
The one I’d planted within Deb was easy to find, like a flashlight shining directly into my eyes. The siren was more like a firefly flickering at the edge of a field. “Head northwest. I’m not sure how to gauge distance, but it feels like we’ve got a few hours to go. If we keep driving . . .” I looked more closely at Deb. “Are those nightcrawlers?”
“I was hungry, and the gas station a few hours back had a bait store.” She grinned and plucked a long, squirming worm from the Styrofoam container of dirt. “Want one?”
I looked away. How to Eat Fried Worms had been one of my favorite books as a kid, but the reality was about to cost me my three Saltines.
“Who were you talking to?” asked Lena.
“Nicola. For some reason, she thinks I might have been involved in an attack on Coast Guard ships earlier tonight. Which reminds me, if either of you have cellphones, you should probably destroy them.”
Deb rolled her eyes. “Like I’m stupid enough to bring a cellphone along on a mission like this?”
“Mine died in the Atlantic,” said Lena. “I meant who were you talking to before that. You were snoring like a chainsaw for a while, but then you started mumbling. You sounded upset. You were arguing with someone.”
I froze. “What did I say?”
“You were talking about ghosts,” said Deb.
I rubbed my arms for warmth. My clothes were completely dry, but my body couldn’t let go of the chill from last night. “Just a dream.”
“Really?” Lena pressed. “Because it sounded like half of a conversation. You kept stopping, like you were waiting for someone else to speak. A couple of times, you
cut off in mid-sentence. If you’re hearing voices, there’s no way you’re up for saving those sirens. Not with books potentially crawling around inside your head and setting up camp.”
“It’s not that. I’m familiar with libriomantic possession. I’ve had characters start talking to me, and I’ve seen what happens when you keep pushing.”
My first mission with Lena had involved a former Porter who’d lost his mind to the characters in various books.
“This isn’t the first time,” Lena said softly. “You were mumbling in your sleep a week ago, too.”
“How long since you saw your shrink?” asked Deb. “That’s still standard procedure for Porters, right?”
“I canceled my last few sessions with Dr. Karim.”
“Why?” Lena didn’t bother to hide her anger.
I couldn’t blame her. In addition to the normal mental and emotional dangers that came with my job, I’d also gone through a bout of serious depression the year before, hurting both Lena and Nidhi in the process. I had things more or less under control these days, but ignoring a condition like that was a good way to let it sneak back into your head and start wrecking the place. “I needed to sort something out, first.”
“And you didn’t say anything about this to me?”
I stared out the window, watching the grassy hills in the distance. “It’s not possession,” I repeated. “There’s only one voice.”
“What does it want from you?” asked Lena.
I snorted and banged my head lightly against the window. “I don’t think he wants anything. It’s what I want from him.”
Deb whistled and shook her head. “You’re running around searching for conspiracies and taking on the damn Coast Guard with another mind hitching a ride on your cerebellum?”
“I’m in control.”
Lena didn’t speak, but I could feel her frustration radiating through the car. As for Deb, she simply tossed back another chunk of worm like she was a kid munching popcorn at the movies.
“I’ve been talking to Gutenberg.”
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Second Star to the Right
Isaac,
Looks like we’ll be on the run again soon. They’re making up some bullshit about truancy and Dad being an unfit parent, but it’s just an excuse. Dad wants to head north into Canada. I’d rather go somewhere warm. Mexico, maybe. It doesn’t feel like there’s anyplace that’s really safe for people like us. People are getting snatched up all over the world to be recruited or studied or locked away where we won’t scare anyone.
I’m sure the men in black suits will be showing up to ask if you know where I am. Tell them Dad and I ran away to Neverland.
Give Smudge an M&M for me!
-Jeneta
This message was sent using a temporary DisposiMail.net email address. The email address and this message were both deleted from our servers immediately after being sent. Any replies to this email address will be deleted unread.
“How long has it been since you read a book purely for pleasure? Without worrying about its magical potential, or because one of the Regional Masters asked you to update its entry in the Porter catalog?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Shelley used to complain about it with writing. The more she learned of her craft, the harder it became for her to simply read for enjoyment. She worried that mastery would rob her of the joy she once found in stories.”
“Shelley?”
“Mary Shelley, yes.”
“YOU KNEW MARY SHELLEY?”
“I did.”
“I hate you a lot right now.”
“I bring it up because I’m concerned about you. You’ve grown more cynical.”
“Have you seen the news lately? No, I suppose you haven’t. Wars and riots and slaughter tend to tarnish things like hope and optimism.”
“Not for a libriomancer.”
“I seem to recall you being pretty damn cynical.”
“Yes. And then I died. Am I the example you want to follow?”
“I THOUGHT WE WERE all in agreement that Johannes Gutenberg was dead,” said Deb.
“Technically, so are you,” I pointed out. “But yes. I was there. His magic had been peeled away, and he was impaled through the chest. He died pretty much instantly.”
