Unclean Spirits Part 13

The warehouse door opened with a scream of old hinges. I looked up. At this distance, the man who came out could have been anyone. I had expected him to walk unnaturally, pulled out to us like an unwilling marionette, but his steps were perfectly regular. Through the scope, I could see the dark slacks and simple white shirt below the inscribed face I had glimpsed when Ex brought me here before. Randolph Coin, or whatever had taken up residence under the dead man's skin. I placed the rifle against my shoulder the way Ex had shown me and kept my eye on Coin as he crossed the wide parking lot, reached the chain-link fence, twirled the combination lock, and opened the small gate. Something shimmered as the gate opened. For a moment, I saw inhuman faces in the air.

Coin stepped out to the street. My heart was tripping over, wild as the riders that whirled in the still air. Coin's face, caught in my crosshairs, filled me with a sense of dread and terrible, inhuman power. I heard the sound of gigantic wings again, and I didn't know if it was my imagination or something more. My breath was fast and shallow.

This was it. This was the moment Eric had envisioned. This was why he'd been killed. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and lay my finger on the trigger. I centered the crosshairs on Coin's chest. Chogyi Jake's song faded to silence.

Coin's lips were moving. I thought he said the words Midian and h.e.l.ler. I waited for the signal, but Midian's arms remained down, Chogyi Jake still standing. Coin paused, as if listening to some reply. The tattooed mouth twisted in derision. I saw Midian's arms rise. I pulled the trigger.

Except I didn't.

Two sharp cracks came from off to my right as Ex and Aubrey fired. I saw the blue-eyed woman at the apartment, Midian firing a round into the back of her head. My finger tensed, but I couldn't pull it back. He's not human, I told myself. He killed the only person who ever tried to take care of you. He's evil. I heard myself grunt with effort. The rifle in my hands didn't fire.

In the crosshairs, Randolph Coin looked up. I raised my head, taking in the scene without magnification. Chogyi Jake had stepped back toward the car, the blue robe fluttering in a wind I couldn't feel. Midian was struggling to his feet.

Coin turned his head, looking down the street, then gestured with one hand like he was shooing away a fly. Two gray streaks left him, trails of smoke spiraling back along the paths of the bullets toward Ex and Aubrey. I must have shouted, because he looked toward me. When I put my eye to the scope again, his face was turned toward the little building that I was half hidden behind, his eyes shifting rapidly as he tried to find me. I centered the crosshairs on his forehead, but he lifted his palms. Eyes stared out from them-not tattoos but real, human eyes. I froze. He opened his mouth wider than I would have thought possible and shouted a single syllable.

I saw the wavefront come out from him in an expanding sphere of golden light. The concussion wasn't physical, but it pushed me back all the same. I couldn't breathe. The things pressing against me became visible for a moment, insectile and wild and nightmarish. I pulled the rifle back up, standing with it braced against my shoulder, but Coin had already stepped back through the gate. The fence was closed, and he was walking calmly back across the parking lot to the warehouse and his army. I fired now, three fast shots that did nothing but bruise my shoulder. Coin didn't even look back. I dropped the rifle and ran.

Midian lay on his back on the sidewalk, his chest heaving as he sucked in breath. Chogyi Jake was in the street, his back against the front tires of Ex's car and his eyes closed. I heard my own voice in a stream of words equal parts prayer and obscenity. I found myself kneeling in front of Chogyi Jake, his hand in mine. His skin felt cold, but his eyes opened and he smiled.

"Fine," he said. "I'm fine."

"What happened? What did he do?"

"Won," Chogyi said.

Midian was on his belly, crawling toward the car. His legs were dead weight, and a slick of something too black to be blood stretched back to where he'd first fallen. I lifted and carried him the few steps to the car, sliding him into the pa.s.senger's seat as Chogyi Jake half fell into the driver's side. The sound of another engine roaring to life came from up the street, and I saw the windowless van swerving crazily toward us. It was Ex, his driving rough and erratic, coming in too late to save us. I stood up, waving him away. Get out. Get safe. Go.

