Codex Born (33 page)

Nidhi found me curled at the base of my tree, crying. I recognized her by her footfalls on my roots. “I should have killed him.”

She knew without asking what had happened. Maybe she had already heard the details from a colleague, or on the radio. “You can’t save everyone, Lena.”

“I could have saved
her.”
I dug my fingers into the earth, seeking the strength of my tree. I wouldn’t give up what Nidhi and I had for anything, but for the first time, I found myself missing the simplicity of my life with Frank.

“You tried to give her a choice.”

“She made the wrong one.”

She sat down beside me and hooked her arm through mine. “So you should have taken that choice away from her?”

“What about her son’s choice?” I asked. “His parents are both dead. I wanted—”

“I know what you wanted,” Nidhi said softly. “You think I haven’t imagined similar things? Protecting the helpless, saving those who have been hurt.”

“You do something better. You help them to protect themselves.”

“Sometimes.” She rested against my shoulder.

“What would have happened if I hadn’t been there?” Perhaps his showing up to confront her would have hardened Melinda’s resolve to leave. Hailey had been trained for this. She could have helped Melinda to make the right choice. Instead, by attacking Melinda’s husband, I had driven her back to him.

“You didn’t kill that woman, Lena. He made the choice to pull the trigger, not you. Don’t you dare take that responsibility away from him.” We sat in silence as the sun drifted lower. “I spoke with the Regional Master of the Porters this morning about the possibility of you becoming a field agent.”

She raised a hand before I could give words to the burst of hope in my chest. “Pallas said no. Gutenberg doesn’t allow nonhumans in the Porters.”

“Can you blame him?” I sank back against the tree.

“Yes,” she said evenly. “But there may be another option. So far, my only magical clients have been human, all classified as low-risk. Field agents mostly, with the occasional researcher. But there are others who need help. Displaced nonhumans. Recently-turned vampires, werewolves, and others, trying to come to terms with their new existence. People considered too unstable and dangerous for a mundane psychiatrist to help.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve asked that my client list be expanded to level two and three patients,” Nidhi said. “If they approve my request, it would mean more travel, and I’d need someone along for my protection. That person doesn’t have to be a Porter.”

I swallowed, torn between hope and fear as I realized what
she was offering. “What if I screw up again?” I whispered. “If I lost you—”

“I trust you,” she whispered.

T
HE BOOK I NEEDED wasn’t on the shelf. I ran back to the computer and pulled up our circulation database, drumming my fingers on the desk as I waited for the program to open.

“Even if he can unlock the book, he can’t create a fully-formed dryad.” Uncertainty turned Lena’s words into a question, a plea for confirmation. “It took time for my tree to grow. Years, probably.”

“Your tree grew naturally. Harrison isn’t going to wait.” I waved impatiently at the science fiction and fantasy section of the library. “Belgarath, from David Eddings’
Belgariad
. Irene in Piers Anthony’s
Xanth
books. The water of life from L. Jagi Lamplighter’s
Prospero Regained
. The magic of those books could grow an acorn into a fully grown oak within hours, and Bi Wei knows enough of libriomancy to make it happen.”

“What about the other books at the archive?” Lena asked. “If she can unlock one, why not others? There are weapons in those books that could wipe out all of Michigan.”

“
Bi wouldn’t do that,” I said. “She wants to restore her friends, but she won’t give those books to a madman.”

“
Bi?” Lena’s brows rose.

“Bi Wei.” I had used the familiar term instinctively. It was hard to think of someone as a stranger after touching their memories and sharing one of the happiest moments of their existence. “She doesn’t want to fight a war.”

Lena’s fist cracked the desk. “Do you think August Harrison cares what she wants?” she shouted.

Shock robbed me of words.

“She’s going to give Harrison an army of dryads. You can’t—” Her voice broke. “You don’t know what they’re capable of. What I’m capable of.”

“I’ve read your book,” I said, trying to reassure her. Where was Nidhi when I needed her? “I’ve seen what you can do. You’re amazing, but you’re not omnipotent, and you’re not a monster.”

“You haven’t seen everything.” She moistened her lips and moved her hands over the front of her body.

Between one breath and the next, I forgot all about August Harrison or
Nymphs of Neptune
. Blood pounded hot through my body, as if she had stripped away all traces of civilization, leaving only raw, primitive lust. I wanted to tear her clothes away, to take her right here. My chair clattered backward. I took her by the arms and pressed her against the shelves, hard enough that several books fell around us.

I didn’t care. My pelvis ground against hers as I yanked her shirt roughly over her head and flung it aside. I thrust my hand down the front of her pants, and she writhed with pleasure.

“Stop.” She pushed me away and held me at arm’s length. I tried to twist free, but her grip was unbreakable. Slowly, my arousal faded to more human levels, though my jeans still felt painfully constrictive. From the tightness of her nipples and the quickness of her breath, Lena was having similar struggles. “All right,” she gasped. “Maybe that wasn’t the best demonstration.”

