The Shambling Guide to New York City (39 page)

A
month later, after a couple days in the hospital and many late hours at Underground Publishing, Zoë sat at Bakery Under Starlight and flipped through an advance reader’s copy of
The Shambling Guide to New York City
. Her still-healing arm was in a sling, but all her stitches had come out and her limp from the gouge in her hip was barely noticeable.

The book looked really good. It came in at 230 pages, full color, and her writers had done an amazingly fast job. The Web team of air sprites Zoë had finally hired was creating the supplemental material for the website, and she was finally earning her pay doing actual book editing.

The really amazing thing about the events of the previous weeks was that the citizens of New York City blamed it all on an earthquake.

It had made sense, of course. Many crevasses had split the streets and park, chaos had reigned. You could call it an earthquake if you tried. And humans tried very hard.

Zoë smiled when Arthur came in. He had spent his own time in the hospital dealing with his cuts and burns, and then taken time off to heal and “reconsider his view on life.” They’d agreed to hold off seeing each other until the New Year, to distance themselves from the incidents in early December.

Arthur joined her, bringing her a coffee and a croissant, then
went back for his own identical order. “I think the baker was flirting with me,” he said as he sat down.

“Well, of course he was. He’s an incubus,” she said. She took a sip of her coffee before venturing, “Are you doing all right?”

Arthur shrugged. “Healing is going fine. Dealing with my position as an ‘almost zombie’ isn’t going so smooth, but Benjamin let me put his cell on speed dial, and he’s helping me cope.”

Zoë nodded. “Did you tell Fanny yet?”

He looked out the window. “No. As long as it’s under control, she doesn’t need to know.”

She blinked. “She should probably know, Arthur.”

He was silent for a moment, and then shrugged. “Yeah. Probably.”

To cover the awkward silence, Zoë poured too much cream into her coffee and swore as it slopped over the edge. Arthur handed her a napkin.

“You know,” she said, “I’m still baffled that the humans just explain away a walking library.”

Arthur took a sip of his black coffee. “They can’t comprehend the existence of coterie,” he said.

“Do you ever wonder if there will be a great coming out?”

Arthur frowned. “We’re terrified of that occurrence every day. The violence on both sides will be monumental.”

Zoë considered this in silence, then shook her head, still holding on to the night in December. “I can’t believe no one got any good pictures.”

He shrugged. “There was a total blackout. Any pictures are very Bigfoot-like. You can’t make out any details.”

They sipped their coffee in companionable silence. Arthur’s hair hadn’t grown back since being burned, but Zoë preferred him bald. The shiny burn scars were still there, and likely would be forever, but he had his life.

“Any word from the water sprite?” he asked carefully.

Zoë shook her head. “But I’ll tell you the weird thing. Guess who took a sabbatical to hunt for her?”

“I can’t even guess.”

“John. The incubus. I think he’s trying to prove something. Who knows? Phil thinks she’s… you know. Gone. But John doesn’t.”

“Huh.”

“Do you think she’s dead?” Zoë asked, nearly afraid of the answer.

“Sprites are elemental. They’re very hard to kill, but you can hurt them badly by, well, removing their elements, like evaporating much of her body. I think she’ll be back. Someday.”

“Thanks,” Zoë said, sipping her coffee. “I think the city’s been calmer lately. I think the fact that the city is as at home as it can be, with Granny Good Mae, also helps people forget.”

“You’re connected to the city, right? What happened there?”

Zoë tried to make sense of the sensations she had gotten in the past weeks. “The city was fine connected to Mae when it was where it was supposed to be. Wherever that was, if it was a place. But when it was given a corporeal body, it went a little mad. Mae had to go sane to complement it, I guess. She and the city, together, gave it peace.”

“Why the Reservoir?”

Zoë shrugged. “It was the only place that was big enough to hold the city. It couldn’t have gone anywhere else safely, since it was trapped in the body. Where are you going to hide a golem that big?”

“So Mae is alive?”

“Definitely,” she said. “She’s happy now, and more lucid than ever. You’ll have to take my word on that, though. I don’t think she’s coming out, and I’m not sure she’s human anymore. I think she’s part of the city.”

They sat in silence for some time, neither talking about what was on their minds. Arthur cleared his throat.

“Now that your book is done, we could use you at Public Works, you know. Fanny asked me to ask you again. We have never had a citytalker on staff. I don’t even think most people know what one is.”

