M. Hanover - Graveyard Child

“Miss, we get a lot of young men traveling alone one time and another. I don’t make a practice of waking them up.”

“This is the credit card number he gave you,” I said, and read off the account number, expiration date, and three-digit confirmation code. I went slowly enough that he had time to pull up his records, fast enough that he didn’t have space to interrupt me. “I don’t know which room he’s in, but I need to speak with him, and I need to do it now.”

“Are you with the police?” the man asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “But you should put my call through.”

“I can take a message, miss, but it’s pretty late at night.”

I was tempted to make threats. Have him look out his window and turn on my headlights so he could see that I was right there. That even if he called the cops, I’d be there before help could arrive. I wanted to use the Black Sun’s power to scare him into doing what I wanted. Instead, I took a deep breath.

“Please,” I said.

The tiny sigh on the other side of the connection meant I’d won.

“If I get in trouble for this . . .”

“You won’t,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

I watched him make some small movement on his desk. My phone clicked, went quiet, clicked again, and the ringing started. I watched the rooms to see if a light went on, but nothing changed. The ringing stopped. He didn’t speak.

“Jonathan,” I said. “It’s Jayné. We need to talk.”

The sharp intake of his breath was weirdly gratifying. Some part of me liked being the scary one in the scenario, if only because it meant he thought I might be dangerous.

“How did you find me?”

“Bribes,” I said. “There are probably half a dozen people who are going to be a little more corrupt and a lot richer in the new year. Look, don’t freak out on me here.”

“What do you want from me?”

“To talk,” I said. “That’s all.”

“Okay. I’m here. So talk.”

“I think this is more of a face-to-face thing,” I said. He was silent. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead now. You know that, right?”

“You won’t break me,” he said, and I had the sick image of Rhodes downing a bottle of cyanide to avoid being captured by the enemy. That would be just great.

“I want to talk truce,” I said. “We got off on the wrong foot. Mistakes were made. I’m not looking for a higher body count, and I think you aren’t either.”

He was quiet again.

“You know it’s not in me,” I said. “I’m not the Graveyard Child.”

“All right,” he said, the syllables trembling a little. “Okay. I’ll meet with you. But I decide the time and the place.”

“Yeah, that’s not actually going to work for me. I was thinking more like right now.”

A moment later the curtains on the room at the far south end of the motel shifted. It wasn’t much. Just enough for someone to look out. I thumbed on the engine, lighting up the headlights, and then killed it again.

“Hi,” I said.

He laughed, and it wasn’t in victory. I’d heard the I’m-so-fucked laugh coming out of my own throat often enough to recognize it.

“I’m not seeing a lot of options,” he said.

“Make a break for your car and try for an extensive chase sequence,” I said. “Works in the movies.”

The lights went on in his room.

“Come in,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, and dropped the connection. I drove to the parking lot. I didn’t understand why the crunching of gravel against the tires sounded so loud until I realized I hadn’t turned the music back on. Chogyi Jake reached into the backseat and brought up his shotgun. Of all the ones we’d bought at the Walmart, his was the only one left. I put the SUV into park.

“If I don’t call or come out in five minutes,” I said, “or, you know, in the event of bloodcurdling screams . . .”

“I understand.”

I undid my seat belt. It hissed against me as it retracted. Even the smallest thing was grabbing my attention now. It was strange to watch myself being afraid without actually feeling it. I wondered if it was her influence or just where my head was. Or if there was a difference between the two.

“If I don’t make it out, take care of Ex and Ozzie for me.”

I’d meant it as a joke, but even then as a ha-ha-only-serious one. Chogyi Jake put his hand on my wrist for a moment, then let go. “Are there any other messages you’d want me to pass along?”

I paused for a moment, wishing he’d taken the line a little less seriously. Was there anyone I’d want to pass a message to? I thought of Jay and Carla. My parents. Little Curt about to graduate high school. I thought of Aubrey, who had made the transition from lover to ex-lover to nice guy I used to sleep with so gracefully that it sort of called everything that had come before into question.

“No,” I said. “I’m good.”

“Be careful.”

I opened the door and slid down to the ground. As I closed it behind me, Rhodes opened his door. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a shirt that looked like it had been slept in. He hadn’t bothered with a glamour. He was thinner than I’d remembered him. The thin stubble of hair on his scalp showed that he was balding a little. If he’d been human, he’d have passed for a junior system administrator. He stepped back as I came close, gesturing me in. I nodded. As I passed through the door, I felt the echo of his wards like a change in the air pressure.

The room was if anything more squalid than the exterior promised. The greenish wallpaper showed its seams, and the bed seemed to apologize for itself. The lock was mechanical, and the chain looked like it had rusted where the links touched. I sat at a tiny writing desk, and the chair groaned under me. Rhodes closed the door but he didn’t lock it. We both knew that if it came down to unpleasantness, a couple cheap locks and a hollow-core door weren’t going to make a difference.

“Well,” I said. “This is awkward. I think we got off on the wrong foot. You and the others. You’ve got something against the Graveyard Child, right?”

Rhodes didn’t speak, just stood there, arms folded across his chest. His lips were pressed thin, and I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or anger. The markings on his face acted like a mask, obscuring all the fine details of his expression.

“Okay,” I said. “So here’s the thing. I’m not the Graveyard Child. I have a rider in me, but it’s not that one. And I think maybe we’re on the same side.”

He shook his head in a gesture of disbelief.

“You’ve got brass ones, I’ll give you that,” he said. “So now we’re on the same side again, are we? You broke the temple. You killed Coin. And now you think you can waltz in here and smile and pretend it never happened?”

“Yeah. I know. That was a mistake, and if I could take it back, I would.”

“No,” Rhodes said. “You don’t get to switch sides every time the wind blows. You made your choice and you acted on it, and now the consequences are your problem.”

It was fear. It showed when he spoke and in the way he moved, but it was also standing firm in spite of the fear. He was scared of me, but he wouldn’t let it rule him.

“Let me explain,” I said. “I didn’t even know about riders until Eric died. All I knew was that he’d been killed and that Coin had been part of it. I thought I was protecting myself. And yeah, okay, there was a kind of vengeance kick too, but I didn’t know what was—”

The sound was something between a laugh and a cough. He stepped close to me, his eyes flashing. His hands were balled into fists.

“God damn . You really thought you could lie your way out of this? I was there. I was with you. Did you think I wouldn’t remember you, or did you just forget about me?”