Bookburners

by Max Gladstone

  “Is that all of it?” Sal said.

  “I don’t think so,” Grace replied. “But let’s hit it anyway.” She stepped out in the middle of the street, assumed a stance like she was getting ready to run a race. Sal, Liam, and Menchú fell in behind her.

  “Go,” Menchú said.

  The creature was still barreling toward them, the police cars in pursuit. Team Three ran toward them all. Grace left them behind quickly. Sal could tell when the thing noticed her; it checked its stride just a little, let out a rising howl, but it was going too fast to change course. Grace leapt into the air and collided with the creature at full speed, enough to stop it in its tracks. The creature unleashed a confused roar; then the first police car slammed into it from behind. That knocked off the legs. The car shuddered to a halt. Brakes screeching and burning, the two cars behind it did the same. Grace rode the beast down to the street, stood up on it, raised a booted foot high, and pushed one of the biggest shards of glass deeper into its body. The animal shivered and parted around the glass, into two halves that lurched away from each other. Grace followed one of them, found what seemed like its neck, and got to strangling it.

  “Someone get the other half,” she yelled.

  Sal watched Liam and Menchú tackle the other creature, Liam stomping on it like a soccer hooligan in a brawl. Sal went after the legs, which were flopping toward the sidewalk. She picked up one of them, expecting it to behave like a snake, striking, constricting, but instead it bucked in her hands, trying to get away. She snapped it over her knee. The others began moving toward each other—in an attempt to reform, Sal realized. She stepped among them, pulled them apart, broke them all. Looked back at her teammates, who were doing the same to the weakened pieces they’d grappled with.

  Liam was out of breath, covered in black slime up to his knees. “This isn’t so bad,” he said.

  “We got this one while it was still small,” Grace said.

  “Well—” Menchú began, but was interrupted.

  “Who are you?” one of the officers said. He was out of his car, a little dazed. It had all happened so fast.

  “Special forces,” Grace said. She had a thin glaze of black down the front of her, from neck to feet.

  “With a priest?”

  “In case things get bad,” Grace said.

  “Let me apologize for my colleague,” Liam said. “She’s having an interesting day.”

  “What was that thing we were chasing?” the officer said.

  “Who knows?” Grace said.

  “The more important question is,” Liam said, “can you tell us where the other two are right now?”

  “Who did you say you were again?” the officer asked.

  “Special forces,” Liam repeated. Sal noticed that it didn’t seem as flippant as when Grace had said it. Liam said it like he was trying to be helpful.

  The officer looked at his fellow policemen, who were also out of their cars. The officer who’d been driving the first car was investigating the thick sludge all over his windshield, seemingly unsure how to get it off. The other officers just stood there. One shrugged.

  That was when Menchú cleared his throat, as though he’d made a decision.

  “Officers,” Menchú said, “we’re a special team from the Vatican. We fight magic. Like the thing you just saw now.”

  “Excuse me?” one of the officers said.

  “Do you have some sort of identification?” another officer said.

  “Only from our countries of origin,” Menchú said.

  “It’s the kind of team we are,” Liam said.

  “The point is,” Menchú said, “that we’re here to help you. We have information and abilities that we would like to share with you, if you’ll let us.”

  Sal could imagine what was going through the officers’ minds all too well. They were too well trained to buy the story outright. But they also had a problem on their hands that needed fixing.

  “Officers,” Sal said, “I’m police myself, from New York City.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out her NYPD badge, and handed it to the first officer. She knew there was a reason she always kept it around.

  “You don’t sound like you’re from New York City,” the first officer said, examining it.

  “I’m not,” Sal said. “But I was trained there, and I saw a lot in the line of duty there, too. The kind of terrible, crazy stuff I’m sure you all have stories about. I’ve been working with this team for a while now. I need to tell you two things. First, what you’re up against is nothing like what you’ve seen before. But second, we can help you put what you already know to the best possible use. We just have to collaborate.”

  The other officers were looking at the one with the badge. The first officer looked at them and nodded.

  “I’m Officer Saunders,” the first officer said, and extended his hand toward Sal. Sal shook it.

  “Sal Brooks,” she said. “This is Grace, Liam, and Father Menchú.”

  “Officer Sharma,” said one of the others. She waved. “Bartlett,” said a third.

  “Tell us what you can,” Saunders said.

  “We’re up against a magical creature that was amok in London for several hours before it caught the attention of authorities. That’s not a criticism. It’s our fault that we haven’t been able to stop it yet. But I think we’ve learned a couple things.”

  “Seems like hitting it with a car can stop it,” Saunders said.

  “Pulverization works,” Grace said. “Often does.” She caught Officer Sharma smiling at that and returned the smile.

  “The legs were trying to come back together, though,” Sal said. “They would have if I hadn’t stopped them.”

  “But breaking the legs after that did stop them,” Menchú said.

  “Right,” Sal said.

  “So what’s the verdict?” Officer Saunders said.

