Unclean Spirits Part 9

Aubrey turned a little, looking at me square on. He hadn't shaved today, and the stubble on his cheeks made me think of Sunday mornings and tangled sheets. Aubrey was blus.h.i.+ng and pretending that he wasn't.

"Um, well. I mean, sure."

"Just to clarify," I said. "This is a date. I'm asking you on a date. We're going to do this insanely dangerous thing in three days, and I'd like to carpe some diem before it goes down."

The blush was rising up from his neck, brightening his cheeks. Even his earlobes were getting in on the action. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Count me in," he said.

I was quietly thrilled for the rest of the evening. Midian roasted a chicken in lemon and salt that tasted like heaven, we all stayed up talking about things that weren't ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged parasites that suck your soul out the back of your head. Aubrey sat beside me. When he pa.s.sed the rice pilaf to me, our fingers touched a fraction of a second longer than strictly necessary, and it felt like an electric jolt. But in a good way.

I went to bed feeling like I'd conquered the world, even though all I'd really managed was to ask Aubrey out. That was, in all fairness, pretty good, given my track record. I spent an hour on the Internet reading what I could find about the uncomforting sigils on Eric's ammunition, and then fell asleep to the soft sounds of Chogyi Jake and Aubrey talking in the guest room, and beneath that the drone and chuckle of the television in the living room, where Ex and Midian were, I a.s.sumed, doing something deep and mystical that only to the uninitiated looked like watching late-night talk shows.

The nightmare was like being a.s.saulted.

I was in darkness. The world around me was a salad of familiar objects-couch, folding chair, desk lamp-and arcane bra.s.s sculpture. I was naked, and powerfully aware that there had been a sound just a moment before. Something in the darkness with me. Something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Something big.

In the logic of dreams, I knew that if I could just get the key to my old dorm room, I could get out before it found me. I started moving through constantly s.h.i.+fting rooms and courtyards, trying to find where I'd hidden it.

The sound came again. A deep rus.h.i.+ng, like beating wings the size of mountains. When I looked up, the sky was a single eye, staring back down. The pupil was a terrible blue, and the blood vessels in the white spelled out words and phrases that made me want to scream. The ma.s.sive eye darted this way and that, searching for me. I huddled under a filthy blanket, trying not to breathe. Slow footsteps, echoing like something from a hospital corridor, came slowly closer and closer. My hands were balled in fists so tightly I knew I was breaking bones, and if he heard them snap, he'd find me. But I couldn't unclasp them. My hands wouldn't respond to me.

I woke with a start, still trying not to scream. The clock said it was three in the morning. I was covered with a slick, cold sweat. I got up, opening and closing my hands just to prove to myself that I could. In the dim light of city nighttime, the bed looked gray. I pulled on my robe. I was totally awake, but the dream felt like it had been worked into my skin. I stood there for long minutes, trying to talk myself into going back to sleep, then I scooped up the pillow and threw it in the wastebasket. I thought that if I was quiet, I could make myself some tea without disturbing the others.

But they were already in the kitchen. All of them. Aubrey sat at the table, his hair still wild from the bed, and his expression was tight and angry. Chogyi Jake leaned against the table, his arms crossed. Ex was in a black T-s.h.i.+rt and sweats, his face pale and haunted.

"You too, eh?" Midian asked as I stood there, staring at them.

"I had a rough dream," I said.

"Caught in the dark, sound of huge wings?" Aubrey asked.

"G.o.d's eye looking down," Ex said. His voice was bleak.

"How did..." I began, then let the question die. They'd all had the same dream. At the same time. I could see the dread in their faces.

"Wasn't G.o.d," Midian said. "That, ladies and germs, was Randolph Coin. He's looking for us."

Ten.

When dawn finally came, I was surprised that it woke me. I hadn't expected to sleep again that night. The others were all moving a little slower too, the weight of Coin's presence still lingering in the backs of our minds. As the day grew bright and hot, the sun commanding the profound blue sky, the oppressive sense of threat faded a little. It didn't ever quite go away. We got on with the work at hand.

