Killing Rites (The Black Sun's Daughter #4)

Killing Rites (The Black Sun's Daughter #4) Page 24

The first call was disheartening. I’d forgotten it was Saturday, and all the businesses were closed. But the message left an emergency contact number, so I wrote that down, called back, and waited, biting my lips while it rang. Once I got someone to pick up on the other end, it was a question of minutes while the call was transferred. The clicks and hums made it sound like I was going through about a dozen exchanges.

“Hello, dear,” my lawyer said. “How are you?”

“Little rough,” I said. “Trending up, though.”

“What can I do for you?”

I paused. I’d gotten this far without knowing exactly what my plan was, except that I had resources there and I wanted them here. A crowd of things all came at once: shoes, shampoo, proof that the Black Sun’s daughter hadn’t tricked me into running. My backpack. My friends. Lunch.

The truth was, the answer depended on what I meant my next move to be. I’d gotten out, I’d made it to safety. Ex and Chapin and the others were certain to be out looking for me, but if I wanted to, I could head out of the country on my own. Or go to ground behind the best-paid security that money could buy. Flee or hole up. Or something else.

I took a deep breath and blew it out.

“I need a car. Something big with four-wheel drive. No GPS on it, though. And a cell phone with the GPS taken out or broken. And a couple of outfits. I’m wearing borrowed clothes right now. With good shoes. And really thick socks. And maybe a few thousand dollars in cash. Oh, and … Hey, is there a way for me to get a replacement driver’s license without actually being there? Because I can’t really get to mine right now, and I don’t want to explain that to the highway patrol or the TSA or anyone.”

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” my lawyer said. “Is there anything else?”

“I need Chogyi Jake’s cell phone number. I’ve got it in my old phone, and I don’t remember it.”

She gave it to me, and I dug around in the thin gray metal desk drawers until I found a pen that worked and a piece of paper. Behind me, the kitchen rattled with cutlery and the sounds of frying meat and eggs, loud Spanish and quieter, more distant English. I shifted the phone to my other ear.

“That’s enough for now,” I said.

“Where would you like to take possession?” she asked, and I smiled but didn’t laugh.

“I’m staying in an RV behind a roadside restaurant called O’Keefe’s outside Taos, New Mexico. They should bring everything there.”

“O’Keefe spelled like the painter?”

“I didn’t know there was a painter.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find it. How soon do you need all this?”

“As soon as you can,” I said. “Today would be good.”

There was a pause. I heard keystrokes as she typed something on her computer.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. Weekends make these things difficult,” she said. “I can manage tomorrow early afternoon for the license and the car. I could have the rest of it to you earlier if you’d like.”

“No, I don’t want a lot of different deliveries. It’d call attention to me.” I tried to remember how much food had been in Midian’s RV. Could I really even stay there? It had to really belong to someone, and that almost certainly wasn’t him. Well, I could cross that bridge when I found it. “Bring it all at once, but don’t spare money making it happen fast. If throwing cash at it will help, go wild.”

“Understood,” she said cheerfully.

“You may be hearing from Ex. Whatever he tells you, ignore it. If he asks for anything, don’t do it.”

“Yes, dear. And should I take him off the payroll, then?”

“No,” I said. “He thinks he’s doing the right thing. He’s just wrong and he’s not listening to me right now.”

I could almost hear her eyebrow go up, but her voice didn’t give her away.

“Whatever you think is best,” she said.

“All right, then,” I said. “I think that’s got me covered.”

“If anything else comes up, don’t hesitate to call, dear.”

“Won’t,” I said. “Thanks.”

I hung up, turned, and leaned against the desk. Something was bothering me, and it took me a few seconds to figure out what. Eric was saving me again. When he’d died, he had left everything he had to me, and his personal empire was huge. If I’d come running to Midian’s RV with only what I’d actually earned myself, I wouldn’t have been able to afford my own lunch, much less new clothes, a new car, and a semilegal driver’s license. I didn’t know what I would have done. But I didn’t have to know, because I did have Eric’s money.

He was a sonofabitch. He never did anything without a reason. The reason was always that it made things the way he wanted them.

