happen to me?” Emily asked quietly. Stanton, lying beside her, pushed up his hat.
“What?” he asked. It was clear that he hadn’t been asleep; Emily guessed he was no more pleased to be sleeping next to a person who might at any moment become an Aberrancy than she was to be that person.
“If the stone expels the Exunge, what will happen to me? Specifically, I mean.”
Stanton was silent for a long moment. When he finally did speak, his voice was matter-of-fact.
“There is a process of mutation that lasts about a minute. During that time, the Black Exunge works upon the physical system of the affected … creature. After that time, the Exunge is fully ingrained in the living spirit, and the transformation is complete.”
“Back in Dutch Flat you said that Aberrancies were most vulnerable while they were mutating. Like the Aberrancy hunters burned that grasshopper while it was still growing.”
“Yes,” Stanton said.
“You have the misprision blade,” Emily said. “Could you stop me with it?”
“Don’t say such things,” Stanton growled. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Now who’s trying to believe unpleasant things into being untrue?” she murmured bitterly. “I suppose there’s always your flamma trick, but that would hardly be fair to the other passengers.”
There was a long silence.
“You will not become an Aberrancy, Emily.” The finality in his voice was like a door slamming shut, but it did not make her feel better.
Emily turned her head, looked up at the shadows on the pressed-tin ceiling. They kept resolving themselves into giant loping jackrabbits, slavering raccoons, Aberrancy hunters with flamethrowers. The song of the rain snickered in her ears.
The next thing she knew, the cold apricot-colored light of dawn was threading through the windows of the car and there was a soft sound of metal grating against metal. It was the rattle of the stove door; the conductor was throwing in lumps of coal. In her sleep, she had curled close to Stanton, snuggled against his side. He’d draped an arm around her shoulder, and she’d pillowed her head on it. The rise and fall of his chest, the smell of stale cigar smoke in the fabric of his coat was reassuring. She let herself drowse that way for a moment, until a thought made her heart leap unpleasantly.
And what if the stone decided to expel the Exunge right now? What if you turned him into an Aberrancy right along with you?
She pushed herself away from him, cursing as she climbed to her feet. She staggered out of the car, wanting suddenly to put as much distance between herself and Stanton as she could. She decided she would go sit on the observation platform. For some reason, the idea of watching the plains’ endless repetition appealed to her this morning.
The conductor nodded his head to her as she made her way back through the car.
“Mornin’, son,” he said. “We’ve passed the storms. Gonna be a nice day.”
“I doubt it,” Emily said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ososolyeh
Emily spent the early part of the morning alone on the observation platform at the rear of the train, thinking deep thoughts about life and death, until she finally got hold of herself, reclaimed her uncommon good sense, and scolded herself for being so tragic.
All right, you rotten mineral, she thought. It’s you or me. And it’s going to be me. Because with all the power of my belief, I believe it’s going to be me.
Pulling herself up straight, she walked back to the seats, where Rose was regaling Stanton with another of her interminably winding tales. When she appeared, he stood, his eyes searching her face.
“Are you all right?”
“Yep.” Emily flashed him her most confident smile.
“And where were you, Mr. Elmer?” Rose batted her eyelashes at Emily. “With all the Aberrancies running around, I couldn’t think what might have become of you!”
Emily worked to keep her smile from dimming.
“I think we’ve left all the Aberrancies behind,” she said.
“Horrible things,” Rose said, confidingly. “You know, they say they’re all the fault of Warlocks. That if godly people would finally take a stand and put their foot down against all these Warlocks and Witches running around … why, there wouldn’t be any Aberrancies. They say that they’re a punishment on godly people for allowing sin to walk the earth unanswered—”
“Who is this ‘they’ you’re always referring to?” Stanton glared at Rose, his eyes gleaming with unhidden malice. “Your mongoloid Aunt Kindy? Your drunken Uncle Sal? Or are you talking about the slack-jawed hacks who bang out those dime novels for a bottle