Hello, Liam. Remember me?
The last time that Liam had heard that voice, it had been inside his head. An hour ago, he wouldn’t have recognized it. Now, he knew the truth.
He was staring at a demon. He was staring at his demon.
He had never seen it, when he was possessed. Now he was glad he hadn’t. It filled the cave, sparks flickering inside it like lightning through a cloud. Liam’s mind rebelled at the manifestation of a thing it had never been meant to comprehend.
“Evil spirit, I bind you in the name of Jesus—”
Really, Liam? Don’t you think we’re past standing on ceremony, you and I? The demon rushed toward him, and Liam felt a sudden, tremendous pressure squeezing his chest. We used to be quite close.
“Yeah, and then Father Menchú and the Society kicked your ass all the way back where you came from.”
And where do you think that was? Hell? The pressure on Liam’s chest receded, and Liam could feel amusement in the demon’s tone. It was an itch somewhere behind his teeth, and Liam felt an irrational urge to rip them from his skull so that he could scratch it. As I recall, I wasn’t the one who came to you asking for a partnership.
“I never asked to be possessed.”
No, you wanted to be connected to all things. To knowledge, to the world, to Christina. At this last, the demon shifted again, taking on a distinctly feminine silhouette. Did you think that an apotheosis of universal knowledge meant only learning the good things?
Liam wanted to run. He would have. Except the mob was behind him, ready to tear him to pieces, or take him to Christina. And all she had to offer him were lies. After nearly a decade, Liam finally knew himself again. He realized he wasn’t willing to give that up.
Come back, the demon was saying. I can see you remember me, remember our time together. Will your new friends forgive you when they learn what you’ve been hiding all this time?
A new memory, or an old one, came unbidden to Liam’s mind. Twins, two boys in their twenties, barely grown to adulthood, melting together, their flesh knitting into a single body. They had been hackers from… some country somewhere. It might have been one of the -stans, but he wasn’t sure now. He didn’t think he’d ever bothered to find out. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. The twins had been trying to infiltrate Liam’s network and he and the demon had noticed. Blocking them would have been trivial, but instead, Liam had baited them into coming to Sweden, to a hidden rendezvous that only he knew. They had made themselves his enemies, so he had made them into an experiment. He remembered how certain and vital it had all felt at the time. He remembered how they had screamed.
In his mind, Liam could feel a dozen more memories of other acts pressing up behind that one, not all as grotesque, but each in their way equally horrible. He imagined telling Father Menchú what he had done. He imagined Sal trying to reassure him, telling him: “It wasn’t you. It was the demon.”
That’s a pretty lie, the demon said, reading his thoughts. Do you believe it?
He didn’t. Looking at the demon now, it seemed to have absorbed the face of all his nightmares, from childhood imaginings to the broken bodies of those who had sacrificed their lives for his mad creations with the Network.
It’s too much for a man to bear. Let me carry your burden for you.
The demon was right, Liam thought. It was a load impossible for a man to carry. And yet, he had set it down for nine years of forgetfulness, and the lack had left him half a man, a prisoner of self-inflicted routines and paranoia. The time had come to own his sins. Liam looked into the face of everything he had spent the last nine years fearing.
He stepped forward, and let himself be consumed.
There was pain, and blood, and blackness.
In the distance, he heard Christina scream.
“Liam!”
• • •
“Liam.”
The voice by his ear was calm, and did not belong to Christina. Liam’s limbs felt heavy and his head was sore, as though he had been still, without eating or drinking, for too long. It was nothing like the invulnerability that had been the hallmark of his possession, and so Liam embraced it. He opened his eyes and found—
Hillary Sansone.
“Liam.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you walk?”
Slowly, joints creaking, Liam sat up, turned himself sideways on the dental-chair-from-hell contraption he’d been lying on, and tested his weight on his legs. After a moment to think about it, they held, and he straightened.
“The others?”
