Ex-Communication by Peter Clines (love story books to read .txt) 📕

They all chuckled. The mood rose a little bit.

He focused on the spot between his shoulder blades, floated into the air, and held out his hand. Max grabbed it wrist to wrist. They rose up and floated out past the Big Wall.

The exes below tilted their heads back and followed them through the air. They snapped their jaws open and shut. Their desiccated fingers stretched up to claw at the empty space below Max’s feet.

“A little higher would be nice,” said Max.

“You’ll be fine,” said St. George.

They drifted over to the circle burned into the pavement. The shambling dead hid it well from the Big Wall, but from overhead it was easy to see. St. George paused in the air just before it. He looked down at Max. “As soon as we’re over it? Or once we’re past it?”

“Past it. The seal itself is the end of the safe area. He’ll see us, but you should be safe from any level of possession.”

“Should?”

“For a while, anyway,” said Max. “If he wants to kill either of us, he’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Great.”

They floated a few more feet. A cluster of exes shuffled below them and brought the sound of clicking teeth. One of them stumbled and fell over backward. The others trampled over it, still reaching for the heroes.

“Hang on tight with both hands,” St. George said. “If it comes at us, I’m going to move fast.”

“If it comes at us, you’re going to want me to have a hand free,” said the sorcerer.

St. George took in a deep breath. He glanced over his shoulder at the Big Wall, where Stealth and Freedom stood watching him. The breath hissed out of his nose as black smoke. He tightened his fingers around the sword and swallowed.

They crossed the seal.

Nothing happened.

St. George turned in the air. There were a hundred or so exes in his line of sight, but none of them was streaming blue fire or growing claws and horns. He swung the sword once and it made a whipping noise.

Still nothing.

“So far, so good,” said Max. His free hand was up with the middle and ring fingers folded flat against his palm. A set of devil horns. “Which way are we headed?”

St. George rose another foot or so in the air and headed west.

“And that’s sunset,” said Max twenty minutes later.

They drifted between trees and buildings down La Brea Avenue. It was one of the more urban sections of Los Angeles, and he’d heard it called “Beverly Hills–adjacent” a few times back when people talked about apartment locations for something other than looting. Several lanes wide, a fair number of trees, and a mix of warehouse-like stores and small shops. Hard to believe just a few blocks to the east it looked more like a small town than a big city.

“It’s not actually down,” St. George said. “It’s just lower than the buildings. We’ve still got another ten minutes or so.”

“And then it gets even harder to see anything.”

Exes staggered after them, like paupers to a banquet. St. George and Max had collected a large crowd of followers as they flew back and forth across the neighborhood. Some fell behind as others joined the chase. There were sixty or seventy of them at the moment, trailing behind the flying men in a loose fan. They shuffled between cars, dragging against the sides, and added the scraping noise to the sound of their clicking teeth.

St. George panned his eyes across the road again. There were a lot of cars, all covered with dust. It meant lots of places to hide. “Isn’t there some kind of locator spell you can cast or something?”

“Yeah,” said Max, “but gosh-darn-it, I missed that day at Hogwarts.”

“You don’t need to be an ass about it.”

“Sorry. A little tense. I didn’t think it’d take this long to find either of them. Or for Cairax to find us.”

Something moved quick in the corner of St. George’s eye and he heard a sound over the click-clack-click of the exes. He spun and brought the sword up, inhaling hard as he did. He felt the tickle at the back of his throat and realized it was just another zombie, a tall man who had been coming to join the pack. It had stumbled off the sidewalk and fallen against a Mercedes.

He let the breath out slow and smoke twisted from his nose and mouth. He glanced down and saw Max’s outstretched hand was shimmering like a hot sidewalk. The other man sighed and let his fingers relax.

“So,” said St. George, “you thought we’d’ve found them by now?”

“Well, yeah,” Max said. “Cairax wants to get me, so either he was going to keep Josh close until the possession took effect, or he was going to be waiting at the seals to pounce the moment I stepped outside. I’m not really sure what’s going on.”

St. George checked the crowd of exes below them. His eyes flitted down to the tooth on his lapel and came back up. “He should be pretty tough to miss. Long tail, purple hide, ten feet tall.”

Max grunted. “That isn’t what Cairax really looks like, y’know.”

“No?”

“That’s what it looks like when it’s squeezed into my shape, if that makes sense. Sort of like how a filet-o-fish is shaped like a bun, not like a real fish. It’s not natural, it’s just easier to swallow.”

“So it’s going to look different?”

“It’s going to look a bit more pure.”

St. George turned and brought the sword up again. “Interesting choice of words.” The quick movement had been an ex’s shadow this time, stretched out long as the last rays of sunlight slipped between two buildings.

“Just take what you remember and dial it up to eleven,” Max told him.

“It was already at eleven.”

“Then take it to thirteen. More fitting, anyway. Hey, can we take a quick break?”

“What?”

“You’re the super-strong guy who can fly, but I’ve been dragged by one arm for half