Libriomancer: (Magic Ex Libris Book 1)

by Jim C. Hines

  “You’ve been helping them?” Lena asked.

  “Not at first.” I had rarely heard Doctor Shah angry before. She tapped the tattoo on her temple. “The Porters’ protections kept them from reading my mind, but they found other ways to batter my will. They took my files, forced me to decrypt and translate them so they could study every patient I’d ever worked with.”

  The fury in her words reminded me of my own when Deb had first told me about the destruction of our library. Forcing Doctor Shah to break confidentiality was a violation far worse than the attack on her home.

  Granach rapped a knuckle on the glass, earning a snarl from the creature within. “Her name is Chesa. She staked one of the elders and secreted him away, torturing him for two days before we found them.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “A rosewood stake through the heart to immobilize him. After that, she used knives.”

  Just like the vampire who had killed Ray Walker.

  “She’s a sociopath,” said Doctor Shah. “Though that particular diagnosis doesn’t mean as much down here. She cut off the victim’s head when she heard the others coming.”

  I moved to the far edge, trying to make out Chesa’s eyes.

  “She’s tried four times to kill herself with her bare hands,” Shah continued. “But her body heals too quickly. Those scars on her arms will be gone within an hour. The guards pass blood into the cell through here to feed her.” She tapped the small square panel, which was connected to a flexible hose leading to a heavy green air tank. “I suspect Chesa would starve herself if she could, but her nature works against her. She can’t fight the bloodlust. She drinks her own after each suicide attempt, even licking the floor in her hunger.”

  “So what stops her from going up in flames like the others?” I asked.

  “Flame requires oxygen.” Granach pointed to the tank. “Pure nitrogen and carbon dioxide.”

  “Clever.” That would explain the blue-tinged skin and nails. “What does oxygen deprivation do to a creature so dependent on blood?”

  “It tortures her,” Shah said flatly. “Imagine every muscle in your body cramping with superhuman strength, your skin cold and stiff as leather. Every cell starving.”

  I knelt to examine the mechanism. A one-way valve was screwed onto the plate, which would prevent a vampire from going gaseous and forcing her way out through the air tank. “How did you capture her in the first place?”

  “Not even vampires are invulnerable,” said Granach. “Strike hard enough, and most can be knocked unconscious, at least for a time.”

  “Good to know. What else have you learned?”

  Shah sagged into her chair. She seemed calm, but her knuckles were white as she clung to Lena’s hand. “Chesa’s mind isn’t her own.” She grabbed a notepad from the floor and flipped through the pages. “I’ve seen glimpses of what I believe to be Chesa herself, but they’re fleeting. Moments of fear and confusion, swiftly overpowered by the controlling mind. Minds, rather.”

  “There’s more than one?” I asked.

  “If Chesa were human, I’d probably diagnose her with some form of dissociative identity disorder. Her body language, her intonation, everything shifts at random. One moment she’s pacing like a tiger, looking out as if she can smell my blood even through the barrier. The next she’s rocking and banging her head against the wall, a violent self-stimming behavior that reminds me of severe autism. I’ve documented at least four distinct patterns of behavior and body language.”

  I stared at Chesa, trying to fit the pieces together in my head. “What species is she?”

  “Manananggal,” said Granach.

  “Really?” I pressed against the door, my other concerns momentarily forgotten. “That would explain the blood at the waist, but what is she doing in Detroit?”

  “What’s a manananggal?” asked Lena.

  “A creature that originated in the Philippines,” I said. “Natural, not book-born. She’s not exactly a vampire, though she does feed on blood. And organs. And the occasional unborn child. At night they sprout wings, and the upper part of the torso separates from the lower, allowing her to fly and hunt.”

  “Not in there,” said Granach. “We keep the air pressure too low.”

  Chesa slammed her head against the door, making me jump. Smudge flared hot. I patted out the sparks on my jacket. “What have you tried to get her to talk?”

  “Hypnotism had no effect,” Granach said sourly. “Nor did drugs or torture.”

