Killing Rites

Chapter Twenty-two

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.”

The sense of betrayal, of loss, was like getting punched in the gut. The air actually went out of me.

“Ex,” I said, and Chogyi Jake put his hand on mshoulder.

“I am a little confused by all this, though,” Ex said, waving at the room. “This is something we can test. Akaname are subtle, but they’re not perfect. Now that we know what to look for, it won’t be that hard to figure out whether it’s true or not.”

Chapin folded his arms. His face was flushing red.

“You would do her bidding, then?” Chapin said. “Take the weeks or months it would require to cleanse us all and in the meantime let the devil rule the countryside?”

“Won’t take weeks,” Ex said. “We can get this done in ten minutes.”

Ex drew a small velvet box from his pocket. For a second, I pictured him going down on one knee in front of Chapin. Ex opened the box and casually withdrew something wrapped in a bit of white cloth. I looked over my shoulder, but Chogyi Jake shook his head. He didn’t know what Ex was up to either.

“I have the Mark of Taiqing,” Ex said. “I got it a few years back when I was tracking a noppera-bo. I didn’t wind up using it then. So …”

He held up a bright silver disk. Chapin shook his head sadly.

“There is no holy magic save that which is given us by Christ,” Chapin said.

“It won’t do anything more than identify the presence of a bakemono. It’s folk work, but it will do for what we need now. If nothing comes from it, then we can stop screwing around with it.”

Chapin shook his head in disgust, but held out his arm, as if daring Ex to touch the little silver disk to his skin. Ex shook his head.

“Not you, Father,” he said. “Just Tomás.”

All eyes turned to Tomás. His thick shoulders, his well-worn face, the brown of his eyes. After the oil-black eyes and filthy tongues of the Akaname that had possessed Dolores and Soledad, the pistol in his hand seemed weirdly prosaic.

“Umm,” Carsey said. “Tomás, my dear, you seem to be pointing a gun at us?”

“My old friends,” Tomás said, his voice rough and sweet as salt and honey. “You will step aside. Now.”

Chapin’s expression was disappointment and disdain.

“I will not let you leave, demon,” he said. “I have been humbled enough for one day. In the name of God, and of his Son and the Holy—“

Tomás raised the gun almost casually. The report was louder than I’d expected. Father Chapin doubled over, clutching at his belly as the rest of us jumped into motion. I ran toward Tomás as Miguel threw himself onto the shooting arm, dragging the gun down. The second shot dug a hole in the brick floor. Ex and Tamblen got to the rider a half second before I did.

“The gun! Get the gun!” Carsey shouted from someplace behind me as I plowed into Tomás like a linebacker trying to knock down a fence. I felt the bones creaking in my shoulder, and the rider stumbled back, the four of us weighing it down. And then the Black Sun took over, and I dropped to my knees. Ex had Tomás’s gun hand now, helping Miguel push it down. Tamblen was behind Tomás, wrapping him in a bear hug. From where I knelt, my fists went out in a flurry of straight punches to Tomás’s groin, ending with a furious uppercut. Something under my knuckle went soft in a way that felt painful even to me. Tomás staggered, his mouth gaping open and his eyes closed like a caricature of agony. I shifted back, rose to my feet, and sank my right heel just below his rib cage. The gun went off again, but my gaze didn’t leave the rider. When his eyes opened again, they were a perfect black.

With a roar, the Akaname lifted its arms, tossing Ex and Miguel backward to the floor. The stench of sewage rolled through the room in a nauseating wave. Tamblen, behind the thing, had his arms around its neck. Faster than a snake, the black tongue flickered out of Tomás, wiping across Tamblen’s lips and forcing its way into his mouth. He fell back gagging, and the rider lifted its arm toward me.

It still had the gun.

“I forbid this,” my voice said without me.

“You forbid me nothing,” Tomás said, his voice lisping, slushy around the inhuman tongue.

I felt something behind me, soft and warm, like someone had turned on a heat lamp. Like knowing someone from the sound of his cough or a single footstep, I recognized Chogyi Jake’s gathering will. The rider’s dark eyes flickered away from me. It was all the chance we needed.

I kicked hard, the front of my foot hitting squarely on the butt of the gun. The pistol went off again, the bullet hissing past my ear, but the rider lost its grip. The gun spun through the air, landing with a clatter by the far wall. Dark blood poured from Tomás’s hand, and his index finger bent at an improbable angle. The rider howled in pain, the raw power of the sound staggering us. In my peripheral vision, I saw Chapin trying to sit up, Carsey at his side.