The van slowed, stopped, turned, and then escaped. Aubrey's minivan was still in sight. It hadn't started up yet. There was no movement inside that I could see.

"Get in...with us," Chogyi Jake said, but the sports car was too small. I would have had to sit on Midian's lap. Chogyi Jake motioned to me, urging me to crawl into the car.

I didn't answer. I just ran.

Aubrey sat in the second row of seats. The driver's-side window was rolled down to let him fire through it toward the gate where Coin had been. The rifle lay between the front seats where he'd dropped it. I shouted his name, but he didn't respond. I pulled open the door and climbed in. I was screaming now, but I didn't know what I was saying.

Aubrey's eyes were gla.s.sy and vacant, his hands limp as wilted leaves. He didn't even know I was there. I crawled back, half convinced he was dead. He had a pulse, though. He was breathing.

I dug through his pockets for his keys. It felt like I was fumbling with the ignition for hours. When I finally got the engine started, I pulled the minivan out into the street, my hands shaking so bad I could barely steer. I sped through the first red light without knowing what I was doing. I had to get to the highway. I had to get out of here. I had to get Aubrey to someone who could help.

Something chimed, deep as a church bell but soundless. The writhing press of riders against my skin vanished. Whatever ceremonies and rituals the Invisible College had been doing to bring the other world close were over.

They were done.

Fourteen.

I sat on a low plastic chair. Aubrey's hand lay limp in mine. The sounds of the emergency room made a kind of white noise around us. Someone was coughing. A nurse was asking someone where a chart had gone. Somewhere not too far away, a child was screaming. It might as well have been silence.

Aubrey was on the bed in a cheap hospital gown, his clothes cut away. The monitor showed his heartbeat at a slow fifty beats per minute, solid and unvarying. He had enough oxygen in his blood. He wasn't dying.

He just wasn't here.

The curtain rattled and slid aside. A man in a white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck stepped in. He was bald, wide, and he looked almost as tired as I felt.

"You're Jayne?" he asked, p.r.o.nouncing it Janey. I didn't correct him.

"Yes," I said.

"And you're his fiancee?"

"Yes," I said, repeating the lie.

"Okay," the doctor said. "Could you tell me what happened?"

I went over the story. We'd been going out shooting. Aubrey had said he felt a little weak, so we'd pulled over. When he stopped talking to me, I'd brought him here. It was simple, easy to remember, and as close to the truth as I was going to get. The doctor asked me a few questions about Aubrey's medical history, whether he was on any medications, if there was anything he was allergic to. I didn't know anything. I started crying while the doctor went through all the same preliminary tests that the nurse had. He explained that they were going to take Aubrey away to do some imaging. Aubrey's heart stayed at fifty beats per minute.

I'd given up hope that they'd find anything.

I let a nurse direct me to the hospital cafeteria, where I sat looking at a cup of coffee. My knee throbbed. My st.i.tches complained where I'd pulled at the wound sometime during my flight from the warehouse. My shoulder hurt too.

"Hey. You've got a call."

It was the fourth time my phone had rung since I'd pulled into the ambulance-only zone and screamed until a couple of paramedics helped me pull Aubrey out. As far as I knew, the minivan was still parked out there. Illegally. I tried to care.

"Hey," Eric said. "You've got a call."

I pulled the cell phone out and answered more to keep from hearing his voice again than because I wanted to talk to anyone.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Where are you?" Ex said.

"Hospital. Aubrey's in a coma or something. I don't know. He's...I don't know."

"You have to get back to the house. You have to get someplace warded."

"Okay," I said. "They took him off to get a CAT scan or an MRI or something, and as soon as-"

"Jayne!" he shouted. "You have to come here right now. You're in danger."

"Yeah," I said. "All right."