  “None of them affect whoever is controlling her.” I cupped my hands to the door, studying the gold irises that flexed around her cross-shaped pupils. “What about her blood? Can’t your readers sort through her thoughts?”

  “We’ve tried. They followed her memories through the streets. She was attacked during the daytime. From the speed and power, we assume it was another vampire. There was pain, a falling sensation, and then . . . nothing. She has no recollection beyond that moment.”

  “The one thing the murders have in common is rage,” said Doctor Shah. “Fury like that doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

  “They hate us,” I agreed, remembering Ray’s apartment. “This is personal.” If Gutenberg was responsible, how long had this hatred been building beneath the surface, and how had he managed to hide it from those around him?

  I knocked on the cell door. “Hi, there. Alice here says you have no memories, but I’m betting you remember me.”

  Chesa sank back slowly. Her arms and shoulders shivered, reminding me of a bird ruffling her wings.

  “Looking at the murders suggests we’re dealing with a serial killer,” Shah said. “A serial killer wants power. The thrill of playing God.”

  “That could be any Porter,” I said dryly.

  “Why do you think they keep me on staff?” she countered, matching my tone.

  “Touché.” I reached deep into my pockets to grab a copy of Heart of Stone.

  “You were searched,” Granach said darkly. The guard moved toward me, but she held up a hand. “How—”

  “Do you want me to examine your prisoner, or do you want to stand here in front of the woman you kidnapped and argue about rule breaking?”

  She scowled, but didn’t stop me from tugging a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses from the pages. The nosepieces were warm, and sweat smeared the top of both lenses. I used my shirttail to wipe them clean, then slipped them on.

  The tunnel dimmed further, but certain figures brightened. Lena appeared backlit, as if sunlight flickered just behind her body. The vampires glowed as well, a silvery light more reminiscent of the moon.

  “You’re pushing too hard,” Doctor Shah warned. She was a faded shadow, utterly without magic save for the small burning light on her temple. “Have the voices returned?”

  “Not yet,” I lied.

  I glanced down. I would have expected Smudge to glow like fire, but his magic was different. A simple white light surrounded him like a comet, the tail extending toward me. I unhooked his cage and held it at arm’s length, using the cuff of the jacket to protect my fingers from the heat of the bars. No matter where I held him, the tail pointed to my chest.

  How much of Smudge’s magic flowed through me? That connection would explain why he understood my plans so easily.

  Lena was a product of libriomancy, too, and as I looked more closely, I saw flickers of white light stretching away from her. One led to Doctor Shah, while another, weaker thread connected her to me. A third extended through the wall at a slight upward angle. Perhaps that was her connection to the trees above, some lingering thread to the pine she had slept in last night, or to the branch she had grafted to my oak in Copper River.

  I examined Chesa next. Unlike the rest of us, Chesa was surrounded by two competing magical auras. One was similar to Granach and Kyle. The other matched the white, comet-like light coming off of Smudge, complete with a faint tail pointing toward whoever was controlling her. “Which way is north?”

  Gran
ach pointed off to the left. My guess had been off by a good ninety degrees or so. I clipped the cage back onto my belt loop, then stuck singed fingers in my mouth. “What are you so worried about, Smudge? She’s not getting out of that cage, and nobody else is trying to kill us right this minute.” To the others, I said, “Our killer is west of here. Is there any way to take Chesa aboveground? I could triangulate a rough location.”

  “It would be difficult,” said Granach. “What else can you see?”

  “I’ve never used these glasses before, but the magic matches my own. I think this was done by a libriomancer.”

  “We surmised as much.” Granach pressed a hand to the glass. “Can’t you conjure up a crystal ball or a magic mirror to show us the face of our enemy? Or summon a genie and wish that enemy into nothingness?”

  “I could pull Aladdin’s lamp into our world, sure.” I continued to study the manananggal. What happened to Chesa’s organs when she separated her body to hunt, and how did they repair themselves afterward? The average human being had twenty-two feet of small intestine alone. If her magic could be duplicated by Porter surgeons to heal—

  “The lamp,” Granach prodded.

