The Stars Never Rise Read online

  “So she’s safe for now?” Hope felt like a tiny flame warming me from the inside, beating back my chills just a little. Until he doused it with the cold, hard truth.

  “None of us are safe, Nina. Least of all your sister. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and she’s the only bird they’ve got their hands on at the moment. But they’ll be looking to change that. They’ll be looking for you, obviously, and for me because—”

  “You shot an exorcist.”

  Finn looked up from the row of cans he’d been studying, and light from the lantern fell on half of his face. “Yeah. He wasn’t my first. But if it makes you feel any better, I only shoot in self-defense. Or friend-defense. And those weren’t real exorcists. They were just soldiers in black robes. Walking propaganda.” He picked up two cans, then twisted to show them to me. “Beef stew or spaghetti and meatballs?”

  “Beef,” I said, and he set the other can back in line, its label facing forward like all the others’. “How do you know those weren’t real exorcists?”

  “I know because you are an exorcist, and those ‘exorcists’ ”—his voice practically dripped with derision as he settled onto his cushion again—“were terrified of you.”

  You are an exorcist. That was the first time anyone had said it out loud. I hadn’t even dared to think it, but hearing him say it felt like…validation. Corroboration.

  Confirmation that I wasn’t crazy. That I hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

  He shrugged. “Also, I know they were fakes because all the Church’s exorcists are fakes.”

  “Wait, what do you mean? How can they all be fakes?”

  “They can’t actually exorcise a demon.” When I started to mention news footage of exorcists on the front lines, charging into battle against the Unclean, he stopped me. “They’re soldiers. They know how to shoot, and if they’d wanted you dead, they would have shot you on the spot. That’s what they’re good at. But killing a possessed host doesn’t exorcise the demon. That just releases it, which means the demon is then free to search for another host. That’s harder for the demon to do once it’s been disembodied. Going from one body to another, they just…” He shrugged. “They do this cold-kiss thing. I hear it’s pretty horrible.”

  “I can verify that.” I shuddered at the memory.

  “Disembodied demons have to find someone who’s sick or hurt or under some sort of chemical influence. Or even just someone sleeping. If the demon finds a body before he’s sucked back into hell…ta da! You have a newly possessed citizen, which means the ‘exorcists’ have failed.”

  “But what about all the Latin and the holy water and the symbols of faith?” Elements we’d come to associate with exorcists after a lifetime of seeing them on the news and on posters, decked out and armed for battle in their iconic, silver-trimmed black cassocks. “What about their training?”

  “Bullshit.” Finn dug out a can opener from a shallow box full of utensils. “Demons can’t even understand Latin unless they’ve possessed someone who speaks it. Which is why they always speak the local language, no matter what that is. So if you’re trying to fight evil with stupid incantations, you’d have just as much luck with pig Latin as with the real thing.”

  Wow. “What about holy water?”

  He clamped the halves of the can opener over the top rim of the stew can, then twisted the handle. “That might piss them off if you hit them in the face, but I suspect the spray-bottle approach works better against naughty cats than against demons.”

  I almost laughed. Almost.

  “Symbols of faith? Like the column of fire?” Exorcists wore them on chains hanging from their necks, echoing the brands burned into their cheeks.

  “Seriously?” Finn tossed the can opener back into the box, where it rattled against the other utensils. “That degenerate this morning tried to eat your face off—which would have been a real shame, by the way.” He grinned, and I actually felt myself blush. As if we had nothing more important to discuss than how much he liked my face in its not-devoured state. “Do you really think she would have run off screeching if you’d been wearing a bonfire charm?”

  I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I guess that would have been a little out of character for a monster so intent on consuming my nose.” And my soul.

  “Exactly. Faith-based symbols don’t work, because not only do demons have no faith, they’re not in spiritual opposition to any faith either. In the land of opposites, demons and the Church would not stand on opposing sides. Demons and humanity would stand on opposing sides. All of humanity. Sinners and saints. Men and women. Children and adults. Consecrated and civilians. It’s not just the Church versus demons. It’s us versus demons. All of us.”

