The lock was heavier in my hand than I'd expected. I took hold of the rolling door, prepared to lift it up, but I hesitated. Despite the heat, I shivered.
"The people who have the thing," I said. "They don't know it, do they?"
"The people who have what?"
"The T. whatever. The parasite," I said.
"No. I mean, you could test for antibodies and find out, but generally there aren't many symptoms."
"Except that it changes who they are," I said.
Aubrey wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand. A few alleys over, the U-Haul truck started up with a loud rattle. I kept my fingertips on the shaped metal handle of the garage door, hesitating.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
Yes, I wanted to say. I fought four people with guns to a standstill yesterday. I walked through Midian's magic alarms like they weren't there. I have more money in my backpack right now than I've ever had in my bank account. And what if whatever's in here changes things again? I didn't particularly like who I was last week, but at least I knew who I was.
"No," I said. "It's nothing."
"You're cool?"
"Cucumberesque," I said.
I tightened my grip on the handle and pulled. The garage door shrieked in metallic complaint and rose up. Daylight spilled into a concrete cube behind it, smaller than an actual garage. White cardboard boxes were stacked three deep against the walls, and an industrial-looking set of steel shelves at the back supported a collection of odd objects. A violin case, a duffel bag, two translucent bowling balls, a stuffed bear with a wide pink heart embroidered on its chest.
It looked like a secondhand store, but it felt like a puzzle. I picked up the stuffed bear. The nap of the fake fur was worn, the thread that made its mouth was loose and thin with use. A child had loved this bear once. I wondered who that had been, and what had brought the beloved object here.
"I've got something," Aubrey said.
He was standing beside the stack of boxes, the top one open. Looking over his shoulder, I saw a stack of three-ring binders with words stenciled on the spines: INVISIBLE COLLEGE -1970-1976. INVISIBLE COLLEGE -1977-1981. There were easily a dozen of them. Aubrey lifted one out and opened it.
"What is it?"
"Newspaper clippings. Lists of names and places," he said with a sigh. "I don't know what it all means."
"Let's get it in the car," I said. I suddenly wanted very badly to just leave. "Let's get as much of this out of here as we can and we'll make sense of it later."
He grunted in agreement and hauled the box out toward his car. I grabbed the next box and followed him. It wasn't until we picked the duffel bag up off the shelf that we found the guns.
Chapter 6
Six
This is nice," Midian said, chambering a round with the rolling sound that only shotguns make. He looked down the barrel and nodded his appreciation. "Good workmanship."
Chogyi Jake and Aubrey were squatting by the coffee table. Three empty shells lay on the table's edge, two small piles of debris in the center. Ex stood by the kitchen table, copying the diagrams from the Inca Street whiteboard onto a legal pad.
"They're all loaded the same way," Aubrey said. "Silver shot, rock salt, and I'm not sure what this is."
"Iron filings," Ex said. "According to this, he loaded them with silver, salt, and iron."
"If he wasn't sure precisely what form the rider took, that would cover a very broad range," Chogyi Jake said.
"Or if he was loading for more than one," Midian said. "You gotta remember, he was hiring on a loupine for muscle. They're tough bastards, but not the last word in reliable."
I sat on the couch, my knees drawn up to my chest, watching and listening. Through the evening, the four men had decoded Eric's plan, details unfolding like petals falling open.
According to the calendar Eric had left us, the Invisible College was scheduled to begin the rituals that would summon riders and inject them into the new crop of initiates within the next day or two. As the ceremonies continued, the gap between the real world and what Eric called the Pleroma and Aubrey referred to as Next Door would turn permeable. Randolph Coin would be at his most vulnerable just before the final ceremony, scheduled for just after dawn on August 11, one week from today.