M L N Hanover - Killing Rites

To Lankester Merrin and Damien Karras

AS ALWAYS, my first gratitude belongs to Jayn Franck for the loan of her name. Also, to my editor, Jennifer Heddle, and my agents, Shawna McCarthy and Danny Baror, without whom I would never have come this far. This book in particular exists because of the kindness and understanding of my family, and Ty Franck and Carrie Vaughn, who have made this series better than it would have been.

Now that she was alone with him, Marisol wished shed paid mre attention the first time Carl scared her.

The winter stars of northern New Mexico spilled out across the sky. There wasnt any moon, and this far out of town, there werent any lights except the distant ant-trail of white and red on the highway. The patches of snow on the ground didnt have more than starlight to reflect. There were supposed to be meteors, but there werent, and the codeine in the cough syrup Carl stole from the hospital didnt feel right. She lay in the scarred steel bed of the truck, shivering and watching the darkness. Carl wasnt even pretending anymore. He was sitting up, smoking one of those fucked-up filterless cigarettes he bought down in Espaola, and poking at her with his feet. The cherry kept going bright and then dim and then bright again. In the starlight, she couldnt tell where he was looking, but she figured it was at her. Not that she could see. She just felt like his eyes were on her.

Hed seemed all right when they were back at the bar. A little rough around the edges, but shit, who wasnt, right? A little angry, maybe. One time, when he got really drunk, hed said some things that scared her, calling the other girls names and talking about how much he wanted to punch them out. But he was drunk then, and he was okay all the other times. Shed told herself that was her being stupid. When he asked if she wanted to go out, watch the stars fall, it had sounded kind of fun.

She hadnt known it was just going to be the two of them. Or that he wasnt going to look up.

Im cold, she said. Theres nothing going on.

Just wait, he said. Youve gotta be fucking patient. Shit.

His toe poked her in the ribs again. Instinct told her not to react. He wanted her to, and she didnt know why. If her head wasnt all fucked-up from that codeine, she thought shed be able to figure a way out of here. A way to laugh it all off and get him to drive her back into Taos, back to the bar. No hard feelings, laugh about it, be friends like before. If she could just think better.

She had her cell phone, but it was in her purse, in the cab of the truck. And out here, who knew if shed even get reception. She could walk back to the highway. Theyd been driving for maybe twenty minutes after he pulled off onto the side road. The roads were bad. They probably never broke twenty miles an hour. She could walk back to the road in maybe an hour, maybe more than that. Was that right?

He poked her again. She tried to move away from him without seeming like she was.

You know what I hate? You know what I really fucking hate? he asked. The cherry flared, and for a second, she could see his face by the light: dark eyes, bent nose, the lines etched into his cheeks. I hate all those cock-teasing bitches at the bar. Dont you?

The shift from not being sure to knowing was like someone reaching into her chest and turning a light switch. Up until then, shed been able to tell herself that she was wrong, maybe. That Carl was just a little weird. That she was stoned and paranoid. That she could talk herself out of this one. But now she knew it.

He was going to rape her.

I said dont you hate all those cockitches at the bar? Carl said. He poked her again. Hard this time.

Yeah, she said. The word came out soft and small, like she couldnt catch her breath. Hate em.

Thought you would, he said. Cause you dont think youre like them, do you?

Im on my period, she said.

The pause told her she shouldnt have.

Why the fuck would you say something like that? Carl said. There was a buzz in his voice, angry and deep. What are you I mean, fuck.

In the dark bowl of stars, a light streaked and was gone again. Look, a falling star, she wanted to say. Just like you said there would be. The truck shifted. His hand was around her arm, squeezing hard.

Stop it! she said, knowing that he wouldnt. That this bad night was just getting started.

And then he was gone. Something muffled and violent happened in the gravel by the side of the truck. Someonemaybe Carlgrunted. Something snapped, a deep, sudden sound, like a wet two-by-four giving way. Carl screamed once, and Marisol screamed too. The world went quiet. Carl was out of the truck, on the ground. She heard him panting. Her heart was like a canary beating itself to death against its birdcage. Carl moaned. Footsteps came to the edge of the pickup. They werent Carls. In the starlight, it was only a deeper darkness by the side of the truck. Her back was pressed against the side of the truck bed hard enough to hurt. Somewhere, Carl moaned and started to weep. Marisol heard herself squeak.

Clmate, clmate, hija. Ests bien, the shadow said. His voice was like a gravel road. No te preocupes

Who the fuck are you? she said. She was crying. She hated that she was crying.

The shadow chuckled. The drivers-side door opened. From where she was, she couldnt see well, but she had the impression of dark skin, a white shirt with wide suspenders like her grandpa used to have. The stranger leaned into the cab, then stood back up. The door shut, and after the light, the dark was worse. She couldnt see anything.

Im guessing youve never had a colonoscopy, right? the shadow said. When he spoke English, he sounded like something was funny. An object landed on the steel beside her with a clank. After a moment, she put out her hand. It was the rounded plastic bottle of cough syrup. I havent either, matter of fact. Doesnt apply to my situation. But that shit? Thats what they give you before they snake a Roto-Rooter up your ass.

Codeine? she said.

His laughter was wet, and it clicked unpleasantly.

Thats not codeine, he said.

She touched the bottle. Carl was still on the ground, somewhere behind the shadow. She could hear his breath, his little gasps of pain.

Its roofies, isnt it? she said.

No. Midazolam. Same class of drugs, but this one keeps you awake. Just dopey. You can still put up a fight, just not a good one, which is the way Carl here likes it. And it screws up your memory, so come tomorrow, you wont know what happened except for the bruises. This rat fuckers been using it on girls for the past six months. There was one of them even called him to apologize afterward. Thought shed gotten drunk and tried to beat him up.

Are you a cop?

Kiddo, Im not even the good guys.

She heard a soft clinking of metal on metal. She was starting to make the shape out again, her eyes readjusting to the darkness.

I know this is a pain in the ass, but Im taking the keys. If I dont, youre gonna try and drive this, and really, youre more messed up than it seems like. Better if you dont have the option.

But

You can sleep it off here. Inside the cabll be warm enough. Theres a blanket in there. Walk to the highway come morning, youll be all right. Cops find that bottle, ask a few questions around Taos and Arroyo Seco, and theyll connect the dots pretty quick. Theyll look for him but no ones going to give you any shit about this. You wont take the blame.

The blame?

Well, if theres any blame to be taken. Thats the good thing about guys like Carl. No one misses em.