M. Hanover - Unclean Spirits

“How long until Ex gets here?” I asked, trying hard to keep my voice from shaking.

“Half an hour if there’s no traffic and he’s speeding,” Aubrey said. “An hour if there is and he isn’t. Did you have a plan besides getting those two out of harm’s way?”

“Nope,” I said.

“Then we’ll probably want to keep his attention on us until they’re clear,” he said, as if this was all perfectly sane and acceptable. I saw then how someone could love Aubrey. “Hold on a minute!” he yelled. “We’re coming!”

The thing at the door paused, surprised (I guessed) by a man’s voice and the unhurried, casual tone Aubrey had taken. Aubrey pulled a cloth bag from his pocket and pressed it into my hand.

“Ashes and salt,” he said. “It may help block or absorb anything it tries to do.”

“You mean besides shoot us,” I said. The bag was heavier than I expected.

“Besides that,” Aubrey agreed.

“Open this fucking door and do it now!” the cop shouted.

“Who is it?” Aubrey asked, his voice loud enough to carry through the door. “Can I see some identification, please?”

The shots weren’t like the ones you hear on TV or in the movies. Two dry cracks, quieter than the pounding of the thing’s fists, and the wood around the doorknob bloomed into splinters. The ridden policeman kicked the door open so hard it almost came off its hinges. Aubrey leaped back, diving for cover. I stepped around the corner, the cloth bag gripped tight in my hand.

“Where is she?” the thing in the cop’s body demanded. The voice had lost any vestige of humanity now; the words were flies and saw blades. “Give her over, and I might let you live.”

“She’s upstairs,” Aubrey lied. “Just leave me out of it.”

It surged into the room. I hadn’t been prepared for the change. Its skin was darker than a bad bruise and tinted blue as a storm cloud; the head that canted forward from the shoulders was long-jawed and carnivorous, the eyes the yellow of cat piss. Its chest worked like a bellows, ripping the police uniform and popping the Velcro fastenings of the bulletproof vest. I wasn’t afraid of being shot anymore. I was just afraid.

Aubrey was on his knees, struggling to stand. The creature raised a hand, points of metal or chitin glittering on its fingertips. With a sense of being in a dream, I watched myself swing forward, grab those powerful fingers, and twist from my waist. Something in its wrist popped, and it let out a yell that seemed like it would break glass.

The impact when it slammed me against the wall drove my breath out. Its eyes were fixed on me. I saw Aubrey diving toward it, saw its leg lash out, saw Aubrey fall again. Its good hand was around my throat. The air was getting thin. I scratched at its eyes, my arms faster than I would have thought possible but still not fast enough. I didn’t see its wounded hand cut into my side; I only felt it.

The cut was cold. My blood spilling down my ribs felt like ice water. And then something pushed in under my skin, something slick and cool and ancient beyond words. Instinctively, I knew the rider was entering me, trying to take my body as its own. I felt an answering warmth rise from the base of my spine to my heart to my throat. It felt like a fireball, and I shouted as I used it to push the invader out.

The creature stumbled back, dropping me to the ground. Its eyes were wide and uncomprehending. I thought I saw a flicker of fear before it launched itself at me again. I leaped toward it, inside its swing, and brought my fist up into the soft place under its jaw. The bag of ashes and salt burst like a water balloon. The thing choked and stumbled back. Aubrey appeared from nowhere swinging a fire poker like it was a machete. The beast raised its arms to protect its head against the assault, and for five or six seconds I thought we stood a chance.

“Jayné! Stay back!” Aubrey shouted, but I was already in motion. It caught my leg as I tried to kick it, lifting me up like a twig. My knee shifted, and I shrieked with pain. I caught a glimpse of Aubrey-red-faced, his teeth bared in rage-flailing at the thing’s back with the poker. I was airborne. The plaster and lath wall gave when I hit it, but the sound of the fight was muffled now. Aubrey’s yelling was distant and soft, the beast’s answering howl no more than unpleasant. I tried to rise to my knees, but it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.

I opted for sitting, and when I looked up, the thing was squatting before me. It didn’t look even vaguely human now. Its clothes were in ribbons, and the small glimmering badge that hung from one strip of shattered cloth seemed like an insult. The boots were strips of leather clinging to wide hooves. His belt…

I blinked, trying to gather myself. His belt was on the floor behind him. The gun was still in its holster.

“What are you?” it buzzed. I had the impression there was a light inside its mouth, like something was burning in there.

“My mother’s daughter,” I said blearily; I’d meant Eric when I said it. My brain was clearly getting scrambled. I dropped to my belly and kicked off from the wall, scooping up the belt, drawing the gun, and twisting back to face the thing almost before it could react. Almost, but not quite. Its fist came down on the bridge of my nose and the world turned monochrome and quiet.

I almost didn’t see the dog attack.

I wavered there on the edge of consciousness, and when I came back, the beast was grabbing at the German shepherd, whose teeth were buried in its neck. I raised the gun, but Aubrey put his hand over mine, pushing the barrel away.

“Can’t kill the body,” he grunted. “Need the body. Aaron! Close your eyes.”

I couldn’t tell if the dog complied, but Aubrey staggered to his feet, a small black cylinder in his fist. There was a hissing sound, and the beast howled, scrabbling at its eyes with fingers that gouged great strips of flesh from its face. The dog leaped back, whining, and my own eyes started to water. Mace. I really didn’t think that was going to stop it. I raised the gun again, but Aubrey had his arms spread wide, like he was gathering in the air itself. I saw his ribs flex as he breathed in, and I realized his shirt had been ripped apart somewhere in the violence. When he shouted, it wasn’t a human sound. It rang like a bell, like there was music in it, like there was an angel speaking my name in a voice so low it deafened.

The beast twisted, shuddered, and sat. Its skin grew pale, its head thin, its face human. Aaron the fiancé lay on the splinters of a couch, his body slack. Aubrey staggered and fell to his knees.

I crawled over, putting my hand on Aubrey’s thigh. He was trembling.

“Is it dead?” I managed to croak.

“Bound,” he said. “Sleeping. Should be okay until Ex gets here.”

“Good trick.”

“Eric showed me.”

“Could have tried it a little earlier, though,” I said.

“Yeah, I was thinking that myself,” he said, then smiled. There was blood on his teeth. I smiled back, and the dog came to us, licking Aubrey’s face nervously. I wanted to sleep, but instead I staggered to my feet and closed the blinds and the front door. The place was a ruin. Couch, coffee table, overstuffed chairs-all of them were broken. The walls were shattered in three places, and the glass shutters guarding the fireplace were shards clinging to strips of warped copper. I walked back to the kitchen, almost surprised to see it intact. I washed my hands until the shaking got too bad, and then I just stood there, leaning against the counter.

“You’re hurt,” Aubrey said from the doorway.

“No. I’m…” I looked down at my blood-soaked side. “Oh. Hey, yeah. I’m hurt.”

I laughed, and the pain shot out from my side to the base of my skull. Somehow that seemed hilarious, and I sank to the floor in a feedback loop of laughter and pain. I watched Aubrey’s feet come across the tile floor, felt his hands lift me up to sitting. When he pulled off my shirt, I didn’t stop him. I felt wrung out and quiet now. Through the door to the ruined front room, I saw the dog sitting, its eyes fixed, I assumed, on the newly human body resting in the wreckage. Aubrey’s left eye was swelling shut, and I could see a bruise darkening at his collarbone. His hands shook. He touched a warm cloth to my side and I winced.