Libriomancer

Chapter 24

I finally made it home around sunrise the next morning, jittery from caffeine and magic both. Lena’s motorcycle was in the garage where she had left it. I could probably pay Dave Trembath to drive it down to Dearborn on his trailer… or I could use it as an excuse to call Lena.

And then what, Vainio? Ask how she and Nidhi are getting along? Tell her you’re always here if her current lover gets kidnapped by vampires again? I shook my head and turned away from the bike. I could deal with it later.

Inside, the house was every bit the disaster it had been when I left. Despite my precautions, flies and mosquitoes had found their way in through the back door. I halfheartedly pressed the duct tape back into place, trying to fix my makeshift curtain, then gave up.

I checked the library next, mentally cataloging which books I might be able to use to repair the bullet holes in the walls and ceiling. The back door was a lost cause.

My voice mail held six increasingly pissed-off messages from Jennifer Latona, demanding to know why I hadn’t returned to work and asking for an update on the insurance claim.

Crap. I knew I had forgotten something…

All things considered, I should have been happy. I had stopped the man who murdered Ray Walker, and earned a promotion in the process. For years I had imagined this moment: I would have full access to the Porter archives, centuries of magical research to explore.

Only I wouldn’t get to choose which project to join, which research to duplicate and expand, adding my own ideas and insights. I had a single assignment, one which could only be shared with a handful of others Porters cleared by Gutenberg himself: find the origin of the thing I had seen in Hubert’s mind, and figure out how to stop it.

Gutenberg would be sending me material from his own personal library. Scanned copies of documents five hundred years old, including firsthand descriptions of his encounters with our unknown enemies, and an uncensored account of the founding of Die Zwelf Porten?re… including the identities of the twelve men and women who had been transformed into automatons.

Only six remained. Six trapped souls, forced to serve and protect their master. Gutenberg had offered to free them… if I could come up with a better way to protect and enforce magical law.

With a sigh, I headed for my office. While I waited for the computer to power up, I stared out the window, my thoughts drifting back to my clumsy, glorious landing on the surface of the moon. Going back would be difficult in this body, but not impossible. Science fiction had spent decades on such matters, designing energy suits that could protect me from the cold and the vacuum.

“I’m going back,” I whispered. And not just to the moon. Wherever magic could take us.

I sat down at the desk and pulled up the Detroit Free Press Web site. They described last night’s events as an explosion caused by a natural gas line rupture, though one eyewitness in the comments section insisted it had been a terrorist attack and the government was trying to hide the truth. The photo showed a simple fence where people had posted photos of missing loved ones. Flowers and other tokens were piled at the base of the fence.

Nothing was said about vampires or metal giants, or the magic used to bring the chaos under control.

I closed the site, choosing to focus instead on the lives we had saved. How much longer would it have been before the damage grew too widespread to contain? Another hour, maybe two, and the events Hubert had started would have led to war the likes of which the world had never seen.

I glanced at the phone, tempted to call and check on Lena. The Porters would have made sure she and Nidhi were safe. By now, they should be back home… and knowing Lena, they probably didn’t want to be disturbed right now.

I swallowed to ease the knot in my throat and opened up our insurance company’s Web site to start an online claim for the damage to the library. I’d be talking to Jennifer tomorrow about cutting back to a half-time position in order to focus more time and energy on my research. Nicola Pallas had already arranged a cover story to explain my absence over the past week: a severe bout of rotavirus that had put me in the hospital. A forged doctor’s note was on its way to Jennifer’s mailbox.

Once the insurance claim was sent, I logged into the Porter database. Research began with reading, and I had a lot to catch up on.

For two straight days, I threw myself into my work, reading every treatise on magic, every report on possession, every scrap of information I could find.

Including the personnel reports on every Porter whose magic had been locked and their memories rewritten. There were fewer than I had feared. On average, it looked like Gutenberg only had to do it once every decade or so. The records included notes on the magic used to wipe both the memories of the subject and to adjust the memories of their family and friends-including other Porters-in order to eliminate any questions.

“Asshole,” I muttered. But having seen what Charles Hubert had become, on some level, I understood Gutenberg’s fear.

I also looked for information on Ponce de Leon, but found little of use. Records of his time with the Porters were minimal, with nothing to indicate why he had finally been banished or what spells had been used to confine him to Spain. But there were other sources of information. Thanks to interlibrary loans, I would be receiving a copy of pretty much every biography of Ponce de Leon currently available. One way or another, I intended to piece together exactly what had happened, and how worried I should be about de Leon making off with Gutenberg’s book.

And then there was the book FedEx had dropped on my doorstep this morning: an annotated copy of the Malleus Maleficarum, a fifteenth-century guide to witchcraft which Gutenberg believed might hold some insight.

