Four

The bodies were lined up on the wooden floor of the front room. Midian had erected a levee of towels around them and draped black plastic trash bags over their heads. I was grateful for that. The curtains were closed, cutting us off from the street and the city. With the windows covered, I realized how small the apartment was. Aubrey was leaning against the interior brick wall. Midian sat on the couch beside a rough pile of history books and loose papers, his cigarette filling the air with a dim haze. His clothes were streaked with blood. I perched on the remaining kitchen stool. The one I'd thrown in the fight had bent enough that it wobbled now. I knew how it felt.

"O-kay," Aubrey said. Then, "Wow."

"The upside is no cops," Midian said. "I figure they set up some kind of sound-dampening cantrip before they broke in, or else..."

"Or else?" Aubrey asked.

"Brick walls," Midian replied with a shrug.

Aubrey nodded. His expression was grave, but there was a businesslike quality to how he took the whole thing in. I scratched my arm. I'd found a sweatshirt in the back. It smelled like Midian's cigarettes, but the white shirt I'd worn here was ruined. I tried not to look at the bodies.

"Well, we've got two issues," Aubrey said. "We need to get rid of these guys, and we need to make sure you and Jayn¨¦ are someplace safe."

Midian smirked at the mispronunciation of my name, but didn't correct him.

"My guess is we've got a little time," Midian said. "Coin throws his ninja strike team at us and they don't come home, he's going to get careful for a while. But I wouldn't want to wait until morning."

Aubrey nodded. I wanted to say that I was sorry, but I wasn't sure who I wanted to say it to. My mind felt like it had been sandblasted. Aubrey pulled out his cell phone.

"Hey, hey, hey," Midian said, standing up. "I wasn't keen on it when the kid invited you in. Who the fuck are you calling?"

"Friends," Aubrey said. "We've all worked with Eric one time or another. They know the score."

Midian frowned but didn't stop him. I felt a rush of profound relief that Aubrey knew what to do next. I didn't have a clue.

When I'd come out of the bathroom half an hour earlier and told Midian that Aubrey was on his way, the cursed man had almost lost his temper. He'd asked me everything I knew about Aubrey-who was he, who did he work for, how did he know Eric, why did I trust him-and it became clear that I didn't actually know anything. Only that when I'd asked for help, he'd said yes.

After he'd arrived, there had been a brief dancing back and forth between them. Midian had given a Reader's Digest condensation of the story he'd told me, and Aubrey had accepted it. Aubrey had explained that he and Eric had worked together before, and that he knew a little bit about Coin and the Invisible College, but that Eric had warned him off. Both men had seemed satisfied, at least provisionally. I watched it all like it was a television show.

Aubrey's clean-up crew arrived twenty minutes later. There were two of them, both Aubrey's age, both men, both unfazed by the corpses on the floor. The first looked vaguely Japanese, his head shaved to stubble, in a sand-colored shirt and pale, worn jeans. He said his name was Chogyi, but to call him Jake. The second, with white-blond shoulder-length hair and black clothes, only nodded to me. Chogyi Jake said his name was Ex.

"Ex?" I said. "Like in ex-football player?"

"Ex-priest," Chogyi Jake said.

"Ex for xylophone," Ex said, stooping by the bodies. He had lifted the plastic trash bags. "The birth certificate says Xavier. What killed them?"

"I did," Midian said. "The kid there kept them busy while I got the gun."

"They were armed too," Ex said. "You let a twenty-year-old girl fight four riders sent to kill her while you rummaged around for a pistol?"

"Twenty-two," I said.

"She was doing a pretty good job," Midian said.

"Adrenaline," I said. "It was the adrenaline."

"Must have been pretty good adrenaline to give you that much precision and control," Ex said dryly.

"The kid's got some kind of mojo on her," Midian said. "She didn't trip the alarms when she came in either. I've been trying to figure that out."

"Wait a minute," I said. "What?"

Midian shrugged. "You shouldn't have been able to hold those bastards off," he said. There was a little apology in his voice. "They're pros. They should have cleaned your clock. But they didn't."

"No," I said. "It wasn't like that. I was just scared. It was fight or flight. I don't even know how..."