“As far as we can tell, your old friends at the Network hooked you up here and ran as fast and far as they could. Either they meant for us to find you, or they didn’t think you would survive.”
Liam shook his head. “No, the others. Team Three.”
Sansone didn’t answer. Instead, she took one last pass around the room. It was either a tiny chalet or glorified storage shed. The windows were covered in brown sticky paper. The only heat source was a couple of desktops on the bare floor, their fans whirring loudly in the small space. They’d been placed near the outlet—for convenience, not symbolism. Liam could see his breath in the air. Finally, she said, “My team’s whisper-net led us here. I decided not to get anyone’s hopes up until I knew if you were going to survive.”
In one corner, Liam saw a chair with the remains of a meal and a scattering of cigarette butts on the floor beside it. “How long were you just going to sit here waiting?”
Sansone flicked back her cuff to uncover her watch. “About another twenty minutes.”
“Good thing I woke up before you got bored and decided to smother me so you could go home.”
Her expression revealed nothing. “Indeed.”
Liam… wasn’t sure what to do with that, so he sat as Sansone quickly looked him over. Apparently satisfied with what she found, she tossed him a set of keys. Liam caught them, the tips of his fingers snagging the edge of the large plastic tag from the rental company.
“Your ride is outside,” said Sansone. “Tank is full. Map on the front seat.”
Liam’s brain snagged on something in that statement. “My ride? I’m not coming back with you?”
Sansone shook her head. “I was never here.” She paused in the doorway before she vanished out into the night, looking back at Liam. “Tell Arturo we’re even.”
With that, she was gone.
• • •
Liam stopped in the first town where he could borrow a phone, and called to let the rest of the team know that he was all right. The Network had left him just on the Swiss side of the Swiss-Italian border, outside Locarno. He told them not to send anyone to meet him. “I’m fine,” he promised them. “I can get myself home. I just need a little time.”
Driving through the night, Liam let the cold, clear air rushing in through the open windows blow away the last vestiges of fatigue and whatever the Network had drugged him with. For the first time in years, he felt whole inside his skin.
The roads were clear. The car was fast. He left the darkness behind, and drove toward the light of Rome.
Bookburners
Season 2, Episode 10
One with the World
Brian Francis Slattery
1.
When the Orb flashed, the people gathered in the library thought it was lightning, or the fireball from an explosion. A few of them cringed, waiting for a boom that never came. They had all gotten used to the Orb lighting up, like someone had just kindled a fire. This time was different, much bigger, and Sal heard a collective gasp pass through the Archives. She’d heard the sound before, many times, when she’d been a cop with the NYPD. There had been a fire in an apartment building once, and a crowd had gathered to watch. She was in uniform on the other side of a barricade, and she’d kept trying to get the people to move back. They wouldn’t listen to her. Then, behind her, the fire flared—maybe a floor had collapsed, or the wind shifted and fed the flames—and the people
watching had made a noise almost like what she heard in the Archives now. She told everyone to move back. They did.
“What was that?” Liam asked. Asanti was sitting next to the Orb, still rubbing her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Asanti said. She blinked. The Orb hummed, throwing off enough light to illuminate the ceiling of the Archives. There were architectural features up there that Sal had never seen.
Frances appeared from behind a bookcase and looked at the Orb, obvious worry on her face. “Please tell me you were running a test of some kind,” she said.
Asanti shook her head.
“Have you ever seen it like this?” Sal said.
“No,” Menchú said. “How do we find out what happened?”
“The old-fashioned way,” Asanti said. They looked at each other, and then at Sal.
“You’re the cop,” Liam said.
Sal nodded. It was almost like she was putting on her badge again. Almost like she’d been promoted. “Okay,” she said. “If whatever happened is as big as it seems, it can’t be that hard to find out where it was. Someone must be talking about it.”
“Right,” Menchú said, “but most of those people don’t like to talk to us.”