I had been reading for three straight hours when I heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. I sat back and rubbed my eyes. The book was in Latin, Gutenberg’s notes were in Middle High German, and trying to jump back and forth between the two was shorting out my brain. My knees and back cracked as I stood and headed for the door. A peek through the window showed Nidhi Shah and Lena Greenwood walking up the driveway.

I surveyed my home and grimaced. Aside from nailing sheets of plywood over the broken back door, I had done nothing at all to clean up. Nor was I much better off: my clothes were rumpled, stubble covered my chin and cheeks, and my hair was a bed-flattened disaster.

Doctor Shah didn’t look so great either. Her eyes were shadowed, and she acted jumpy, glancing about as she approached like she was waiting for something to leap out at her. Given her time in captivity, I couldn’t blame her. How did a therapist cope with that kind of trauma?

I took a moment to compose myself, trying to keep my own conflicting feelings from showing, then opened the door.

“Isaac!” Lena bounded up the steps to hug me. “Congratulations on your promotion!”

“Thanks.”

She pulled back, and her brow furrowed. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Raisin Bran. I think.” Had I actually finished that bowl, or was it still sitting in my office? “I’ve been busy with the new job.” I stepped to the side. “I haven’t had time to straighten up around here. Sorry.”

Lena pulled a box of Hot Tamale candies from her pocket. “I brought something for Smudge. Do you mind?”

I gestured for her to go ahead, and she hurried back to my office. I shook Doctor Shah’s hand and shut the door behind her. “I’m glad you’re all right.” I hesitated. “Are you? All right, I mean?”

“I’ve had better months, but I’m getting there. I met with Margaret Hubert yesterday. Her son’s magic was crude, like an ax through her memories, but I think the Porters should be able to help her.”

Lena returned and opened the fridge. “You haven’t even been shopping yet?”

Doctor Shah rolled her eyes. I couldn’t tell if her expression was one of fondness or exasperation. Probably both.

“If I’d known you were coming, I would have stocked up on ice cream,” I said.

“Well, make sure you remember next time.”

Next time? “I’m sorry I forgot to call you about the motorcycle.”

“I’m not here about the bike.” Lena gave up on my fridge and sat down at the table, where she tossed back a few candies.

When she didn’t say anything more, I turned back to Shah. “Do you want a beer?”

Her face eased into a genuine smile. “Oh, God, yes.”

I grabbed two from the fridge, one for each of us. I took a long drink, then asked, “Did Gutenberg send you to check up on me?”

“Gutenberg has nothing to do with this visit,” Lena assured me.

“In part, I wanted the chance to say thank you,” said Doctor Shah. “For helping Lena, and for freeing me.”

“I couldn’t have done it myself.” I gave Lena a quick salute with the bottle. “She’s a better field agent than I ever was.”

“Says the man who took out four automatons,” Lena shot back.

“There’s more.” Doctor Shah stared at her bottle. “You know why Lena first sought you out.”

“Sure.” I kept my voice as neutral as I could. “She was afraid you had been killed or turned, and she needed…”

“I needed you,” Lena said bluntly. “Especially after the death of my tree.”

I tried not to think about the branch she had grafted onto the oak out back. “Until we could reunite you and Doctor Shah.”

“Please call me Nidhi.” She forced another smile. “I think we’re well beyond titles at this point, don’t you?”

“Nidhi and I were talking about Gutenberg,” Lena said. “We had what you might call a professional disagreement.”

“Lena believes Gutenberg has narcissistic personality disorder, and may in fact be a sociopath,” Nidhi said calmly. “Whereas I believe the DSM-IV wasn’t written to diagnose six-hundred-year-old sorcerers.”

I stared. “You’re asking me to settle a debate about mental disorders?”

“We fought.” Lena was arranging her remaining candies in a single meandering line.

“It happens. You’ve had a rough few days.” Nidhi was the therapist, not me. “People fight.”

“Not like this,” Lena said softly. “Not me.”

“Lena adapts to the personality of her lover.” Nidhi wiped condensation from the neck of her bottle. “After losing both me and her tree, Lena spent an entire week with you.”

My stomach did a somersault. “I don’t understand.”

“She loves you.” There were so many conflicting emotions in those three words I couldn’t begin to untangle them all.

“I… I know.” I winced as soon as I said it. Han Solo could say that and be awesome. I just felt like a dork. “But it was one week. She loves you more.”

“I’m right here,” Lena said, flicking a candy at me. “It’s not a competition. And I love you both.”

I could translate ancient texts in a half-dozen languages, but the more I tried to follow this conversation, the more lost I became.

“I’ve never been my own person. I never will be.” Lena spoke flatly, without resentment. “But fighting with my lover like that… it was something new. Something that happened because of you.”

“You’re blaming me for-”

“Shut up, Isaac.” Lena stood up. “I’m thanking you, dumbass.”