  “Sorry,” I said. “The lamp would fit through the book, but the transition from the fictional world would destroy the genie’s mind. On the bright side, I doubt we’d survive long enough to worry about a murderous libriomancer. As for mirrors and such, they come preprogrammed for another world. Take Tolkien’s palantir, for example.” I stared at their blank faces and sighed. “It’s a crystal ball. Didn’t you people at least see the movies?”

  Doctor Shah cleared her throat.

  “Right. The point is, I could use the palantir to try to find our enemy. Likely as not, it would show us the dark lord Sauron from Lord of the Rings. And if we’re really unlucky, Sauron would reach through that connection to attack or possess whoever looked upon him.”

  “So you have no other way of finding this libriomancer?”

  I hesitated. “Taking Chesa up to the surface will be fastest.”

  “We could send others through the air lock to subdue her,” Granach said slowly. “If she were kept unconscious, sealed in an airtight coffin . . .”

  A whoosh of heat and flame seared my hip. I swore and jumped, which only rattled Smudge further. He was burning like a blackened marshmallow, running vertical loops within his cage. Smoke poured from my jacket as I yanked it back.

  Lena ripped the cage free, tearing my belt loop in the process. She set him gently on the floor, then flexed her reddened hand. “Have you considered asbestos-lined jeans?”

  “Yes.” I flapped my jacket, trying to find the source of the smoke. The material was blackened, but nothing appeared to be burned or melted.

  “That’s not smoke,” Kyle said softly.

  It was mist, thick and black, which poured from my jacket and rushed toward the guard, where it coalesced into a familiar figure. Rupert Loyola, also known as Mister Puddles, grabbed the guard’s head and twisted, then hurled the body at Alice Granach.

  A slash of Loyola’s blackened nails tore through the air hose into Chesa’s cage. Kyle grabbed him in a bear hug. They staggered, but Loyola kept his balance long enough to smash a heel into the small air lock.

  Lena shoved Doctor Shah back, picked up her chair, and shattered it against Loyola’s ribs. The broken chair back shifted in Lena’s hands, growing sharpened points.

  Loyola was already dissolving into mist once again. He swirled away, re-forming behind Granach. She spun, and her hand shot through his half-formed neck.

  I looked away. The sound of crunching bone and sinew was horrifying enough. I didn’t need the visuals, too.

  Nobody moved. Only the whisper of rushing air broke the silence. Kyle shut off the air tank, but the hiss continued.

  “The air lock,” I said. Inside the cell, Chesa laughed as she pressed up to the other side. Lena covered the metal plate with her hands, trying to slow the flow of oxygen, but it was too late. Chesa’s cross-slitted eyes flared like coals.

  The fire was slower to consume her. She burned for more than a minute, laughing for much of that time, until her body was finally reduced to ashes.

  Granach picked up the guard’s gun and pointed it at me. “I thought Loyola was dead,” she said softly, using her other hand to brush away dust that had once been a vampire.

  “He was stabbed and shot,” I said. “He fled out the door, fell, and . . .”

  “Dissolved into mist,” Lena finished. “We thought he had died and burned.”

  “You carried him into the heart of our nest, concealed within your jacket.” Granach strode toward me. I never saw her hand move, but the impact of her fist knocked me into the wall.

  “Kyle was there,” I protested. Speaking made the right side of my jaw pop, and my cheek was bleeding. “Ask him!”

  “Ask the one you influenced with your magic?” She pointed the gun at my forehead. “Mister Vainio, you’re going to tell us the truth. Cooperate, and you and your friends die quickly.” Her lips curled, and steel glinted from her teeth. “I rather hope you refuse.”

  Alarms buzzed in the distance, and I was fairly certain the lights were flashing, though that could have been the result of Granach bouncing me against the wall.

  At least I knew why Smudge had been so nervous this whole time. He wasn’t worried about being surrounded by vampires; he was upset about the vampire who had hitched a ride in my jacket. Stupid physics-defying magic. If Mister Puddles had just obeyed the law of conservation of mass and energy, I’d have felt his weight clinging to me.

