Ledger swallowed the knot in his throat. “Yeah. In a way, I guess. Earl—Mr. King—is a cuckoo,” he said. “It moves from host to host. It’s a death and a rebirth. It wasn’t meant to be in his body for so long. That’s why it’s falling apart.”
Horror twisted Dale’s face because he’d caught up as well. He’d seen how Earl worked from the inside. All Ledger had was the realization that Earl’s body hadn’t been his to start with. He’d stolen it like the others. So why, when he had new bodies to crawl into, would he keep going back to one that was rotted and done?
Unless he didn’t have a choice.
Just because Dale understood that too, didn’t mean he was going to admit it.
“What do you mean?” he said. “What’s it want with me?”
“Like you said,” Ledger said. “It put something inside you all those years ago, before you got away, and that tied you together. You couldn’t die, and it couldn’t live. You’re the death it wants.”
Dale’s mouth gaped open in wordless, horrified misery. His throat creaked as he tried to speak because he’d forgotten to breathe.
“No,” he said. “You don’t know what it’s like. It’s Hell. It’s worse than Hell. Please, don’t let it do this.”
Earl snorted, grabbed Dale’s shattered leg, and dragged him back over. “He can’t stop me,” it said. “Content yourself. Or don’t.”
It kissed Dale, their mouths pressed ruthlessly together despite Dale’s desperate efforts to pull away. Then it exhaled. It seeped out of Wren and into Dale. The dead man fought it at first, but it didn’t do much good. Eventually, he just went limp as Earl crawled inside him and made itself at home.
Ledger watched with a sick, miserable sense of responsibility. This hadn’t been what he wanted, but that wouldn’t be much comfort to anyone. Not Dale, anyhow.
Suddenly Wren jerked away from Dale, scrubbing his mouth on the back of his sleeve, and fell backward onto his ass. Ledger staggered forward and collapsed next to him. He wrapped his arms around Wren.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“No,” Wren said. He reached up and grabbed Ledger’s wrist in one hand. “But I mend quick.”
Dale lay on the ground.
For a moment, Ledger wondered if it really had been Earl’s death in that kiss, but then splinters of broken bone started to squirm under the skin as it mended itself. Patchy brown hair thickened and curled, paler streaks already threaded through it, and the livid black stain of old blood sunk away from Earl’s pale, healthy flesh.
Earl slowly sat up. It looked at its hands, turning them over and moving the fingers, and then it threw its head back and laughed. Ledger tightened his grip on Wren. Earl scrambled to its feet and raked its fingers through its hair, exposing the dark buds of horns that poked up against its temples.
“Oh, this is what I forgot,” it said. Its voice had changed. It was natural and easy now. As if it didn’t have to force the vocal cords to cooperate. “To be new again.”
It stretched luxuriantly in the skin that it fit into and then turned to look at Wren and Ledger. The eyes were the only things it hadn’t fixed, still milky and stained from edge to edge.
“And what,” it said, as its voice darkened, “am I do with you two? You defied me. Betrayed me.”
Ledger dug his fingers into Wren’s shoulders and pressed what might be a last kiss to his cheek.
“You weren’t yourself,” Ledger said. “We served your best interests, even though you didn’t know what they were.”
Earl pursed its lips. “That could be argued.” It walked over, dropped into an easy crouch, and reached out to run its finger down Wren’s bloody cheek. “But I’ve beeninmy bird, here, and I know his intent. He wanted something for himself, not for me.”
“It still worked out in your favor,” Ledger said.
Earl licked its finger clean. “True,” it said. “And perhaps the best punishmentisto let him hope, hmm?”
Wren leaned his head back against Ledger’s shoulder.
“Go fuck yourself,” he said.
Earl reached out and grabbed Wren’s face, still spider-quick. “You think you’re free now?” it asked, that light voice suddenly low and vicious again. “All you did is teach me how to hurt you. Remember that.”
It let go of Wren’s face with a shove and rose gracefully to its feet.
“Go then,” it said as it admired its arms. “I’ll summon you when I need you again.”
