Chapter 24

“This is ridiculous. You know that, right?” I said once the rookie finished literally reading me my rights.

“Just following orders, ma’am.”

Yeah, I’d noticed that.

“Well, can’t we do this without the cuffs?” A burning itch now accompanied the stinging pain, and I fought hard not to let it show in my voice, or worse, to whimper. Humans didn’t have issues with iron and I was trying my best to pass as human.

The rookie not only didn’t remove the cuffs; he didn’t even bother answering the question. Grabbing my biceps, he pushed me toward the door.

“Uh, where are we going?”

“The cage, until you can make bail.”

Oh, he had to be kidding. I was ninety percent sure John had me arrested to keep me out of the lobby—which I’d have to pass through to reach the precinct’s cells. I was also sure he’d have thought of some other way to keep me out of the lobby if he weren’t so pissed, but either way, if it was the rider out there, I didn’t want my hands cuffed behind my back.

“Shouldn’t we wait for John to get back?” I asked, edging away from the door.

“Don’t make this difficult, ma’am.” He shoved me forward.

Crap.

As soon as he pushed me through the doorway, I opened my shields, peering across the planes. He escorted me down a small hall of offices—very small, not many detectives got an office instead of a slot in the bullpen—and then we were in the lobby. I scanned the room, ignoring the decay and the magic, looking only for souls. John’s cheery yellow soul was in the front, posture stiff and suspicious as he talked to a body filled with a soul coated in darkness.

The rider looked up as the rookie pushed me into the lobby. A smile stretched across his stolen face. “Sister.”

Crap.

“That’s him, John. That’s the rider,” I yelled.

Then all hell broke loose.

The rider lifted a gun, aiming it at me. Someone shouted for him to drop the weapon. He wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. I threw myself down even before I heard the gunshot.

Pain sliced through my arm, hot and sharp. Then I hit the ground. I’d managed to twist enough to land on my shoulder, which kept my head from slamming into the linoleum, but the jarring impact sent another wave of pain through me. I didn’t bother fighting the scream that burst from me—no one could hear it over the gunshots. Three of them, all in rapid succession.

The sudden silence following the loud shots sounded dull, empty, or maybe that was the ringing in my ears. Blood dripped down my arm as I tried to get my feet under me before—

Too late.

A large, shapeless darkness dashed through the station lobby, headed straight for me. No, not for me—we’d already danced that particular encounter—it attached itself to the rookie, pouring into him. I gulped, forgetting the hot pain surging through my body as I broke out in a frozen sweat.

Oh, crap, crap. “John, help.”

My boots left black marks on the floor, accompanied by smudges of blood as I scrambled, pushing myself farther from the rookie. His soul continued to dim. Fast.

“Someone call a medic,” John yelled as he headed for me. “How bad are you hurt?”

I shook my head, still trying to scoot away from the rider and his new host. “John, it’s in the rookie.”

The young officer smiled at me, his eyes glazing over with darkness. He drew his gun, leveling it at my chest. At this range, he couldn’t miss.

“Good-bye, Alex Craft.”

I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. I stared at the gun and time slowed, narrowing to only his finger as it tensed, to the movement of the gun’s action. I cringed, ready for the pain to blast into me. But his finger stopped, his face going slack.

I blinked. Death stood behind the rookie, the man’s soul in his hand. A moment later a shot sounded. The rookie’s body spun and collapsed in a heap.

I stared, my lungs burning from the breath I’d been holding too long. I let it out as the rider coalesced in the air above the rookie. No. This had to stop. It could keep jumping bodies until everyone in the room was dead.

But how the hell could I stop it? Would it follow if I ran, leaving the others alone? It was clearly after me. And my big mouth. I’d just had to tell it I could track it to any body it took, didn’t I? I needed to get it somewhere with a hell of a lot fewer people. And guns.

But first I had to get out of the damn handcuffs.