I waved my hands at the room, the corpses, the four men who I barely knew.

"It doesn't work like that," Ex said. "You think Eric put some kind of protection on her?"

Midian looked at the newcomer with distrust, then shrugged.

"He left her the whole joint," Midian said. "Be all kinds of stupid not to watch out for her too."

"I don't have powers," I said, louder than I'd meant to. My hands were on my knees, the knuckles bloodless and white.

"Can we get back to the issue at hand?" Aubrey said. "We've got a rider cult in town. They took out Eric, and now it looks like they're after Jayn¨¦. We have four shells that we need to get rid of, and Jayn¨¦ and Midian here to get to shelter. Whatever else is going on, that's where we're starting, okay?"

"Right," Chogyi Jake said. "I've got the van downstairs. I'll go get the dolly and the drop cloths, and we can get them out of here."

Ex stood up. There was blood on his fingers. There was blood everywhere.

"The door isn't as bad as it looks," he said. "A couple long wood screws will hold it together well enough that no one will notice unless they're looking for it. I can take care of that while Chogyi Jake loads them up."

"Good thing you boys are on the side of the angels," Midian said. "A serial killer would pay a lot for those kinds of services."

"You can come with us," Ex said. "Help dig."

"What about getting me to shelter?" Midian asked.

"We can keep you covered," Ex said.

Midian shrugged. Aubrey nodded his approval.

"I'll get Jayn¨¦ back to Eric's place. When you're done, you can bring Midian too."

"You think that's safe?" Chogyi Jake asked.

"Eric has more wards and protections on that house than anyplace else," Aubrey said. "It's not perfect, but it's the best I can think of. And we're a little short on time."

They all took his point. I let him lead me out of the apartment and down to the street. Night had fallen while I'd been inside. It was a shock to see the cars and the low iron fence, to smell the exhaust, the distant suggestion of rain. I'd only been in the apartment for a few hours. It had been a lifetime.

He drove the same car he'd had at the airport the day before. I strapped on the seat belt and leaned against the window as he pulled into traffic. The moon looked more or less the way it had before I'd been attacked, before I'd been part of killing someone. The city lights obscured the stars. Aubrey didn't speak, and neither did I, but I was sensitive to all the small movements and sounds he made. Shifting his weight as he accelerated or touched the brakes, clearing his throat. My body felt heavy, like I'd had the flu and was still recovering. A police siren wailed but Aubrey didn't seem worried by it, so I let myself ignore it too.

Back at Eric's house-my house-Aubrey took my keys and opened the door so that I could shamble into the living room and sit on the couch. He sat beside me, his hand on the cushion above and behind me; close, but careful not to touch. I leaned toward him, my fingers reaching out like roots on a seedling. His physical presence was more comforting than I could have imagined.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I'm pretty fucked up. I've never...I've never been part of anything like that."

"It's hard," he agreed.

"I don't have powers. Whatever they said, I'm just a normal girl who-"

"Don't worry about it," Aubrey said. "We'll make sense of the loose ends later."

I didn't know why I hated Midian's suggestion that I was anything more than I seemed. Maybe because I was frightened that it might be true, and one more world-shifting change was set to pop my brain. One question kept pushing through the confusion, and even though I more than half didn't want to hear the answer, it came out. I ran my hand through my hair, trying to pull myself together

"They really are the ones who killed Eric, aren't they?"

Aubrey sighed. His arm behind me shifted. I wanted it to come down around my shoulders, but it didn't.

"I think so. The Invisible College...Eric's talked about them before. I didn't know that he was going up against them now. They're not good."

"What are they, then. I mean, not good. No cookies. Check."

Aubrey leaned in. I could smell the detergent on his shirt, the salt and musk under it like a perfume made from freshly washed boy. Something was making my throat a little dry, and I didn't know if it was his body close to mine or another aftereffect of the shock. Or if there was a difference.

"There was a story Eric told me one time. He said Coin had been part of a scheme that took orphans from Eastern Europe and...hollowed them out. Put other things in them. Riders. And then the kids were adopted out. People would think they were adopting children, and instead, they'd get...monsters. Families would be broken apart. The riders would have a safe place to grow until they were ready to move on or spawn daughter organisms."