“Well, some of them do,” Sal said. “Asanti, is there anyone you can call? Maybe someone from that conference you went to? You seemed to meet a lot of useful people there.”
“Useful?” Asanti said. “They’re not tools.”
“Cut me some slack,” Sal said. “I’m in command mode.” She glanced over at Menchú. He seemed pleased. “What about your friend in Mexico?” she asked Asanti.
Asanti nodded. “I’ll call.”
“Liam,” Sal said. “Liam, Liam.”
“I don’t have anyone who owes me any favors right now,” Liam said. “I think I’ve used them all up.”
“But you have people who’d be willing to talk to you,” Sal said.
“I don’t know. I’d say we’ve burned some bridges lately.”
“But not all of them. What about the people we talked to when we were under attack right here in the Archives for holding the Codex Umbra? The two who live right here in town?”
“Nicolescu and Marangoz?” Liam said.
“Yes, them,” Sal said. “I’d bet you they know something.”
“Hmm,” Liam said. “They might, but they’re mercenaries to the core, in case you don’t remember. It’ll cost us.”
“We’re the Vatican and we’re worried about money?” Sal said. Menchú gave her a disapproving look. “You’re going to disagree with me?” Sal said to him.
“No,” Menchú said. “It’s just that our goodwill with our superiors is … stretched rather thin.”
“I think we need to worry about that later,” Asanti said.
“You’re not the one who has to talk to them,” Menchú said.
Sal could see the tension between Asanti and Menchú rising. They’d been arguing more and more lately. It wouldn’t take much to set them off, and make this whole conversation unproductive. She interjected before Asanti could respond.
“Do you see any other way?” Sal asked Menchú.
Menchú sighed. “No.”
Sal breathed a little easier and turned to Liam. “Let’s set up a meeting with them, then.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Liam said. He got out his phone and started texting.
“I’ll get Grace,” Menchú said, “and talk to the monsignors.”
“What are you going to tell them?” Asanti asked.
“That something has happened. Something bigger than we’ve ever seen, and we may need everything we have.”
Sal had seen Menchú worried before, and knew what that looked like. This looked worse.
“Good luck,” she said.
“I think we’ll all need the luck,” he replied.
“Are we going to fight about this again right now?” Asanti asked.
He shook his head. “We don’t have time.” Sal knew what he meant by that. We already know what we’re going to say anyway. Asanti would argue that a threat like this was exactly why the Society needed to use more magic. Menchú would argue back that the threat showed how useless all of Asanti’s work had been. The fight would end only when one of them backed off. Nothing resolved.
My team is shaky right now, Sal thought. Too shaky.
Menchú headed toward the stairs out of the Archives, but not before a last glance back at the Orb, still hot and throwing sharp shadows at the walls.
Liam was already off his phone. “Nicolescu and Marangoz are willing to meet with us,” he said. “In fact, they seem as eager to talk to us as we are to them.”
“That’s good, right?” Frances said.
“No,” Liam said. “They never want to talk to us. I think they already know just how much we’re willing to pay them. But there’s something else.” He hesitated.
“What is it?” Frances asked.
“I think they’re scared,” Liam said.
“Can I come with you to meet them?” Frances said.
Liam paused. “Sure,” he said. “I’d like that.”
Sal recognized the tone in Liam’s voice. She rolled her eyes, made sure Liam was aware of it. “I’m coming too,” Sal said. She thought she saw a glance pass between Liam and Frances. Definitely from Liam’s end. Maybe not from Frances’s. Maybe I’m making this up, Sal thought.
“All right, then,” Liam said. “Let’s go.”
• • •
Sal, Liam, and Frances stood at the entrance to an abandoned Metro tunnel on the outskirts of the city, half grown over with straggly bushes. They’d had to hop a fence to get down to the tracks to begin with. Above them, on an overpass, an old man and woman were looking at them with curiosity, suspicion, and a little bit of judgment. In front of them, the cyclone fence that was supposed to be blocking the entrance to the tunnel had already been cut. Liam stepped forward and pushed it open.