I dropped the call and made my way back to the emergency room. It turned out someone had moved the minivan to a parking s.p.a.ce not far away, left it unlocked, and put the keys in the visor. I didn't know who'd done it, but I figured this wasn't the first time someone had blocked up the entrance. I was vaguely grateful that they hadn't just towed it away.

I pulled out, found my way onto Speer heading northeast, and tuned the radio to a country station before I realized that I had forgotten my coffee at the cafeteria and also that I didn't know how to get home from here. I just tried to keep my mind on driving until I reached Colfax, turned left, and pa.s.sed the University of Colorado on my right. Then I knew more or less where I was. I did a U-turn at Eighth Street and headed home.

It was a little past noon now, the temperature rising up into the nineties. The air smelled like gasoline and tar. The traffic was thick but not slow, and it seemed to take all my attention just to keep up with it. My body seemed to know better than I did what needed to be done. I let reflex take over, and I was a little surprised under half an hour later to find myself pulling up to the brick house. Eric's house. My house. The windowless van was on the street, the black sports car in the carport. The lawn looked thirsty. I wondered when I was supposed to have watered it.

I walked in the front door and dropped my keys on the side table. Ex came out from the kitchen, a shotgun held at half ready, like he didn't know whether to expect a friend or an a.s.sault team. Which was probably reasonable. We stared at each other for a long moment. He seemed tired. His white-blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail tied with a strip of leather. His black shirt was torn at the cuffs. He looked angry, but not with me.

He looked haunted.

It happened on his watch, I thought to myself. He did his best, and this is what came of it. Poor little tomato.

I took his hand without realizing I was going to. He looked surprised for a second, then squeezed my hand gently. He started to say something, stopped, and looked down.

It's all right, I wanted to say. Except that it wasn't.

"How is he?" Ex asked.

"Stable," I said. "Just not in there."

"It's the f.u.c.king Voice of the Abyss," Midian rasped from behind Ex. "If he hadn't done that bulls.h.i.t with the dog, he'd have held it together. You know. Maybe."

Midian sat at the table. His shirt was off, and a bandage wrapped his wasted belly. Blood dark as India ink was soaking through.

"I thought Coin was supposed to be vulnerable," I said.

"He was," Midian said with a grimace. "f.u.c.ker was barely able to ignore everything we threw at him and cripple us before he went back inside."

"Is that supposed to be funny?" I asked.

"What do you want to hear, kid?" Midian said. The gravel and whiskey voice seemed almost compa.s.sionate. "We took our shot. It didn't work out."

"Where's Chogyi Jake?" I asked, a sudden stab of panic hitting me.

"Meditating," Ex said. "He's okay. I think he's okay."

"So what the f.u.c.k happened?"

"We made some a.s.sumptions," Ex said.

"And?"

"And it turned out Coin was a little more paranoid than we thought. He was protected. Personally protected, not just by the wards they had on-site," Ex said. "From what we can tell, he was ready for exactly the forms we were using. He suckered us."

"Meaning someone ratted us out," Midian said. "My guess? Eric may have spilled a couple of beans on his way down."

"And now their initiation rite's done, so they aren't tied up with that anymore. Coin has a couple hundred of his people free to act against us. And he's not locked to any particular location, so we don't know where he is," Ex said. He sounded tired. "We knew it was a risk."

My shock was starting to wear thin, numbness giving way to something less gentle.

"Actually," I said, "I'm pretty sure 'Oh, and we might all die' wasn't part of the discussion when I was in the room. I thought you guys knew what you were doing."

"Well," Midian said, his voice sharp and grating, "maybe you should have spent a little more time planning and a little less playing at the mall and getting your ashes hauled."

"Stop it," Ex snapped, but it was too late by then. Midian was rising to his feet, one bone-thin hand pointing toward me. His lips drew back from the blackened teeth, and his voice buzzed with anger and physical pain.

