M.L.N. HANOVER - Unclean Spirits

“But the girl’s possessed,” Ex said. “I know she is.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But it’s not as bad as you think.”

“Move aside, Ex,” Karen said. “She used to be Jayné, but she’s the enemy now.”

“I can save her,” Ex said. “I got the thing out of Aubrey, I can get it out of her too.”

He believed her. He thought I had a rider. Karen

chambered a round, and Sabine screamed. I tried to step around Ex, but he shifted, staying between me and the gun. Some flying insect found its way into the furnace flame of the lamps and popped as it died.

“You can’t kill her,” Ex said.

“Oh,” Mfume said from the doorway, “I think she can. The beast within her is quite capable of murder.”

Karen turned, her face going pale as bone. Mfume didn’t flinch when the shotgun pointed at him; he raised his chin in defiance. I had never been so glad to see someone ignore my instructions.

“You can fight it, Karen,” he said. “I believe in you. I know that you can fight it.”

The blast of the shotgun was deafening. One of the halogen lamps burst in long, streaming flames. The doorway where Mfume had been was empty, and I couldn’t tell if he’d dodged the blast or been knocked back by it.

Karen screamed, a sound filled with rage and violence and joy. And like I had turned a switch, my body moved into action. I pushed Ex out of the way gently as lowering a baby into a crib, then hammered out one leg into the shotgun. Karen staggered back, trying to turn the gun toward me, and I kicked it again. I felt the mechanism buckle under my foot, and Karen slammed into the wall like a cannon shot, the wall actually cracking like something out of a cartoon.

Surprise widened her eyes, but only for a moment. Karen launched herself off the wall, swinging for me. I spun back as Ex tried again to put himself between us. Karen’s open hand drove into my side, and I felt the snap of my weakened rib even before I felt the pain. I landed hard on my ass at Sabine’s side. Ex was yelling something about being reasonable; Sabine was shouting desperately for Legba. Karen and I might almost have been alone in the room.

Her eyes were hard as marble, the little smile at the corner of her mouth ticked up a degree. Pale hair framed her face and made her beautiful. I knew that beside her, I must look like a drowned rat—fogsoaked shirt and jeans, black hair sticking to me like ivy on bricks. I had a hand pressed to my broken ribs. Every breath hurt like a bitch.

“You can’t have them,” I said, not knowing quite what I meant by it, but absolutely clear on my sincerity.

Karen snarled and brought her foot down hard. She was aiming for my knee, but only scraped along my shin as I rolled. Another blow landed on my shoulder, shaking my balance but not badly enough to keep me from regaining my feet. I was going to lose. I was hurt and comparatively weak, and Karen had years of training and a supernatural serial killer. I faced across the narrow space, and I knew that I had no chance standing against her alone.

I also knew there were thirty plus people just

outside the shed. I hadn’t managed to talk Ex out to safety. I hadn’t managed to get Sabine free.

But I had gotten Karen’s undivided attention, and that was going to be enough. I bolted for the door.

The air outside was cool, the fog thicker than when I’d gone in. The house glowed, twenty feet away, and distant as a vision of elfland. I ducked by instinct and something whizzed past my head to thud against the wall. I skidded to a halt, the grass slick under my feet, and dropped to one knee. My side was on fire, my breath short. I was pretty sure nothing had punctured a lung but I wouldn’t have put a lot of money on it.

After the brightness of the halogen lamps, the world was a tissue of shadows and mist. Karen roared out from the lit doorway, murder in her voice, and three dark forms tackled her. She went down, twisting like a cat. I heard a soft impact, and one of the bodies rolled free as two more piled on. Someone shouted, and a volley of answering calls came from the distant trees. My little army charged.

Ex appeared framed in the light, his crucifix held loosely in his hand, his mouth open in confusion. Chogyi Jake stepped out of the shadows, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t kill her!” Mfume called out as the cultists of Legba descended on Karen. His voice was strained, but not weak. “Hold her down, but do not kill the horse!”

They piled on her like a football team, and Karen, screaming, went down under the sheer weight of bodies. I let myself sag a little. I’d gotten a cut on my neck, but I didn’t remember when. A trickle of blood ran down my collarbone. Karen screamed. Someone cursed.

“Jayné?”

Aubrey was at my side. He looked worried.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Don’t hug me.”

He knelt, his hand fluttering between my arm and shoulder, uncertain how to help and unable to keep from trying. I thought it was sweet.

“We have to get Sabine out and get Karen in there,” I said. “Ex has to get Carrefour out.”

“I know,” Aubrey said. “I know. Don’t move. You’re hurt.”

“Yeah. Clear on that. But I’ll still be hurt later, and we need to fix Karen now.”

“We’ve got it,” Aubrey said. “We’re taking care of it.”

I let my eyes close. The sound of the tussle was like a television in the next room. Karen’s voice was high, shrill, and animalistic. Other voices—Aunt Sherrie, Omar, other men, other women—competed with it yelling instructions or threats or shouting in triumph. Mfume exhorting them not to kill. I thought I heard Sabine wailing behind it all. I lay down, my head resting against cool grass. I felt like the ground itself was lifting me up.

“Mfume?” I said.

“His arm’s pretty messed up,” Aubrey said. “He won’t stop, though. We tried to make him.”

He’s a big boy, I almost said, but it seemed like a lot of effort. I made do with a long, stuttering sigh. Running footsteps came toward me, familiar as a known voice clearing its throat. I opened my eyes to Ex.

“What the hell is going on?” he said. “They’re killing Karen.”

“They won’t kill her. I don’t think they’ll even hurt her if they can help it,” I said. “But we need to drive the rider out of her body.”

“What rider?” he said. “She was fine yesterday. She’s fine. When did she get possessed?”

There were tears in his eyes. Of course there were. In the rush and fear for him, I’d never taken a minute to think how this would look from his perspective. How it would feel. He’d been this woman’s lover. He’d shared her bed and her body, he’d gone to her when I pushed him away, and it had all been a lie. Carrefour had used Karen, and Karen had used Ex. If he’d been prone to taking inappropriate responsibility for the safety of people around him before now, this one was going to send him through the roof.

“I can explain everything,” I said. “But . . . Ex, I am so, so sorry.”

I levered myself up. The blood from the cut on

my neck had soaked the parts of my shirt that the fog and dew hadn’t. Ex shook his head once, and then stopped.

Everything stopped.

Aubrey went still, and the fighters in the dogpile. The thickening mist froze where it was, and the distant crickets fell silent. With a howl like meat tearing, Carrefour rose up, scattering Amelie’s congregation like leaves.

Karen was gone. The rider’s body had broadened and thickened, splitting the seams of canvas shirt and pants. Its fish-pale skin was veined in black, and claws like knives clicked at its fingertips. I scrambled to my feet. A flash of motion to my right was Joseph Mfume pulling a length of silver chain from his pocket with his good hand, his shotgunned arm limp and blood-soaked at his side. Carrefour looked from one of us to the other, and its broad, inhuman face broke into a parody of a grin. I said something obscene.