I'd never really thought about fighting supernatural evil as a lifestyle choice. Still, I was surprised that it felt so much like planning a crime. The range Ex had in mind was less a formal police-style building with individual runs and paper targets than an open field down a dirt track halfway between Denver and Colorado Springs. Aubrey's minivan looked out of place in the wide, rough terrain.

We were just setting up the targets-bales of hay with Robin Hoodesque bull's-eyes strapped to them-when Eric's voice spoke again.

"Hey. You've got a call."

Aubrey and Ex both looked over at me as I dug the cell phone out of my pocket. The number on the ID was familiar. Candace Dorn again.

"I wish you'd change that ringtone," Ex said as I answered it.

"h.e.l.lo?" I said, putting my free hand against my other ear and walking to the back of the minivan.

"Hi," Candace said. "I'm sorry I didn't call back earlier. Is this Jayne?"

"Yeah. It's me. Is everything okay? I'm really sorry about your living room, by the way. I didn't mean to trash the place."

"I don't care about it," she said. "Really. It's fine. Everything's fine. Aaron is back from the hospital, and he's going to be fine."

I hadn't realized he'd been in, though in retrospect it made sense. Dog bites, the haugtrold cutting its own face, whatever damage Aubrey and I had managed to inflict. I glanced over at Ex as he laid out the rifles and two boxes of less arcane ammunition on a blue tarp. I wondered what exactly the exorcism process entailed.

"Good," I said. "I'm glad to hear that. And Charlie?"

"Charlie's doing all right too. I think he's a little confused by the whole thing. Needy. Dogs, you know."

I didn't, but I made appropriate social noises. There was a pause on the line, the kind of silence where no one is bringing up the difficult issue. I would have taken the lead if I'd known what was up.

"I was..." Candace said, and then stopped. When she started again, she sounded grim. "My friend. The one who gave me your number. He said that I should have talked about this all before. He's right, I know that. It was just with Charlie and Aaron and all the rest, I was focused on the situation at hand."

"Sure, of course," I said, not knowing what she meant. There was another pause on the line. "Candace. If there's something we should be talking about, we should maybe talk about it? What's up?"

"I needed to talk to you about the price," she said. I could tell from the way she said it that she was past uneasy and into scared.

It was the first time the thought had even crossed my mind. Eric's money had to have come from somewhere; that was true. And since this was what he did, I suppose it followed that whatever he'd charged for his work had to have been pretty astronomical. I didn't know what to say. From the little empire that I'd inherited, I had to think the money had been huge. On the other hand, I hadn't talked to the lawyer about it. Maybe the money had come from someplace else. Maybe Eric had some sort of sliding scale. I was caught flat-footed, and I felt stupid for not knowing the answer.

But then, the question wasn't really what Eric would have done so much as what I was going to do. That made it easier.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "It's on the house."

Whatever Candace had expected to hear, it wasn't that.

"Are you...do you mean that?"

"Look, I'm actually kind of new at this," I said. "My uncle was the expert. You didn't get the high-powered guy, and I got some on-the-job training I needed anyway. Besides. We trashed your place."

There was a sound I couldn't make out. Ex, still over at the tarp, gestured to me impatiently. I held up my hand in a "one minute" gesture before I realized that what I was hearing was Candace in tears.

"I owe you," she said. "If you ever need anything, please call me. You saved my life. You saved me."

"I was glad we could help. Seriously. Look, Candace, I've got to go. But you tell Aaron to get well soon, okay? Take care."

I dropped the call and shoved the cell back into my pocket. Ex frowned down at the rifles as I came back. Aubrey raised an eyebrow, asking wordlessly what the call had been.

"Follow-up," I said. "Nothing important. What did I miss?"

For the next hour, Ex talked us through the workings of the rifles. It wasn't as complex as I'd expected in theory, but the practice was tricky. I knew that the gun would kick when I fired, but I underestimated how much my sore shoulder would object. The first four shots I tried missed the target completely. The fifth got on the paper, but outside the concentric rings of the bull's-eye. Ex walked me through the whole process, his voice serious and low. I got better until I started getting worse, and he decided I'd had enough and turned his attention to Aubrey.

