“Understood.”
“I’ll show you out,” she said. “Go get Sal back. Don’t call me when it’s done.”
“What are you going to do then?” Menchú said.
“What I do best,” Sansone said. “Write the textbook. Put us back where we always were. If I’m lucky, back before I ever laid eyes on Desmet and De Vos.”
“I see,” Menchú said.
“Yes,” she said. “You do. Call your people.”
Menchú took out his phone.
4.
Sal and the Hand fell for eight seconds. They fell for a thousand years, through the pink light. The space below them darkened, solidified, for as far as Sal could see, as if they were plummeting toward the surface of another planet. Or maybe the planet was rushing toward them. A voice, two-toned—one low and rumbling, the other pitched like a baby’s—rose from the darkness. At first, Sal couldn’t understand it. It was a hissing rush and then a cry, pinched off and arcing upward at the end. It repeated itself and got a little clearer. It was a word, a name. Hand? it said. Hand?
The surface below curled around them. Towers with surfaces of crushing black ash, like skyscrapers, like stalagmites, like trees dying in a swamp, rose. Some shot far overhead, blotting out the light. Others were as a big as houses, others as big as cars. Some were about the same height she was. Sal and the Hand landed among them, touched down on ground that crunched beneath her feet. She looked down. The ground that at first seemed more or less flat was still more towers, some as tall as her finger, some as tall as her fingernail. Some smaller than that. They kept going, she realized. Somewhere maybe there was a tower as big as a universe. Another one tucked inside an electron, if there were electrons here. How many cities could you fit on the head of a pin? She took a step and understood that, possibly, she had obliterated civilizations under her heel. And maybe something much bigger was coming that would do the same to her.
Hand? the voice called again, angry and urgent.
“Who is that?” Sal said.
The Hand sighed. “The Eye,” it said.
A globe of smooth skin with nine small arms protruding from it at odd angles, and no other discernible features, flew down from the top of a nearby tower.
“Hand!” it shouted again. “Why have you come back? I thought we had an agreement.”
“We do, we still do,” the Hand said. “We won’t be here long.”
The Eye leveled itself with Sal’s head. “Your host?” it said.
The Hand nodded. “She can’t stay here much longer like this.”
“So I see,” the Eye said. It seemed reassured.
“So you’ll tell the Tooth?” the Hand said.
“I’ll tell Tooth only after you’re gone,” the Eye said. “It will be very upset you were here at all, but by then, of course, there will be nothing it can do about it.” A choking stutter emerged from somewhere on the Eye.
“Are you okay?” Sal said.
“I’m laughing,” the Eye said. “Don’t you know what laughing sounds like?”
“Are we the only ones here?” Sal said. She looked pointedly at the Hand.
“Ah,” the Eye said. “Hand didn’t tell you he was banished from this place. What you see here is only the outside. Hand is not allowed to go in anymore. Too dangerous.”
“For who?” Sal said.
“For everyone. Hand and us. The war is still too fresh in everyone’s minds. The things it destroyed. The things it brought to life, that are still alive, that we are still dealing with. Hand has a lot to answer for.”
The Hand made a helpless gesture toward Sal.
“Don’t try to belittle what you did here,” the Eye said.
“This isn’t the first time you tried to take over,” Sal said.
“It’s at least the fifth,” the Eye said. “It would have succeeded if not for Tooth.”
“And who is Tooth?”
“A demon we made,” the Eye said, “that, at last, got the better of Hand, and allowed us to banish it.”
The Hand smiled. “So,” he said, “now you’ve met a little bit of the family.”
Something shuddered through Sal.
“The convulsions have stopped,” she said.
“Time to go back, then,” the Hand said.
“You said you’d let me see Perry first,” Sal said.
The Eye laughed again, in its way. “The human you left here?”
The Hand nodded.
“He’s my brother,” Sal said.
“I’m sorry,” the Eye said to Sal, “but Hand promised you something it couldn’t deliver. Your brother is inside, where Hand can’t go. We can’t allow it.”
“But you can allow me,” Sal said.
“You and Hand are connected,” the Eye said.
“I can leave it here if I need to.”
“You can’t,” the Hand said.
“Watch me,” Sal said. “I’m not going anywhere until I see my brother.” She turned to the Eye. “Take me to him if the Hand can’t do it.”
The Eye bobbed in the air in what seemed like a bow, or a mockery of one. It moved to the edge of the nearest tower, twice as tall as Sal was, and opened a door. Light and sound streamed through the opening.
“Wait here until I get back,” Sal said to the Hand. “I won’t be long.”
“Don’t be,” the Hand said. “For both our sakes.”
“For mine and my brother’s,” Sal corrected him. “Not yours.”
