Caitlin was astonished at the power in Ryder—and by the fact that it was her own self she was seeing, some powerful, unshakable blend of the two of them. His whole body was straining next to hers, taut and filled with the conviction of his words.
“I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every power of darkness, every spectre from hell, and all your fell companions. Begone and stay far from this creature of light. Hearken, therefore, and tremble in fear, you foe of all living races, you begetter of death, you robber of life, you corrupter of justice, you root of all evil.”
Around the three of them, the mass of zombielike possessed were swaying and muttering incoherently, disturbed and disturbing. The walk-in itself undulated in Danny’s body, a horrible sight, as if a mass of snakes was moving under his skin.
Ryder continued the ritual, relentless.
“You are guilty before the whole human race, and all the races of Others, to whom you proffered by your enticements the poisoned cup of death. Depart, then, transgressor. Depart, seducer, full of lies and cunning, foe of virtue, persecutor of the innocent. Give place, abominable creature, give way, you monster, give way. We cast you forth into the outer dark ness, where everlasting ruin awaits you and your abettors. We cast you forth into outer darkness. We cast you forth into outer darkness.”
The Caitlin who was Ryder glanced to the other two, and Caitlin realized with a jolt what the look meant. She lifted her voice and chanted with Ryder, and heard Case on the other side of her chanting with them.
“We cast you forth into outer darkness. We cast you forth into outer darkness. We cast you forth into outer darkness….”
Danny’s face rippled as the walk-in struggled to maintain control of the body. It whiplashed, snapping back and forth like a green sapling in a hurricane-force wind. And then it forced itself upright, and with a savage cry, it clenched its fists and raised them up in triumph.
“Still here, bounty hunter. Still here!” It gloated and capered. And all the zombified tourists shuffled and gibbered around it, catching the frenzy….
Caitlin felt a rush of anger—and fear. It’s winning. We can’t do this. It’s too strong.
And then she realized what was missing. It was so obvious. “Danny, you have to help us,” she cried out.
Case stiffened beside her, understanding instantly. “Danny, wake up in there. We need you. Push that bastard out.”
Beside them, Ryder never stopped chanting, and now Caitlin and Case joined him again, chanting with all the force in their bodies. “We cast you forth into outer darkness. We cast you forth into outer darkness. We cast you forth into outer darkness….”
The walk-in suddenly shuddered as if struck by lightning from within. Its body twisted, arched, and it threw back its head and howled in rage, a rage that reverberated in the vast warehouse space, a more than human sound, growing, shaking the burned walls.
And then the howl evaporated, diminishing, fading, as if sucked into some other dimension.
And Danny’s body crumpled in front of them, like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Instantly the others shuffling around them stopped their frenzied movement, one by one crumpling leglessly to the cement floor.
The three Caitlins stood in the middle of the floor, with inert bodies all around them. The warehouse looked like a tableau of a battleground, frozen in time….
Then two of the Caitlins shimmered, shifted, with that nauseating ripple of reality…and Ryder and Case stood in front of her, the three of them dazed, shocked, grateful.
And then Danny’s crumpled body stirred ever so slightly on the floor, and while Case leaped forward to crouch by his friend’s side, Ryder seized Caitlin and held her, held her as if he would never let her go.
Chapter 23
As is eternally true, it took the whole Community to set a great evil right.
On Samhain’s Eve, on the banks of the Mississippi in Algiers, centuries-old meeting place for conjuring, they gathered, all the Communities, and stood together in a clearing by their great river, under the moon, circles within circles, vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters and Keepers…to push. They pushed with all the powers they had as species, and with all the power of love for their families and fellows…pushed at the evil that had descended on their city, pushed at the formless entities, pushed them onto the wind that rode their mighty river. And the entities were swept away by the invisible broom of love and protection, and the wind took them and carried them, carried them along the inexorable river, carried them out to disperse over the sea.
And when the wind had taken them, the Others took a collective breath, and, summoning all their most cherished traditions and wisdom and power, they set a protective barrier around the city, layers of protection from each of their traditions, all woven into a psychic web that would repel any attack for months to come, long enough for the walk-ins to scatter and move far, far beyond the sphere of New Orleans. Their leader had been banished to outer darkness. They would not mass again.
The force of the ritual was so powerful that the Halloween revelers on Bourbon Street paused in their debauchery, wondering why they suddenly felt…lighter. A few even pushed away from the bar and turned to dance with their companions instead.
And after the Communities had stood quietly in the moonlight, feeling the power of the magic they had done, they began a celebration of their own, where every Other was welcome and loved for whoever, whatever, they were, and the wine flowed, and shrimp and crawfish boiled, and gumbo and jambalaya steamed.
Ryder had seen Case among the shapeshifters during the ritual; Danny was recovering, but still too weak to leave his bed.
Ryder had been surprised to see the cocky young shifter hovering uncomfortably at the periphery of the partying crowd, chain-smoking like a chimney, looking ready to bolt at any second.
Before he could, Ryder circled around to him, stopped a casual distance away and lifted his Abita bottle in greeting. “That ought to hold the suckers for a while,” he said casually.
