Killing Rites

“Will she be all right by herself?” Chogyi Jake asked.

I followed his gaze. The condo was dark, already in shadow despite the blue still showing in the sky and the glorious gold and pink cloud lace of the coming sunset. It was like a Magritte painting made real. One of the upper windows began to flicker the television’s blue.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably.”

“I can stay,” he said. “Take care of her.”

“For how long?” I asked. “Her home won’t be safe unless we win this. So unless you’re thinking you’d like to flee the country and raise her yourself, you’re better off coming with us and making sure we win. There are kids her age and younger all across the world who are dealing with worse than having a place to themselves for a night.”

“It just feels wrong,” he said.

“Really does,” I agreed, then slid the SUV into drive and headed down from the mountain.

NIGHT FELL as I drove. The twisting little road down from the ski valley was thick with skiers heading down from their day on the slopes. The music on the radio was all “Winter Wonderland” and “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” every jolly note and unseen smile like a parody meant to make the evening feel more threatening. Once, neaision̵e last cliff on the road, a fallen boulder squatted in the middle of the lane, and I had to swerve around it. The snow and ice made everything slow and dangerous.

In the backseat, Alexander’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. His hand was pressed to the wound in his chest. I shifted the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Ex. He was brooding at the darkness. He’d tightened his ponytail, until the skin at his temples looked stretched back. It reminded me of war paint and smiley-face stickers on combat helmets. The ritual preparation for violence.

This was everything for Ex. His past with Father Chapin and his failure with Isabel and his redemptive drive to care for me. By slipping into Tomás, the Akaname had managed to threaten all of it at once. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have everything in your life come to a single point like that. An event where it could all be won or all be lost. For a moment, I was in Chicago again, in the basement, driving nails into the coffin while an innocent man screamed inside it. The sick dread and fear flowed into me with the memory, and also Ex’s voice reciting in Latin. Performing the last rites over the man I was killing in part to save the man’s soul, and in part to be there with me during the worst of it. Making sure I didn’t go through it alone.

“It’ll be all right,” I said to myself, and then in an almost perfect imitation of me, my rider took my throat and spoke. No one listening would have noticed the transition.

“One way or another.”

I didn’t know what she meant, but a chill climbed up my spine that didn’t have anything to do with the teeth of winter all around us. I looked back to the road, reached up to shift the mirror away from Ex and closer to where it was supposed to be, and headed for San Esteban for the last time.

Chapter 23

By the time we got there, the town was a study in black and white. The last traces of sunset faded as I watched, leaving black sky with a billion stars and a sliver of moon haunting the horizon. Snow caught every ray of light from moon or star, glowing blue. The black-barked trees were like cuts in the world with the darkness behind everything showing through. The few bits of light and color—the yellow of a lit window, the single red eye of a truck’s unbroken taillight—only served to make everything else seem bleaker. Ansel Adams meets H. P. Lovecraft.

I parked almost exactly where we’d been the first time. When I killed the engine, the only sounds were the whisper of the breeze blowing snow against the SUV, the ticking of the engine cooling, and the commentary of the crows. I pushed the door open and stepped down into the road. The building looked dead, the blue double doors made darker.

“Okay,” I said. “Alexander? How’re you doing there? You all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said. I didn’t know what I’d have done differently if he’d said he wasn’t.

“Ex?”

“Ready,” he said.

I was stalling. An electric knot of anxiety was spinning in my rib cage, and my shoulders and neck felt tight enough to snap. Illed myself to stay calm, but my body wasn’t having any of it. I felt vaguely nauseated and edge-of-my-seat excited and a little hungry. And I needed to pee.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” I asked, and started up the snow-slicked walk before anyone could answer. The three men’s footsteps behind me were reassuring and unsettling at the same time. I had to walk carefully to keep from slipping. When I got to the doors, it felt like I’d come from a long, long way away. Maybe I had. I knocked bare knuckles against the wood three times. It was hardly a breath before the door swung open and light spilled out around us. Father Chapin stood in the doorway. He’d changed into an outfit with the familiar black-and-white clerical collar. His close-cropped hair was combed back. His eyes were merciless as glass.

We stood there for a moment, the priest bathed in light, and me and my cadre on the edge of darkness.

