Killing Rites

left leg was encased in a bright pink brace.

“Is there a problem?” Alexander asked.

It had seemed easy, coming up. It had seemed obvious. Sure, the last time I’d been around Ex, he’d chained me to a ring in the cellar. When he saw me, all he saw was the rider. And Chogyi Jake? I’d almost gotten him killed in Chicago, but worse than that, I’d ditched him. For weeks, I’d excluded and lied to him. Even now, Ex was the one who’d called him first when things went south. My friends were in there, and now that I was here, I had the unshakable fear that they wouldn’t be my friends anymore.

But I couldn’t drive away. I couldn’t even just sit there in the SUV while it cooled down to freezing. The plan was still the plan, and it was still obvious. It was just hard.

“No problem,” I said. “Let’s get this done.”

I got out of the car and held the door open while Ozzie scrambled up from the backseat to go out the same door I had. Alexander got Dolores. I wished I’d bought her warmer shoes. The door of the condo was closed, but I could hear their voices through it. Ex sounded tired and grumpy. I made out the words can’t and no matter what. Chogyi Jake sounded as calm as he always did. He could have been offering to sacrifice his own life or asking if there was any curry left. I put my hand on the doorknob, pulled back and started to knock, then went back to my first impulse. It was my condo, after all.

They were in the main room. Chogyi Jake was sitting on the couch. As I stepped into the little kitchen, Ex stopped pacing and stood frozen in front of the fireplace, looking up at me. The dark circles under his eyes and the pale, waxy look of his skin told me how little he’d slept, how hard he’d pushed trying to find me. Trying to save me. Seeing the damage he’d done to himself for my sake, I could only wish he hadn’t.

Alexander, behind me, cleared his throat.

“Hey, guys,” I said, sounding nervous even to myself. “So. What did I miss?”

Chapter Twenty

I’d forgotten how strong Chogyi Jake was, and how he smelled like sandalwood incense and Dr. Bronner’s soap. I leaned into the embrace and closed my eyes. His arms were solid, and his forehead—pressed against mine—was warm. I’d expected him to feel fragile, as if nearly getting kicked to death in Chicago would have made him partly insubstantial. I didn’t even know I’d assumed it until being wrong surprised me. Tears welled up in my closed eyes, and something deep and warm bloomed behind my rib cage.

“I was worried,” he said so softly that even Alexander standing two feet behind me wouldn’t have heard the words.

“I know,” I said. “Sorry.”

Another hand touched my shoulder, and I turned. Ex bundled me into his arms without quite getting me away from Chogyi Jake, so that we wound up in a comfortable group, each of us hanging on to the others. The tension and fear I’d felt on the way in evaporated, and I had the powerful physical memory of being six years old at an amusement park with my parents.

None of us stepped back first. The moment just came that the reunion was over, and we were ourselves again. I introduced Chogyi Jake to Alexander and Dolores, and we all went to sit around the fireplace. When I retold what I’d done, I glossed over the part about Midian being there. I called my lawyer and went to ground for about a day.

When I got to the part about tracking down Dolores and Alexander, I went into a lot more detail. The whole story took less time to get through than I expected. Chogyi Jake sat forward, listening carefully. I’d forgotten how powerful it could be to have someone paying attention that intensely. Ex leaned on the back of the couch, his arms folded. The lines around his mouth were deep, and his eyes didn’t show anything. He seemed angry, but as Alexander and Dolores chimed in, confirming everything I said, I started thinking it was more pointed at himself than at me.

I brought us up to the present—driving up to the condo, finding them here—then stopped and spread my hands. There you have it. Chogyi Jake laced his fingers over one knee, tilted his head in thought, and frowned.

“How does the dog fit in?” he asked.

Ozzie, stretched o beside the fire, snored.

“She’s mine,” I said. “I got a dog. Her name’s Ozzie.”

“Does she have a rider in her?” Ex said. “Someone that got displaced into the dog’s body, like Aaron back in Denver?”

“Nope,” I said.

“You just got a dog.”

“Yeah.”

The pause lasted about three heartbeats. Ex shrugged.

“All right,” he said.

“We should call Father Chapin,” Chogyi Jake said. “There’s no reason for him to re-create the ceremonial space for the St. Anthony’s Cross.”

“Good point,” Ex said.

“St. Anthony’s Cross?” I asked as Ex went up the stairs, dialing his cell phone as he went.

“Father Chapin and the others were working under the assumption that the rider had taken control of you,” Chogyi Jake said. “It seems that tracking you using magic is still as difficult as it ever was, but they felt they should try. The St. Anthony’s Cross is a ritual for divining a person’s location.”

“If they couldn’t find me, why would they be setting it up again?”

“They were going to find Alexander.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, that would work, wouldn’t it?”

“It was the hope. The concern was finding him before you killed him.”

“Before I … Yeah, wow. Ex and I just had two completely different days, didn’t we?”

Upstairs, Ex started talking. The ceiling creaked as he walked in the room over our heads. His voice was soft, and I heard relief in it. Dolores raised her hand.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked.

“Up the stairs, and turn right,” I said. “You can’t miss it.”

“The rider was … I mean the one that …” Alexander said, then stopped, pointed at me, and started again. “The rider in her appeared to be very passive. As far as I could see, it only really took control when Jayné was in immediate physical danger. When the crisis passed, it seemed to give her entirely free rein.”

Dolores padded up the stairs. Ex went quiet, listening, I assumed, to something on the phone.

“Unlike the Akaname,” Chogyi Jake said. “I have to say, I’m surprised to find those here.”

“Wait,” I said. “You know about them? I mean, you know what they are?”

“Filth-lickers,” Chogyi Jake said. “They’re common in Japan and China, but I’ve never heard of one in the Americas.”

“So they’re a whole bunch of different riders that are all related?” I said. “It’s not just one big demon taking control of a bunch of bodies at once.”

“No,” Chogyi Jake said. “It’s not a haugsvarmr. They’ve very minor riders. Not mindless, but not strong or smart. Any of them could infect someone who was already vulnerable. They survive at all by being hard to detect and spreading quickly.”

“Like the cockroaches of the rider ecology.”

“More field mice, but yes,” Chogyi Jake said.

“They seemed like pretty strong field mice to me,” I said.

“Yes. It’s interesting that your rider was able to cast out the wind demon without a great deal of effort but then struggled with the Akaname,” Chogyi Jake said.

“You think these are some kind of superstrength version? Cockroaches on steroids?”

“I was thinking more that the rider in you may be injured. As I understand, the exorcism was very nearly