Codex Born

9

Report Number: NS-US5-194

Submitted by: Nidhi Shah, MD, PhD

Location: Mason, Michigan

Subject Name: Lena Greenwood

Description: Ms. Greenwood is a physically healthy Caucasian female, approximately five foot six inches. She appears to be in her late thirties to early forties. She is overweight, but not obese. Her skin lacks any visible blemishes or wrinkles. Based on her account of the work she performed on Frank Dearing’s farm, she is significantly stronger than she appears.

Magical Assessment: The two field agents, John Senn and Michael Angell, concur that Lena is a dryad of some sort, though her appearance and abilities differ significantly from the descriptions of known dryads in the Porter database. Lena has demonstrated the ability to manipulate her tree’s roots to fight back after being struck by an ax. She showed no sensitivity to cold, despite the low temperatures.

Angell and Senn were able to unearth Frank Dearing’s remains after Lena had been removed from the scene. While multiple eyewitness claim that Mr. Dearing was alive one week ago, his body had decomposed to little more than a skeleton. Angell used magic to verify that this was indeed Frank Dearing. It would appear that Lena’s tree somehow consumed him.

Lena’s love for Frank Dearing comes across as genuine. I’m uncertain whether the tree acted independently, or if Lena simply doesn’t recognize what she had done to Mr. Dearing.

While Lena shows little awareness of the passage of time and even less understanding of the world around her, both her recollections and the information we gathered from Marion Dearing suggest Lena was living with Frank for at least forty years, which would make her a minimum of sixty years old. If so, she has aged extremely well.

Psychological Assessment: Lena Greenwood is in many ways a child, isolated from the world, and knowing little beyond her life with Frank Dearing. Her eagerness for attention and affection make me suspect she may have been badly deprived of both while growing up, though she hasn’t yet shared any information about her childhood.

She spoke freely of her relationship, describing the details of her sexual activities with Dearing as casually as she recounted the last breakfast she prepared for him. I’ve observed no sign of duplicity. On the contrary, she has been eager to share with me, though she remains wary of other Porters. I would estimate her I.Q. to be significantly below average, perhaps to the point of mild disability, though I’ll need to run a number of tests to confirm.

She talked about the temptation to remain in her tree and “go deeper.” Given her grief and obvious fear of life without Frank Dearing, I believe Lena to be a very real suicide risk. I am requesting temporary reassignment to help her acclimate to the larger world.

Threat Risk: I disagree with the report prepared by field agent Angell. I do not believe Lena Greenwood poses a threat to the Porters or to humanity. While she has demonstrated a willingness to use her abilities to protect herself, I believe her essential nature is that of peace.

WE FOUND HARRISON’S INSECTS in the five houses closest to the Sanchez family. The insects weren’t asleep, exactly, and they reacted when we approached, but they were sluggish, refusing to stray very far from their chosen hostages. Lena clubbed most of the insects into scrap. I caught two more with a hammer I picked up from the garage of the second house.

We got back to find Nidhi hauling the spare tire out of the trunk of her car. The rear tire had been blown apart in the fighting. The driver’s side window was broken as well. Nidhi gave me a look, but didn’t say anything.

On the bright side, having a Renfield around made it a lot easier to change a tire. Who needed a jack when Deb could lift the car with her bare hands? Lena helped with the tire while I swept out the pebbles of glass the best I could.

Deb stepped back, brushed her hands on her pants, and folded her arms. “The head bloodsuckers in Detroit aren’t going to be happy about losing Nicholas and Sarah.”

“I’m not thrilled either.” I didn’t remind her that Harrison had killed Moon as well. Or maybe she remembered, and the vampires simply didn’t mind losing that particular sparkler.

I grabbed Heinlein’s Friday from my jacket. The vampires had taken care of their side of the bargain, after all. The Shipstone battery I created was no larger than my wallet. It could light the entire vampire city, deep in the underground salt mines, but it might not be enough to make up for the death of three of their number. “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me, hon. Anyone asks, I’m putting all the blame on you.” Deb shoved the Shipstone into her pants pocket. “Watch your back. And give me a call if you change your mind about wanting a few extra years of reading and study.”

We waited for the first of the Porters’ clean-up crew to arrive. A pair of fresh-faced field agents nodded a greeting, then set about erasing our mess. One strode into the Sanchez house as if he owned it, while the other used some kind of purple crystal to search for fragments of magic, like the expended pellets from my shock-gun.

Once we were back on the road, I examined a handful of fragmented insect parts: wings and shells, mostly, along with a few gears, a bit of wire that might have been an antenna, and a pair of oversized grasshopper legs. I squinted through my enchanted sunglasses, but the scraps were magically dead.

We knew where the bugs had come from, but where had Harrison found his accomplices? How had he persuaded them to help him butcher wendigos? More importantly, what did they all want? Harrison was motivated by power, but what did he hope to do with his magically-boosted brute squad?