  Liam’s eyes narrowed. “My guess?” he said. “The creature grows by gathering energy, by eating things. You break the creature up enough and it doesn’t have the energy to reform. Break it up even further and it doesn’t have the energy to move at all.”

  “So I was right,” Grace said. “Punching really does help.”

  “If the other parts of this thing aren’t too big before we get there,” Liam said.

  “And if we can find something else like a car to hit them with,” Sal said.

  “Or something larger,” Officer Saunders said. “We might have something like that, if we can get it out of the garage in time.”

  “We might, too,” Liam said, “if what our colleagues have in mind works out.”

  “What’s that?” Officer Saunders said.

  “We are going to try to fight magic with magic,” Menchú said.

  Officer Saunders took a deep breath. “I don’t know anything about that,” he said, “but if it gets these things out of London, it sounds all right to me.”

  “So where to?” Sal said.

  “The river,” Officer Sharma said. “The next one is there.”

  “How big is it?” Sal said.

  “Unclear. But bigger than this one.” Sharma opened the back door to her squad car. “Get in. We’ll go together.”

  • • •

  It cost less than Asanti thought it would to convince a man to part with a dinghy on one of the docks of the Thames. She offered enough, he didn’t ask questions, and now Frances was at the oars, her wheelchair folded behind her seat. She rowed them out to the middle of the river. She was using some of her transformed appendages to do it, and the strokes were strong and smooth, better than if she’d been using her arms. It didn’t even seem to wind her, Asanti noticed, and a thought flittered fast to its natural conclusion: that if there really was more magic coming into the world, maybe Frances—with her exquisite mind, and her body half transformed—was better prepared than any of them.

  They rowed out into the middle of the river. Asanti thought of the Thames as busy, full of boats. River buses, sailboats,
small shipping vessels all jostling for room. But on this night the water was quiet, and though there was light from the city all around them, on the river itself it was darker than Asanti expected. She could hear the waves moving against the side of the boat, the dip of the oars into the current. It was almost romantic.

  “Here,” Perry said. “Do you think you can keep the boat still?”

  Frances nodded and pointed the dinghy into the current, then kept up a little resistance.

  “I need to stand,” Perry said.

  “Hope you got your sea legs,” Asanti said.

  “Me too,” Perry said.

  His knees wobbled a little as he rose. Asanti reached out a hand and Perry took it. His free hand grasped at the air; Frances extended a tentacle, wrapped it around his wrist, and Perry stabilized.

  From far away, the sound of sirens carried over the water.

  “You don’t need a book or anything?” Frances said.

  “No,” Perry said. “You just need to know what to say.”

  “All it takes is words?” Asanti asked.

  “Well, as long as an angel’s talking.”

  “I see,” Asanti said.

  “You will,” Perry said. “It will take time. The river doesn’t like to be disoriented … I guess … so as I wake it up, I have to tell it what’s happened since it was last awake. It hasn’t been awake in a very, very long time, so there’s a lot to tell.”

  “How will we know it’s working?” Asanti said.

  “I think you’ll be more likely to know if it’s not.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry if this gets a little weird, though.”

  “I’m more worried about you falling out of the boat right now,” Asanti said, still holding on.

  Perry turned his head toward her, fast, and the expression on his face was a copy of a human’s.

  “This won’t work if you’re not quiet,” Perry said. Just like his face: It was his voice, but the personality was gone.

  Perry spread his feet. The muscles in his legs tensed. All the unsteadiness had vanished. Asanti still held his hand, though she wasn’t sure it was necessary anymore. Frances was barely rowing; it was as though Perry was keeping the boat straight himself.

  The sirens from the city wavered in and out. From the shore they’d left, there was commotion, a small plume of dust rising.

  Perry let go of Asanti and Frances and flung his hands out in front of him, a supplicant. A torrent of syllables flew from him in a piercing monotone at the edge of what his vocal cords would allow. Asanti felt a long, slow pulse through the water underneath the boat, as though a swift tide had decided to come in. She looked at Frances and Frances nodded; she’d felt the same thing.

  The pitch of Perry’s voice rose a half step. Asanti looked toward the shore again. Two police cars were gathered there, a third speeding to the scene. She could see tiny figures running around, but it was impossible to see what they were doing. Another plume of dust rose around them. Where were Menchú, Sal, and Liam? Grace? If they were there, Asanti was too far away to see them.

  Another pulse ran through the water, moving in the opposite direction from the first. It was also bigger. This time, Asanti didn’t have to check with Frances; she could see the water rise and fall with its passing. That was also when she noticed that it was getting lighter. She looked up, expecting to see a helicopter passing overhead, maybe a searchlight trained on them. The police wondering what three people were doing in the middle of the Thames in a small boat after the authorities had told every to get inside due to a possible terrorist attack. She was already thinking of how she might talk her way out of that one. But there was no helicopter in the sky. The light appeared to be coming from the water itself. And it was, well, rosy. Almost like the beginnings of a sunrise.

