Spirits in the Wires (39 page)

That big eyelid lifts,
the hidden gaze finds me, and it's an impossible moment. It's like a tree pulling up its roots to go walkabout. Like a mouth opening in a cliff face and speaking. Like a tidal wave rushing down the central concourse of a shopping mall on the commercial strip of some desert city. It already seems impossible enough that there could be the semblance of a man so immense—a giant statue, a land form in the shape of a sleeping man—but to know that he's alive, that his attention can focus on you …

Saskia gasps inside my head. My own pulse jumps into overtime, but it's not for the same reason that Saskia's so shocked. I'm as amazed as she is that the giant man is alive and aware of us, but when that eye opens and his gaze meets mine, I also recognize him. Not who he is, but what he is.

The realization is almost overwhelming. My legs feel weak, knees like jelly. His gaze pulls me in, and I'm about to go falling into the strange and immense mind that lies behind the eye, when the lid slowly droops, closes once more.

I take a steadying breath. I still feel like I need to lean against something.

Saskia asks.

This is all wrong,
I tell her.

That isn't the Wordwood spirit.

I turn to the librarian. “That's a pretty old spirit,” I say.

He nods. “And very powerful.”

No kidding.

“Is this how he always manifests?” I ask.

“Oh, no,” Librarius says. “As I told you before, until the virus struck, he was an invisible presence. He was
everywhere.”

“And when the virus
did
strike?”

“First that body of water appeared, swallowing a few acres of the library. And then he came stumbling out of the water, dropping to the ground before he could get all the way up onto the shore. The impact when he struck was like a small earthquake. I was certain that the nearest bookcases were going to come tumbling down.”

I turn to look at the collapsed giant once more.

Saskia asks.

It's a leviathan,
I tell her.

I wish I had someone from the borderlands here to help me work this out. Mumbo or Maxie Rose. Or better yet, one of those scholars who would come to the parties at Hinterdale, clustered in gossiping coveys along the walls of the great ballroom in their black robes, arguing over obscure references that no one else would think of, and if they did, they wouldn't care. But that's exactly the kind of attention to detail I need right about now because I am so way out of my depth here.

Saskia says.

No, no. The original leviathan are so much older, so much more incomprehensible than the word's come to mean.

Think of how the world came into being.

The true version. How it was when Raven made the world.

I stifle a sigh and wonder what Librarius is thinking as I have this conversation inside my head. Because I know now that he's not the innocent administrator he's made himself out to be. But I don't want to turn to look at him. I want him to think I'm still mesmerized by the leviathan while I talk to Saskia.

Saskia is saying.

The leviathan gave Raven the means to make the world
—
pieces of
…
I'm not sure exactly what. Themselves, I guess. Or the places where they come from. Some kind of energy that can be shaped into anything.

I
suppose. But the leviathan don't come from Heaven or Nirvana. They exist in some other place again. They're pure spirit and they shouldn't be here.

is
in the spiritworld.>

Yes, we call it that. And it is the place where people go when they dream, where spirits exist, but it's still a corporeal place. The home of the leviathan is somewhere deeper still, beyond physical matter.

Something like that. More like something that lies sideways or above or below any world in which the physical can manifest.

As I'm talking, some of the conversations I've had with the Hinterdale scholars are coming back to me. It's funny what you don't realize you remember until the information comes slipping up on you in a situation such as this.

The point,
I tell her,
is that one of them shouldn't be here.

I think of what Delian St. Cloud once told me when he and his brother Elwin were trying to explain the leviathan to me.

“If you should ever meet one,” Delian said, in that distinct voice of his, half the scholar, half the amused gadabout, “and believe me, that's a thousand times less likely than Elwin acquiring a sudden penchant for women— you'll know. You'll just know.”

I remember thinking it was a cop-out at the time—that neither of them really knew—but I understand now. There aren't words to describe what I met in this giant's eyes. But before I can relate any of this to Saskia, I hear the whisper of movement behind me.

Turning, I see Librarius stepping up to us. Behind him Saskia's body now lies on the floor beside one of those towering bookcases. Across the aisle from her is Jackson's chair, also settled on the ground. Poor Jackson looks a mental mess, staring at the leviathan more goggle-eyed than ever. I feel bad that he's got to go through all of this, tied up, on his own the way he is, but I can't spare the time to babysit him at the moment. Not with the suspicion I see taking shape in Librarius's eyes.

He tries to hide it, but I'm good at seeing through that sort of thing. Almost as good as I am at schooling my own features. I have such a good poker face that I can hardly ever get anyone together for a decent card game anymore.

“I learned something when the virus struck,” he says. “A trick if you will.”

I shake my head. “I'm not really interested. I'd rather know how you brought this spirit here.”

“I told you, he has always been here. It was only when the virus struck that he manifested into what he is now.”

“I don't buy it.”

