There were fewer than I had feared. On average, it looked like Gutenberg only had to do it once every decade or so. The records included notes on the magic used to wipe both the memories of the subject and to adjust the memories of their family and friends-including other Porters-in order to eliminate any questions.
“Asshole,” I muttered. But having seen what Charles Hubert had become, on some level, I understood Gutenberg’s fear.
I also looked for information on Ponce de Leon, but found little of use. Records of his time with the Porters were minimal, with nothing to indicate why he had finally been banished or what spells had been used to confine him to Spain. But there were other sources of information. Thanks to interlibrary loans, I would be receiving a copy of pretty much every biography of Ponce de Leon currently available. One way or another, I intended to piece together exactly what had happened, and how worried I should be about de Leon making off with Gutenberg’s book.
And then there was the book FedEx had dropped on my doorstep this morning: an annotated copy of the Malleus Maleficarum, a fifteenth-century guide to witchcraft which Gutenberg believed might hold some insight.
I had been reading for three straight hours when I heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. I sat back and rubbed my eyes. The book was in Latin, Gutenberg’s notes were in Middle High German, and trying to jump back and forth between the two was shorting out my brain. My knees and back cracked as I stood and headed for the door. A peek through the window showed Nidhi Shah and Lena Greenwood walking up the driveway.
I surveyed my home and grimaced. Aside from nailing sheets of plywood over the broken back door, I had done nothing at all to clean up. Nor was I much better off: my clothes were rumpled, stubble covered my chin and cheeks, and my hair was a bed-flattened disaster.
Doctor Shah didn’t look so great either. Her eyes were shadowed, and she acted jumpy, glancing about as she approached like she was waiting for something to leap out at her. Given her time in captivity, I couldn’t blame her. How did a therapist cope with that kind of trauma?
I took a moment to compose myself, trying to keep my own conflicting feelings from showing, then opened the door.
“Isaac!” Lena bounded up the steps to hug me. “Congratulations on your promotion!”
“Thanks.”
She pulled back, and her brow furrowed. “Have you eaten anything today?”
“Raisin Bran. I think.” Had I actually finished that bowl, or was it still sitting in my office? “I’ve been busy with the new job.” I stepped to the side. “I haven’t had time to straighten up around here. Sorry.”
Lena pulled a box of Hot Tamale candies from her pocket. “I brought something for Smudge. Do you mind?”
I gestured for her to go ahead, and she hurried back to my office. I shook Doctor Shah’s hand and shut the door behind her. “I’m glad you’re all right.” I hesitated. “Are you? All right, I mean?”
“I’ve had better months, but I’m getting there. I met with Margaret Hubert yesterday. Her son’s magic was crude, like an ax through her memories, but I think the Porters should be able to help her.”
Lena returned and opened the fridge. “You haven’t even been shopping yet?”
Doctor Shah rolled her eyes. I couldn’t tell if her expression was one of fondness or exasperation. Probably both.
“If I’d known you were coming, I would have stocked up on ice cream,” I said.
“Well, make sure you remember next time.”
Next time? “I’m sorry I forgot to call you about the motorcycle.”
“I’m not here about the bike.” Lena gave up on my fridge and sat down at the table, where she tossed back a few candies.
When she didn’t say anything more, I turned back to Shah. “Do you want a beer?”
Her face eased into a genuine smile. “Oh, God, yes.”
I grabbed two from the fridge, one for each of us. I took a long drink, then asked, “Did Gutenberg send you to check up on me?”
“Gutenberg has nothing to do with this visit,” Lena assured me.
“In part, I wanted the chance to say thank you,” said Doctor Shah. “For helping Lena, and for freeing me.”
“I couldn’t have done it myself.” I gave Lena a quick salute with the bottle. “She’s a better field agent than I ever was.”
“Says the man who took out four automatons,” Lena shot back.
“There’s more.” Doctor Shah stared at her bottle. “You know why Lena first sought you out.”
“Sure.” I kept my voice as neutral as I could. “She was afraid you had been killed or turned, and she needed…”
“I needed you,” Lena said bluntly. “Especially after the death of my tree.”
I tried not to think about the branch she had grafted onto the oak out back. “Until we could reunite you and Doctor Shah.”
“Please call me Nidhi.” She forced another smile. “I think we’re well beyond titles at this point, don’t you?”
“Nidhi and I were talking about Gutenberg,” Lena said. “We had what you might call a professional disagreement.”
“Lena believes Gutenberg has narcissistic personality disorder, and may in fact be a sociopath,” Nidhi said calmly. “Whereas I believe the DSM-IV wasn’t written to diagnose six-hundred-year-old sorcerers.”
I stared. “You’re asking me to settle a debate about mental disorders?”
“We fought.” Lena was arranging her remaining candies in a single meandering line.
“It happens. You’ve had a rough few days.” Nidhi was the therapist, not me. “People fight.”
“Not like this,” Lena said softly. “Not me.”
“Lena adapts to the personality of her lover.” Nidhi wiped condensation from the neck of her bottle. “After losing both me and her tree, Lena spent an entire week with you.”
My stomach did a somersault. “I don’t understand.”
“She loves you.” There were so many conflicting emotions in those three words I couldn’t begin to untangle them all.
“I… I know.” I winced as soon as I said it. Han Solo could say that and be awesome. I just felt like a dork. “But it was one week. She loves you more.”
“I’m right here,” Lena said, flicking a candy at me. “It’s not a competition. And I love you both.”
I could translate ancient texts in a half-dozen languages, but the more I tried to follow this conversation, the more lost I became.
“I’ve never been my own person. I never will be.” Lena spoke flatly, without resentment. “But fighting with my lover like that… it was something new. Something that happened because of you.”
“You’re blaming me for-”
“Shut up, Isaac.” Lena stood up. “I’m thanking you, dumbass.”
I looked at Nidhi, hoping she would throw me a lifeline, but she merely took another drink from her beer.
“You’re welcome?” I said weakly.
Lena ignored me, which was probably for the best. “With Frank Dearing, then with Nidhi… I didn’t know what I was or why my feelings changed until much later. I’ve never had a choice before.”
I thought she had made her choice the moment we found Nidhi alive in the Detroit nest. If not… the only reason to drive to Copper River to see me was… but then why would she bring Nidhi along? “Are you saying you need time to choose?”
Lena shook her head. “I’ve already made my choice.”
I waited. She folded her arms, grinning mischievously.
“Well?” I said.
“I choose you both.”
“I- What?”
Nidhi chuckled. “That’s pretty much what I said, too.”
“If you’re worried about the sex, don’t.” I could see the anxiety behind Lena’s smile. “I’ve got more than
