The Shambling Guide to New York City (38 page)

He scratched his shoulder near his wound and then winced.
“In theory, yeah. Although they’re kind of dealing with more zombie problems right now. Why?”

She ignored him. “And you really think you have Lucy’s power? All of it?” she asked Phil.

He nodded. “I have something, that’s for sure. It’s nearly intoxicating.”

“Down, tiger,” she said. She got on her knees with difficulty and touched Granny Good Mae on the shoulder.

“Mae,” she said. “Are you ready to put her to bed?”

The woman nodded. “Prepare for a water landing.”

“We’re going to try. Will you come with us to help the city have its water landing? It might be scary.”

Mae’s eyes focused, and for a moment she was Zoë’s stern teacher again. “I was a CIA agent for twelve years. I’ve assassinated coterie and humans. You can’t scare me, girl. What do we need to do?”

Zoë looked at Arthur. “Get Fanny on the phone. Tell her we need a train evacuated. Preferably a long one, and preferably close by.”

She put her hand on Phil and drew him away from the crowd. “Now let’s talk about this new power you have.”

Arthur shut the phone slowly. “They’re still fighting. But Fanny was able to clear a train.”

They all stood at the Central Park North Station at 110th Street and looked at Phil. The vampire held his hands out in front of him, palms down.

“So the magic protects the actual construct. That’s how a couple of trucks can support a plane. Right?” Phil asked, staring at his hands.

Benjamin scowled, but there wasn’t a lot of energy in his annoyance. “We don’t call it magic. That’s blasphemous. It’s a mystical power from Adonai that we channel. But yeah, the rest is right.”

Zoë grimaced. “Yeah. Now is when we want to pick nits. Just do it, Phil. I think she’s coming closer.”

They had cut down some side streets to get to the subway stop, having had to dodge some coterie already taking advantage of the chaos to come out in the open. Luckily, some street gangs had also taken the opportunity of the blackout to loot, and the two groups clashed violently, allowing Zoë and her friends to sneak by undetected.

The golem had staggered along Fifth Avenue, damaging buildings and stomping on cars as it did. The police had their hands full and were mainly doing their best just to keep frightened citizens away from the golem’s path.

The vampire stared at the street, under which lay an empty subway train, according to Public Works. Zoë felt a little guilty at ejecting the confused and terrified people into a dark subway station and then onto a street with a rampaging golem, but no one else had come up with anything, not even the newly empowered vampire.

As Phil concentrated, Zoë took Granny Good Mae by the elbow and led her gently to his side. “Tell him how the city is doing as he works. But—” She bit her lip. “Don’t tell him how you know. He’s not aware you—we—can talk to the city.”

“I love the library. All the books,” Granny Good Mae said.

Zoë nodded slowly. “Right. You talk to Phil, and I’ll just hope we can figure out what you’re talking about.”

“Stand back,” Phil said, his face contorted in concentration. His eyes glowed redder and his fangs grew, turning him into a monstrous caricature of himself. Zoë backed up and ran into
Arthur, who grunted in pain as her head made contact with his wounded shoulder.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. He put his hand on her shoulder to steady her and didn’t remove it.

A rumbling came from underneath them, and Phil pointed to a spot in the road. “There.”

The subway train burst forth from the street, spraying chunks of asphalt everywhere. Zoë ducked and Chet swore.

“I told you to stand back,” Phil said, sighing.

The train lay on 110th Street, not moving at all. Phil frowned.

“It’s all I can do. The power is there, but—”

“But you have no skill!” Benjamin said. “Did you think it was just child’s play, just get some power and go?”

“It’s all we had. I didn’t hear you offering any ideas!” Zoë told Benjamin, who had the grace to look ashamed.

“Lost, so lost,” Granny Good Mae said sadly. “Lost and lonely.”

Lonely…

“Right. Encourage it toward the water, Mae. Tell it to turn around,” Zoë said. Something caught the corner of her eye, in the shadows of the moon, and she glanced past Granny Good Mae. She swore.

Six vampires exited the deli behind them, followed by two demons and what looked like a fire sprite. They watched Phil with interest, and eyed the humans with leering grins.

