Libriomancer (17 page)

“Freight elevator,” said the guard. “We’ve only got two elevators large enough for vehicles.” Her ink-black brows drew together. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

I pantomimed turning a key in my lips, even as I tried to orient myself and figure out where such an elevator might emerge. We hadn’t walked very far yet, but there was no guarantee the shaft was vertical. “What about that one?”

“Mausoleum,” said Kyle. “Close to a hundred coffins, each lined with the dirt from a different vampire’s native home. Beyond that is a storage unit. The humming you hear is a bank of industrial refrigeration units.”

I didn’t have to ask what they were keeping refrigerated. “You couldn’t run this place on generators. I assume you’ve got someone at Detroit Edison siphoning electricity and hiding the evidence?”

Neither vampire answered, not that I expected them to. I studied other vampires as we walked. A wizened-looking creature with gray skin and long, clawed fingers lounged against the wall, smoking a clove cigarette. Two inhumanly gorgeous women sat hunched over a chessboard. A boy who looked no older than thirteen clung to the wall like Spider-Man, working on an electrical junction box of some sort.

I stepped toward a tunnel which was curtained off with thick plastic sheeting. Neither of my undead escorts stopped me, so I shoved the curtain to one side, revealing artificial sunlight and a cave of green. “You’re
farming
?”

“Hard to do with all the salt,” said the guard, “but yes.”

They had improvised an enormous hydroponics garden. White water pipes fed row upon row of plants in clear plastic reservoirs, and people were busily moving from row to row, checking corn, tomatoes, and other crops, including an impressive collection of mushrooms.

“Nice setup,” said Lena, squeezing past me to take a look. “I didn’t think vampires needed food.”

“A few species do,” I said. “I’m guessing this is mostly for the human population, though.”

Lena turned to me, her unspoken question clear.

“There are more than fifteen thousand people living homeless in Detroit,” said Kyle. “Some of them are brought here. We give them food and shelter, and in return . . .”

“In return you feed on them?” Lena demanded.

“Humans commonly sell blood or other fluids for money,” the guard said mildly. “Some, especially those who have been left to die alone and forgotten on the streets, even sell their own bodies. We offer them a much better deal.”

“Nobody is brought here against their will,” Kyle added. “There are laws. Agreements. Every human is given a choice, with no mental coercion.”

“What do your laws say about attacking unarmed humans in their homes?” Lena asked.

Both vampires looked troubled. “You’ll want to talk to Miss Granach about that,” said the guard.

“It’s not a bad life down here.” Clearly eager to change the subject, Kyle pointed to a low-ceilinged room which rang out with a familiar chorus of electronic sound effects. Colored lights flickered inside.

“You have an
arcade
,” I said.

“It keeps the younger vampires happy. About half of the machines are overclocked for vampiric reflexes. You wouldn’t last ten seconds.”

Lena moved closer, brushing my arm with hers. Her body was tense, and she was constantly looking about, assessing every vampire and human we passed. Nidhi Shah might be dead, but what of the vampires who had taken her? If they were here, I hoped they’d have the good sense to stay hidden.

Smudge was getting anxious, too, judging by the uncomfortable warmth at my hip. The tunnels were cleaner here, making me feel like I was strolling through a bizarre cross between a cave and a shopping mall. PA speakers were mounted along the ceiling, and I spied several more cameras. I had no doubt there were others, better concealed, but the visible cameras reminded everyone they were being watched, enforcing control.

“You should have been here in the seventies,” Kyle commented. “The first time I came down here, they were piping
Bee Gees
music through the sound system. No disco balls, though. Mirrors, you know?”

“Of course,” I said, but I was having a harder time maintaining my false cheer. I glanced over my shoulder, trying to remember the various turns we had taken. I thought I could find my way back to the elevator, but I wasn’t certain anymore.

They led us past a tunnel that smelled of guano and down a side passage, where two more vampires stood guard in front of twelve-foot-high steel doors. A weight pressed against my mind, followed by shooting pains as my translator fish gobbled whatever telepathic probe they were sending my way. Just to be safe, I recited Dr. Seuss’
Fox in Socks
to myself. It wouldn’t stop most mind readers, but it might block or annoy a few.

A camera above the doors swiveled toward us. I swallowed and stepped forward. So far, so good, but the love magnet couldn’t affect the entire nest. If I couldn’t convince them we were on the same side, working against a common enemy . . .

“I’m Isaac Vainio,” I said. “Your vampires tried to kill me earlier this week. I’d like to talk to someone about that. I also thought you’d want to know what I’ve learned about whoever’s enslaving your kind.”

I held my breath. All it would take was a single command relayed over the radios carried by both guards, and we were dead.

“Rupert Loyola is ash,” Kyle added. “He had been taken over by this same enemy.”

Lena’s fists were clenched by her sides. “Are you going to be okay?” I whispered.

She gave me a sharp but unconvincing nod. Her breathing was quick, and she shifted her balance on the balls of her feet, like a tiger preparing to pounce. The guards noticed it, too. They raised their guns slightly in a not-so-subtle warning.

I slipped my hand into her hair and kissed her, trying to focus her attention on me. I felt her relax slightly. She pulled away, but muttered a quick, “Thanks.”

It might have been better to leave Lena behind, but I doubted all the vampires and Porters in the world could have kept her back. And truth be told, I was far more comfortable with her along, both for protection and for her company. For the determination in her every step, even when she was afraid. She knew her limits, but she also knew her strength.

I knew neither, and I envied her.

Both vampires stiffened, then turned to open the doors, presumably responding to a mental command from within.

“Good luck,” said our escort before walking away, leaving Lena, Kyle, and myself at the entrance to what looked like an underground palace. Glowing crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The upper part of the walls was rough-hewn stone. Closer to the floor, the rock had been carefully carved into recessed archways, each of which housed a statue carved from salt. I counted fourteen, all lit from within, each representing a famous vampire from throughout history.