It turned out Aubrey had a much better eye for the thing than I did. His second shot hit the paper target. His fourth was in the center circle. I tried to figure out what he was doing differently, but as I watched him, my mind kept wandering. The afternoon was sweltering hot, and we drank through our bottles of water long before we fired the last round. I tried a couple parting shorts and kicked out bits of hay from the bales, but nothing better than that.

I had the sense that Ex was confused that my uncanny ability to fight didn't translate to being able to hit the broad side of a barn with firearms. I felt a little ashamed of my lack of talent, but he tried to keep my confidence up.

"It doesn't really matter how good a hit you get on Coin," he said as we broke down the rifles and folded up the tarp. "We aren't trying to kill him with the shot. Graze his pinky finger, and as long as it breaks skin, we're fine."

"It's going to be hard," Aubrey said. "I mean, this was fun, but looking at a real person is going to be different."

"He's not a real person, though," I said. "He's just a rider in a stolen body."

"It's still going to be hard," Ex said. His voice didn't leave room for discussion.

I didn't realize how hot and tired I was until we had loaded everything back into the minivan and turned back toward civilization. The first blast of air-conditioning was like standing in front of an open refrigerator, and I think I must have sighed, because Aubrey glanced over at me and grinned. Then his smile faded.

"Jayne," he said. "Look, if you want to postpone...well, postpone tonight. I absolutely understand."

"No," I said, surprised by how much I meant it. "I really don't."

We spent the ride into Denver listening to the radio. Twice, I turned to look into the backseat. Ex was staring out the window, his face etched in a frown. We hit the tech center on the south side of the city right around rush hour, and the traffic slowed to a crawl. Long rows of red brake lights beaded I-25 like a Christmas tree. I propped my legs on the dashboard and looked out as the buildings slid slowly by.

A small knot of tension was building in my gut. I wanted to get back to the house, get out of my sweat-soaked clothes and into something clean. I wanted to go out with Aubrey and drink and dance and show the world that I wasn't scared. I wanted Sat.u.r.day to be over, and the thing that lived inside Randolph Coin's body defeated. The traffic moved languidly, s.h.i.+fting forward, pausing, then s.h.i.+fting again. My mind moved between unease at the still not quite faded memory of the monstrous eye looking down at me and a deep, slow-rising desire that came from the immediate, distracting presence of Aubrey's body and breath. We reached our exit, and Aubrey pulled us off the highway and onto surface streets that easily went twice as fast.

He pulled into the carport that we'd left empty specifically to allow the transfer of firearms without alarming the neighbors. Chogyi Jake met us at the door and helped Ex with the equipment while I headed to the back to fulfill the first of my fantasies.

I was glad I'd donated most of yesterday's purchases. The debate over the handful of outfits I had kept was painful enough. If I'd had the full wardrobe, I would have melted down completely. I settled on a red skirt with a white scoop top that showed off a little cleavage without screaming s.l.u.t. A little lipstick and eyeliner. Nice leather shoes with a heel low enough I could still run in them if something happened. I considered taking Eric's cell phone, but decided against it for the small, petty reason that it was too bulky for the purse I wanted to carry and I sure as h.e.l.l wasn't taking my leather backpack on a date. Besides, Aubrey would have his cell.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and told myself I looked beautiful. I didn't look like a high school kid trying on her older sister's outfits. I didn't look desperate. I didn't look out of my depth.

I tried putting my hair up, just to see if it helped. I decided it made me seem like I was trying too hard, so I left it down. I hoped that the others wouldn't be around, and that Aubrey and I could head out without any comments. While I was at it, I might as well have asked for a pony.

"Well, now," Midian said. "Our little girl cleans up pretty nice."

"You don't have to sound surprised," I said, willing myself not to blush.

Aubrey, sitting on the couch, looked much better than I did. While I'd been dithering, he'd clearly run home, transformed, and come back the best version of himself. His honey-colored hair was just ruffled enough to look at ease. His clothes were half a notch more formal than mine-slacks, jacket, and a deep blue s.h.i.+rt that worked for his complexion. And when he saw me, his eyes went a little wider, which was exactly what I needed just then.

"You shouldn't go," Ex said. He was leaning against the back wall, his arms crossed. "Both of you. After what happened last night, you should see this isn't the time for fun and games-"

"Save your breath, preacher," Midian said. "They made up their minds. Besides, Coin's just looking. He didn't find us."