The Akaname was becoming less human with every second. Slime bubbled out of Tomás’s skin. His hands and face lengthened, his mouth pressing out from his face and growing round as an O. Its tongue whipped out faster than I could dodge, wrapping around my ankle and pulling. There was no way to stay standing, so I didn’t try, dropping to the ground instead and rolling away.

“In the name of Christ, I bind you! In the name of God, I bind you!”

The voice was Ex’s, but the power in it felt strange. I looked over for a quarter second. At the side of the room Ex was kneeling, Miguel and Tamblen at his sides, their heads bowed, their hands in his. The force in his words was the three of them, joining together. The Akaname turned toward them, and I kicked the back of its knee, staggering it.

“In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, I bind you, demon! You have no power here.”

The words carried their collected will like hammers falling on an anvil. I’d felt something like it before: the relentless, punishing assault of the rite of exorcism. It wasn’t the most powerful magic I’d seen. Calling upon God to help didn’t seem to give them any more power than three disciplined, trained, practiced minds joined together might give.

It was plenty enough for my purposes. I rolled up to my feet, using rque to drive my elbow up into the bottom of its jaw. I felt the jawbones come together hard as pincers, and the three feet of reeking, corrupt tongue fell to the floor, writhing. The rider pressed both hands to its mouth, black, clotted blood gouting between its fingers. I willed myself to attack again, to beat its skull concave and end it, but my body wasn’t my own. Instead, my hands lifted the severed tongue. It shifted against my palms, pulsing and alive. It was about the texture of liver, but rougher. I held it over my head.

“I am Sonnenrad, who you denied. I am the Voice of the Desert. I am the Black Sun and the Black Sun’s daughter!”

What Chapin and his men had gnawed and beaten and pried to get came out now like a flood. I felt its will burning, rising up from the base of my spine, through my belly, my heart, my throat, and I screamed it out. For a flickering moment, we weren’t in the snowbound sanctuary but the desert. My desert. The tongue in my hands tugged and whipped itself in the heat and dryness and vastness.

When I spoke again, I could feel the words tearing at my throat like I was screaming them, but they sounded barely louder than a whisper.

“In my own name and the name of my mother, I bind you. You are ended. Go.”

My will detonated, the wave front running out in all directions, as I stood at the center, the Akaname’s tongue lifeless and dry as ash in my hands. A profound silence took the room as I lowered my hands. Tomás lay on the brick floor, curled in a fetal position. Blood poured out of his mouth. His eyes were glazed and empty, but he was breathing. Chogyi Jake came to my side, his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I said as I turned and almost fell to the floor. “Okay. I’m not.”

Carsey helped Chapin to sit on the table. There was blood sheeting down the old priest’s belly and leg. Wide red streaks marked his face and neck. But the tough old bastard was smiling.

“Well done,” he said. “Oh, well done, well done.”

I leaned forward, resting on my elbows. I couldn’t catch my breath.

“That was a good day, I’d hate to see your bad ones,” I said. “Ex!”

“I’m right here,” Ex said. He was maybe six inches to my right and I hadn’t seen him. I was distantly aware of the others moving in the room. Tamblen walked by. He was weeping, but he still looked bored. Something about the shape of his face, I guessed. Chapin’s blood smelled hot and coppery, and I realized the stink of the Akaname was gone. Also, I’d been going to say something, but I couldn’t think what it had been. I let my head sink down for a second, resting my forehead on the table between my wrists.

Beating the wind demon hadn’t done this to me. To us. I wondered how much damage the exorcism had done to my rider, and how—if—she would ever recover.

“Mark of Taiqing?” I said. “Where’d that come from?”

“Actually, it was just a quarter,” Ex said. “Figured the bluff was worth trying.”

“We’re going to get the car ready,” Carsey he stroked Father Chapin’s hair. “Tamblen can drive and I’ll apply pressure. We’ll have you to the medics before you can finish doing penance.”

“No,” Chapin said. “We cannot leave. Our work is not done. It must be bound. We cannot leave the beast free.”

“It’s more than bound,” I said. “Seriously, we kicked its ass.”

Chapin looked at me, and then grasped at his wounded gut, hissing in pain. His face was pale as paper, but he shook his head.

“We do not take sides in the wars of Hell,” he said. “We do not have alliances against the will of God.”

“He’s delirious,” Miguel said. He had a massive bruise forming on his cheek. It actually looked kind of good on him. Rakish.

“He isn’t,” Carsey said grimly.

“I will not leave while the beast is free,” Chapin said, his jaw tight. His eyes were bright and fierce. They bored into me like a message I was supposed to understand but didn’t.

And then I did.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You mean me?”