“Isn’t that Bruce Lee?” asked Lena, pointing to one of the statues.

I nodded. “He was turned in seventy-three, after collapsing in his home. When the doctors at the hospital couldn’t revive him, a vampire intervened, hoping to preserve Lee’s knowledge and experience. The last I heard, he was living in Taiwan. He’s got an underground vampire dojo and everything. That is one vampire you do
not
want to try to stake.”

A throne of salt crystal inlaid with gold sat on a high dais at the far end of the hall. I checked the balconies to either side, but we appeared to be alone.

And then we weren’t. A shadow in the shape of a black jaguar melted from the wall. As it approached the throne, it stretched gracefully into the form of an elderly woman. She settled onto the throne and gave Kyle a barely perceptible nod.

Kyle dropped to one knee. “Mistress Granach, this is Isaac Vainio, libriomancer of Die Zwelf Portenære, and his companion Lena Greenwood.”

“Dryad,” added Lena. “And mate of Nidhi Shah.”

I did my best to ignore the way those words burrowed into my chest, concentrating instead on remembering everything I had read about Alice Granach. She had been born in the middle of the nineteenth century. She had been turned during the Great Depression, and was supposed to be a wickedly clever accountant. For the past sixty years, she had served as one of the four ruling vampires of the Detroit nest.

She was beautiful for her age. Her white hair was cut short, and faint wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth, giving the impression of wisdom and character. She moved with a relaxed grace, settling back in the throne while studying us each in turn.

Granach had been around long enough to trade the dark trappings of the undead lifestyle for something more comfortable. She wore a University of Michigan sweatshirt and black jeans. Her feet were bare. Rimless glasses perched low on her nose.

“Sanguinarius LeFanus,” I whispered. According to our reports, Granach was one of the only surviving vampires from that line, started back in 1872 with the publication of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s story,
Carmilla
.

Movement in the balconies caught my eye, and Smudge burst into low flame. I tucked my jacket back behind his cage automatically, then counted the guards who now watched us from above: five to the right, and another half dozen to the left.

Granach leaned back, crossing her ankles. “Doctor Shah suggested you might find your way here.”

It was the absolute worst thing she could have said. I grabbed Lena’s arm, but she jerked free with ease. I saw automatic rifles being readied from the balconies. Smudge flared higher, his flames licking the top of his cage. “Lena . . .”

“What did you do to her?” Lena demanded.

“We took Shah in response to the attacks against us,” Granach said. “She was targeted because I believed her insight into the Porters would give us the means to protect ourselves against you. She proved quite cooperative . . . eventually.”

Lena leaped forward. She was halfway to the throne when bullets cratered the ground in front of her. She jumped sideways, rolling low to try to avoid the gunfire.

“We didn’t attack you!” I rushed after Lena, hands held high. My ears rang, making my words sound hollow. “Lena, they’ll kill us both.” The guards had stopped shooting, but they stood ready to rip us apart in their crossfire.

Lena didn’t move. I turned to Granach. “I know someone has been kidnapping your people. They’re using vampires to murder Porters. I’ve fought two such vampires so far. Kyle was there for the second attack.”

“He killed Mister Puddles,” Kyle added.

“Yes, we know. He was controlled by strange magic.” Granach smiled. “Tell me, Isaac, how is such magic any different from what you’ve used? My guards generally don’t escort humans into the throne room, particularly Porters. Yet as I watched your progress, I saw one vampire after another go out of their way to help you.”

“Wait, what?” Kyle sounded pissed. “What do you mean?”

“I used magic to keep you all from killing me,” I admitted. There was only so much the love magnet could handle, and I suspected I was reaching its limits. “I didn’t enslave anyone. You think Kyle would be getting ready to rip out my throat if I could truly control him?”

“What I think, Isaac, is that you’re caught up in something you don’t understand.” Granach descended the dais, graceful as a dancer. “Doctor Shah’s notes told us a great deal about you, as did your friend Deb. You know nothing more of your master’s plans and purposes than a private in the mud of the trenches knows of his general’s.”

“I know you turned a libriomancer,” I said carefully, doing my best to match Granach’s calm. “I know your pets attacked me at my library.”

She inclined her head. “We sought information about our enemies. There has been disagreement over how best to respond to this new threat. Some argue that now is the chance to strike, to reveal ourselves and take our place as the superior race.”

“Good luck with that,” I said. “Have you taken a good look at the toys the military are playing with these days? Forget wooden stakes and garlic. You’ll never even see the drone that takes you out. But we didn’t come here to fight you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lena said softly.

“Deb argued as you do. Rather convincingly, I might add. You should thank her for that.” Granach folded her arms, staring down at me in a way that made me feel like a child in the principal’s office. “If you hope to leave this place alive, prove your sincerity. Tell me what has happened to Johannes Gutenberg.”

Oh, crap. Deb would have told them about the disappearance of Gutenberg and the automatons. “He’s alive, and we believe he’s still human. The Porters are searching for him.”

“You have suspicions.” Granach moved within arm’s reach, and I felt Lena tense. Granach smiled, revealing too-perfect teeth as she circled us. “You’re uncertain. Conflicted. Tell me, Isaac, what is it you fear?”

There was no pain in my head. She couldn’t touch my thoughts. But this was someone with centuries of practice at reading people. My tone, my body language, probably even my scent.

“You’re hiding something,” she continued. “Tell me the truth about your master, and I’ll consider helping you.”

I didn’t want to believe Gutenberg could be behind this, but the evidence suggested otherwise. The voice in the steam tunnels. The disappearance of the automatons. The theft of locked books.