• • •
Sal stepped into the tower, descended a flight of steps, and came up out of the ground, as though the world had flipped over while she was walking. She emerged into orange light, a swarm of sound. She was in a mobbed city that had only marginal use for gravity. Buildings floated in the air, connected to the ground and to each other by long chains of ladders that swayed as the buildings moved. The web of edifices stretched into the sky, as far as Sal could see; small islands of houses in the shapes of rough jewels, enormous structures that looked as though they’d been assembled by switching on a huge magnet and letting the pieces fly together. The ground and the air were full of creatures of too many shapes and sizes for her to take it all in. She dodged past a long, sticklike thing ambling along with five legs and tiny vestigial wings; passed through a cloud of hundreds of tiny beings that sang to each other in sixteen-part harmony; ducked under the legs of a mammoth humanoid that seemed to be made of clay; squeezed between two squat individuals, each with three heads and six arms, gorging themselves on succulent fruits and laughing. The Eye stopped her short in front of a thing no taller than a child, with a tiny head and spindly legs.
“Don’t move,” the Eye said. “Or it will eat you.”
“How long do we wait here?”
“Until it loses interest,” the Eye said.
They didn’t move. Neither did the creature. Without warning, an enormous hand shot down from the building right above them and scooped up the little thing. Sal watched as the hand brought the thing to a mouth in the side of the building, closed a set of rocky teeth around its neck, and pulled off its head.
“That’s one way for it to lose interest,” the Eye said. “This way.” It motioned to a ladder, and Sal began to climb into the sky. Above her, the air was thick with creatures in flight. The smaller ones flitted past each other, landed on the sides of houses and climbed into windows. The bigger ones lumbered through the air at speeds so slow it seemed they were moving through water instead. A three-limbed being with a long snout was coming down the ladder Sal was climbing up; as they neared, the creature let out a snort and flipped to the underside of the ladder, continuing on its way. Following the Eye, Sal reached a building that looked like a salt crystal blown out of all proportion. She walked along its surface to another ladder, leading to a tiny island spinning slowly in the air. There was a break in the buildings above her and she looked up. Holes in the sky, tattered at the edges, had light and traffic streaming in and out of them, coming in from elsewhere, heading
out.
“Here,” the Eye said, and pointed to a window. Sal jumped through it. She landed on a hard, black floor polished to a sheen. There was light at one end, a small room made of glass. And there, behind a tangle of black briars imprisoning him, was Perry, sitting cross-legged, his head down, his eyes closed, less like someone meditating and more like a little kid who just got in trouble.
“I told you he was safe,” the Eye said.
“No, you didn’t,” Sal said. She walked up to her brother. “Perry,” she said. Perry didn’t move. She said his name again. There was still no response. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. His eyes snapped open and he screamed, terrified. “Perry!” she said again. “Perry, it’s me. Sal.”
Perry’s breathing slowed. His eyes went from wide, to a squint, to the eyes she knew. The ones that shone when he’d figured out how to cause trouble and pin it on her. The ones belonging to the kid who stole licks of ice cream and jumped off a dock with her one summer. He always jumped first.
“Sal?” he said. “How did you get here?”
“Long story,” she said.
“Can I go now?”
Sal looked at the Eye.
“This is Hand’s place,” the Eye said. “A place it made. Only Hand can unlock it.”
“It can’t even get in here, you said.”
Without moving or speaking, the Eye conveyed the distinct impression that this was Sal’s problem.
Sal looked back at Perry. “No. Not yet,” she said.
“But you’re here. Why can’t I go?” He seemed drugged.
“You just can’t yet, okay?”
“I’ve been here so long.”
“I know,” Sal said. “I’m trying. I’m close, I promise.”
“I hardly remember who you are. Or Mom or Dad or anyone anymore.”
“Perry, stop it.”
“It’s so hard to hang on to all that here.”
“I know,” Sal said. “Do you remember when we were kids?”
“No,” Perry said.
“I’m not done. We were playing at the school playground with a bunch of other kids, and someone kicked the ball onto the roof. And you said you’d go get it. Do you remember that?”
Perry just looked at her.
“There was a metal ladder attached to the side of the school that led up to the roof. Who knows what it was for. But we’d been told not to climb it and none of us did, because we were too scared. You climbed it all the time, though, and you did then to get that ball.”
Perry smiled.
“I remember watching you disappear when you got on the roof. For a minute it seemed like you were gone for good. Then the ball came sailing back down, onto the playground, and all the kids cheered, and you stood on the edge of the roof like Superman, just taking it all in. Do you remember that?”
“I think so.”
“Then you’ll know what happened next,” Sal said.
“I fell,” Perry said.
“That’s right. You fell off the roof of the school, right onto the pavement. It wasn’t that high, but it was high enough. You fell and landed hard and for a second you didn’t move. I thought you were dead.”
“You did?” Perry said. “You never told me that.”
“I did,” Sal said. “I remember wondering what on earth I was going to tell Mom and Dad. We gathered around you and you just lay there. Then you coughed a couple times, got up, and threw up against the side of the school.”
“I remember that part,” Perry said.
“But that was all, Perry. You were alive. No broken bones. No huge cuts. Just a bunch of scrapes and the wind knocked out of you, and you lost your lunch. That’s it. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” Perry said.
“This is going to be just like that, Perry. Like you fell off the roof and were gone for a minute, but you’re going to return from this as if nothing ever happened. Got it?”
“Yeah, got it,” Perry said. “Just one question.”