  “Wait. So then…” I couldn’t finish that thought. My mind was blown. The world no longer made sense.

  The Unified Church was the final authority. It had been since the demon horde had killed off two-thirds of the world’s population—devouring many of its souls—and devastated three-quarters of the American landscape. The Church was strict and cruel and domineering, but it had saved us when no one else could. It had exorcised the demons, and walled in the surviving cities to protect us from the remaining degenerates roaming the badlands. That was why people had put the Church in charge in the first place.

  If it hadn’t exorcised the demons, then…“How…? Why…?”

  Finn pulled the detached lid from the can of stew, then gestured at me with it. “I like you. You ask all the right questions.”

  “So, what are the answers? If the exorcists are fakes, and the Church can’t fight demons any better than anyone else, why are they in charge?”

  “Great question.” He tilted the open can over the empty pot on the right burner, and thick beef vegetable stew poured out in chunky globs. “And if I had the answer, I’d give it to you.”

  “Okay. But…the Church used to have real exorcists, right? Otherwise, how would we ever have won the war?”

  “Exorcists aren’t born every day, but I think it’s reasonable to assume the Church had a few at one point.”

  “Like Katherine Abbot, right? The naturalist?”

  “Naturalist.” Finn shook his head and tossed the empty can into a plastic trash bin against the wall, where it landed with the clatter of can against can.

  “You’re saying she wasn’t a naturalist?”

  “I’m saying there are no naturalists.” He twisted a knob on the front of the tiny, shin-high stove, then lit a match and stuck it through the burner. Fire flared in a ring beneath the pot, and he adjusted the height of the flames by turning the knob again. “Or, more accurately, there are only naturalists. You can’t be trained to drive a demon from a stolen body by scorching its life force with the power of your own.”

  Was that really what I’d done? How was that even possible?

  “You have to be born with that ability.” His gaze met mine across the indoor campsite, and flames from the stove made shadows dance on his face. “And you were born with that ability, Nina.”

  I shifted nervously on my pillow. “Why would the Church have a bunch of fake exorcists? What happened to the real ones?”

  Finn shrugged, digging in the utensil box again. “You’re as qualified to answer that one as I am. You’re an exorcist. Why aren’t you down at the worship center right now, in line to get your cheek branded?”

  “Because the only Church officials who know I’m an exorcist just aimed guns at my head!”

  He finally pulled a plastic spoon from the box and used it to stir the stew. “Yeah, they tend to do that.”

  “Doesn’t the Church need us if they don’t have any real exorcists?”

  “Who knows what the Church thinks it needs?” He met my gaze over the camping lantern. “Humanity needs us. I know that much. Demons hunt us. The Church will take us. I know that for a fact. They took Carey James. I don’t know what they did with him, but I know they took him alive.”

  “Who’s C
arey? An exorcist? Your friend?”

  “He is an exorcist, yes. Just like you.”

  Like me? Why not like us?

  “But I never met him,” Finn continued, stirring the stew again, and my stomach started to growl. I hadn’t eaten since lunch at school. That felt like ages ago. “I know his sister, though. Her name’s Grayson. You’ll like her. Everyone likes her.”

  He pulled two paper bowls from a package and set them on the floor in front of the stove.

  “What do you know about my mother?” I asked as Finn twisted a knob and the flame beneath the pot died.

  When he turned away from the stove, he looked sad. “I know she was possessed and probably had been for quite a while.”

  “Since the day she turned eighteen.” How could I not have known?

  Finn poured beef stew from the pot into the first bowl. “This isn’t your fault, and you couldn’t have stopped it. There’s no way you could have known. You had no frame of reference, right?”

  “What do you mean?” I took the bowl he pushed toward me and held it for warmth, even when the blanket slid off my shoulders.

