Part 30 (1/2)
”Thank G.o.d. At least someone's been paying attention.”
”We have to beat them another way.”
His smile dropped; he let out a low growl.
It was time to tell them what I'd been thinking about, ever since my trip back from New York. The final piece of the puzzle. Their Achilles' heel. The piece that had been right in our faces the whole time. We just hadn't seen it.
”Something's been bothering me,” I said. ”Remember what Isabella told us? Possession is a temporary state, right? You do the ritual, magic happens, and then bam, it's over. Right?”
Miles closed his eyes. He didn't say anything.
Sarah nodded. ”Right.”
”So how are they maintaining this for the entire life of the victim's body--until they're ready to skip to their next generation of hosts? We're talking sixty years . . . How do they do it?”
”I don't know,” Miles snapped. ”What am I, Grand Poohbah?”
”Miles, listen. What did I see, when I was in the tunnel over the ceremony? Remember? There were dancers, right? And drummers? And the priest with the crazy eyes? And behind them, what did I see?”
He tried to remember, then shook his head.
It had been there, right in front of us, all along. Sarah's eyes lit up.
”Behind the dancers?” she asked.
I nodded.
”And behind the priest, on the altar?”
”Right . . .”
”A machine. You said you saw a machine.”
”That's right--”
”A machine, or something like that, in the dark, twisting and moving like the dancers were. That's what you said.”
I nodded. Her eyes were bright, alive.
Miles didn't say anything. He just nodded slightly.
”Isabella didn't say anything about a machine, did she?”
He shook his head no.
”Of course she wouldn't,” I continued. ”It's totally out of character with the ritual . . .”
Sarah smiled, remembering my exchange with Isabella.
” 'What if someone were using voodoo . . .'” she recited.
” '. . . someone from outside the culture . . .
” 'In a way it was never intended,'” Miles finished.
I nodded.
”What if the machine . . .”
”. . . was some kind of extension of the ritual . . .”
”Prolonging it . . .”
”Sustaining it . . .”
Miles shook his head as the idea unfolded.
”It's an addition.”
”A mechanization.”
”a.s.sembly-line voodoo,” I said, smiling.
”Then it stands to reason,” Miles continued, ”that if the machine is prolonging a temporary state--possession--indefinitely, then if we . . .”
”. . . destroyed the machine . . .”
”. . . we'd end the possession . . .”
”. . . and then . . .”
”. . . what then?” Miles asked. ”Are the victims--what did Izzy call them?--the horses . . . are they still in there, somewhere?”
”Would they come back?”
” 'When the G.o.d dismounts, the priest is himself again, weary maybe, dazed,' but . . .”
”. . . but this is so much longer . . . not minutes but decades . . .”
”If you cut them off too long, do they die?” Miles asked.
”Don't we owe it to them to find out?” Sarah replied.
Miles laughed harshly.
”Owe them? What do we owe Nigel . . . Daphne . . . John? Those people used Jeremy. And when he had nothing left to offer them, they dropped him without a second thought.”