Wild Ride (17 page)

“Might as well,” Ray said. “Get 'em all at once.”

NO
, Kharos said. she . . .
WEAKENS THEM WITH HER AGE.

Ray looked up at him strangely, but didn't argue. “Okay,” he said. “I'll send the minions after Delpha and Gus. But there'll be new Guardia to take their places.”

IT WILL NOT MATTER. THEY WILL NOT ARRIVE IN TIME.

“Unless the old Guardia get organized and go looking for them.”

THEY WILL NOT. THEY WILL GRIEVE, ESPECIALLY GLENDA. AND SUFFER GREATLY.
Inside his prison, Kharos smiled again. Glenda's grief was a fine thing, rich and deep. Even after forty years, he could remember the taste of it—

“So it's a diversionary tactic,” Ray said. “Okay. Got it. I'll send the minions after them tonight.”

THEN COME AND TELL ME OF THEIR SUFFERING.

“Uh, sure,” Ray said.

Kharos considered the fact that the Guardia now had a Hunter.
HAVE THE MINIONS ATTACK THE OLD MAN WHEN HE RUNS THE COASTER. FREE SELVANS THEN.

“Look, I lost most of today getting the minions, and I can't afford another wasted day right now. I have things to do. I'm the
mayor.
”

Kharos sent images into Ray's mind, his investments disappearing
along with his fortune, his mayoral office lost to impeachment, his body returning to its hollow-chested weakness, his hair falling out . . .

“No,”
Ray said, his face ashen.
“Don't take this away from me.”

THEN DO NOT FORGET WHO IS THE MASTER HERE.

“Okay, okay, just . . . don't do that again.”

Ray got up and walked away, clearly shaken, leaving Kharos to his memories.

Of the Guardia, who should suffer the agony of failure for eternity for imprisoning him before he obliterated them.

Of Glenda, so young and so lovely and so possessed . . .

And of Vanth, round and warm and yielding to him.

To be out again. To touch Vanth, take Glenda, to feel warm flesh under his hands, to
feed
again—

Kharos strained against his chalice, needing to get at the fools who had imprisoned him, the fools he'd destroy in two weeks.

HALLOWEEN,
he thought, but without satisfaction. It was so far away.

TWO WEEKS,
he thought.
TWO WEEKS.

 

Mab lay awake, staring at the ceiling while Joe snored beside her. She felt weird. The sex had been good, Joe had obviously been practicing for years, and she'd come just fine, so why was she still awake? It was like eating Chinese food, an hour later you were hungry again, except that wasn't it, because she didn't want more sex, she really was satisfied, but there was something missing—

Somebody pounded on the door downstairs. Mab sighed and slid naked out of bed. She picked up her paint coat and shrugged it on, then pulled on her jeans and went to see what was going on.

Ashley was standing outside the Dream Cream door, looking like hell.

Mab unlocked the door and said, “What happened?” and Ashley pushed her way in.

“It was awful. Somebody
hit
me.” She pulled open her coat and looked down at her stomach. There was a bloody red ring there, as if somebody had shoved the sharpened top of a can into her.

“My god, is that deep?” Mab said, trying to pull the fabric away.

“Not very,” Ashley said. “You're with somebody right now, aren't you?”

“What?”

“You've just had sex. You're cheating on that guy with the glasses.”

“What guy with the glasses?” Mab took a step back. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you with him—he handed you your bag,” Ashley said, and leaned closer. “He watches you, he takes care of you, he's your soul mate.
Betrayer!
”

She put her hand on Mab's coat over her breast, and there was bright blue-green light, and Mab felt bitter, despairing blue-green fog flood into her. She staggered back against a table as Ashley slumped unconscious to the ground and the blue-green fog tightened like a fist around her heart and lungs, squeezing the life out of her—

“No,” she choked out, and fought back, pushing against the fog until she could breathe again, rejecting the despair that told her to give up, forcing her heart to beat until the bitter blue-green turned to fury, fighting inside her. She staggered for the door, but the blue-green dragged her down. “No,” she whispered, breathless as she sank to her knees. “No, no,
no
—” She fought hard, keeping a space so her heart could beat, her lungs could move—

And then Joe was there, yelling,
“Get the hell out of her!”
and the blue-green writhed and was gone, and Mab was left gasping on the floor as he dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms.

