“Damn it,” Izzie swore. The shell remained lodged in place. She had no choice but to pull the magazine and pry it loose. After snapping the magazine off and freeing up the ejection port, Izzie saw that there was just one shell left inside. She would need to make it count.
“Izzie, look out!” Daphne shouted.
“Ke-ke-ke-ke,” came an inhuman voice from behind Izzie’s back.
Izzie turned just in time to see another group of the Ridden approaching from behind them. They must have come up the stairs from the lower floors, possibly drawn back to the Pinnacle Tower from elsewhere in the city.
Before Izzie had a chance to raise her shotgun and fire, one of the Ridden lurched forward and bashed the gun from her hand. The shotgun clattered across the floor.
Daphne managed to get off one final round of her own before another of the Ridden grabbed hold of her shotgun and wrenched it out of her hands.
Izzie could scarcely focus, her field of vision all but completely obscured by the writhing shadows that the ilbal was showing her. She stepped back, until she could feel Daphne’s form pressed against her.
“I’m sorry, Daphne,” she said, her hand finding Daphne’s, their fingers lacing together. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”
Daphne squeezed Izzie’s hand tightly.
“I’m glad I met you, Izzie,” she said, and left it at that.
Izzie braced herself, anticipating the final attack of the Ridden, sure that they were about to be torn limb from limb. But instead, the mass of inky silhouettes stopped just within arms’ reach. They surrounded the two of them like a solid wall, staring silently at them with cold, dead eyes.
“You ladies really should have taken my offer,” came a voice from deep in the milling crowd.
The wall of teaming Ridden parted just enough for a man to step through.
“You had the chance to get in on the ground floor,” Martin Zotovic said, tendrils of shadows waving around his head and shoulders like Medusa’s snakes. “But I’m afraid that offer isn’t on the table anymore.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“It’s a shame, really. Seems like you two have skillsets that would have made for useful additions to the Merger.” The Ridden had stepped back, leaving Izzie, Daphne, and the unconscious Patrick at the center of a broad circle as Martin Zotovic walked slowly around them, giving them an appraising look. Or rather, while the thing that had taken root in Martin Zotovic’s brain did.
“Oh, well,” the Zotovic thing said with a shrug. “There’s always a need for grunt work, too.”
Izzie remembered the things that her grandmother had taught her about the loa when she was growing up. And while the spirits invoked in Mawmaw Jean’s rituals were clearly not the same sort of being that Izzie was dealing with here, it occurred to her that similar rules of engagement might be in play. You addressed a loa depending on their personality and priorities, offering them what they desired in order to get what you wanted. And for whatever reason, the entity that was speaking to them now had taken on the personality of a chatty, self-impressed business executive, so perhaps the best move would be to take advantage of that, to stall for time until Izzie could think of something.
“Why did you come here?” Izzie asked in as respectful a tone as she could manage. “What do you want with Recondito?”
The Zotovic thing sighed dramatically.
“You think I want to be here?” he said, waving his arms in exasperation. “I’m stuck here.”
Then he paused, as if lost in thought. Izzie could see the shadows above him twitch and pulse as they grew larger and smaller by turns. He took a deep breath, collecting himself, and as he began to speak again it was as if he were sloughing the personality that he had adopted almost like a snake shedding its skin, and for a brief moment Izzie felt like she was seeing something of the true nature of the loa.
“I found this place by accident, poking and prodding at the boundaries of my world. I reached through a crack, and found that it closed shut around me. Not fully here, but unable to return. Hidden deep, unable to remain exposed for long. But I could shelter in the minds of living things, and spread myself through them to others. Adopting their personalities as protective camouflage, nestled deep inside their minds. But the vessels are so fragile, their lives so brief. It is never enough, and in time I always return to the darkness, waiting for the next opportunity to spread out. But this time it will be different. This time I will take root in every mind here, and make this place my own.”
As Izzie watched, the shadows that wreathed his head writhed and turned, and his face twisted, a hungry look in his eyes. But then the shadows gradually settled back into their usual patterns, and his face once more took on the self-impressed expression that she recognized from publicity photos.
“But enough about me,” he said with a vicious grin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out of couple of Ink auto-injectors. “Let’s get you two in the pipeline, and then I’ll just have your doctor friend across the street to deal with. That ring of salt won’t stop my building security guards from grabbing her, and then we’ll have all four of you taken care of.”
Oh no, Izzie thought with a jolt. Joyce!
Deep in the darkness, surrendering to the cold, Patrick heard a voice calling out, like the song of a bird singing somewhere far off in the distance. And an ember inside of him sparked and flared, hungry to answer.
Two of the Ridden detached themselves from the wall of bodies on Izzie’s left, and grabbed hold of her arms, wrenching her away from Daphne. Two more took hold of Daphne’s arms, holding them tight in a vice-like grip. Izzie tried to break free, but the Ridden shoved her down,
