Aubrey stared out at the dark water, frowning, not meeting my eyes or Chogyi Jake’s. I didn’t know what to say. Without betraying Chogyi Jake’s confidence, I couldn’t explain that Ex was in trouble partly because he had a thing for me and I hadn’t picked up on the signs. I couldn’t say that I was pissed off at Karen for fooling me and at myself for letting her without approaching industrial-grade pettiness.
And it didn’t matter, because Aubrey knew why we’d come: Ex was in trouble, and we could help. I didn’t really understand what he was saying.
Chogyi Jake did.
“Was it that bad?” he asked.
Aubrey snapped his head back like the gentle words had been a slap. His grip on my hand went so hard it almost hurt. I didn’t let go.
“I can’t explain it,” Aubrey said softly. “I don’t know how to say…”
“I’ll presume,” Chogyi Jake said, stepping in. “You knew intellectually how it all worked. In your time studying with Eric, you’d seen riders and what they can do. But, irrationally, you thought you were different. You wouldn’t have said it, not even to yourself, but you suspected that the people who were ridden—who were taken by riders—had some defect, some weakness in them that let it happen. Not that they deserved it, not in a moral way, but that somehow they were at a greater risk. You knew more, you controlled yourself more effectively, you were safe, if only by comparison. And then it happened, and you found out you were wrong. Now all those protective lies are gone. The dangers you used to ignore, you can’t ignore any longer. You’re left naked all the time. Vulnerable all the time. Constantly in danger.”
Aubrey was weeping a little, but otherwise his face was stone.
“It happened to you too?” Aubrey said.
“No,” Chogyi Jake said. “Not possession. Or not by riders. Something else. But I lost that sense that the rules didn’t apply to me. I still miss it sometimes.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” Aubrey said so softly I almost didn’t hear it, even standing right beside him. “I don’t think I can face them anymore. I thought… I thought I could.”
It was an apology, and it was meant for me.
I didn’t know what to say. I’d known that Aubrey was in trouble since the second I’d seen him turn toward me, there in the ruins of Charity. He’d told me that he was messed up by it; he’d said the words and I’d agreed. It wasn’t the same as seeing him fold. When I’d fallen into Uncle Eric’s strange, occult world, Aubrey had been the one I called for help. He needed help now, and I didn’t know what to say.
So I faked it.
“Tough shit,” I said. “I know you think you’re weak, but I don’t. I think you’re strong. You’re scared? Yeah, welcome to the club. I’ve been doing everything at three times the sane pace for months because I’m scared. I hid your divorce papers since Denver because I was scared.”
“You hid his divorce papers?” Chogyi Jake said, but I barreled on.
“Ex freaking out and ditching us wasn’t exactly a statement of his confidence and heroism. He’s scared. Chogyi just told you he’s been scared so long he’s gotten used to it. I’ll bet you everything I’ve got that Eric spent half his life working through adrenaline rushes. We’re all freaked out. We’re all scared. You don’t get to bail on me just because of that.”
Aubrey took a step back, trying to pull his hand out of mine, but I held tighter. I was screwing it up. I was saying the wrong things. All I could hope for was to make his shame at being frightened worse than the fear itself.
“If you walk away on this one, I swear to God, you’ll walk away on the next one too,” I said. “And the one after that. And then you’re done, right? Then Marinette wins.”
“Jesus Christ, Jayné,” Aubrey said. His voice was shaking. “You don’t know how hard this is.”
“I don’t care how hard it is. You can do it,” I said.
Aubrey opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he took a long, shuddering breath. In the dim light, his eyes glimmered with tears, but he set his shoulders. Chogyi smiled, watching us both. I didn’t know if he was judging Aubrey or me or both. Or neither.
“Damn,” Aubrey said. “Just… damn. Don’t treat me with kid gloves or anything.”
I moved close and put my arms around him. It was easy to forget how big he was—wide through the shoulders and ribs, solid, reassuringly male. I hoped I hadn’t just screwed him up worse.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have been gentle. That was shitty of me, wasn’t it?”
He took a breath before speaking. I figured that meant yes, but he’d let me slide.
“Eric told me that if I kept at it, there’d be something like this,” he said. “A crisis point. There’s nothing you said that he wouldn’t have.”
“The divorce papers thing?”
Aubrey laughed. It sounded pained.
“Okay, maybe not that part,” he said. “But he’d have kicked my ass. You even sounded like him there at the end. I just… I didn’t mean to…”
I put my head against his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around me, squeezing until my cracked ribs screamed with pain. I gritted my teeth and took it. I had it coming. People walked past us. The river murmured to itself, water hushing against the pilings. The soft sound of a city-traffic and birdsong, barking dogs and pounding radios, sirens and voices and the bells of the cathedral—washed past us.
“Um,” Chogyi Jake said. “Jayné?”
I looked up.
Bracketing us on the promenade, a dozen people stood, staring at us. Most of them were black, but a couple were white or Asian. Their expressions were the blank of soldiers ready for a fight. I pushed Aubrey back and stepped toward them. In the glow of the street lamps, the faces looked cold. I knew them. That man had been one of the drummers at Charity Hospital. The woman across from him had danced naked, calling the riders down into her body. And staring at us with deep, dark eyes, Sabine Glapion stood near the back of the crowd.
Struggling up the steps behind them, Dr. Inondé held Amelie Glapion’s elbow. The old woman’s head shifted from side to side like a serpent testing the air. And behind them, the deep black skin and graying hair of Joseph Mfume. The handful of tourists peering out over the darkening water took a look at the scene and scattered. My heart was thumping behind my ribs like it was trying to get out. All of the smartass shit I’d just said to Aubrey about fear drained out of my mind like it had never been there. I just wanted to get the hell out.
Amelie Glapion reached the back of the crowd, her cult parting before her. Dr. Inondé met my eyes and nodded with something like apology. I wondered what our chances would be if we all leaped into the river. It didn’t look like it was going that fast, but I remembered something about still-looking waters sucking people down.
“Okay,” I said softly enough that only Aubrey and Chogyi Jake could hear me, “this might have been an oops.”
Amelie came forward, leaning on her cane. Her drooping face was ashen and sour. The air around her seemed to crackle with power that her body alone couldn’t begin to justify. Her eyes shifted from me to Aubrey, from Aubrey to Chogyi Jake, from Chogyi Jake back to me with the intensity of a predator sizing up prey.
I felt the subtle shift in my body that I’d come to associate with the onset of violence. When Amelie spoke, her voice was Legba’s; deeper than a human throat could fashion, rich with threat and power.
“What the hell you think you doing in my city?”
I wanted to swing forward, to fight my way free, pulling Aubrey and Chogyi Jake along with me. My body almost vibrated with the need to strike, to scream. I forced myself to speak like I was using someone else’s mouth to do it.
“Carrefour tricked me,” I said. “I’ve come to you. I need help.”
These were demons. They were predators: tigers, wolves, sharks. I looked into Amelie Glapion’s eyes, and something else looked back at me. Something inhuman. Someone made a sound that was neither word nor whimper. I risked a glance. Daria Glapion, her face frozen with anxiety, held her sister’s hand.