Body Surfing

still stared back at him, looking every bit as confused as Jasper felt.
    He closed his eyes, opened one of them. So did Jarhead. He stuck out his tongue. So did Jarhead. He said, “Holy fuck,” and so did Jarhead, except Jarhead didn’t make any noise because he was only a reflection.
    A reflection of Jasper.
    Who, apparently, was Jarhead.
    He turned his head slowly. Danny had sat down, was examining her hands, legs, stomach as though she’d never seen them before. She looked up and smiled—a patient yet somehow slightly greedy smile.
    Jasper looked down at his hands. At Jarhead’s hands, doughy, dirty. His, but not his. They did what he told them to do but onlywhen he told them to, as if Jasper worked his body through a video game controller. He looked up at Danny pleadingly.
    Danny pursed her lips, nodded benevolently. “Ready to ask?”
    Jasper swallowed. “What—what’s happened to me?”
    “Isn’t it obvious?” Danny gave her head a little toss, and now both of her eyes were visible, glowing, amused, all-knowing. For the first time Jasper felt more than confused. He felt afraid.
    “Jasper, my friend: you’re dead.”

11
    D umas—Malachi—glanced at the hand Ileana was slipping toward the seam of her skirt. He shook his head. Without taking his eyes from hers, he reached beneath her skirt and lifted the knife from its garter. His fingers were cold, businesslike. Her thigh could have been a mannequin in a department store.
    The demon brought the blade to his nose. Sniffed. “Ah, Antonio. Even your blood was spicy!” His eyes shifted to Ileana’s. “The most annoying thing was that I liked Soma. I was going to rest in him a while. But you had to ruin it.” He let the knife fall to the floor. “Aztecan, no? That’s so like you hunters. To cloak your killing in history and myth, as though it were a sacrifice and not simply murder. You hunters, and your foolish, misguided Legion. You think your dim memories of union allow you to second-guess our actions and outmaneuver us. We are Mogran, Ileana. As old as this river, as beyond your comprehension.”
    Not a trace of Dumas lingered in the voice, the eyes. Malachi’s control was total. Ileana had seen this kind of possession before. Knew that even if she could get the Mogran to jump, Dumas’s psyche was unlikely to recover. That made killing him easier, at least on an emotional level. Overpowering the Mogran was another question.
    “How did you get out of Soma anyway?”
    Malachi laughed gleefully. “The maid, of course. I used her forthe exit, then borrowed her body just so I could see the look in your eyes as you went in to kill the wrong man.”
    Ileana remembered the expression on the maid’s face, the wrinkled bedspread. Remembered the confusion and terror in Soma’s eyes as she killed him. Her heart pounded, and she fought to control herself. There would be time for remorse later.
    “And Dumas? Did you take him, too?”
    “I have you to thank for that. He was all revved up after a few drinks with, how did he put it, ‘a like-minded conversational partner, and such a lovely one at that’? He practically seduced the maid himself.” The demon put a smirk on his host’s face. “You would be proud of your epidemiologist. He wore a condom and everything.”
    “It’s a shame there’s no prophylaxis against you.” She looked the demon full in the face. “But why come to my rescue? Perhaps—” she arched her back and pushed her breasts in his face “—perhaps you feel the need to give Dumas what he really wanted?”
    Malachi looked at her tits as though they were a couple of scoops of ice cream and he already had a banana split in each hand. His laugh was the laugh of a nine-year-old bully.
    “Do you actually think you can seduce me?” With blinding speed, he grabbed her wrists, pushing her back into her seat. “I can hear your heartbeat , Ileana. Can hear you revving it up, trying to flood your tired muscles with oxygen. I can smell the hormones you’re so desperately manufacturing to give your body one last burst of speed and strength. Do you honestly believe that will help you against me?”
    The demon held her effortlessly, and Ileana suddenly felt defeated. She turned her head from Malachi’s, if only to escape his hot breath, his mesmerizing stare.
    “You know I’m the newest.” The demon’s voice was filled with self-love. “The youngest.”
    She closed her eyes. She had heard these speeches before. The