"Look, kid, I don't care if you want to candy-a.s.s your way through life. You've got the cash. Do what you want. You want to take over Eric's plans and then let everyone else do the work because they're older than you are and they've got c.o.c.ks? Fine with me. No trouble. But I've got a half a liter of c.r.a.p leaking out of me right now that should have stayed inside, and I'm not in the mood to hear you b.i.t.c.h that the plan you couldn't be bothered to make for yourself didn't work out."

"I said stop it," Ex said, stepping between me and Midian's accusing fingers.

"I don't need that s.h.i.t," I yelled. "I just got back from the hospital. Aubrey could have died because of this. He might be dying right now. You don't know."

"I knew Eric h.e.l.ler, kid. I worked with him. He was hard-f.u.c.king-core," Midian went on. "You lost a man. That's normal. Wouldn't even have slowed Eric down, but you're about as hard as f.u.c.king marshmallow, aren't you? You want my advice? Get your sad a.s.s out of here. Go hang out at Cabo or whatever you people do. Coin'll track you down. He'll kill you. But at least you won't be in my f.u.c.king way."

The sound of Ex chambering a shotgun round silenced us both. He had the barrel leveled at Midian's face. The vampire seemed to notice the gun for the first time, yellow eyes going wide, then narrow.

"I'm going to ask you to sit down," Ex said. "I'm not going to ask twice."

Midian sank back into his chair, sneering but silent. Ex followed his descent with the gun. I leaned against the counter, arms crossed like I was hugging myself. I hated the tears tracking down my cheeks. They felt like traitors. Ex didn't look back. It was only the shift in his shoulders and the gentle tone of voice that showed he was talking to me.

"There wasn't anything you could have done differently."

"She could have pulled the trigger," Midian said. "Or didn't you notice that you and the smiling professor were the only ones who actually fired a round?"

In the silence that followed, I watched Ex's back go stiff, the angle of his head move half a degree as he considered this. I wondered if Midian was right. If I'd fired, maybe it would have overwhelmed Coin's defenses. I closed my eyes, and I could feel the metal curve of the trigger against my protesting finger.

"Resisting the urge toward violence isn't a bad thing," Chogyi Jake said. I opened my eyes. He'd changed from the blue robe into a simple white T-shirt and blue jeans. His skin had an ashen tone that worried me, but his smile was the same as ever. "The question remains, what are we going to do now?"

"I think we're still safe if we stay inside the house," Ex said, not lowering the gun. "Eric's wards kept them away from here when they were searching before the ceremony."

"The Invisible College is stronger now. How long do you think the wards will hold?" Chogyi Jake asked, leaning on the counter beside me. I could feel the warmth coming from his skin, and the smell of fresh soap.

"We can prop them up. But no, not long," Ex admitted. "We have to go to ground. Stay where the Invisible College can't find us until things blow over. I've been thinking about it. It makes the most sense to split up. Jayne's got the resources to get out of the country, and Eric's sure to have some other places as protected as this one. It's just a question of finding which one."

"And you?" Chogyi asked.

"I've got some ideas," Ex said.

"And Aubrey?" I asked. My voice was shaking a little, but I wouldn't let that stop me. "Aubrey isn't going anywhere the way he is now. Even if we got the hospital to discharge him."

"I'm working on that," Ex said. "I think there are some ways I might be able to break the curse Coin put on him. Midian's right. If he hadn't already been weak, he probably wouldn't have suffered any worse than I did. And since I got hit at the same time, there may be a connection that I can work with-"

"Or maybe the bluebird of happiness will come down and s.h.i.t on your head," Midian growled. "I've been trying to break one of Coin's pulls since your great-grandfather was a dirty thought."

"I didn't say it'd be easy," Ex said, "but I've got some ideas-"

"I know how," I said. "I mean, we all know how to do it, don't we?"

Ex looked back at me now. The shotgun tracked down to the floor. Chogyi turned to me, his expression questioning. I shrugged.

"We kill Coin," I said. "That'll break all his enchantments, right? Midian's and Aubrey's both. Plus whatever got Eric after him in the first place."