He shrugs. “It doesn't really matter what you believe. The truth is I've decided that you're not nearly as useful as I thought you might be. At least, not in your present condition.”

I guess the sudden appearance of a blue-gold aura should have been the tip-off, but it takes me a moment to realize that he's starting up some spell. He begins to do something with his hands—the fingers twisting as he moves them through the air like some bad stage magician trying to distract you from what's really going on. I start for him, ready to do some damage. I've gone all the way from being totally in awe of him to wanting to give him a good smack in the head. But I should have moved more quickly. He speaks a word in no language that I know and it's like a lightning bolt strikes the top of my head.

I stand there vibrating, unable to move, every hair on my body standing on end, my eyes rolling back in my head. I feel like there's a hand inside my chest, rummaging around, trying to grab my spirit and pull it out of my body.

And then I get it—what he meant about this trick he learned from the virus. He's figured out how to remove the spirit without killing the body. I guess he watched how the virus short-circuited Saskia and drew only her body into this place.

But I can't imagine what use he has for
my
body … unless …

Unless he needs one to get out of here. If he's bound to this place, if he wants out…

And he does. I'm sure of it.

Saskia's body wouldn't work for him—originating as she did in the Wordwood—though I don't doubt he tried to use hers first. Maybe that's what that whole business with the glass coffin was all about. He must have been the prince that would give her the wake-up kiss, except she'd wake up with him inside her. The only reason he hadn't gotten to her before was because of the virus. He had to deal with the virus first. And then, I guess, he found out that he couldn't use her body.

But I'm different. I was born outside of the Wordwood and I didn't change like everybody else did when I got pulled into the site. He's probably thinking that I could be his ticket out.

There's only one problem, but he doesn't know it yet. There are two of us inside this body of mine.

Saskia says, and I realize that she's figured all of this out at the same time as I have.

But…

she says. your
body—so you stay.>

So while I continue to struggle with the spell that's trying to rip me apart, she embraces it. There's this moment of confusion inside my head, then the pressure eases on me. The spell grabs hold of her, retreating from my body, pulling her out with it.

Everything snaps back into focus, but I pretend the spell worked and slump gracelessly to the ground, trying to land so that I don't get too hard a whack on my head. I shouldn't have worried. Librarius actually has the decency to catch me before my head hits the ground. Guess he doesn't want the goods damaged—not if he has to wear them.

He lowers me to the floor where I lie trying to figure out the best way to catch him off guard. I need a diversion and try to will Jackson to do something—anything—to attract his attention. But when the diversion comes, it's from a completely unexpected source, though maybe I should have figured this would happen when Saskia was pulled free. My eyes are slits. Through my lashes I see Librarius turn when he hears Saskia stir. I'm thinking it'll freak him, but it turns out he was expecting it.

“You see,” he says to her. “I'm not entirely cruel. If I was, I wouldn't have provided your spirit with another place it can call home.”

I don't know what Saskia's doing. Is she sitting up, everything back to normal? Or is she disoriented, trying to get her bearings?

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that she's providing the diversion I need.

I open my eyes wide, then rise soundlessly to my feet once I see that the librarian's back is to me. I guess this is where my boldness comes in handy. I don't even stop to think, I move in close to him and kick him from behind, the toe of my boot going between his legs right into where it hurts.

And what do you know? He's not a eunuch.

He doubles over and actually screams from the pain—not that I blame him. I kicked him hard, and I mean
hard.
But I'll give him this. He's not out for the count yet. Even hurting the way he is, that blue-gold aura of his starts to intensify. His fingers are still twitching. He's trying to spit out a word.

Can't let that happen.

I take down a nice heavy volume from the nearest shelf—an all-in-one volume of
The Golden Bough,
I note—and bash it against his head. It takes me three hits before he finally drops and lies still. My gaze lifts from him to where Saskia's sitting up, leaning for support against a bookshelf.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

There's no response except for a twitch of her lips. Her gaze tracks my voice, finds my face.

“You're in there, right?” I ask. “And everything's in working order?”

“G-give … me … a … minute …”

Her voice is raspy from disuse. I can tell that her vision's still swimming.

“Take all the time you need,” I say.

I cross over to Jackson's chair and start to work on the buckles of the straps holding him in place.

“How about you?” I ask as I work the straps free. “Think you can stand?”

“Don't…know…”

He looks in bad shape, too, but I think he's coming back around, the shock starting to wear off. I get the last of the straps undone and he sits there, massaging where they'd rubbed against his skin.

“Is he … is he dead?” he asks.

I don't have to ask who.

“I don't know,” I say.

I discover that the straps can be worked loose from the chair and I fuss with them until I've got all four free. I take them over to where Librarius is lying and set to work. I bind his wrists behind his back, then use another strap to bind his arms tight against his chest. The third goes around his legs. Tearing a piece of cloth from his shirt sleeve, I ball it up and stick it in his mouth, using the last strap to hold it in place.