chapter forty-two

a man with five hundred years of magical experience who could probably fry me through this phone without a second thought. I saw Nidhi's hands tense on the wheel, and even Jeff gave me a small shake of his head.

"I won't know anything for certain until you bring me back their books."

I forced myself to count to ten, in Latin, before responding. I should have gone to at least thirty. "You remember I'm a researcher now, not a field agent, right?"

"You are whatever I order you to be, Isaac Vainio. The Porters are not your personal social club. We are a guild, bound to a purpose, and I am master of that guild. I've given you a great deal of leeway, due to your contributions and potential. But there are limits to my patience."

"Yes, sir." The words slipped out automatically in response to his unspoken threat. "But can't the automaton bring back whatever you need?"

"Normally, yes." His anger shifted into frustration. "However, as near as I can determine, my automaton is stuck. I'll send you the location."

"Stuck?"

"Locked up. Paralyzed. Bluescreened. Frozen." "How?"

"Presumably your friends with their book-ghosts have found a way to throw a wrench into my magic."

"Are you serious?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. "If these people can overpower your spells, what exactly do you expect me to do?"

"Improvise. As you did before."

Take control of the automaton. I shook my head. "Lena and I both could have died last time."

"Then find a better tactic. Our enemies have shown themselves to be exceptionally good at avoiding detection. We may not have another opportunity. If you strike now, while their efforts are concentrated on containing and depowering the automaton, you may not need such extreme measures."

"All right." I took a deep breath. "Any other advice?"

"Yes, in fact. If I'm not mistaken, Mister Harrison has awakened. He's sending his creatures after you. Use them to weaken him before you attack."

"How the hell do I do that?"

Nobody I knew could pack as much weariness into a single sigh as Johannes Gutenberg. "Think, Isaac. How does August Harrison control so many creatures?"

"Through the queen. Victor built a telepathic interface." Silence.

"Feedback," I said, feeling like an exceptionally slow student struggling to keep up. "That's why he didn't come after us last night when we destroyed the insects in Lena's tree. He felt it. If we kill enough of his pets, we can take him out right now."

My phone went dead. A second later, the screen lit up with a new text message: Automaton is approximately 10 miles north of your location, at the intersection of Wilcox Rd. and Allegan St.

"What did he ask you to do?" Nidhi asked tightly.

"Stop Harrison." I handed the phone up to Jeff, who nodded and typed the location into Nidhi's GPS. "He also warned me we're about to have company."

I dug through my satchel, looking for a book I wasn't entirely sure I could use. But if this worked, I should be able to knock August Harrison on his ass.

The roof of the car began to ring like it was raining gravel. A beetle hit the windshield hard enough to chip the glass. It clung there, boring deeper into the tiny crater.

Nidhi flipped on the windshield wipers. The beetle held tight, and the wiper blade slid over it with a thumping sound. She switched on the washer fluid next.

That was enough to dislodge the beetle, but more bugs were rattling down on us. "Speed up," I yelled. The faster we went, the harder it should be for the insects to hold on. I tried to ignore the clatter of bugs, concentrating instead on the pages of a good old-fashioned dungeon crawl. Gutenberg locked most role-

playing manuals, but there were plenty of tie-in novels out there.

The page I had bookmarked described an enormous warrior cowering in the back of a cave as a creature that looked like a supersized cross between an armadillo and a cockroach waddled closer.

I couldn't blame the fighter for his fear. When I was a kid, my paladin had lost a +3 bastard sword and a full suit of enchanted plate mail to this particular monster, leaving me all but defenseless against the goblin ambush in the next tunnel.

I immersed myself in the scene, imagining the mage's laughter as he watched the burly fighter shout in fear. Even the normally-stoic cleric chuckled before raising his wooden cudgel to strike. The creature dodged the first attack. With surprising speed, it scrambled between them, oblivious to anything save the glorious feast of steel laid out before it. Twin antennae whipped out to strike the warrior's breastplate.

Instantly, the steel armor lost its sheen. The priest knocked the monster away, but it was too late. A dark stain of pitted rust spread across the armor, and bits of brown metal fell to the floor.

I seized that moment in my mind and reached through the book, grasping one of the antennae in my hand. It felt like a dry, armor-plated snake.

The beast wouldn't fit through the pages, and even if it did, I had no idea how to control it. Nor was I certain I could rip an antenna off and use it effectively. But if I could channel its power—

What looked like a bumblebee built from scrap metal and a broken sparkplug punched through the windshield and flew toward my face. Without thinking, I yanked my hand from the book to swat it away.

The bee bounced against the door and dropped onto the seat. The wings buzzed, but the sound had changed. The pitch grew higher, like a tiny electrical motor burning itself out. Brown fog spread in a tiny cloud as the remnants of the wings rusted away. The body corroded next. A leg broke free. The bee collapsed onto its side, remaining legs curled inward, until nothing remained but an orange-brown smear of rust.