"And Coin did it all for shits and giggles?"

"Coin did it in trade," Aubrey said. "For the favors those riders could do him later. Eric stopped it. The Invisible College has hated him ever since. So yes, I think he'd be wise to try and break Coin. And I know they'd want Eric dead."

"Okay," I said.

He looked over at me. I couldn't quite read his expression. I tilted my head, asking the question without asking.

"You're like him," he said. "You're...impressive in the same way."

I felt a flush in my skin, and I caught my breath like he'd asked me to freaking prom. I was acting like a sixteen-year-old on her first date. It embarrassed me. I tried to stop.

"What way's that?" I asked.

"Well, you didn't even know about Eric's work until today, right? Now you've found out about him, and about riders and magic. You've been attacked. You've seen people die. Any one of those would have been enough to spin you. All of them together...I'm surprised you aren't in a puddle on the floor."

"I feel like I am," I said with a great big adult, non-sexually charged sigh. "I feel like I'm floating off somewhere about three feet to the left of me."

"Well, it doesn't show. And food and sleep can't hurt, right?"

He shifted, preparing to rise, and I reached out. I put my hand on his arm. From his eyes, I thought he felt the plea in the motion.

"It's going to be all right," he said. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but it will. You've been six different women in the last twenty-four hours. You're just a little dizzy. But it'll be all right."

I was aware of how badly I wanted to kiss him. I could feel his arms around me, my face against his shoulder as if it had already happened.

"Jane," he said.

I corrected him. He looked embarrassed and tried out my name a couple of times, finally getting it right. Before he could get back to his thought, I leaned over toward him. I could feel the warmth of his body, hear the shushing of his shirt against his skin as he moved. I'd heard stories about people hooking up after something terrible. Emergency room doctors falling into bed together, soldiers after a firefight, strangers who'd survived some life-threatening disaster. I'd never understood it, but now it made sense.

I wanted. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted his body to reassure mine. I wanted something that would take away everything I'd seen and touched and done, something bright and good and true. Something that would hold off death. I wanted him to say my name again, and not in the tone he'd just used.

The voice, when it came, wasn't his. It came from the back of the house, and it was Uncle Eric's.

"Hey," it said, "you've got a call."

I yelped and jumped back, my heart thumping like a pair of sneakers in a dryer. Aubrey looked at me, and then back at the dark hallway.

"Hey," the voice came again. It was tinny, like someone talking through a computer. "You've got a call."

Aubrey walked back into the darkness. I followed. Eric's voice led us to the bedroom. A huge, elaborate cell phone glowed on the bedside table, its screen the size of my palm. The voice was Eric's ringtone. I picked it up. The incoming call wasn't a number I recognized. Aubrey shook his head; he didn't know either.

"Let it drop to voice mail," he said. I did, and when the icon appeared saying that there was a message waiting, I thumbed through the menu system until I found it. The cell dialed. I put it on speaker.

"Um," the cell said. "Hi. I'm looking for Eric Heller? My name's Candace Dorn? A friend of mine told me that you were in Denver right now and you could help people with...um...weird problems? I know this sounds really odd, but I think there's something wrong with my dog. He wanted me to call you."

The voice sighed, as if giving up something. When she spoke again, she sounded resigned.

"My dog wanted me to call you. If you don't think I'm a complete nutcase, could you please call me back?"

She left her number, said thanks, and hung up. I looked over at Aubrey.

"Her dog?" I said.

"It's possible," Aubrey said. "Sometimes dogs can pick up on things. If there's a rider trying to cross over from Next Door, or if someone is being ridden. I've heard weirder things. And that's what Eric does. Well, did."

"Helped people with their dogs?"

Aubrey chuckled, then smiled, then sobered.

"Eric did what needed doing," he said. "It kept him busy. There are probably going to be a lot of people looking for him. For a while, at least."

"I should call her back," I said, "and tell her that we can't help."

Before I could press the button, he reached out, putting his hand over mine.

"Let's hold off," he said. "Just in case she's really with the Invisible College."