She frowned. “I don’t feel like one. I don’t have half the connection that Mae did. I have small blasts of knowledge. Danger nearby. How the city is doing, how Mae is doing. We don’t have conversations. Besides, I like my job.”

“Does Phil know your connection to Mae? Or the city?”

“Not too much, no. I don’t want him to know everything about me. But I still enjoy working with the coterie. My life hasn’t been this interesting in, well, ever.”

“Public Works isn’t uninteresting. You could do some good work.”

She blushed slightly. “Isn’t it dangerous to work with someone you’re dating?”

“Well,” Arthur said, smiling. “I’ve not asked you out yet.”

“I know,” Zoë said. “I’m asking you out. I got tired of waiting.”

He took her good hand. “When I thought you were dead in the tunnels, it hurt worse than I ever expected it to. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t. I’m right here.”

“What about that guy John who’s obviously so interested in you that he’s playing the gallant hero? Why would you agree to go out with plain old me?”

She squeezed his hand. “The last two men I was with were an idiot playboy and an incubus. Both of them such bad news that I can’t even begin to explain. You’re the first pure thing to happen to me in a while.”

“Pure. I kind of like that.”

She grinned. “You should. Now, will you go on a date with someone you know works for the other side?”

He answered by kissing her, and it was not as illicit as with Godfrey or as lust-fueled as with John, and had a soft insistence all its own. She could get to like this. Especially once they were both fully healed.

“You make life interesting, Zoë,” he said, and kissed her one last time, lightly.

“We’ll have to go on our date soon. I’ll be traveling for work shortly,” she said.

“Another book?”

She nodded. “I’m taking five writers with me and researching the new book.
The Shambling Guide to New Orleans
.”

“N’awlins,” Arthur repeated. “That’s like a coterie capital. It’s thick with them.”

Zoë sipped her coffee. “Uh-huh. I’m also looking for more citytalkers. I leave in a week.”

Arthur checked his watch. “I think that leaves us six evenings to make life more interesting.”

She grinned. “Sounds lovely. And you can always visit me down South. I hear Phil got me a penthouse suite.”

Before you do anything, even check in with your hotel, your first matter of visitation is to check in with your local coterie leader. If you planned ahead (using this fantastic book to guide you) then you should already be set, with your registration done ahead of time. As of this printing, the Coterie Council doesn’t have a website yet, but it’s working on that. For now, you can get all updated information on whom you should contact at their Fangbook page.

After you’ve registered, the city is yours!

The idea for a shambling guide was birthed in 2005 when David Wendt organized role-playing game writers to donate stories, art, and game components for
Beyond the Storm: Shadows of the Big Easy
, a book to support the Red Cross after Hurricane Katrina. Artist Angi Shearstone and I contributed art and a story called “The Shambling Guide to New Orleans.” From there, my head wouldn’t shut up with wondering what other shambling guides were out there.

Monster advice came from Richard E. Dansky. Medical advice came from Dr. John Cmar. Thanks to early readers Tom Rockwell and Jason Adams.

I want to thank the fine folks at Orbit, especially my editor Devi Pillai, who believed in the book and helped shape it into something better than I could have made alone. I can’t forget DongWon Song, who initially brought the book to Devi’s attention. Agents Nicole Tourtelotte and Heather Schroder provided constant support to this scattered author. I also want to thank my friends and mentors James Patrick Kelly and David Anthony Durham for everything from specific writing suggestions to fretful-author soothing.

It would be tragic if I did not take a moment to thank one of the biggest author influences of my life, the late Douglas Adams. I never got a chance to meet him, but his work still astonishes me to this day. I think of him whenever I stand and doubt.

Back in 2008, I read a portion of an early draft of this book to a tiny, packed room at Balticon. In the past four years, some of those who attended that reading have asked me repeatedly when they would be able to read the whole thing.

The answer: Now.

July 2012

JR Blackwell

M
UR
L
AFFERTY
is a writer, podcast producer, gamer, geek, and martial artist. Her books include
Playing For Keeps, Nanovor: Hacked!, Marco and the Red Granny
, and
The Afterlife Series
. Her podcasts are many. Currently she’s the editor of
Escape Pod
magazine, the host of
I Should Be Writing
, and the host of the
Angry Robot Books
podcast.