a thin, shifting gown that might have been white, but glowed gold in the light. And behind her was a girl no more than sixteen years old in a matching outfit. The girl's face was as serene as her grandmother's, her skin darker, her hair in shining plaits. She was stunning. I touched Karen's arm and nodded. I saw her.
Sabine Glapion. The girl we were supposed to abduct. The girl we were trying to save.
Legba rose to the desktop, but I didn't see quite how she got there. Her head was moving to the lush rhythm of the drums, but awkwardly. She shouted and raised her hands. Her left arm was noticeably thinner than her right, and rose more slowly. The drums quieted, but did not cease. The dancers stood in place, swaying. Their faces were ecstatic and empty.
"Children!" the old woman said. "My children, we are set upon! We are attacked! Comprenez-vous?"
The dancers shouted something with one voice, but I couldn't make out the word. When the old woman spoke again, her voice was a low growl, her hands stretched before her like claws.
"We are weak, my children. Weak! But we shall be strong! We are fallen, but we shall rise up! The spirits hear us, and they will not be denied!"
The crowd shouted again, and the the old woman clenched her fists. Sabine was behind her, almost directly across from me, swaying in the same oceanic flow as the dancers. As her grandmother's claws clenched into fists, her eyes fluttered closed.
"Louvri!" the old woman cried. "Legba! Legba! Ki sa ou vlé! Louvri les pót!"
The air around me flashed with something that wasn't sound or heat, but something of both. For the space of a heartbeat, I saw the serpent where Amelie Glapion stood, its black eyes glowing in the lights, its skin shining like sunset on the ocean. I was backing away from the door even before I knew I intended to, but I was too late.
I had felt the abstract, other-reality of the Pleroma-what Aubrey called Next Door-come close to me before. I had seen things, felt things. Now, like I had been hit with a brick, the two worlds fused. I saw things all around me, bodiless and aware and hungry.
Something pressed at my belly, looking for a way in. A powerful rush of heat blazed in my spine, pushing the rider back, keeping my flesh my own. Karen staggered, her mouth gaping open like she'd been gut-punched. The shouting beyond the closed double doors changed to screaming, and the drumbeats stopped.
"We have to go," Karen said. "We have to get out."
I nodded, turned, and stumbled into the darkness. Karen was at my side. I didn't realize Aubrey hadn't followed us until we had gone twenty, maybe thirty feet. I could see him standing by the double doors, ruddy light flickering on his face. The shrieking rose in a crescendo. "Aubrey!" I shouted. "Come on!"
Aubrey turned. In the dim light filtering through the crack between doors, I saw his eyes. I saw him see me, and the slow, feral grin that came afterward. Things moved in the shadows behind him like smoke, and the fear hit me like stepping into a freezer.
He was being ridden.
Chapter 7
SEVEN
"Jayné!" Karen called from the darkness behind me. The thing in Aubrey's body howled and leaped forward, vanishing as it left the thin strip of light. I tried to backpedal, but the hallway was thick with debris that caught at my ankles. Without the flashlight, I might as well have been blind. I hunched, hands out before me, and braced myself for impact. It wasn't enough.
Something hit me hard across the chest, and I fell back. The ancient linoleum flooring was gritty and slick, like sand and motor oil. I heard the rider step close.
"Aubrey! Fight it," I yelled, and his foot slammed down into my ribs. I thought I heard something crack. My breath went out of me, and a terrible calm came in. I swung my arm up, closed fist driving hard into Aubrey's crotch. He doubled over with a groan, and my legs swept out. I felt them hit the backs of his knees, heard him fall.
The rider cried out words I didn't recognize, but the tone of its voice was enough; rage and pain and fear. I rose to my fingertips and the balls of my feet, knees bent and ready to spring. It was like I had been pushed to a small, observing part of myself