Zoë looked up at Arthur. “I am guessing these guys aren’t the kind who are interested in a balance between coterie and humans.”

“Only in a balanced meal,” Arthur said. He moved his hand from her shoulder and pulled his bag open. He pressed a short sword into her hand.

“Chet?” she asked.

“It’s too dark. I can’t shoot.”

“Then take a sword.”

Armed or unarmed, as they preferred, they surrounded Phil and Granny Good Mae, one who concentrated on getting the golem under control, the other who babbled incoherently.

“How many do we have?” Zoë asked.

“Ten, as far as I can tell,” Arthur said. “One fire sprite. Seven vampires. Three demons.”

“That’s eleven, dumbass,” Chet said.

“How about ‘more than us,’ then?” Arthur snapped.

Zoë tried to remember what Granny Good Mae had told her about fighting more than one opponent. How if she couldn’t run away, her size was a benefit to her as long as she remained quick. Too bad her legs felt as if they were filled with wet sand.

She saw a fire hydrant in front of a store and wondered how she could open it.

The vampires attacked at once, seven of them against Arthur, Chet, Zoë, Morgen, and a nervous Benjamin. Gwen’s sparrows perched in a tree, watching. Two vampires, a male and a female, went for Zoë; she ducked the male and clumsily sliced up with her blade, cutting a wide gash in his chest. The wounded vampire shrieked, and Zoë turned quickly, cutting across the female’s arm. She was hoping to neatly sever her arm, but vampires were tougher than zombies, and the blade caught on her bone.

“Damn,” she muttered, and howled in pain as the first vamp she’d cut grabbed her around the middle, pressing her broken arm to her body and compressing her cracked ribs. She struggled to free the sword from the arm of the flailing vampire. She threw her head backward and knocked the male vampire in the nose with her head, and he dropped her. She allowed the female vampire to wrench the sword from her hand as both vampires surprisingly fled.

“Where are they going? I know I’m not that much of a badass,” Zoë asked. The other coterie, save the fire demon, were fleeing as well. “We can’t be that strong,” she said, panting. She turned around and craned her head up to see Phil’s golem train swaying above her like a snake about to strike.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Phil?” she said in a small voice.

“Concentrating,” he said, his voice rough.

“Right, great, I get that. But can you tell me if you’re controlling this train, or if I should run away like those vampires?”

Arthur caught her hand and pulled her from the shadow of the train, which was turning to meet the trudging city.

“It’s on our side,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. He doesn’t have the finesse most zoëtists do.”

“What do we do about that one?” Zoë pointed to the fire demon, which was standing next to a building and forcing it to catch fire. “Morgen?”

Morgen shook her head. “It would evaporate me. It’s too strong.”

Granny Good Mae began to cry, and they all turned toward her. The light grew brighter as they realized the demon was coming forward in a wave of fire.

“Shit!” yelled Zoë. “Move to the sidewalks!”

They scattered, pulling Phil and the weeping Granny Good Mae behind them. The fire splashed over the street and re-formed itself. It came at them again, a towering wave ten feet high, determined to crash over and burn them all.

“Morgen!” Zoë cried, and a wall of water sprang up in front of them, looking like a waterfall with its gravity reversed. A great hissing noise came up and the demon retreated, much smaller. The remaining water fell, soaking them.

Granny Good Mae wept louder. “I just want to sleep. I’m so tired.”

It was the city speaking through Mae. Zoë could feel it. Zoë studied the woman, who slipped in and out of madness with no warning. She sighed, wincing at her battered body’s protests. “I have one more idea. But it could be risky.”

“Unlike your last safe idea that had us turning a vampire into a zoëtist?” Arthur said.

“Yeah. But it should take care of all our problems. If it works.”

Arthur shrugged. “I’m out of ideas. What’s your plan?”

Zoë felt surprisingly gratified to have him on her side. “Mae, you love the city, right?”

The old woman nodded. “I just want it to stop hurting.”

