attack that crushed the entire building. I had cataloged some of the locked books the Porters used to store in the library’s secret subbasement. Of all the titles we had kept there, one would hold particular interest for August Harrison. “He’s going after Nymphs of Neptune.”
Lena had been discovered in lower Michigan. Until Lena, the Porters had thought it impossible to pull intelligent beings from books. You could infect humans from our world with vampirism and other afflictions. You could even yank something like Pixel the cat out of Heinlein. But a fully sentient mind? Impossible. Until it happened. Until an acorn from that book grew into a dryad’s oak, giving birth to Lena Greenwood.
Nidhi was the one who had discovered Lena’s origins in a secondhand copy of Nymphs of Neptune. Gutenberg had locked that book the very next day. I didn’t know how he did it, though I had heard whispers of an invisible inscription, a spell that spread out to affect every copy of a book. The locked book with Gutenberg’s enchantment had been moved to our archive in East Lansing for safekeeping.
“I can’t send another automaton,” Pallas said. “Gutenberg is still trying to repair the last one. Do you think Harrison has the ability to unlock books?”
I didn’t know how strong Bi Wei had become, but Harrison wouldn’t try to steal that book unless he thought he could use it, and that meant ripping open Gutenberg’s spell. “Probably. What about using an automaton to teleport someone else in?”
“The archive is magically shielded, remember?”
“How could I forget?” The Porters had chosen Michilimackinac because of its latent magical wards, spells placed more than three hundred years ago by French traders. Gutenberg had worked with Jane Oshogay, a historian and retired libriomancer who had moved here from Minnesota, to strengthen and build upon those wards. Wards I had foolishly volunteered to help test.
It had taken a day and a half for our healers to reverse the various curses, and another two weeks for my hair to finally start growing back.
“I’ll see what else I can do,” said Pallas. “And remember, I need your report on the Columbus incident.” She hung up without saying good-bye, which wasn’t unusual for her.
“He wants his own dryad,” Lena said tightly.
“It’s worse than that.” One dryad would allow him to restore the other students of Bi Sheng, but it would take time, and Harrison didn’t strike me as a patient man. “Why stop at one? He’s going to create an entire legion of dryad slaves.”
My mistake cost me my position with the shelter, though a number of the other volunteers privately thanked me for living out their fantasy, and several stayed in touch for a while. And then Hailey called two months later to tell me Christopher Hill had shot Melinda four times before putting the gun beneath his own chin and pulling the trigger. She said she thought it was better if I heard the news from a friend.
Nidhi found me curled at the base of my tree, crying. I recognized her by her footfalls on my roots. “I should have killed him.”
She knew without asking what had happened. Maybe she had already heard the details from a colleague, or on the radio. “You can’t save everyone, Lena.”
“I could have saved her.” I dug my fingers into the earth, seeking the strength of my tree. I wouldn’t give up what Nidhi and I had for anything, but for the first time, I found myself missing the simplicity of my life with Frank.
“You tried to give her a choice.”
“She made the wrong one.”
She sat down beside me and hooked her arm through mine. “So you should have taken that choice away from her?”
“What about her son’s choice?” I asked. “His parents are both dead. I wanted —”
“I know what you wanted,” Nidhi said softly. “You think I haven’t imagined similar things? Protecting the helpless, saving those who have been hurt.”
“You do something better. You help them to protect themselves.”
“Sometimes.” She rested against my shoulder.
“What would have happened if I hadn’t been there?” Perhaps his showing up to confront her would have hardened Melinda’s resolve to leave. Hailey had been trained for this. She could have helped Melinda to make the right choice. Instead, by attacking Melinda’s husband, I had driven her back to him.
“You didn’t kill that woman, Lena. He made the choice to pull the trigger, not you. Don’t you dare take that responsibility away from him.” We sat in silence as the sun drifted lower. “I spoke with the Regional Master of the Porters this morning about the possibility of you becoming a field agent.”
She raised a hand before I could give words to the burst of hope in my chest. “Pallas said no. Gutenberg doesn’t allow nonhumans in the Porters.”
“Can you blame him?” I sank back against the tree.
“Yes,” she said evenly. “But there may be another option. So far, my only magical clients have been human, all classified as low-risk. Field agents mostly, with the occasional researcher. But there are others who need help. Displaced nonhumans. Recently-turned vampires, werewolves, and others, trying to come to terms with their new existence. People considered too unstable and dangerous for a mundane psychiatrist to help.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’ve asked that my client list be expanded to level two and three patients,” Nidhi said. “If they approve my request, it would mean more travel, and I’d need someone along for my protection. That person doesn’t have to be a Porter.”
I swallowed, torn between hope and fear as I realized what she was offering. “What if I screw up again?” I whispered. “If I lost you—”
“I trust you,” she whispered.
THE BOOK I NEEDED wasn’t on the shelf. I ran back to the computer and pulled up our circulation database, drumming my fingers on the desk as I waited for the program to open.
“Even if he can unlock the book, he can’t create a fully-formed dryad.” Uncertainty turned Lena’s words into a question, a plea for confirmation. “It took time for my tree to grow. Years, probably.”
“Your tree grew naturally. Harrison isn’t going to wait.” I waved impatiently at the science fiction and fantasy section of the library. “Belgarath, from David Eddings’ Belgariad. Irene in Piers Anthony’s Xanth books. The water of life from L. Jagi Lamplighter’s Prospero Regained. The magic of those books could grow an acorn into a fully grown oak within hours, and Bi Wei knows enough of libriomancy to make it happen.”
“What about the other books at the archive?” Lena asked. “If she can unlock one, why not others? There are weapons in those books that could wipe out all of Michigan.”
“
Bi wouldn’t do that,” I said. “She wants to restore her friends, but she won’t give those books to a madman.”
“ Bi?” Lena’s brows rose.
“Bi Wei.” I had used the familiar term instinctively. It was hard to think of someone as a stranger after touching their memories and sharing one of the happiest moments of their existence. “She doesn’t want to fight a war.”
Lena’s fist cracked the desk. “Do you think August Harrison cares what she wants?” she shouted.
Shock robbed me of words.
“She’s going to give Harrison an army of dryads. You can’t—” Her voice broke. “You don’t know what they’re capable of. What I’m capable of.”
“I’ve read your book,” I said, trying to reassure her. Where was Nidhi when I needed her? “I’ve seen what