  Finn set the pot back on the burner and picked up his own bowl, then settled onto the pillow across from mine. “She’s been possessed your whole life, right? So you don’t have any experience with a normal mother to contrast yours with. There’s no way you could have known.”

  Maybe not. But I should have known.

  If Mellie hadn’t gotten pregnant and derailed my mom’s plans, would I have ever known? We’d been avoiding her for months. Her symptoms had gotten dramatically worse, and we hadn’t noticed, because we didn’t want to see her or deal with her. We just wanted her to wait until I turned eighteen before overdosing and passing quietly out of our lives.

  But that wouldn’t have happened. She would have possessed me and sold Melanie, and…well, I wasn’t sure what her plan was after that, since my body couldn’t produce a new host for her.

  Finn chewed his stew quietly, watching me. He’d set a bottle of water at my feet, and I hadn’t even noticed.

  “What else?” I put my bowl down and picked up the water. “What else do you know about her? About us?” How had he found me?

  “Tell you what.” He glanced at my untouched bowl. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, as long as you keep eating. You’re going to need plenty of energy if we’re going to make it out of here without getting caught.”

  I had no home. I had no clothes except what I was wearing. I had no food except what belonged to Finn. I had no information except what had come from him. And I had nowhere to go and no one to trust. There was nothing left. Except Finn.

  He must have seen doubt in my eyes, because he smiled, and when he smiled, I could see nothing of the boy who’d killed a degenerate and shot an “exorcist.” When he smiled, he looked normal. Friendly. Trustworthy. And that very thought put me back on edge.

  I didn’t know him well enough yet to think of him as trustworthy.

  “Relax.” His smile had slipped a little as he was confronted with my skepticism. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have saved your life. Twice. If I wanted to turn you in for the bounty, I wouldn’t have welcomed you into my home amid wealth and luxury I don’t share with just anyone.” He spread his arms in a grand gesture, taking in the grease, dirt, and trash all around us. “Is there any other fear I can put to rest for you?”

  When I only pulled the blanket around myself again, he laughed. “Fine. If I were planning to…you know…” He waved one hand at my entire body. “I wouldn’t have given you a slab of wood with nails sticking out of it.” He pointed to the two-by-four still lying next to me within easy reach. “I’m as protective of my parts as the next guy. More protective than some. So…are we good?”

  I thought about that for a minute. Then decided to ignore the question. “Do you really think there’s a bounty for me?”

  He chuckled again. “The Church usually calls it a reward, but yeah, they’ve probably put a little cash on the line to encourage your neighbors to join the manhunt.”

  Would that happen? Would the Mercers call the police if they saw me? What about Adam and his family? Would they turn me in if they thought that would help Melanie?

  I wasn’t sure how much Finn actually knew about what I was facing, but I was sure he knew more than I did. “So…I eat and you talk?” I said, and he nodded, spooning the last of the broth from his paper bowl. “Deal.” I picked up my bowl, hoping Melanie was eating as well as I was, wherever the Church had put her. Thinking about my sister brought up more questions about our mom, which had never been far from the surface. “What else do you know about my mother?”

  “I know she was a breeder.” Finn opened another can of stew while we spoke, and I realized I was already starting to feel better physically, thanks to the warm blanket and food. “Your mother—well, the demon masquerading as your mom—conceived you and your sister specifically either to provide herself with a new host body or to sell you to some other demon in need of one.”

  “One of each,” I said, and he nodded.

  “Two kids means a breeder can keep one and sell one—maximum profit with minimal risk.” He set the can opener in the box, then carefully removed the detached lid from the can and tossed it into the plastic bin. “Some of them really shop around before they commit to a…um…to a look.” His gaze took me in, jeans, tee, blue blanket, and all. “Your mother must have been beautiful at some point.”