Across the shop, Ashley stirred and sat up.

“Get out,”
Joe said, his face hard, and Ashley got to her feet, shook her hair out, and smiled at him.

“Later,” she said, and walked out of the shop.

“That was a demon,” Mab said, breathless. “She possessed me.” She struggled to stand up.
“She's possessing Ashley.”

“I know,” Joe said, holding on to her.

Mab looked at him, incredulous. “How do you know?”

“I'm a demon hunter,” Joe said.

A
n hour after they left Delpha at her trailer, Ethan was still trapped on Glenda's banquette, listening to the history of the Guardia and famous Hunters past. He was so tired, he was almost unconscious, and he needed a drink, bad, but she would not shut up. Finally he gave up and reached for his flask.

“No,” Glenda said.

“Just one,” Ethan said. “It'll clear my head.” If there ever was a time for a drink, this was it.

“I've got something better.” Glenda took the flask from him before he could react. “You sit.”

She went to the cupboard and took down a mug, and Ethan put his head in his hands. “I'm sorry we missed Tura, Mom.”

“You did fine. We're just out of practice.” She dumped whatever it was into the mug, topped it up with water from the sink, stirred it, put it in the microwave, punched the button, and leaned against the counter. “We have to get back into shape, all of us. And you have to take this seriously—”

“I do,” Ethan said. “After tonight, you bet your ass I do. We need organization, a plan. We can't just go wandering around the park—”

The microwave dinged. Glenda opened the door and took the mug out.

“—hoping to trip over a demon so we can shout Latin at it.”

“Drink this.” Glenda gave it another quick stir, first clockwise, then counter, then tapped the spoon five times on the rim and handed the steaming mug to him.

He cradled his hands around it, feeling the warmth sink into his skin.

“Drink it,” Glenda said.

Ethan put the mug to his lips. Whatever was in it smelled enticing. He
took a deep swallow, feeling the warmth coil down his throat, into his guts. Then he bolted for the door as the liquid savagely uncoiled and came roaring back up. He made it outside and bent over, retching so hard he expected to see his internal organs come spewing out.

He was aware that Glenda was next to him, the mug in her hand as he slowly straightened. She held it out once more. “Drink.”

“What the hell is that crap?” Ethan demanded, staring at his mother.

“We need you, Ethan. We need you at full strength and sober. We don't have time for the poison in your body to work its way out naturally. This will take the alcohol from your system.” She pushed the mug toward him. “Drink it.”

Ethan knocked the mug from her hand, spilling it over the ground. “Don't tell me what to do. Not when cocktail hour for you starts at noon and goes till midnight.” He saw her flinch and felt like hell. He straightened slowly. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Look, I'm with you now, I understand about the demons, I'll make a plan, we'll get the two that are out back inside, and then I'll review everything, the security system, the rides, the statues, I'll go over every inch. But don't tell me I'm a drunk the same night I'm almost killed by something I don't even believe in.”

Glenda went back into the trailer, and he followed her and slumped onto the banquette, exhausted.

“Okay,” he said, trying to focus. “I don't want any more history. Where's Ashley?”

“I sent Gus and Young Fred to look for her hours ago.” Glenda put the kettle on the stove and lit the fire under it, keeping her back to him. “It's late. Everybody's left the park. There isn't anybody for Tura to possess. She'll probably just let Ashley go.”

“Ashley's wounded,” Ethan said. “She's going to wonder how that happened.”

“She'll think she had a blackout,” Glenda said, and moved to the sink. “Ashley is not our problem.”

“Okay,” Ethan said, not wanting to start another argument, “then Tura and Fufluns. We have Tura's chalice. Gus was going to have Mab fix Fufluns' chalice lid.”