As I doubted the rider intended to give me enough time to politely ask someone to release me, I had to be a little more creative. Or destructive. I was already touching multiple planes, how hard could it be to push the cuffs into the land of the dead?

Harder than anticipated. Especially since they were behind my back and I couldn’t see them. I’d moved items to the land of the dead before, but typically by accident. Now I focused on what the metal would look like rusted and corroded. I flexed my arms, trying to pull my wrists free. Agony tore through my injured arm, but I didn’t stop. I kept the image of the cuffs degrading in my mind, and I felt the metal give, a rung in the chain breaking. The bracelets dangled around my wrists, burning into my flesh, but I could move my arms.

“Come on,” Death said, pulling me to my feet. “We have to get you out of here.”

I couldn’t agree more, but it had taken me too long to break the cuffs and the rider had surely jumped bodies by now. I needed to know where to expect the next attack to come from.

“Where is it?” I whispered, searching for the rider as I moved. Death didn’t have time to answer before I spotted the shadow. It was already squashing the soul of its next victim, an officer I recognized from Kingly’s crime scene.

Crap.

I pointed as I called out, “It’s in Larid.”

Some of the officers lifted guns; others kept their weapons pointed toward the ground. John’s was halfway between the two positions.

“You’re sure?”

“Oh, she’s sure,” the rider said with Larid’s voice as Death pulled me back. “Will you kill this body too? I’ll just take another. Which one of you wants to be next? Or you can let me kill Craft, and I’ll walk out of here.”

“Unacceptable options,” a voice I didn’t expect to come to my defense said. Then Detective Jenson, John’s partner and a feykin in hiding who I was pretty sure hated me, pulled the trigger on his Taser. Two probes attached to wires shot out, hitting Larid in the chest.

Jenson sent thousands of volts of electricity into Larid, and the rider dropped his gun, falling to his knees. But he wasn’t down. Reaching up, he pulled the probes from his chest. They hit the linoleum with two soft clinks.

“Thanks for volunteering,” the rider said to Jenson as he reached for his gun.

He never made it. A blue foam dart hit Larid between the eyes and magic exploded into the room. Larid collapsed, out cold under a combined knockout, immobilizer, and Aetheric blocker spell. I coughed, choking on the thickness of magic in the air, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Larid.

What are you going to do, rider? Can you leave a living but unconscious body?

Either the rider was as knocked out by the dart as its host, or the host had to die for the rider to jump to the next body. I had the growing suspicion it was the later. I could see it still coating Larid’s soul, but it didn’t pour out of him. The unconscious man had become a container.

But what would happen when he woke?

Of course, with that nasty combination of spells, it would be a while. A nasty combination I’d seen before. Which meant Briar was here. With everything else going on, I hadn’t noticed her enter. I still didn’t sense her or the armory she carried. My nerves were too frazzled to zero in on her magic through the lingering miasma of the spells from the dart. In fact, about the only thing I was up for right now was sitting down. But I forced myself to turn, to look for her.

The movement morphed into a sway and only Death’s arms kept me upright.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his hand moving to hover over my wound.

There was a lot of blood, but the shot had only grazed me. “I’m a lot better than I would be if you hadn’t…” I didn’t finish because he’d ripped a soul out of a living body to save my life. Granted, the rookie had been shot seconds later, and those crucial seconds would have been too late for me, but collectors didn’t take souls early.

Ever.

I’d known only one who had, but he’d been bad news. Very bad news. In the name of love, he and his lover had crossed line after line until they were willing to tear the world apart to be together. A month ago they’d almost succeeded. That night, the gray man had told me to remember what had happened in that ill-begotten clearing. That it was why Death and I could never be together. That was the night Death vanished from my life.

Now he’d just crossed a line to save me. A big line. And we both knew it.

People crowded around me, and Death leaned down, kissing my forehead lightly before releasing me to a pair of hands belonging to someone who had no idea I was already being steadied.

“We need to talk,” I whispered to him.

But it was Briar Darque who stepped into view and said, “Yes we do. What the hell is going on?”