“What is it?” Sal asked.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.”
“Yes, you are.”
Sal turned away for a second. Turned back.
“Just know that I’m coming to get you, okay?” She reached her hand through the briars. Perry reached out to her. Their hands met and held.
“I miss you, Sal,” Perry said.
“I miss you, too,” Sal said.
Very touching, she heard the Hand say, from somewhere above her mouth. But you have to go. And I’m impressed that you’d lie to your brother like that. You’re not getting him back.
I will, Sal said. You’ll see.
Far away, if she concentrated on it, she could feel a tugging at her chest and wrists.
“Bye, Perry,” she said.
5.
“We’re too late,” Grace said. She sat in the passenger seat as Liam drove. Menchú was in the backseat. The car bounced along a road that used to be cobbled, but had fallen into disrepair.
“Don’t be so sure,” Menchú said. “I am heartened by my talk with Sansone.”
“And how did Asanti do with Varano?”
Menchú sighed. “He suggested we let Team Two do its work.”
“That’s weird,” Liam said.
“That’s protocol,” Menchú said. “Maybe Monsignor Usher has a little too much sway with him. But still: protocol.”
“Ass-covering,” Grace said.
“Yes,” Menchú said.
Liam turned the car onto a winding dirt track.
“This must be it,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Grace said.
“It looks right,” Menchú said.
“Right?” Liam said. “It looks like a fucking cliché.”
The car was heading toward the vineyard’s crumbling outer wall. Up ahead, dark against a night sky set aglow by a half moon, they could see the outline of the monastery, built on a rise in the land.
“Should we stop here?” Liam asked.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Grace said. “If they were worried about visitors, I think they would have at least closed the gate.”
“They must have thought the seclusion was enough,” Menchú said.
“Or didn’t want to draw too much attention to the fact they’re here,” Grace said.
The road ended at a small square paved with cobblestones. There were three vehicles there that looked like moving vans. A man stood near the monastery’s entrance with a rifle. He approached the car with a confident swagger but didn’t seem wary of them.
“I don’t recognize him,” Menchú said.
“Good,” Grace said. “That probably means he doesn’t recognize us.”
Liam lowered the window. “Good evening, sir!” he said in Italian.
The guard nodded. “Are you a tourist?”
“My accent gives me away every time,” Liam said, and laughed. “Yes. I’m here with my wife and father-and-law visiting the countryside, and we seem to have gotten turned around.”
There was no outward physical sign from either Grace or Menchú, but Liam was pretty sure he could feel them wincing. Did someone say cliché?
“I’m sorry,” the guard said. “This is private property. I can’t help you.”
“You can’t tell me where I am?” Liam said.
“You’re on private property,” the guard repeated. “Now please go before I call the police.”
The guard was standing out of reach.
“I’m not sure I like your tone of voice,” Liam said, quietly.
“What?” the guard said, and took a step closer.
“I said,” Liam said more quietly, “I don’t like your tone of voice.”
The guard’s face, which had been impassive at first, showed his annoyance.
“I will call the police,” he said.
“I have a better idea,” Liam said. “How about I call the police? You don’t look like any kind of authority I recognize, which means you
probably shouldn’t have that rifle. They could put you away for that, couldn’t they?”
“Listen,” the guard said, closing in on Liam to try to intimidate him. “I don’t know who you are—”
Liam punched him in the face. He stumbled backward and fell. Liam was out of the car in a flash, on top of the guard. He hit him four more times, fast, and the guard was out.
Liam shook out his hand. “Ow,” he said. “I might have just cut open a knuckle.”
“On him?” Grace said. She and Menchú were already out of the car, too. “You fight monsters every week.”
“They’re different,” Liam said.
“Apparently. We need to train more.”
“Yes, we do.”
Liam gave Grace an expectant look. Do you believe me now? That I didn’t betray you all? Are we okay? Grace gave him nothing back.
“Let’s go,” Menchú said. “It’s a miracle no one else was out here to see this.”
“Traveling light,” Grace said.
Liam searched through the guard’s pockets, found a set of keys, unlocked the door, and they were in. They gave their eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. There was just enough light to see by. The monastery really was crumbling. There were small holes in the roof, water stains on the floor. Here and there the rain had gotten the better of the building and a wall had caved in, the floorboards had given way. They passed a row of broken windows and reached a stone staircase that seemed to follow the slope of the hill, leading up and into the building. Somewhere ahead they heard people arguing. Liam pointed in that direction and Grace and Menchú nodded.
At the top of the stairs they saw sky, and the silhouettes of two more guards. Menchú gave them a signal to group together to make a plan but it was too late. Liam bounded up the stairs, grabbed a head in each hand, and smashed them against each other until both of them fell down. He turned around and motioned for them to come up.
“That was an unnecessary risk,” Menchú whispered.
“Worked, didn’t it?” Liam whispered back.
The moon was brighter now, the arguing louder. They could tell where the voices were coming from. They knew where to go.
• • •
“Sandro, don’t touch the straps again,” Stretch hissed.
Bookburners: Season One Volume Two Page 21