Glenda nodded, her back still to him. “Take it to her tomorrow. There's a mold for the chalice in the Keep that'll help her get it right. Go with Gus to get it so he doesn't kill himself on those stairs.”

“Okay,” Ethan said. “Are you ever going to look at me again?”

She turned around, tears in her eyes, her face angry. “I have been Guardia for forty years. I have stayed in this park, I have patrolled it, I have checked the statues, I have made sure that everything was secure
for forty years
. I'm sick of it, but it's not a job you can quit. I'll be Guardia until I die.”

“Mom—”

“I held it together while Delpha and Gus grew older and I took over more of their work, I held it together when Old Fred died and Young Fred threw a fit because he had to serve, I held it together for forty years after your father died and that drunken asshole Hank was called to take his place. And then he drove into that tree and we didn't have a Hunter and I still kept things together.”

Ethan waited, knowing she had to get this out.

“And now you're called and how do you handle that news? You attack me. You think I don't know that potion wouldn't have solved your problems? Whatever the reason you drink yourself into a stupor every damn night, some magic tea is not going to fix it. But it would have cleared your body and your mind, and then maybe serving the Guardia would have given you something to help whatever it is you're trying to drink away. I had to hope so because as a drunk, Ethan, you are just one more body I have to carry, right along with Delpha and Gus and Young Fred. So don't come in here and think you're going to take over. I can't let you if I don't know if you're going to be sober when it's time for you to lead. Until you dry out or I die, I'm in charge.”

“I'm not a drunk,” Ethan said, really wanting a drink.

Glenda looked at him tiredly. “What happened, Ethan? You were never like this before.”

Ethan shook his head. “It doesn't matter—”

“Yes, it does.”
Glenda crossed her arms in front of her. “It matters because you're Guardia now and it matters because I'm your mother. Stop shutting me out.
What the hell happened?
”

Ethan hesitated and then let go. “We were on a recon patrol. Half a team. Just six of us. High in the mountains. We weren't supposed to make contact. But no one told the Taliban. They hit us in the perfect spot. Three guys went down right away, torn apart by an RPG round—a rocket—” He took a deep breath. “My team leader—” He stopped again as the scene played out in his mind again, the darkness coming down on him. “—my team leader was caught in the open, wounded. They kept shooting at him, shooting his legs up, playing with him. I took my Kevlar off and threw it over his legs.”

“Ethan,”
Glenda said. “I—”

“Then I got hit. Here.” Ethan touched his chest over his heart. “I woke up in the field hospital. I was the only survivor, and they were amazed I was alive because the bullet had hit so close to my heart and then lodged there. The surgeons said it was impossible to remove it without killing me, that it will probably work its way farther in and kill me before the year is out. So . . .”

Glenda had gone pale as he'd talked, and she sat down now, hard, and looked at him, tears in her eyes. “The bullet is still in you?”

“In my chest. Where everybody keeps hitting me, for some reason.” He reached out for her hand and patted it. “It doesn't hurt. I just know I don't have much time. So we should get Tura and this other jerk captured fast.”

Glenda swallowed back tears and patted his hand. “It's okay. Your heart is stronger than a normal person's. You're not going to die from that bullet, Ethan. You're Guardia.”

Ethan nodded. He wasn't sure if she was saying that to reassure him or herself, but either way, it was Glenda being Glenda, and he was grateful.

She went back to business. “But you're right, we have to capture Tura quickly before she kills someone else, and that means before next weekend when we have to open the Tunnel of Love again.”

“Okay,” Ethan said, glad to be back on strategy. “I'll make sure the Tunnel of Love can't run this week.”

The kettle started to whine, and Glenda took down two cups, opened a box and took out two tea bags, put the bags into the cups, and poured the hot water over them.

“Think Tura will go back into Ashley?” Ethan asked, trying to keep the conversation on the park's demons and not his.

Glenda shrugged. “It's risky for a demon to keep taking the same host, because eventually the host catches on. But if she likes Ashley's body, she might not care about that.” She brought the teacups over and put one in front of him. “Chamomile. No potion.”