“After you,” he said.
“Last time we met these guys was in a café,” Sal said.
“They’re afraid of someone else hearing,” Liam said.
“Make that anyone else?” Frances said.
“Right.”
The mouth of the tunnel receded behind them; Liam turned on his phone’s light. A few rats scurried off, and then there was only the sound of their own footsteps, bouncing off the dirt-streaked walls. The temperature dropped.
“How far does this tunnel go?” Frances asked.
“A few kilometers, I think.”
“And when do you expect we’ll run across them?” Sal said.
“I don’t think they’re planning on hiding from us,” Liam said. “Just from everyone else.”
They went on for another minute and heard a whistle up ahead.
“It’s us,” Liam called.
There was a shuffle of feet, and a lantern blazed in the dark, revealing two familiar faces and one stranger, dressed in a long coat and wearing goggles and a surgical mask. Not an inch of skin to be seen.
“Cosmin Nicolescu,” Liam said to Frances. “Hasan Marangoz.”
“No need for formal introductions,” Nicolescu said.
“I’m afraid there is,” Liam said.
“You said there would be three of you,” Marangoz said. “It’s only fair, yes?”
“Yes,” Liam said. “But who’s your third?”
“The human voice cannot pronounce her name,” Nicolescu said.
“Does she have a nickname?” Liam said.
“The Veil,” Marangoz said. “You’ll see why in a moment.”
Nicolescu nodded at the Veil, whose arms rose. She stretched out her gloved hands. Her fingers and arms grew perceptibly longer, more fluid, and it occurred to Sal then that the Veil was probably not entirely made of flesh. That the clothes were somehow more like a container, and were close to losing their shape. Soft light emanated from the Veil’s hands and made a wispy curtain around them. It kept moving, flowing, until it covered the cei
ling of the tunnel above them and the dirt below their feet in its wavering glow. It enveloped them. The Veil gave Marangoz a curt nod.
“We can speak freely now,” Nicolescu said.
“Tell us what you know,” Liam said.
“We don’t know anything as concrete as we want,” Nicolescu said, “but the rumors are very, very upsetting.”
“Please elaborate,” Sal said.
Nicolescu’s eyes got sharp. “As I recall,” he said, “you were the conduit for all the Society’s trouble not long ago.”
“I was,” Sal said. “But that’s done now.”
“Is it?” Marangoz said.
“As done as anything magic ever is,” Sal said.
There was a pause, and then Marangoz nodded. Nicolescu shrugged. “Good answer,” he said.
“We don’t have a lot of time for this,” Liam said.
“All right, then,” Marangoz said. “I assume that you have heard of the Network?”
“Yes,” Sal said.
“You’ve dealt with them already,” Nicolescu said.
“You’re good at reading people,” Sal said.
He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, and moved on. “For weeks now, there have rumors about experiments being conducted with magic. We have had reports from all over the world: Mexico, China, Ireland, Poland. Even somewhere in the Mediterranean. An island, they say.”
Sal didn’t look at Liam or Frances, and hoped neither of them glanced her way either. “What makes you say they were experiments instead of just people using magic?” she asked.
“Well,” Marangoz said, “to begin, because it appears that you didn’t intervene. Unless you have gotten much better at leaving no trace.”
“We haven’t,” Liam said. “We want you to know what we’ve done.”
Smart, Sal thought. Though Nicolescu may or may not have bought the line; she couldn’t tell. “The larger reason we believe them to be experiments, however, is because the Network has been either not very good at or not very interested in keeping their agenda private,” he said. “That the Network is interested in changing the landscape of magic in our world has been an open secret. They are not even unique in wanting this. Most of those who decide to use magic are trying to change the world, or at least their own lives, in some way.”
Bookburners The Complete Season Two Page 36