Zoë smiled. “I think we can do that for you.” The fire sprite had nearly re-formed closer to the burning storefront, casting dancing shadows on the buildings around them. “We need to move. Let’s go.”

“Where?” asked Phil.

Zoë pointed toward the golem.

“Oh. Of course.”

“I wish I’d known that about the bitch zoëtist who wanted to trap my city. I didn’t see her coming,” Mae said as Zoë pulled her toward the golem.

“No one did, Mae, till it was too late,” Zoë said.

The city was in pain. Both Zoë and Mae held their heads when it screamed, hearing it both internally and externally. When Zoë opened her mouth she didn’t know if her own wishes or the city’s would come out. But as she got closer, she thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful, so pure. Instead of the tall, mangled, thrashing golem she saw nothing but the library that made its torso, and the door opened invitingly. She slowed her running to a halt and marveled at its beauty.

It wanted a companion.

Unfortunately, it was at that moment that the fire sprite caught up with them and embraced Granny Good Mae.

The old woman was on fire, the sprite literally devouring her. She burned, her eyes closed, her face enraptured. Arthur ran to her, calling for Chet to help him. He knocked her down and tried to smother her, crying out as the fire sprite turned its focus to him.

“Morgen—” Zoë said, but the sprite hadn’t rejoined them. She thought fast, and started rifling through the weapons in Arthur’s dropped bag.

“She told me to always carry a wrench,” she muttered. “I didn’t think she’d be right.” But apparently Arthur was prepared, and his wrench lay at the bottom of his bag.

She grabbed it and hefted it to a nearby fire hydrant. She wrestled it onto the valve; it slipped off, and she got it on once more. When she got a secure grasp, she pulled the wrench with her one good hand and met with resistance.

“This was not tightened with the intent to come off for a one-armed small woman,” she groaned, straining again. “Ben! Help me!”

The zoëtist, who wasn’t much bigger than she was, staggered over and put his hands by hers. Together they pulled, and the valve finally gave way and the water gushed out the side, not even threatening the burning sprite.

“Give me your coat,” cried Zoë. Ben struggled out of it and handed it over. She held it in the icy flow and ran over to the burning group on the street. She smothered them with the wet overcoat, and the weakened sprite went out for good.

Now. Yes. Now.

In the excitement, the golem had reached them. It stood over them, the metal in the great body groaning.

The demon was gone, and Granny Good Mae stood, her face still in calm rapture. Her bulky clothing had protected most of her skin from the fire sprite, but her hands and face were burned, and most of her hair was gone. She didn’t register any pain, she just looked at the golem as if she saw the face of a god.

The door to the library that made the torso of the golem opened then. Zoë, who stood, sopping wet and shivering, gasped. The golem bent down with a scream of metal on metal and extended a hand created from a city bus. When it reached Granny Good Mae, she stepped aboard with no hesitation.

The golem straightened, and it brought its hand to the steps in its chest. She stepped off lightly, waved down to them, and walked inside.

The door closed.

Complete.
The word was confident and pleased, and Zoë felt an overwhelming sense of wholeness.

The golem turned unerringly and, with a sense of purpose, walked south, back into the park. It was heading to the Reservoir, Zoë was sure of it. They lost sight of it in the darkness, but still heard it stomping. They remained silent until they heard a mighty splash, and then nothing.

Arthur lay unmoving on the street, and Morgen was still missing. Adrenaline left Zoë, and she crumpled onto the wet, cold street, and closed her eyes.

Let someone save
us
for once.

The human cities are most welcoming to human-sized coterie, whether you’re demon- or human-originated. It’s harder to find lodging for visiting dragons and other leviathan-class coterie. In Manhattan, the place to stay is the Museum of Modern Art.

MoMA was chosen for a number of reasons, the least of which being that one of the three mothers of the museum, Mary Quinn Sullivan, was a dragon who commanded great respect among coterie and humans, and she wanted to have a space where relatives could visit.

In addition, one gallery can always be closed on a variety of pretexts, making it easy to hide visiting coterie. And of course, dragons commonly loving lavish and artistic things, MoMA is a favorite vacation stop.

The museum is open on Tuesdays to coterie.