One by one the cultists headed off to their beds, hammocks, old mattresses with the dust and insects beaten out of them. They drained away into the dark storefronts and broken-down hotels, stretching their arms, yawning.
The moon came up and found Ayaan still waiting, waiting for sleep to come, and knowing it never would. Something else found her, too. The lipless lich. Semyon Iurevich, who saw all, who knew all. He wrapped his bathrobe tight around striped pajamas a size too big for his gaunt frame. 'Come,' he said, and he lead her away from the bonfire in the middle of Ocean Avenue. Away from the light and the few zealots who stood an almost silent guard duty.
She watched the lich's back as he moved away from her, the pale stretch of robe across his shoulders like a beacon drawing her into the grid of darkened streets. She watched his feet shamble forward, ungainly but unflagging, she saw the complicated engineering of his shriveled ankles, all the knobs and spars and bits of bone, and the stretched sinews over them. When he turned to look back at her his face was a death mask, leather pulled far too tight over unyielding bone. His eyes were so large in their sockets.
She was vaguely aware that she was paying far too much attention to the lich. She thought perhaps that she was subconsciously horrified by him not because of his dire appearance but because she knew she would be like him soon enough, that her own body would dry up, slim down, exude horrible chemicals. Rot.
Then again it was possible he was merely hypnotizing her. She didn't know the extent of his psychic powers. She only knew that he could see inside of her heart. And that he had lied to his master on her behalf.
'Yes, is right,' he told her. They had stopped moving. They were inside a tiny room with stripes of light slanting in through wooden jalousies. She didn't remember entering the building, which was probably a bad sign. She stretched out her hands to try to get a literal grasp on where she might be but she clutched only cobwebs. 'I lied, for you. You understand? Is lie I told, that you are trustable. Harmless. Bah!'
She looked for him but could only see his teeth in the filtered moonlight. Teeth bared in eternal rictus'the lips had pulled back, away from his mouth. His gums stood out from his face, pink like wounds. 'We both know, you are assassin. We are both knowing who should you kill! He is dangerous, more than anyone know. I see his heart! His black and dead heart!'
Ayaan nodded, and licked her own lips, checking they were still there. She had very little saliva in her mouth and her tongue felt like a cat's as it rasped over her flesh. Her hand went up to touch her neck, where her tattooed ward wrapped around her like a fence.
'Yes, he has control. Control of you. You must be caution, in all things. Together, though. Together we kill. Your friend, the ghost.' A smile, a frown, they were the same on his face. 'He has friend in me. We work together.'
She blinked and it was daylight and her mind was clear. It happened that quickly. Behind her a horn thundered out a prolonged bass chord and she jumped.
She turned slowly and found herself looking at a vehicle that was a cross between a hot rod and a giant pickup truck. It had four enormous balloon tires and a cab that could easily seat five. Its engine was exposed to the air, all chrome pipes and dancing pistons. Its grille looked like a gothic arch stolen off a cathedral. Multi-toned flames decorated the cab. The hood ornament was a skull done in chrome and the cargo bed was full of corpses held down with bungee cords.