"Leaving the warded house is a mistake," Ex said.

"It's their mistake to make," Midian said. "And your subtext's starting to show."

Ex turned a venomous gaze on Midian, but the cursed man either didn't notice or didn't care. Chogyi Jake appeared from the kitchen and nodded silently with his usual beatific smile.

"You kids have a good time, now," Midian said. "Play safe, and don't come back early. I'm going to teach these boys a little bit about how you play poker. If you get back before I've cleaned them out, I'll be disappointed."

"We'll do what we can," Aubrey said, and then, directly to Ex, "We'll be careful." Ex grunted and turned away. Aubrey offered me his arm. It was the cheesiest thing a guy had ever done with me. I liked it.

The summer sun was just pus.h.i.+ng its way down to the western horizon, the light turning b.l.o.o.d.y in the pollution and heat. Far to the east, the sky was dipped in indigo, a few stars struggling to find themselves in the gloom. Aubrey held my hand as I got into his car, and then we were off.

"I know this Cuban place," he said.

"Anything," I said. "You're driving."

"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not postponing," he said.

"Welcome," I replied, smiling to myself.

Growing up at home, boyfriends had been clandestine by nature. There wasn't any going out without a chaperone. There were church group parties, there were occasional get-togethers with girls from school, and very, very rarely I would go out of town for a track meet or a speech compet.i.tion. My first kiss had been at the state qualifiers my soph.o.m.ore year with a guy I'd met that night and never saw again. The next year, I'd arranged a plan with three of my friends that let me slip out to a movie with a guy from French cla.s.s when my parents thought I was at one of their houses. I did it four times before we got caught, and I was grounded for a month. My mother had wept for days, and my father made me go talk to the pastor at our church about the sin of l.u.s.t, a conversation that neither the pastor nor I enjoyed.

When I opted for a secular college, my father lost all perspective. In fairness, I'd known he would and that expectation had been part of what made the decision easy for me. He made it clear that I would do as he said, or I wouldn't be welcome in his house. I called the bluff. I can still remember the look in his eyes when I left. It was like he was watching someone he loved walk off a cliff.

When I got to ASU, I didn't have any idea how to deal with men. I didn't have any experience or any friends. All I could do was fake it and hope. My first lover had been a graduate student who was the teacher's a.s.sistant in my biology cla.s.s. I found out later he'd been going through the roll in alphabetical order, and made it through the early Ns before the end of the semester.

His name was Gianni, and he'd had a gentle touch and a quick smile. He'd been an attentive lover. When he left, I was glad to have known him and profoundly less than devastated that he was gone. My second lover was named Cary. His jacket was back at the house. We hadn't ended so gracefully.

The restaurant looked like a frame house, pale blue siding with yellow pastel trim. Aubrey parked on the street and we walked across the low, well-cut lawn like we were going to a friend's house. His hand brushed mine as we walked through the door, and I took it. We sat at a small table, and I let him order wine for us both. I smiled at him across the table and he smiled back.

Gianni, Cary, Aubrey. It seemed like I had a thing for guys whose names ended in a vowel sound. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought before I said it or anything equally asinine out loud.

I ordered the black tiger shrimp. Aubrey got something called ropa vieja. I sipped the wine, feeling the warmth of the alcohol in my throat. Aubrey smiled. I smiled back. We didn't say anything.

"This feels a little awkward, doesn't it?" I said.

Aubrey shook his head, denying it, and then said, "Well. A little, maybe. First dates."

"I guess," I said. "Not just that, though. I feel like I'm looking over my shoulder all the time. Like they are going to be there."

"Tell you what," Aubrey said, "you keep watch behind me, I'll keep watch behind you."

The anxiety in my belly softened a little.

"Sounds like a plan," I said. "Is it always like this? When you and Eric were working on things before, was it always this..."

I raised my hands, trying to make a gesture that would express what I couldn't find words for.

"No," Aubrey said. "This is the most intense thing I've ever done. It's intimidating. I keep wanting to call Eric and ask him what to do, and then I remember that he's..."