For a moment Case looked startled—startled to be noticed, startled to be addressed, startled that it was Ryder speaking to him. He nodded, warily.
Ryder took a swig of his beer, looked off across the river at the lights of the Crescent City.
“Of course, magic never holds them off for long. There’s always something out there…waiting. We can never let our guard down.”
“We,” Case said, without inflection, but his scorn dripped from the words nonetheless.
Ryder said nothing. The moon shimmered off the river.
The young shapeshifter dragged on his cigarette. “You plannin’ on sticking around, Ace? That’s a new one.”
“I’d forgotten how much there is to love about this city.”
“The city,” Case repeated contemptuously.
“Everything about her,” Ryder said, and didn’t try to hide what he meant.
“Yeah,” Case said.
“You can do better than this,” Ryder said abruptly.
Case glanced at him sideways. “Better than what?”
“Better than everything. You have talent, and I’m not just talking about music. You have the kind of talent almost no one else has. Why waste it? Talent is a gift—it’s not to be taken lightly, or squandered.” Ryder felt a ripple of déjà vu about the words he had just spoken. It was the same conversation he had had with his own mentor.
The arrogant young shapeshifter standing before him was downright hostile…just as he himself had been, all those years ago.
“You deal with yours, I’ll deal with mine,” Case sneered.
“Even if it kills you, huh?”
“My business, Ace,” Case flung over his shoulder as he flicked his cigarette aside and started away.
“Why not try something different? You and your friend?” Ryder said, and he saw Case falter at the last words. Ryder moved a scant step closer across the dewy grass and spoke softly. “He keeps going like this, he’s dead in six months, three months…. Yo
u know it.”
Case didn’t move, but Ryder felt a ripple in the subtle body of the younger man.
“Give me six weeks. I can show you what my teacher showed me. You don’t like it—what’s the harm?”
Case turned on his boot heel, staring at Ryder murderously. “You out to save my soul, shifter?” he mocked.
“Maybe save your ass. Your soul is up to you.”
The two men regarded each other for a long, uncompromising moment.
“I’ll think about it,” Case said.
Ryder nodded.
And then Case tipped a hand to his head, mockingly, did a little spin and was gone.
Ryder looked into the dark where he had disappeared and felt himself smile. The kid had no idea he was about to be hung upside down in a tree for nine days and nine nights. Enlightenment came at a cost. But if nothing else, it would stop the smoking.
Caitlin sat at the long table by the river, the one set up for the Keepers. Fiona and Shauna were out dancing on the scraggly grass to the sexy musical drawl of the Zydeco band. She saw them in the crowd, giddy, laughing, sparkling…and she recognized the feeling; it was the endorphin rush of a spell well-cast, of magic that had found its mark and achieved its highest, purest purpose.
They had triumphed this time. The city was safe, her sisters were safe, and there was a new bond among the Others—the whole underworld had united in peace and strength, and if they could all just keep this feeling, Caitlin knew that there was a whole new era of community and cooperation ahead.
So why did she feel like crying?
She was missing their parents, it was true. The ancient meeting place of Algiers always gave her that pang.
But if she were honest, truly honest, with herself, she was missing more than their parents.
The job was done. And that meant Ryder was done, too.
She’d known all along, of course, and she’d done everything in her power to keep him at bay, knowing this day would come, knowing that he would do what shifters do best: shift. Change. Move. Leave her.
She felt herself tremble, dangerously close to tears, and she forced the feeling away angrily.
She had her city. She had her work. She had her family. She didn’t need him. She would survive.
Someone stepped up behind her, a looming presence that made her tense instinctively, nerves still jumping….
And then Ryder put a foot over the bench of the picnic table and sat beside her, facing her, his legs open, thighs brushing hers.
If it were possible to freeze and melt at the same time, Caitlin did in that moment—her face flaming and her heart crying and her body stiffening to statuelike rigidity all at the same time.
Ryder looked into her face, full on, his green eyes steady on hers. “You did it, Keeper,” he said, without a trace of mockery. “I knew you were good, that first day in the shop.”
Caitlin used all the force of will she possessed to answer lightly. “You didn’t seem all that sure, actually.”
“Then I was wrong,” he said, holding her gaze.
For a moment she felt herself lost, drowning; then she looked away. “When do you go?”
She couldn’t look at him, so she focused on the river, the moon—and breathing. He didn’t answer…and didn’t answer, and she found suddenly she wasn’t breathing anymore.
“Caitlin,” he said. She felt his fingers close around her hand, and she had to turn her head to look at him. He was like a Greek god in the moonlight, so beautiful to her that she couldn’t speak.
“Cait, I want to stay, if you’ll have me.”
Caitlin felt fire through her chest, a hot ache that made tears spring to her eyes. She couldn’t make herself believe what she was hearing.
Ryder reached out, took her face gently in both huge hands—so, so gentle and strong—and his fingers moved on her cheeks, brushing away her tears. “Will you?”
And then she was crying, as he pulled her to him…and she was home.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7502-1
THE SHIFTERS
Copyright © 2010 by Alexandra Sokoloff
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