And why come after me? If he had gotten into Victor’s system, he could have tracked down any Porter he wanted, but I hadn’t heard of any other break-ins. Harrison had come to the U.P. and hacked my computer. I looked out the rear window toward Lena, thinking of my private notes. There were things I had learned about her that I refused to share even with the Porters.

If August Harrison had found those files, it would take time to decrypt them, but if he was even half as smart as his son had been, he would get there eventually. Whether or not he could do anything with that information was another question. He had no direct magical ability. I had no idea what else his would-be libriomancers could do.

I called Nicola Pallas. “The serenade worked beautifully, thank you. Please tell me the automaton has Harrison and his friends.”

“Not yet.”

“Dammit.”

Jeff turned in his seat. “What’s taking so long? I thought those things were supposed to be unstoppable.”

“Not exactly,” Nidhi said mildly. “Isaac destroyed four earlier this year.”

Jeff cocked his head and stared at me like I had just turned into a were-rabbit. Admittedly, this was a tremendous improvement over wanting to tear me limb from limb. “Well, shave my ass and call me a poodle. How the hell did you manage that?”

“You have to know how they think.” Which August might also know, depending on what he had gotten out of my computer. This just got better and better. To Nicola, I said, “Why doesn’t it materialize in front of their truck, punch out the engine, and be done with it?”

“As far as we’ve been able to determine, the automaton is having trouble seeing them.”

Perfect. “I need to talk to Gutenberg. The people August had with him were using magic I’d never seen or read about before.”

“Hold on.”

I’ll say this much about Nicola: she was efficient. It couldn’t have been more than five seconds before my phone beeped.

“What have you learned?” asked Johannes Gutenberg. It was his customary greeting. Never “Hello, Isaac,” or “Great job cleaning up that will-o’-the-wisp situation at the strip club last month, Isaac.” All he cared about was whatever new knowledge I had uncovered, whether it was the innermost secrets of a forgotten branch of Egyptian magic or the extra ingredient Loretta Trembath used for her spicy Cudighi.

I had never been able to describe Gutenberg’s accent. I would have expected his words to be colored by his upbringing, but I heard no trace of Germanic when he spoke. Instead, his voice was simply…precise. Every word, every syllable was carefully chosen and articulated. It made sense when I thought about it. How many languages had he learned and relearned over his lifetime?

“August Harrison has help,” I said. “Three people, all young and Asian in appearance. They used books to absorb or dissipate magic. I think the books held some kind of ghost that diluted or consumed whatever we threw at them.”

“Describe these ghosts,” Gutenberg said sharply.

I did the best I could, beginning with Nicholas’ complaints about other ghosts. Nidhi and Jeff chipped in additional details. “Who the hell are these people? You said you sent me the full, uncensored history of the Porters for— For my research project. There was nothing about this style of magic.”

“Tell me about the books.”

I closed my eyes. “They were hardcovers. Larger than most modern books. Quartos, maybe, bound in red cloth or leather. They looked like something you’d keep in the rare books section of a library.” But such uncommon or one-of-a-kind editions shouldn’t work for libriomancy. Books had to be mass-produced to build up the cumulative belief and power you needed for magic. “I didn’t see any embossing on the cover. The pages looked yellowed.”

“Did you see what language the books were written in?”

Was I imagining the urgency in his words? “I didn’t get close enough.”

“It’s not libriomancy,” Gutenberg said quietly.

I waited for him to explain. Eventually, I started to realize I could be waiting a very long time. “Then what is it?”

“I’m not sure.”

I didn’t buy it. He might not know for certain, but he wouldn’t be this pensive if he didn’t have suspicions. “So guess, dammit.”

The silence that followed gave me time to realize I was barking orders at the founder of the Porters, 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 super-sized 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.

“That’s a new trick,” Jeff commented, staring at my hand. “Did you mean to do that?”

“Not exactly, no.” Leathery brown plates gloved my hand, stopping at the wrist. I curled my fingers, feeling the plates grind together like stones. There was very little sensation. I tugged at the wrist where armor met flesh, hoping I could peel it free, but this was my skin now.

I didn’t know what I had done, if it was permanent, or what it would do to me in the long run, and I had no doubt I would begin freaking the hell out very soon, but for the moment, there were bugs to kill.

A wasp burrowed through the hole the bumblebee had left and landed in Jeff’s hair. I plucked it away with my thumb and forefinger. It tried to sting me with an inch-long needle that looked thick enough to penetrate bone, but the tip rusted away as soon as it hit my hand.

I used my left hand to unbuckle my seat belt, then rolled down the window. I pulled the upper part of my body out until I could see the roof. I squinted against the wind and stretched out very carefully to flick away a cockroach. A ladybug crept toward me, and I reached over—

A passing truck honked. I jumped, and my hand slammed down on the ladybug. I yanked it back, but it was too late. The bug rusted away, as did an oversized handprint in the roof of Nidhi’s car.