  The boat started to sway a little more, and Asanti had to shift her weight in response. Frances gave a measured pull on the oars to keep the boat where it was. Asanti looked at Perry. He was chanting away, the syllables spilling from his mouth as fast and furious as ever. But he looked taller. She thought she already knew why that was, but let her eyes drop anyway. Sure enough, there were six inches of air between his feet and the bottom of the boat. She pulled her phone out of her pocket just to confirm what was going on. It was dead.

  She turned back to Frances to see if she had noticed Perry’s newfound ability to levitate. She had. Frances gave Asanti a look. Asanti knew what it meant. What do we do now? Asanti put her hands out, palms down, pushed them gently toward the bottom of the boat. Stay calm.

  Perry kept talking, faster and faster. Stopped. For the space of a breath, there was only the sound of the waves against the side of the boat. Then another voice rose from the water, slow and deep. Perry answered. Asanti couldn’t understand anything, but she thought the tone itself conveyed meaning. Respect given and received. Terms offered and accepted. A deal being made.

  Something on shore exploded. They were far enough away that Asanti saw the flash, then heard and even slightly felt the blast. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed as though a couple of the police cars had exploded. Then, for some reason, the fires winked out. Asanti hoped her friends weren’t anywhere nearby. But she knew better.

  • • •

  The caravan of squad cars carrying Sal, Menchú, Liam, and Grace was a block away from the explosion. For a moment it blinded and deafened them, rattled the glass on the windows. Curses went up from the officers in the front seat. In the back seat with Grace, Sal blinked. The fire ahead of them now lit up the whole street. Over the ringing in her ears, she could hear the policemen at the end of the block shouting to each other.

  “Do they know we’re coming?” Sal said.

  “Yes,” Sharma said from the front seat. “Reception is a bit shoddy, but yes.”

  “I’m going ahead,” Grace said. She flung the door open and took off toward the flames. Sal saw Liam and Menchú jump out of their car and follow her.

  “I’ll come with you,” Sharma said.

  They reached the end of the block in time to see a policeman fly through the air and crash to the pavement. Two other policemen ran after him, crouched down. One of them lifted his head and yelled for help. It seemed more like a war zone to Sal than a police situation. Menchú caught up.

  “Where’s Grace?” he said.

  It had only been a second; Sal hadn’t had time to look. A rising cry, broken by choking coughs, brought her attention to the source of the smoke. There were two cars burning. One of them was rocking a little on its tires, which wouldn’t last much longer in the heat. The other one was in the air, pointing toward the sky, thrashing back and forth. Sal couldn’t see the back of it. Then she realized that was because it was in something’s mouth—another City Eater, three times the size of the car, trying to force the vehicle down its throat like a snake trying to eat a rat. Another choking grunt. Something in the car buckled, and it slid downward and disappeared. Now, by the light of the other burning car, Sal got a good look at what they were up against. It was shaped like a frog, a fat body on several fat legs, a head mashed on top of the whole thing, as if the creature had been designed by a sloppy child. It shook as it ingested the car, then opened its mouth and let out a smoky roar. It was at least twice as big as the beast they’d just dealt with, and seemed to be growing before her eyes. The police around it were backing away into a defensive position behind the couple vehicles they had left on the scene.

  “Is it breathing fire?” Saunders said.

  “I don’t think so,” Sal said. “I think that’s the smoke from the car it just ate.” She had a moment to think: There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.

  “How do we attack this one?” Sharma said. “We don’t have any speeding cars to smack into it yet.”

  “Also, I think the other creatures are … bigger,” Saunders said.

  The officer already in command of the police on the scene approached. “Is this the team of specialists you mentioned?” she said.

  S
aunders nodded.

  “I’m Harris. Saunders has spoken very highly of you. The reserves are on their way.”

  “When do they arrive?” Sal said.

  “I don’t know,” Harris said. “How do we try to stop this thing in the meantime?”

  “Piece by piece,” Menchú said.

  Sal looked at the creature’s legs again.

  “Those are big pieces,” she said.

  For a moment, they all took a breath. It seemed improbable to Sal that they could do anything to this creature. They watched as it started trying to ingest another car.

  “Every life we save is worth it,” Menchú said.

  “And it doesn’t look very smart,” Grace said. She picked up a piece of twisted metal, a section of one of the exploded cars’ frames. “I think I can get a couple of those legs off as long as it doesn’t see me coming.”

  “Then what?” Sal said.

  “Have we ever had the chance to think much further than that?”

  Sal found herself patting Grace on the back.

  “Okay,” Sal said. “I got you.” She turned to Harris. “Have you made sure everyone is clear of the buildings around us?”

  “We’re making sure of that right now,” Harris said. “It looks promising so far.”

  “All right,” Sal said. She looked at Saunders and Sharma. “You with us?”

  Saunders and Sharma both looked uneasy, but Sal saw the resoluteness beneath the emotion. “Whatever you need,” Sharma said.