“I am surprised that you’ve come back,” Chapin said.

“Unfinished business,” I said. “You mind if we come in? Little chilly out here.”

He hesitated, then stepped back, letting us pass within.

The others were in the ceremonial room where the exorcisms had taken place. I could almost see myself there in the soiled white shift, covered in sweat and my own vomit. Everyone there had seen me like that, battered, vulnerable, exposed. Everyone except Chogyi Jake, and he was the one I would have minded least if he had. Carsey and Tamblen were sitting at the table where Dolores and her family had met with the priests after the wind demon’s defeat. Miguel and Tomás stood at the double doors that led out to the courtyard, their arms behind them. Everyone was in black tonight. The air itself felt charged, like there had been ceremonies and incantations prepared for us. Probably they had been.

Behind me, Ex, Chogyi Jake, and Alexander stopped. The division was unmistakable, and Chapin had engineered it as cleverly as a stage set. His guys with him, mine with me. Chapin turned, leaning against the table.

“Alexander,” Chapin said. “I’m pleased to see you. We were worried.”

“I’m much better,” Alexander said. “Not that there’s no room for improvement.”

His attempt at lightening the mood lay on the floor. Chapin’s smile was sharp and cold.

“Come, my boy. Let me look at you.”

Like a pawn pushed down the chessboard, Alexander stepped from my side of the room to Chapin’s. This was all being done to belittle me, to show that Chapin and his cabal had the power, and I didn’t. I felt my jaw slide forward a few millimeters. Chapin clapped his hands on Alexander’s shoulders.

“I’m glad to see you,” Chapin said. “We were concerned.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Alexander said. “When she came to me, I thought it would be better to go with her.”

“Brave, but foolish,” Chapin said. “But it does not matter now. All is well that ends well, yes?”

“Didn’t know we were ended,I said. My voice was stronger than I’d meant it to be, but the anxiety in my gut was shifting rapidly toward pissed. Tamblen and Carsey exchanged a look.

“Yes,” Chapin said, turning his attention to me again. “Xavier has told me of this astonishing news. A hidden devil in the heart of the Church. It is not the first time such a subterfuge has been used to divert our attention from the true matter at hand. What you suggest is, of course, impossible.”

“Father Chapin,” Alexander said. “It’s not. I was there. The two sisters were both possessed, and the spirits in them came to attack Jayné.”

“Perhaps,” Chapin said, “and perhaps not. Ask yourself: Is it more likely that we have had a devil in our midst for all this time and with no sign, or that the devil’s work is subtle and his agents legion? Alexander, I will agree that these poor girls have suffered again at Satan’s hands. But can you tell me what evidence you have that the new assault on them came from us?”

“The girl said so,” Alexander said. Chapin’s gaze was fixed on me, and Alexander looked at the other, his hands out as if in appeal. “Dolores said that it happened during the exorcism.”

“And yet when she left here, she was not possessed,” Chapin said.

“No,” Alexander said, “but that was because Jayné … I mean the rider inside of Jayné—”

Chapin raised his hand.

“Xavier,” he said. “Will you come to me, please.”

Don’t, I thought, but Ex was already walking briskly across the room. Behind me, Chogyi Jake stepped closer, closing ranks with me. Ex stood in front of Chapin like a schoolboy in front of the principal.

“You brought this woman among us,” Chapin said. “You asked our aid. When she escaped, you were as dedicated as any of us to her recovery. What is your opinion of this accusation?”

Ex was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was shaking with an emotion I couldn’t identify. Anger or fear or sorrow.

“We know the cost of making assumptions,” he said. “Jayné came here in good faith the first time, and now she’s come back. She took Alexander, and I don’t see any evidence that he was hurt or corrupted. I think we have to take her accusations seriously.”

“Do you?” Chapin said. “You think it plausible that I am the victim of the devil’s cunning. You have brought a woman to me who is now using the aid we have offered her to tear apart the trust and camaraderie that we rely upon. Are you certain that you are not the one who is wrong? Ah?”

“I’m not certain,” Ex said “It’s possible the Black Sun put the whole thing together from the start to undermine you and this group. I don’t think that’s what happened, but no, I can’t be sure.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">