  “If you pull that trigger,” Lena said softly, “it will be the last thing you do.” She held two sharp wooden stakes. She gripped one by the point, ready to throw, while keeping the other low for stabbing. “You’re old enough I’m betting you can’t dodge at this distance.”

  In other circumstances, I would have heard boots tromping down the hall as reinforcements arrived, but these were vampires. There was a rush of air, and then we were surrounded.

  I hunched against the wall, trying to look harmless as I shoved a hand into my pocket, reaching deeper until I touched a metal sphere the size of a softball. “I think you should tell them to lower their weapons.”

  “Give me one reason,” Granach demanded.

  I licked my lips. “Because I’m holding a thermal detonator.”

  Nobody moved. I carefully pulled out the softball-sized silver orb. It was heavier than I had expected, and I had no idea how sensitive it might be to rough handling. I wasn’t even a hundred percent certain how to activate it.

  That was one of the problems with libriomancy. Sure, I could create Harry Potter’s wand, but that didn’t mean I knew how to use it. I had nearly given myself carpal tunnel trying to levitate that damn feather.

  “You were searched!” Granach looked furious enough to rip me apart.

  Lena appeared almost as annoyed as the vampire. “You were carrying a bomb around inside your jacket?”

  “Did I forget to mention that?” I gave her a sheepish shrug. “The pockets are bigger on the inside. I should probably warn you all that I’m not sure what kind of blast radius this thing has. It might just destroy everyone in this hallway, or it might rip through the whole mine, and the next thing you know, your little kingdom is Michigan’s biggest sinkhole.”

  Granach smiled and lowered her gun. “Go ahead, little human. Run away. Run as fast and far as you can. It won’t be far enough.”

  “Ray Walker was my friend. I want to find this killer as much as you do.”

  “You could be telling the truth,” Granach conceded. “Or you could be one of Gutenberg’s pawns, sent to eliminate our prisoner.”

  “Mister Puddles was one of you!” I protested. “He could have entered the nest any time he liked!”

  “But he couldn’t have reached the prisoners,” Doctor Shah said. “For that, he needed you.”

  “You’re not helping!” I stepped toward Gran
ach, hoping she could read me well enough to recognize the truth. “Give me one week. I can find Gutenberg.”

  “How?”

  “By doing something really stupid.”

  To my surprise, that earned a genuine bark of laughter. “Like confronting us in the heart of our nest?”

  I tried to smile. My hand was sweating, and the detonator was feeling heavier with every passing moment.

  “What are you planning, Isaac?” Doctor Shah stepped closer. Of everyone here, she was the only one who might have some idea what I was considering. “You can’t—”

  “I’ll need their help.” I pointed to Lena and Shah.

  Granach chuckled. “The doctor stays here, but you can have your dryad. In fact, I’ll make her a deal. Bring me the body of the one behind this, and I’ll give you back your lover. If you’re unable to defeat Gutenberg . . .” Her smile grew. “Then in seven days, you bring me Isaac Vainio.”

  Lena stood taut as piano wire. Her knuckles were tight, and her fingers appeared to have sunk into the wooden stakes, as if she were one with her weapons. “I can’t.”

  Granach gestured, and one of the guards pointed his gun at Doctor Shah.

  “Deal,” I said before Lena could answer. “Let’s go.”

  “Lena!” Shah’s voice was as sharp as I’d ever heard. She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry.” Lena relaxed her grip, allowing the stakes to clatter to the floor. I couldn’t tell if she was speaking to Shah or to me.

  Shah switched to Gujarati. I didn’t understand the language, but my magic translated the meaning. “Isaac, if Gutenberg is behind this . . . you know what dissociative identity disorder implies.”

  “No secrets.” Granach backhanded Doctor Shah, knocking her to the floor. Lena rushed after her, but two of the vampires caught her by the arms, dragging her back.

  I nodded to Doctor Shah, and allowed the other guards to escort me away.

  Trading the darkness of the nest for the bright sun made me sympathize with the undead. I covered my eyes as daylight did its best to burn out my retinas.