“What did you do?” yelled Nidhi.

“Nothing!” I twisted around, trying to reach the ones on the rear windshield. The magic of this particular monster affected all metals, regardless of whether they were ferrous or not. But as long as I didn’t hit hard enough to crack the glass, the windshield should be fine.

Lena was pulling closer. I waved her back, then pointed to the insects. The last thing I wanted was to knock them off Nidhi’s car and onto Lena or her motorcycle.

Lena pointed right back, not at me, but at the tires.

“Oh, crap.” I ducked back into the car and grabbed my seat belt, only to have the buckle crumble like thin Styrofoam in my hand. “Nidhi, we’re about to lose the tires.”

I slid into the middle seat, trying to work the belt left-handed. I bumped Smudge’s cage in the process, and the thin bars melted away. I got the buckle clicked into place and scooped Smudge into my hand. The armor protected me from his nervous flames.

Nidhi had slowed down to about forty when the first tire blew out. Other cars honked and swerved around us as she fought for control. Her arms and hands tightened as the second tire followed the first, and the car lurched hard to the right. The front wheels hit dirt, and then we were spinning around, and centrifugal force pinned me to my seat.

By the time we jolted to a stop, we were in a ditch staring up at oncoming traffic. I set Smudge down and fumbled with the buckle. The airbags had gone off, body-slamming Jeff and Nidhi into their seats. They were both alive, and I didn’t see blood. As for me, I had a twinge in my neck that would no doubt evolve into something much worse, but I was pretty sure nothing was broken.

I opened the door and stumbled out of the car. Most of the swarm was flying away like silver sparks in the sun. I swatted the few that remained, hoping August Harrison felt every one.

Lena pulled off the road a short distance ahead. She jumped from the bike and sprinted toward us, bokken in hand. “Is everyone all right? Isaac, your hand—”

“Yah, that didn’t go quite the way I had hoped.” I walked around the car to check the damage. Both tires were shredded. We had driven on the rims for those last forty feet or so. This thing wasn’t going anywhere without major work.

“Whatever hand sanitizer you’ve been using, I’m staying the hell away from it,” said Jeff as he climbed out.

“Is it permanent?” Lena asked.

“I’m not even sure what I did.” I suspected it was similar to the way people could reach into books and infect themselves with various strains of vampirism. They weren’t being bitten by literal vampires; they were simply remaking their bodies through magic.

What worried me was the fact that such magic was intrinsic, robbing the person of their ability to use extrinsic magic. If this was permanent, or worse yet, if it began to spread…“I’ll be fine. I just need something to wrap around my hand so I don’t keep breaking everything I touch.”

Nidhi popped the trunk and pulled out an old blanket. Lena ran her index finger over the length of her bokken, restoring the wood’s edge, then handed the weapon to Nidhi. With a nod of thanks, Nidhi began cutting.

“I saw the things that took out the tires, and they were bigger,” said Lena. “More like birds than insects. I couldn’t tell if they got away, or if they were destroyed when you spun out.”

“Nicholas—Victor—said something about the insects breeding and evolving.”

Another car slowed, but Lena waved them on. We circled the car, searching from top to bottom for any stragglers, but the insects were gone.

“Next time, we’re taking your car,” Nidhi said.

I started to answer, but my phone buzzed in my pocket. I set Smudge on my shoulder and reached for it, then caught myself. The case was mostly plastic and glass, but there was enough metal trim that a single touch could turn the thing into a useless brick.

“Allow me.” Lena grinned and slipped a hand into my pocket. For several seconds, I forgot about August Harrison, mutant wendigos, and my messed-up hand. She planted a quick kiss on my neck that sent goose bumps down my spine, then pulled out the phone.

I blinked and concentrated on the message from Gutenberg. The automaton was dying, which meant we were running out of time. “Harrison is close by. If Lena and I ride together, we can still catch him.”

Nidhi’s face was expressionless. She tossed the wadded-up length of blanket to me and climbed back into the car without a word to get the GPS. Nidhi had told me she was struggling to adjust to our new relationship, but this was the first time I had seen that struggle.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said quietly, watching Nidhi. “That was stupid. I was worried about you. I saw you fighting off those insects, and then you were moving around in the back seat and the car was out of control. You scared me. You both did.”

I grabbed the end of the blanket and began wrapping the rest around my fist. “So go tell her.”

Lena studied my eyes, like she was searching to see if I meant it.

“Your girlfriend was just in an accident, and the first thing she saw was you hugging and getting friendly with me.”

She stared at me, then smiled. “I chose better than I realized.”

“I’ll meet you at your bike.”

Intellectually, I had more-or-less come to terms with our relationship weeks ago. But this was the first time I had been able to walk away from the two of them without feeling those barbs of jealousy and insecurity. I didn’t turn around to watch Lena’s good-bye—I wasn’t certain how stable this newfound peace was—but it was a start.