“You see where that could raise questions about you conversing with him.” Lena kept her attention on the road. I didn’t need to see her expression to hear her concern.
“You’ve got that phone in your tooth,” Deb said, before I could respond. “What if someone’s tapped into that? They could be talking to you in your sleep, trying to pry information out of you. Or maybe it’s a crossed signal, and you’re overhearing someone else’s conversation.”
“It’s not the phone. I wish I could sleep through that thing. It jolts me awake every time someone calls, and I haven’t figured out how to take it offline at night.” I sat up straighter and leaned to the side, trying to catch Lena’s eye in the rearview mirror. “I’m all right. Smudge would know if anyone tried to pull a Voldemort and return through my body or anything like that. This is something else.”
“Another research project?”
“Not officially.” I picked up my book and concentrated on tracking the siren. “I’ll tell you more later. I promise.”
“Go ahead and say it,” Deb piped up. “You’ll fill her in once the dead woman’s not around to overhear. I’m hurt by your lack of trust, Isaac.”
“Uh huh. Go one week without pulling a gun on me or mentally manipulating werewolves into committing murder and working with terrorists, then we’ll talk.”
The siren’s signal had grown significantly stronger. I leaned against the window, my attention split between the magic and the real world.
“Slow down.” The signs on the side of the road said we were heading west on Route 58. Ten minutes later, I sat up and pointed to a narrow turnoff, blocked by a chain-link fence. “There.”
Lena drove another mile before pulling off the side of the road. “You’re sure they’re here?”
“I’m sure.” I grabbed my jacket and books and climbed out of the car. I wasn’t fully recovered from last night’s exertions yet, which meant I was better off sticking with traditional libriomancy. Creating physical objects from books tended to char the books. When I started manipulating that magic directly, that was when the charring was more likely to move into my own flesh.
I pulled out an old red-covered role-playing manual and skimmed the Treasure section. This was one of the earliest editions, and the first I’d used as a kid. Several other editions had already been charred from overuse, making their magic too dangerous and difficult to control. These manuals just had so many good toys to play with . . .
I double-checked the rules, then pulled out a trio of rings. “According to the rules, once you put these on, you’ll be invisible until you remove it or attack something. If that happens, remove the ring and put it back on to redo the spell. We’ll still be able to hear one another, and so will anyone else, so keep quiet.”
“What counts as an attack?” asked Lena.
I snorted. “I once stayed up until three in the morning arguing that question with our dungeon master in college. I said tickling an ogre wasn’t an attack because it didn’t cause harm or damage. He said it required an attack roll, and therefore the ogre could see me, and therefore he could stuff my wizard headfirst into the privy.”
My breath turned to fog in the cold morning air. I reached back into the car to retrieve Smudge from the dashboard. Since his cage was at the bottom of the Atlantic, I set him on my shoulder. He crouched down, seemingly content and comfortable.
I’d just started walking when a strong hand squeezed my backside. I jumped and spun. Lena had slipped on her ring, but I could see the shadow of magical text where she stood. “This could be fun,” she said with a chuckle. “How about saving the
se for recreational use back home?”
She reached toward me again. I stepped to one side. When she turned away to try to find me, I snuck in for the counter-goose.
Lena spun. “Unfair. You can still see me.”
“Prison break now,” Deb snapped. “Sex play later.”
I froze. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Lena.
“The siren. I just lost her.” I double-checked the book I’d used to track the siren. Its magic remained strong, and there was no evidence of charring or other damage that might interfere with my spell. I had no problem sensing Deb. Only the siren had vanished.
“You think they killed her?” asked Deb.
“It shouldn’t matter. The spell doesn’t rely on the subject being alive.”
“Unless they destroyed the body. Would your spell work if they burned her to ash to destroy any evidence?”
“They wouldn’t do that. Not yet. They wanted the sirens alive and brought to Virginia for a reason. Even if they loaded her onto a helicopter or plane, they couldn’t have gotten here more than a few hours ago.”
“You hope,” said Deb.
We ran until we reached the turnoff. An old road sign named it Prison Road. After about a mile, we learned why.
“They put the sirens in jail?” asked Deb.
A ten-foot chain link fence topped with razor wire surrounded a two-story brick fortress with narrow windows. Tall walls stretched out from the side to enclose what I guessed to be an open exercise yard. A sign alongside the road noted that the facility was closed, and trespassers would be prosecuted.
“Does that look closed to you?” I pointed toward the parking lot before remembering they couldn’t see me.
I counted nine cars in the lot, which was fenced off with an ID scanner connected to the gate. Cameras watched the road, the sidewalk, and the grounds around the building.
“Any enchantments on the fence?” asked Lena.
“Nothing here, but there’s plenty on the prison itself. The doors, the bricks, the windows, pretty much everything. The fence is just to stop outsiders from poking their noses in.”