I swallowed and backed away. “What did you do to me?”

“I’m sorry.” She turned away. “I told you once that I could feel lust in others. I never told you I could manipulate that lust.”

“Chapter four,” I whispered. The fourth chapter of
Nymphs of Neptune
put protagonist John Rule in the middle of a territorial conflict between a river nymph and a dryad. It was yet another layer of the author’s wish fulfillment fantasy, with both nymphs battling first over their borders, then over Rule himself, each stoking his desire until he was little more than an animal. He wound up bedding them both, naturally. “Before you and I got together…” I trailed off, uncertain how to finish the question.

“Never,” Lena said firmly. “Not since before I met Nidhi.
Sometimes I have to work to stop myself, but I wouldn’t do that to you, or to her.”

A part of me was angry at the loss of control. Another part wanted desperately for her to do it again.

“Imagine what I could make you do. What I could make men do. Many women as well.” She folded her arms over her breasts. “I used to seduce Frank when I wanted him. Or when I wanted to punish his wife.”

I bit the inside of my lip. The pain helped me to focus.

“I fought her once,” Lena continued. “She couldn’t take it anymore, so she attacked me. I broke her hand.”

“You were protecting yourself,” I said.

“Marion was never a real threat. I hurt her because I
wanted
to. Because I enjoyed it. I liked fighting for Frank. I liked the power I had over her, and the sound of her crying.” She bent to retrieve her shirt. “The dryads Harrison creates will be worse.”

I nodded and returned to the computer. “Then let’s find a way to stop him.”

According to our system, Robin McKinley’s
Beauty
was on the reserved shelf. Thankfully, the person who had placed a hold on the book hadn’t yet been by to pick it up.

The Copper River Library might not have
Nymphs of Neptune
, but the Beast’s magical library in
Beauty
held a copy of every book ever written. As I reached into the story, I found myself wondering at the implications of such a library. Did the Beast sit around reading fairy-tale retellings? What would he make of modern erotic fiction like
50 Shades of Grey
? Had he discovered his own book, and what kind of magical paradox might I create if I used this book to create a new copy of
Beauty
?

This wasn’t the time for experiments, dammit. I focused on the book I needed, and pulled
Nymphs of Neptune
through the pages.

“Can you lock it?” Lena asked.

“I don’t know how.” I opened the book and swore. Both times I had read
Nymphs of Neptune
, it had felt empty: a void whose life was locked away by Gutenberg’s magic. As I
skimmed the opening pages now, I could feel the book’s magic waiting just beneath the page. I ran my fingers over the rough, yellowed paper. “They’ve got it.”

“If we call Gutenberg—”

“Do it, but I’m not sure it will work. Bi Wei might be too strong.”

Those words broke something within Lena. She tried not to let it show, but her entire bearing changed. She closed her eyes, and the energy and alertness that always reminded me of a pacing cat drained from her body. When she spoke, her words were listless. “Can you stop them from using it?”

“Maybe.”

While she dialed the phone, I reached into the pages and allowed the icy air of Neptune to flow into the library. If there were a way to fine-tune the flow of this book’s magic, I might never need to pay for air conditioning again.

“Nobody’s answering,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Breaking one of the cardinal rules of libriomancy,” I said. “I’m going to deliberately char the everliving hell out of this book.”

I reached deeper until my fingers touched frigid snow.

Lena dialed another number. “Exactly how dangerous is this plan?”

“Calling it a ‘plan’ might be a bit of an overstatement.”

She turned away, and I heard her filling someone in on what was happening. Hopefully Gutenberg could fix this, but I couldn’t afford to concentrate on that conversation.

John Rule had been transported from Earth to the underground world of Neptune. According to the author’s ridiculous pseudoscience, the ice of the frozen surface somehow focused the rays of the sun like a giant magnifying lens, providing light and just enough warmth to the inhabitants below.

I pulled that environment into our world, channeling the book until my breath began to fog and frost crept across the floor.

I heard the characters calling to me. Whispering seductively,
giggling as they invited me back to lavish bedchambers furnished in the thick furs of ferocious alien beasts. I heard their grunts and cries as they fought each other for the entertainment of their Neptunian lords. Just as Lena had fought Frank Dearing’s wife.

This was the book that had birthed Lena Greenwood. One of the strongest women I knew, and she had been written as a sexual plaything. I wanted to bring the author back from the grave purely so Lena, Nidhi, and I could take turns punching him in the face. And yet, without his trash, Lena would have never been a part of my life.

“He’s trying, but Bi Wei is holding the book open somehow.” Lena covered the phone. “Isaac, your arm.”

I glanced down. The skin of my wrist and forearm had taken on a faint bluish tinge, and I couldn’t feel anything from the elbow down. I wrenched my hand free of the book. Pain hit a moment later as blood flow returned to my numb fingers. I clamped my jaw to keep from shouting.