I suppressed a groan. Now that my adrenaline was dropping back to normal, my arm throbbed, as did my head, and my wrists, and the shoulder I’d landed on. And hell, pretty much all of me hurt. I’d been exhausted before this little adventure. Now I felt ready to collapse. I didn’t want to talk to Briar Darque.

I twisted to see who had taken me from Death—and who would hopefully rescue me from Briar—and got another shock. Detective Jenson had a firm hold on my elbow, helping me keep my balance. With my shields open, I could see through the glamour he wore that hid the fact his lower jaw was elongated and two large tusks curved over his upper lip. He had troll blood somewhere in his history, but the only physical sign of it was that unfortunate jaw. He was the only feykin I’d seen who bore obvious traces of their fae ancestry—or who had enough glamour to cover it up. Of course, his soul was more silver than blue. My father had told me that there were humans with fae blood, and then there were fae with human blood. I wondered if Jenson was an example of the latter.

Jenson noticed me staring and that overlarge jaw clenched. He knew I could see through glamour. “Can you stand, Craft? Yes? Good.” He released my arm, turned on his heel, and marched away.

I stared at his back. So much for a rescue from Briar.

“What are you doing here?” I asked her as I staggered to the closest desk to steal a wad of tissue. I was bleeding on the floor.

“I told you that I’d be keeping tabs on you. I heard you were involved in the deaths of two people, so I came to find out what happened. Now what the hell was that?” She pointed to the unconscious officer. Someone had put handcuffs and ankle shackles on him, which seemed like a good idea to me.

“He’s possessed. The MCIB has protocols to deal with that, right?” Because I was so done with this case. I just wanted someone to take the rider and, I don’t know, banish him? Bottle him? He obviously wasn’t going to stand trial by a jury of his peers.

“Possessed?” Briar cocked a dark eyebrow. “That sounds more up your alley than mine.”

“Isn’t there someone in your division who deals with this sort of thing?” The MCIB had a ghoul hunter; surely they had someone who would know what to do with Larid and the rider.

She shook her head. “I’d execute the host. It sounds cruel, but just like victims infected by ghouls, it’s better to put them down while they’re human and not monsters.”

“It jumps from host to host.” I sank into a chair. I didn’t know whose. It was just closest. “I think the previous host has to die before the rider can escape to a new body. Keeping him alive should contain it.”

“Then you better try the hospital, because I don’t have time to babysit.”

So no help from the MCIB then. I sighed.

“Alex, let me see your arm,” John said, stepping close enough that he crowded Briar away. Normally I’d have been uncomfortable, but I was glad for the break from the woman.

“It’s just a graze.” But I obediently pulled the wad of tissues away from the wound.

“You’re right, but you should probably go to the hospital. You might need stitches.”

I so couldn’t afford a hospital bill. “If you have an OMIH first aid kit laying around, I’m sure that will be fine.”

John’s mustache gave an irritated twitch, but he called for someone to fetch the kit and then offered to help me to his office. I started to refuse, but my legs felt like my bones had been replaced by cooked spaghetti, so I let him help me hobble to his office.

“What happened to those cuffs?” he asked, looking at the bracelets I still wore. I’d intended to turn the suckers into a shower of rust, but I’d barely corroded them. They looked weathered, not ruined, so I shrugged. Then I winced because the movement hurt.

John collapsed into his chair, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight pressed down on them. Then he unloaded his gun, preparing to turn it over when the inevitable internal affairs investigation started. “This is over now, right?”

I looked back toward the lobby. The idea of being blind after the attempt on my life terrified me, so I hadn’t released my touch on other planes. Glancing out the door all I could see were crumbling walls and wisps of magic, but I knew that beyond that were two bodies who shouldn’t be dead, and a third person spelled unconscious as a living container for a malevolent spirit.

“I hope so,” I whispered, but as long as the rider still existed, I couldn’t help feeling like the question wasn’t if it would escape, but when.