"Right," I said. "I should have thought of that."

I looked into his eyes. The desire I'd felt was still there, and I thought maybe I could also see a little of it in him. But the moment had passed. He felt it too, because he sighed.

"I'm going to try to scare up some food," he said. "Then you should sleep, if you can."

"What about you?" I asked.

"I'll be here," he said. "Don't worry."

We ate grilled cheese sandwiches with the crusts cut off and ginger ale from bottles he found in a dusty back cabinet. We didn't talk much, and when we did, it wasn't about anything. When I made my way back to the bedroom, he didn't follow me.

I expected to fall asleep quickly, but as tired as I was, I couldn't wind down. Instead, I punched the pillows into new shapes. I shifted to my back or my belly or my side. I got up and did sit-ups to tire myself out. I looked out the windows. I wondered what my parents would think.

The thought alone evoked my father's glowering disapproval and my mother's rabbitlike fear. Uncle Eric had been rich beyond any of our dreams. He'd spent his days fighting against spirits that invade the world and possess human bodies. No wonder Dad freaked out. Anything that didn't fit into his neatly packaged worldview was evil by definition. Mom would have just made some tea and ignored the idea that anything was happening anywhere. It wasn't really something I'd been thinking of majoring in either, for that matter. The question was, now that it had all fallen into my lap, what was I going to do about it?

Just after midnight, I gave up, put on my same blue jeans and liberated another one of Eric's white button-down shirts. The living room was silent, the flickering blue of the television the only light. Aubrey lay on the couch, his arm tucked under his head, his eyes closed. I stood there for a few seconds, watching him breathe, then went back and got a blanket to put over him. The television was on a news station and muted. I turned it off.

The sane thing would have been to get a boatload of money, sell all the properties just in case there were two-hundred-year-old curse victims hanging out in them, and begin again someplace new. Start from scratch and forget the last twelve hours, like they'd never happened.

I wondered if they would let me. The Invisible College. I remembered the blue-eyed woman. I saw her die again, and if my heart sped up and my throat closed down, it wasn't as bad as it had been before. She'd been dead before she walked in. She'd been possessed by something from outside the real world and sent to finish the job they'd started when they killed my uncle. She was a victim, not of me but of Randolph Coin. Or whatever evil spirit had taken over Coin's body.

I wanted to believe it, and I halfway did. But only halfway. Faith and I had always had a difficult relationship, and we were talking about killing people-killing more people-based on nothing but faith. Sitting in the dark at the kitchen table listening to the air conditioner hum, my mind kept circling back to prod at things.

Was it more likely that spirits from outside reality snuck in and took people over, or that people went nuts sometimes? Or got involved with cults? Was it more likely that I had magic superpowers I'd never known about, or that I'd had a hellish adrenaline rush and the people I was fighting weren't actually all that competent? Was it more likely that Midian was two-hundred-plus years old, or that he was a disfigured guy in his fifties with a lousy set of coping skills? Aubrey seemed kind and sane and good, but I'd known a lot of men who seemed just the same and believed in things that I didn't. God, for instance.

I looked at the window, and the darkness had made it a mirror. Here was a woman on the trailing edge of twenty-two with no friends left. No family left. A shitload of money from nowhere, and the man who'd given it to her-who, judging from the way he'd put her name on everything, had always meant for her to have it-had been murdered.

I looked the same. Same dark eyes. Same black hair. Same mole I'd always told myself I'd have taken off as soon as I had the tattoo removal done. But I wasn't the same. And if everyone I'd met that day-Midian, Aubrey, Jake, Ex-was insane or deluded, I wasn't sure it changed anything. Uncle Eric was dead. Someone had killed him. And I was going to find out who. Randolph Coin was the best lead I had. So that was the lead I'd follow.

A sound caught my attention. The click of metal against metal in a slow, almost meditative rhythm. It was me. Without even noticing, I'd taken the key ring out of my pocket and was tapping it against my thigh. The key to the doomed apartment, and two others. Storage facilities. I lifted the keys, running my fingers over their teeth.

"Yes, little tomato," I said to the key ring. "I'll check you out too."