  My face felt suddenly warm. Under the vigilant eyes of the sisters at school, there was no flirting. No overtly lustful looks, even from those of us who’d already dabbled in sin, fumbling around in the dark with few sounds that could rightfully be considered communication.

  But Finn didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious about kind of complimenting me.

  My gaze caught on his intense focus, and I had to grasp for the dropped thread of a conversation I’d almost forgotten.

  Oh yeah. My mom.

  “She was pretty.” Actually, before she’d gotten sick, my mother’d had the kind of beauty that drew attention from strangers. The kind that attracted trouble. Just like Melanie.

  “Well, that was no accident,” Finn said. “At some point in the past, she spotted one of your ancestors and decided those were genes she could work with. Breeders tend to stick with a particular bloodline until it hits a dead end.”

  I was that dead end. And for the first time in nearly two years, I was able to view my sterilization with something other than total despair and blistering fury. My inability to breed now felt like a huge middle finger flipped at my mother and her demonic machinations.

  “They don’t seem to care about gender either,” Finn continued, stirring the second can of stew as I slowly finished my first helping. “In fact, I don’t think demons themselves actually have genders, so if you’d been born a boy, your mom would have been looking for the perfect face/uterus combo to implant with the next generation of her—his—demon seed.”

  Suddenly my stew lost all flavor.

  “They usually space the kids pretty close together so that the older rarely figures out what’s going on before the younger is ready to harvest.” Finn shrugged and dumped the second can of stew into the pot. “It’s always safest to harvest one at the same time you sell the other.”

  “Harvest?” I set my bowl down and wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders, but the chill seemed to be coming from inside me, at the thought that there were more kids out there like me and Mellie—born and bred to host the Unclean. “How common is it?”

  Finn shrugged. “More common today than it was yesterday, and it’ll be more common tomorrow than it is today.”

  We are everywhere. Seen but unseen. Known but unknown. My mother’s words rang in my head, and suddenly they made sense.

  The Unclean were hiding in plain sight, among us. Breeding their own hosts. Existing right under the Church’s nose.

  “How many breeders are there?” My vo
ice sounded hollow. Empty. “Are we talking dozens?” Or hundreds? Thousands?

  “Who knows?” he said.

  We outnumber the grains of sand on the beach, the drops of water in the ocean, my mother had said. But had she meant demons in general, or breeders specifically?

  “How do you and your friends fit in?”

  “Carey and Grayson were bred for hosting. That’s how I know about breeders.”

  I pushed my empty bowl toward him with the toe of my sneaker. “So, what, you and your friends go around rescuing ill-fated children from their demon breeder parents?”

  “Um, no.” He stirred the stew one more time, then turned off the gas and lifted the pot from the burner. “As noble an enterprise as that would be, it’s impractical.”

  “Because otherwise, running from the police and hiding out in abandoned warehouses is the height of practicality?”

  “Of course not. Which is why we can’t keep adding to our ranks. Beyond the obvious numbers issue, most of us are exorcists and all of us are wanted by the police. We wouldn’t be doing your average orphaned breeder kid any favors by letting him tag along.”

  “So you just leave them for the Church?” Like he’d left Melanie. And suddenly I realized he would have left her even if we could have somehow taken her.

  “We have no other choice.” He poured more stew into both bowls, and I got the feeling he was using that task to avoid having to look at me. “It’s hard enough to get from town to town with just the five of us.”

  “How did you get into New Temperance?” Passage through most town gates required identification and paperwork, and kids couldn’t leave town limits—any town limits—without an accompanying parent or Church official.

  And, of course, citizens were highly discouraged from venturing into the badlands.

  Finn’s grin was back. “We might have stowed away in a cargo car with a shipment of Church cassocks. Which is why we can’t collect every orphan we meet. But you’re an exorcist. We need you.” He pushed my bowl toward me, and the spoon sank until only an inch of white plastic stuck out of the stew. “And if the Church had gotten to you first, no one ever would have heard from you again. Including your sister.”