I looked at Nidhi, hoping she would throw me a lifeline, but she merely took another drink from her beer.

“You’re welcome?” I said weakly.

Lena ignored me, which was probably for the best. “With Frank Dearing, then with Nidhi… I didn’t know what I was or why my feelings changed until much later. I’ve never had a choice before.”

I thought she had made her choice the moment we found Nidhi alive in the Detroit nest. If not… the only reason to drive to Copper River to see me was… but then why would she bring Nidhi along? “Are you saying you need time to choose?”

Lena shook her head. “I’ve already made my choice.”

I waited. She folded her arms, grinning mischievously.

“Well?” I said.

“I choose you both.”

“I- What?”

Nidhi chuckled. “That’s pretty much what I said, too.”

“If you’re worried about the sex, don’t.” I could see the anxiety behind Lena’s smile. “I’ve got more than enough stamina to keep up with you both.”

“But not at once!” Nidhi said quickly.

Lena stuck out her tongue.

“You’re proposing that the three of us…” I trailed off, trying to find words.

“I know what I am,” Lena said firmly. “I love who I’ve been with Nidhi. If I leave her, if I stay with you, I’ll adapt to your needs and desires. But right at this moment I’m becoming something different. Something more, pulled in two directions at once. I’m conflicted. I want to keep that conflict, Isaac. I want to feel torn. When I’m with a single lover, then every choice I make comes back to what they want. Let me love you both, and some of those wants cancel out. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to truly choosing for myself. I want the conflict. And I want you.”

She glanced at Nidhi. “Just like I want you, too, so don’t you dare pout at me.”

My mind derailed at the idea of Doctor Shah pouting, but that was easier to process than what Lena was proposing. The logistics alone… they lived downstate. Were they expecting me to move to Dearborn? Or would Lena commute from the lower peninsula to the upper?

“And you’re okay with this?” I asked, stalling for time.

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice.” Nidhi sighed. “I don’t own her. She’s forced me to confront a lot of my own attitudes and assumptions these past two days. I don’t imagine it will be easy, but I’m willing to try, for her.”

“I’m not asking for promises,” Lena pressed. “I’m only asking for you-for us — to try.”

“The Porters have offered to reassign me to the U.P.,” said Nidhi. “They need someone working with the werewolf packs up here. I could keep up my mundane practice as well. Seasonal affective disorder alone will keep me busy most of the year. I’d get my own place, of course. I don’t imagine you and I would do well living in the same house.”

“Agreed,” I said. This wasn’t just about Lena; it was about the three of us. Nidhi Shah was a part of Lena’s life. A week ago, the idea of bringing Doctor Shah into my life would have been uncomfortable at best, but after seeing her the way Lena did… Okay, it was still uncomfortable. “I’ve never even managed a successful relationship with one person, let alone two. I don’t know how to-”

“Neither do I,” said Lena. “So we learn. What’s the matter? I thought you liked learning.”

Uncomfortable, but perhaps not unworkable.

“Stop overthinking this, Isaac,” said Lena.

“Overthinking is what I do.”

She took my hand. Her palm was damp and warm. “What do you want?”

Had she asked me a month ago, I would have answered without hesitating. I wanted to rejoin the Porters. I wanted a research position. I wanted magic.

I had those things now, and none of them had come in the way I expected. Why should this be any different? “I think-” My throat went dry. I took a quick drink. “I think I’d like to try.”

She laughed and hauled me out of my chair. Her arms clamped around my body, and her mouth found mine. I staggered back a step before catching my balance, then returned the kiss. Her lips parted, and for a short time I forgot about Nidhi Shah, about magical dangers bent on killing us all, about everything except Lena Greenwood’s body pressed against mine, holding me tight while our tongues danced together.

She broke away, beaming. While I caught my breath, she spun around and yanked Nidhi to her feet. Lena proceeded to kiss her with every bit as much enthusiasm as she had me.

Jealousy flared, an instinctive ape-level response crying, Mine! I did my best to squash that response, but this arrangement was definitely going to take some getting used to. And if it was hard for me, what must it be like for Doctor Shah-for Nidhi-to suddenly find herself sharing her lover with a former client?

I waited for them to finish. “This presents a serious question.”

They both looked at me. “What’s that?” asked Lena.

“Whether to start you off with a Doctor Who marathon or dive straight into Firefly.”

Lena grinned and took us both by the hands. “We can discuss it over ice cream,” she proclaimed. “Or pie. Maybe both. Either way, we’re going to celebrate, my treat. And don’t worry about the calories. We’ll work that off later.”

I swapped a bemused look with Nidhi as Lena tugged us both toward the door. What else awaited us, I didn’t know… but there was magic out there, and I intended to explore it all.