“That’s disturbing.” I tucked my feet in close, out of reach. “What’s your name?”
The cat arched its back and made a sound like the grinding of worn-out brake pads. Its teeth were mismatched slivers of fiberglass, and the claws were black metal screws. Various rods and springs acted as tendon and muscle.
August shut the tailgate and the truck cap, locking us in. He climbed into the back seat of the pickup and slid open the rear window so he could talk to us. His smugness had returned in force, perhaps compensating for his earlier fear.
“Give me your hands, Vainio.” He used a thick plastic zip tie to bind my wrists together. “The cat will look better once he’s finished.”
“How does it work, exactly?” I asked. “You come up with the idea, and Victor’s insects bring it to life?”
“Don’t be naïve. That thing’s no more alive than this truck.” He shouted out the door for everyone to hurry up, then turned back to me. “I spent twenty years working as an electrical engineer for the power company. Last year, we lost another line worker after a storm. Damn fool had been working overtime, and wasn’t paying attention. Tell me, Isaac, why did that man have to die when something like Victor’s bugs could have made the repairs faster and more safely?”
“You’re saying you want to fix things? Because so far, all you seem to have used them for is killing people.”
“You and I have very different definitions of people.” He didn’t bother to tie Lena’s wrists. He simply pointed to the cat, then to the millipede around my neck. “We’ll be watching.”
Guan Feng climbed into the seat opposite Harrison. One of the wendigos took the front passenger seat, which would have been amusing to watch from a safer distance. First he caught his fur in the door, and then he fumbled with the seat belt for a good minute before giving up. I felt a little sorry for him.
Another of the book-mages drove, which surprised me. Harrison didn’t strike me as the kind of guy to let someone else take the wheel. Maybe the battle had taken more out of him than I thought.
“I was able to call Nidhi and tell her what was happening,” Lena said.
I grinned, then nodded to show I understood. Harrison could listen in all he wanted, but I doubted he was fluent in Gujarati. I might not be able to respond in kind, but half a conversation was better than none. Better yet, this meant the translation spell in my brain was working again. Whatever Guan Feng’s book had done to me, the effects were already fading.
I checked out our mobile prison, doing my best to avoid any sudden motion that might spook the cat. The truck cap was old, made of fiberglass and plastic on an aluminum frame. The tinted plastic would hide us from view, but Lena could rip this thing apart without breaking a sweat. And Harrison would kill me the instant she tried.
She sighed and leaned against me. Between the sounds from outside and the changing speed, I was able to tell when we reached the highway. The sunlight filtering through the window meant we were heading roughly north. Back to Michigan, then.
I watched the insects crawling in and out of the metal cat like shiny maggots on a corpse as I tried to fit the missing pieces into place. The magic in Guan Feng’s book was strong enough to stop any libriomancer. Why hadn’t they killed Lena’s tree? Why had they held back at Victor’s house? I doubted all of us together would have been a match for what I had just seen and felt. Or maybe the question was what had been holding them back?
I looked through the window at Guan Feng. It was only after I had taken her book that everything went to hell. She wasn’t a libriomancer, but what if she was the book’s keeper? Though the relationship was deeper than that. The voice I heard had been terrified for Guan Feng. And terrified of me.
“I won’t let him turn me against you,” Lena said quietly.
“I know.” We both knew what Harrison would turn her into. Just as we knew she would choose to die before she let him take that choice away. “You should have run.”
“I couldn’t.” She didn’t try to hide her frustration. “Isaac, where did these people come from?”
Harrison slid open the window. “Speak English, or shut the hell up.”
She put a hand on the aluminum frame, blocking him from shutting the window. “Don’t the bugs creep you out?”
“They’re tools. Solid and reliable.” He plucked a silver dot the size of a ladybug from his sleeve and watched it crawl over his fingers. “Victor was always better with machines than he was with people. Caused him no end of grief in school. I tried to help, to teach him to stand up for himself, but his mother insisted on coddling him.”
I fought the urge to reach through the window and throttle him, but Lena simply nodded. Her quiet anger from moments before had vanished, and she listened raptly to Harrison’s every word. “You wanted him to be strong.”
“That’s right.” He glanced at me. “I didn’t want my son to grow up to be the kind of man who let his girlfriend fight his battles for him.”
Lena cut me off before I could respond. “He didn’t. He was outnumbered, but he killed several vampires and injured more.”
“It wasn’t enough, though, was it?”
“I guess not.”
I stared. He couldn’t possibly be buying into Lena’s submissive act…or maybe he could. This was a man who had treated both his wife and son as mere possessions. Why wouldn’t he look at Lena in the same way? He might see Lena’s passiveness not as a front, but as her right and natural state. Especially if he had read Nymphs of Neptune.
And Lena knew it.
“Isaac killed the man who was responsible for Victor’s death,” Lena said softly.
“I know. I read about what happened.” Harrison turned away.
“Who are your friends?”
“They call themselves Bi Sheng de du zhe.”
Normally, I would have heard the words in English as well as Mandarin, but that only worked if the speaker knew what his words meant. Fortunately, Guan Feng turned and repeated the phrase, correcting Harrison’s pronunciation without bothering to disguise her annoyance. “Bì 
de dú 
.”
I stared at Guan Feng, wondering if I had heard correctly. The students of Bi Sheng. The actual meaning blurred the line between “students” and “readers.”
Bi Sheng had begun experimenting with movable type during China’s Song Dynasty, centuries before Gutenberg invented his press. But Bi Sheng’s porcelain letters had been too fragile for large-scale printing.
“I don’t understand.” I ignored Harrison and spoke directly to Guan Feng. “Bi Sheng’s press couldn’t produce books in large enough numbers for magic.”
She glared. “The Porters’ flaw has always been arrogance.”
“That’s not—okay, yeah, you’re probably right.” I started to say more, but the millipede’s legs pinched my neck.
Harrison dragged the backs of his fingers down over the metal shells covering his chest, making an irregular clinking sound. “I could force that millipede to crawl into your mouth,” he said lightly. “To clamp its legs into your tongue and dig its sting into the back of your throat.”
“How did you find them?” Lena asked. “The Porters don’t even know they exist.”
I thought back to Gutenberg’s reaction when I described our attackers. One Porter had known, or at least suspected.
“Victor built his pets to seek out magic.” Harrison clearly enjoyed being in a position of power, doling out knowledge like an animal trainer tossing scraps to a performing monkey. “Feng and her fellow caretakers have hidden for centuries, but they couldn’t hide from me.”
“Hidden from what?” Lena asked.