I hadn’t stopped to ask myself what Eric had meant by bringing me into this secret world. Riders, magic, spirits, wealth. All of it. When it had first happened, I’d thought it was because he’d been my own personal support team. He’d always been there. Not at center stage since he and my Dad fell out, but waiting in the wings. There to catch me when I stumbled. After the drunken lost weekend of my sixteenth birthday, he’d nursed me through my hangover and helped me hide the new tattoo from my parents. Now it seemed like he had to have known. All that time he had to have known there was something growing inside me. That I was infected.

And still, he’d put everything he’d built up into my hands. From beyond death, he was saving me again right now. And he was doing it because somehow, it made things the way he wanted them.

“I don’t suppose you have anything you’d like to tell me about why Eric would have wanted me rich after he died,” I said, but if my rider heard me, she didn’t respond.

I was going to take the money anyway. Even with this suspicion that it might all be poisoned, I would take it and spend it to get myself out of a tight spot, because I didn’t see any other option. For the first timee me uncomfortable.

In the kitchen, a woman’s voice rose in fast, annoyed tones. The cook who’d let me in the office answered. I couldn’t understand any of the words, but the tone was dismissive. The woman signed percussively, and a door opened and closed. I picked up the telephone handset, smoothed down the scrap of paper, and punched the code to block caller ID—just in case—and then the rest of the numbers.

The phone on the far end rang three times. Chogyi Jake picked up.

Chapter 15

“Hello?” he said. I’d forgotten how gentle his voice was.

“Hey. It’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t call before. And by before, I mean weeks ago. I’ve actually been pretty messed up, and I didn’t want anyone to see me like that,” I said, and then when he didn’t reply right away, “Also I was still freaked out over you getting hurt because of me, and I was having a really hard time talking myself into putting you back in harm’s way on my account.”

“I see,” Chogyi Jake said carefully.

“Anyway, I don’t know if Ex called you yet, but I figured out why I have all these weird powers that are getting stronger when they should be getting weak. I’ve got a rider. It’s called Sonnenrad or the Black Sun. Apparently it’s really powerful, but it’s young. Ex took me to New Mexico to find his old mentor, who’s this kind of intense guy named Father Chapin. Only, when they tried to exorcise it, there was another rider. It was trying to get in while the old one was being forced out? And I … I took off. I mean, Ex thinks I’m being played by the rider I do have, and so he chained me up, and they were going to try again. Only I kind of called truce with the Black Sun thing and I got out before they could offer me up to this other whatever-it-is. So I’m pretty sure Ex and his old posse are out hunting me on the assumption that I’m in the grips of the devil.”

“Okay,” Chogyi Jake said. I felt a moment’s fear. He was being so distant and withdrawn, and I interpreted his reserve as anger. And then I didn’t. I closed my eyes, chagrined.

“Only Ex called you last night and told you all of this. And you flew out,” I said. “He’s standing, like, right next to you, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Chogyi Jake said.

“Well, that’s awkward.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

We were both silent for a moment. In the kitchen, something fell. The clatter of metal spilling on the floor made me jump a little.

“I’m not coming back in,” I said. “There really is another rider.”

“Okay.”

“Only they’re not going to believe that. At least not coming from me. So … yeah. I’ll check back in later.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Chogyi Jake said. I could hear him smile.

“It’s good to hear you, though,” I said.

“You too,” he said. “We’ll talk again soon.”

The line went dead, and I put the handset down on the desk. I didn’t know if I was disturbed that Chogyi Jake was with Ex and trying to track me down, or glad that he was in the neighborhood even if he wasn’t by my side. Both, maybe. It was interesting that he hadn’t wanted Ex to know it was me on the phone. I tried to imagine what Chogyi Jake would see, looking at Father Chapin’s cabal, and I failed. Warriors against the army of the unclean. Unhealthy religious zealots. Something else. It all seemed equally plausible.

I stepped out of the little office and back into the kitchen. The guy with the cross was scraping a steel spatula over the grill, the muscles of his arm tense with the effort. Voices and the clinking of knives and forks against plates came from the front like it was a different planet. I waited until he looked over his shoulder at me.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Yeah. You know when he’s getting back? I don’t want double shifts my whole life.”