Connor stood up and headed toward the door without another word, full of purpose. I had never seen this type of silent anger building up inside him. He was going condition critical. As I stood to follow, he called out.

“Don’t forget your bat.”

22

Connor was silent the entire cab ride up to Tome, Sweet Tome, and I sensed the tension in him building. Hell, I felt it myself.

All because of Cyrus Mandalay.

Despite the tattoo down the entire left side of his face, his dreads, his sharklike teeth, and imposing figure, Cyrus had always portrayed himself as a good guy-an advocate of reading and responsible arcane usage-and we had believed him. He wassupposed to be on our side. If Cyrus was somehow tied to Irene’s death or had dealings with the Sectarians without telling us…

It sat like a bad taste in my mouth.

We stopped in front of the bookshop, and I spied Cyrus through the front window. I was surprised to see that rather than wandering casually into the store and then cornering Cyrus, Connor leapt from the cab and sprinted toward the door. Clearly Connor didn’t like playing the fool, and Cyrus’s deception had gotten to him more than I thought. He had thrown caution to the wind. If I was suddenly the rational one, we were probably in trouble.

I saw Cyrus’s eyes widen through the main window at the sight of a charging Connor, and he took off toward the back of the store. I quickly paid the driver, but by the time I was done, Connor had already flung the doors to Tome, Sweet Tome open and stomped in. I raced in after him, pulling my bat free from my belt as I ran.

A crowd of kids stood in the teen-friendly section across from the registers, but they were pointing toward the back of the store down an aisle where a stack of books had recently been knocked over. Unheard of at Tome, Sweet Tome.

Connor dodged some of the still falling books and sped down the same aisle at a full run. He hadn’t even hesitated for a moment to look back and see what I was doing. That was either a sign that his trust in me was growing or that he was too angry to care. Probably a little of both.

“Cyrus!” he shouted as he ran through the Stacks. “Don’t make me chase you! I really don’t need this exercise, and when I catch you, I’m only going to be more pissed off!”

I paused by the confused-looking teens and smiled. “Stay here. Don’t come any farther into the store.” Another thunderous cascade of books rang out and several of the kids jumped. One of them looked like he was about to throw up. “On second thought, it might be safer if you just cleared out all together. Catch a movie or something. Go start a gang.”

Slinging my bat over one shoulder, I started down the aisle, slowing occasionally to make my way past several of the literary avalanches. My progress slowed even further as I stopped to check out two stunned customers I came across that had been knocked over in the chase. The first was a dazed older woman who had been shoved face first into the Horticultural Necromancy section, but was otherwise all right. The second was a man clasping his wrist. I stopped for a quick glance at his injury, but possessing no medical knowledge whatsoever, I could only pat him compassionately on the shoulder and point him toward the front of the store.

“Good luck with that,” I offered, and sped off.

“Simon!” Connor yelled out from somewhere nearby. “A little help here!”

As I rounded the corner of the next bookcase, I could see why. Cyrus stood just inside the gate of the Black Stacks with Connor’s headwedged between the gateway and the iron bars of the gate itself.

Cyrus slammed the gate hard against Connor’s throat and his face turned purple. Cyrus Mandalay would kill him in a matter of seconds if I didn’t intervene, and fast.

I closed the distance with five bounding steps and swung the bat, aiming for Cyrus on the other side of the gate. I got lucky on the downswing and the bat passed effortlessly between the bars, catching Cyrus on his right shoulder. He stumbled back, and Connor pulled himself free of the bars.

With Connor’s head no longer in the way, all three of us grabbed for the open gate, but Cyrus was quickest and snatched it closed. The clang echoed back into the Black Stacks.

“It’s not what you think, gents,” he said.

There was panic in his eyes, and it felt good to see it. I flicked the bat at his exposed knuckles where he held the gate closed and he flinched.

“I bet it’s exactly what we think,” I shouted.

I flicked the bat again, and this time it cracked fully against Cyrus’s right hand, causing him to let his grip on the gate go entirely. He grabbed another section of it, but he looked scared.

Connor tried to pry the gate away from him, but to no avail. I slammed my bat against the iron bars, rattling them.

“Relax, kid,” Connor said, grabbing my shoulder to stop my next swing. “We just chain this shut and wait until the D.E.A. shows up. I’m sure Cyrus here will be thrilled to have the Enchancellors upgrade him to a Class 3 Paranormal Fugitive!”

Cyrus laughed as he slowly backed away. “Do you really think I built the Stacks with onlyone means of exit?”

“Crap on toast!” Connor said as he reached through the gate toward Cyrus. He got a handful of Cyrus’s shirt for his effort. Cyrus struggled, but Connor impressively held him fast. “Don’t just stand there, kid. Get him!”

It was near impossible to open the gate as they struggled through the bars of it. They twisted and pulled at each other through the bars, each of them jockeying for an advantage. With neither man willing to relent, it was the cloth of Cyrus’s shirt that ended up giving way first. There was a tearing sound and both men stumbled back from the gate, finally giving me an opportunity. I threw open the gate, nearly smacking Connor on the head in the process.

As I closed in on him, Cyrus stumbled farther back into the Stacks. He grinned, showing off his vicious-looking rows of teeth.

“Black Stacks…attack!” he shouted and turned, running down the next aisle, his dreads bouncing side to side.

Before I had a chance to take another step, the bookshelves erupted. They shook as books flew recklessly through the air across the aisles. I couldn’t even inch forward, could only watch as Cyrus disappeared down the aisle. Connor finally entered the section and stopped next to me. We looked at the tornado of malevolent literature before us.

“We’ve got to keep after him,” Connor said, rubbing his throat where the gate had pressed against it. It already resembled the world’s largest hickey.

“How?” I shouted over the growing flutter of pages and heavily thumping tomes. “We’ll never make it through all this.”

“We have to try,” he said, and then grinned. “Besides, I got you a present.”

Connor held up the torn edge of Cyrus’s shirt and dangled it in front of my face.

“Let’s see what you can do,” he said. “Fetch, kid.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I can divine anything off this.”

Connor shoved the piece into my hand, then closed his own around mine.

I didn’t get a chance to argue further. Before I could say that it was probably a useless exercise, Connor pulled his jacket protectively over his head, and dashed off down the aisle into the storm of books. Not one to leave my partner to face danger alone, I wrapped my hands tightly around the bat with the piece of cloth firmly in hand and batted my way after him.

Between the piles of scattered twitching books on the floor and the occasional ones targeting me as they leapt from the shelves, it was slow going. Several volumes gnawed at my ankles, biting like a pack of rabid Chihuahuas, but with only paper teeth, they were more a nuisance than any real threat.

I caught up to Connor, my arms already sore from swinging. He was standing at an intersection looking confused. He looked at me.