I turned in a slow circle, checking the room for any unpleasant surprises. Empty metal filing cabinets lined the wall. A few key rings hung from a large pegboard to the left. Books were scattered over the large desk in the corner. I recognized some of the locked books from our archive in that careless pile. Others had fallen onto the floor. One book in particular caught my attention: a thick leather-bound tome that crackled with old magic.
Lena bent over Gutenberg and pinched the skin on the back of his hand. “He’s dehydrated.”
I turned away from the books to study Gutenberg’s form more closely. “I think I can remove the magic Hubert used to keep him down.”
She hesitated. “Isaac… are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
I didn’t have to ask what she meant. When I concentrated, I could see the Grail’s power in every cell of Gutenberg’s body, trying to regenerate the damage Hubert’s drugs and magic had done, keeping him young and healthy and alive. Such power was forbidden to the rest of us, but Gutenberg had made himself the exception.
As an automaton, I could dissolve that spell.
Was Gutenberg so different from Charles Hubert? Like Hubert, Gutenberg had enslaved his enemies, trapping their spirits within the bodies of his automatons and forcing them to serve him throughout the centuries. Who had Katherine Pfeifferin been? A criminal who deserved imprisonment, or a would-be lover who had spurned Gutenberg and paid the price?
Saving Gutenberg’s life meant restoring him to his position of power over the Porters. It meant allowing him to continue to manipulate the minds and magic of those who broke his rules.
Nobody truly knew Johannes Gutenberg. He had watched over the Porters for so long, and his presence had maintained a degree of peace and stability. But how far would he go to protect the organization? What had he done to maintain his seat as de facto lord of all things magical?
I looked down at the frail, pale figure of the world’s most powerful libriomancer and whispered, “I don’t know.”
A new voice from the doorway said, “Whatever you choose, I suggest you choose quickly.”
Lena reacted before me, snatching up Excalibur and pointing it at the ghostly man standing behind us. The office was dimly lit, and the man’s form was unfocused, but both the voice and the magic emanating from his form identified him as well as a fingerprint.
“Aren’t you forbidden from leaving Spain?”
“Which is why I’ve not left. Physically.” Ponce de Leon chuckled and limped past us, passing through Lena’s sword like a ghost. He leafed idly through the books on the desk. His fingers never touched them, but the pages fluttered open in response to his power. “Charles Hubert is dead?”
“He killed himself,” said Lena.
“Did he, now? I wonder…” He clucked his tongue as he studied a copy of Rabid. “Clumsy work on these locks. Like he was trying to reshape the Venus de Milo with a chainsaw.”
He stepped toward Gutenberg. I raised my arm, but he merely chuckled. “I couldn’t hurt him if I wanted to. Not in this form, at any rate.” He reached out to brush spectral fingers through the hair on Gutenberg’s forehead. “Oh, Johannes. You knew this couldn’t last forever.”
“What couldn’t last?” asked Lena.
De Leon ignored the question. “You’re unhappy about the choices Gutenberg has made? You think someone else could do better?”
“You mean someone like you?” Lena asked.
De Leon raised his hands as if warding off an assault. “Chain myself with politics and bureaucracy again? Oh, God, no.” He looked up at me. “Isaac, on the other hand, shows potential. Magic is both art and science, and judging from what he’s done to himself here, he’s got a handle on both. I imagine, with a little work, he could figure out how to control the remaining automatons, and from there it’s a pretty straight road to the top spot.”
“I don’t even know how to free myself from this body,” I protested. “Could you-?”
“Even if I knew all of Gutenberg’s secrets, which I don’t, his geis on me prevents me from interfering in such matters.” He laughed, a tired, bitter sound. “I can’t help you, but neither can I protect him should you choose to end his life.”
“What would you do?”
He shook his head, his eyes going distant. “I’ve held power over people’s lives before. In time, I learned that I should not be trusted with such power. Whatever mistakes Gutenberg has made, I suspect I would have done far worse.”
“I don’t want to run the Porters.”
“Which makes you better qualified than many to do so,” de Leon countered.
He couldn’t be serious. I was a failed field agent, utterly unprepared to run a global network of magic-users. To make sure nonhuman races remained hidden from the public, and to enforce the peace between various races. To supervise my own people. To oversee the locking of potentially dangerous books.
“You’re unlikely to have another chance,” he continued.
“Why are you telling us this?” Lena asked. “Did you come here to persuade us to kill your rival for you?”
De Leon merely chuckled. “What I want is for you to consider the consequences of your choice, whatever choice you make.”
“How can we know that?” Gutenberg had chosen to allow the vampires to establish a nest in Detroit. As a result, a rogue vampire had murdered Charles Hubert’s brother. Gutenberg had locked Hubert’s mind and magic instead of imprisoning him. Years later, an explosion had shattered that lock, creating a murderer. Who could have foreseen any of that?
De Leon merely shrugged and examined another book.
All I had wanted was to be a researcher, to see how far magic could take us. To truly understand magic. “When Charles Hubert died, I saw the characters that had crept into his mind. I saw something else, too.”
“Something that frightened you,” said de Leon, nodding. “Something old and terrible and unstoppable.”
“Yes.”
“What you saw is the reason Gutenberg allows creatures such as vampires and werewolves to exist and multiply.”
“Why is that?” asked Lena.
“Because if that thing ever finds its way to our world, we will need their strength to defeat it.”
I thought of Hubert’s attack on the Detroit nest, and my meeting with Alice Granach. “Why would they help us?”
“Survival.” He stepped past me and looked down at Gutenberg. “Choose quickly, libriomancer. But whatever choice you make, be certain you’re prepared for what comes next.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Johannes is a brilliant, stubborn, prideful man. The Porters did their best to cover up his disappearance, but this night has destroyed their efforts. The world of magic will know what has happened. After all this time, we know that Gutenberg is vulnerable. There are those who would exploit such vulnerabilities.”
“Tell me what I saw in Hubert’s mind.”
He shook his head. “Only Gutenberg knows the truth.”
And if Gutenberg died, that truth went with him. If I wanted answers, I had to restore him.
Ponce de Leon’s mouth quirked, suggesting he knew exactly what I was thinking. Had that been his intent all along, to make sure I saved Gutenberg by reminding me how much knowledge would be lost if he died?
De Leon bent over the body and planted a soft kiss on Gutenberg’s lips. “Te amo, you old fool.”
I stared. Over the years, I had often wondered what would happen if Ponce de Leon and Johannes Gutenberg were to confront one another face-to-face. This had never come up as a possibility.
De Leon cupped Gutenberg’s cheek, then backed away. “Suerte, Isaac Vainio and Lena Greenwood.”
“Good luck to you, too,” I said automatically.
He walked through the desk and the wall beyond, disappearing like a ghost.
I turned my attention to Gutenberg. Whatever sins he had committed, he knew more of magic than anyone alive. If destroying a book was an act of evil, how much more evil was it to destroy a mind? I nodded to Lena.