“Now you want me back?” Like being thrust underwater, I could see his mouth moving, but his voice was distorted, the words that unreal.
“I’m holding out an olive branch, Joanna,” he said, a tight smirk stretched over his weathered face. “You should take it.”
I laughed so loudly a small clump of wait staff turned to stare. “You’ve found another use for me. Is that it?”
“You’re making a scene,” he said, jaw clenching so tightly I knew I was kicking off some potently bitter emotion. But I was just trying to figure out what about me would be so useful to him. I mentally ticked through everything he’d learned lately-the grays, their hideout at the Test Site-but only one thing truly clicked as a matter of urgency. I laughed again. “Oh…I see. You know there’s a child in Midheaven, and Hunter-a man you also discarded-is your link to that child. And I’m your link to him. Because we share the aureole.”
“You don’t share the aureole,” he snapped so quickly I knew he wasn’t entirely sure. “That’s impossible with a mortal.”
I’d done a lot of things in the past year previously thought impossible. Pursing my lips, I watched him another few seconds. “And I suppose my return to the troop is conditioned upon telling you everything I know about the cell?”
“Of course.”
Wow. I shook my head at the hubris. This man wanted it all his way. “Not going to play out that way, Warren.”
“Really?”
“Hell, no,” I snapped, so angry I was shaking. “I might not be an agent, you arrogant prick, but I’m human and I have my rights. Primary among them? Freedom. Choice.” I spat the words at him, remembering the ones Hunter had given me too. “The ability to create the world as I want it to be.”
He lunged, his nostrils flaring wide, and tugged on my arm. “Not this one.”
I jerked from his touch, but it was too late. A sharp pain pierced my palm, and he scored my hand all the way down to the newly printed tip of my middle finger, giving an especially hard yank. The print didn’t come off as the blood welled, but my defensive protectant did.
“You wanna live by your own rules?” he said as the fine netting rippled, then dissipated. “Then you’ll die by them too. Good-bye, Joanna.”
And he left me defenseless in an open-air venue I was sure Sleepy Mac would find before the ceremony was over. Holding my palm closed, I winced and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. I told myself the wound was so shallow it wouldn’t make a difference. Not when it came time to grab a weapon. I’d even almost convinced myself of it.
And that’s when the Tulpa arrived.
He paused as he spotted me inside the entry of the pool area, then angled his wheelchair my way. You still have weapons, I thought, trying not to panic. But as the mechanical whirring of the Tulpa’s chair grew closer, every aging conduit seemed so far away. It was impossible to be in this being’s presence and not wish for protection-full-body armor would do nicely-and I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Even the mortals he passed straightened, then slumped, his power making them squirm without precisely knowing why. The instinct of prey caught under a predator’s stare had been bred out of the mostly urban population, but it still flickered beneath the cool, sophisticated veneer, like a carp’s tail catching the sun before diving lower.
If you were watching the scene from a distance-or, more likely these days, on a reality show-the knee-jerk flinch would be hard to understand. The Tulpa looked weaker than ever. He was confined to that chair, devoid of the power he’d exhibited in Xavier’s office, and the first two fingers of his gloved left hand were unnaturally stiff.
Still, just like a cockroach, the menacing fucker just wouldn’t die. Afraid of telegraphing my intent to stomp him in the very near future, I smiled like I was happy to see him.
“Olivia dear,” he said, holding out one gloved hand as he pulled to a stop before me. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. I read the news reports about the unfortunate events in your home last night. I hope you weren’t too badly injured?”
“I-I bumped my head at some point, I think. I don’t remember anything at all.” Lindy had no doubt already told him that, but his gaze still sharpened fractionally, and the softest mental probe whispered over me.
“But you’re fine now?” he asked, all concern and sweetness beneath the soft, and hard, pulse.
I smiled. “Perfectly. Ready for a wedding!”
His brows winged down and his gaze narrowed on my palms. “Then why are you bleeding?”
He inched closer, nostrils flaring. My heart jumped as he reached again for my palm, and a quick glance up revealed Warren smiling smugly over the Tulpa’s left shoulder. Agents, including the Tulpa, could scent out their enemies through blood, though they all had olfactory blind spots when it came to their own. I had the Tulpa’s blood running in my veins, so I was safe. Thus, my nervousness curdled into bile. “Thorns,” I said, meeting the Tulpa’s darkly inquisitive gaze. “The rose bouquets are enormous, and the florist accidentally left some of the thorns on mine, so I had to pull them off myself. See?” I made sure he got another good glimpse of my fingertips-printed, mortal, obviously harmless despite anything else he may or may not be smelling-and had the pleasure of watching Warren’s face fall when the Tulpa released my palm.
“You should wash up quickly, my dear,” he said, angling his chair away. “The ceremony’s about to begin.”
“Yes, but first…” But first I had an idea. Furrowing my brow, I let my gaze soften again as I stared into his eyes. It was easy to bring back the feeling I’d had last night in Xavier’s office, and in the conference room when the board of directors had fallen so completely under his spell. I swayed, blinked slowly, and repeated his demand to tell him anything I remembered about “…the Serpent Bearer.”
His expression shifted, skin thinning over the sharp bone. Even his vocal cords tightened. “What about it?”
Another pulse of thought energy had me swaying for real, and I swallowed hard before flattening my voice into a liquid roll. “A man…he gave me the photo of that symbol. He was so strange, talking in riddles…”
“What exactly did he say?”
“I didn’t understand…but he said he planted the treas ure chest for me. The bachelorette party was his opportunity…” I frowned, like the thought was escaping me. My next words slurred. “Because I’m an Archer…Xavier’s daughter, which makes me somehow special.” I tilted my head and let my gaze slide from his face.
The Tulpa squeezed my arm until I refocused. “What man, Olivia?”
Keeping my gaze liquid, I smiled softly, then pointed over his shoulder. “Why…him.”
The Tulpa whirled in his chair. Warren’s eyes widened and he visibly jolted and started backing toward the exit, but they’d shut the glass doors leading back into the hotel to keep the photographers and gawkers out…and the rest of us in. Warren licked his lips, considering his options. He finally settled against a faux pillar lining the groom’s side of the pool. As if on cue, the preceremony music swelled.
“Well, I guess it’s time,” I said brightly, shaking my head as if coming out of a daydream. I smiled down at the Tulpa, who was overly still as he considered his own next move. I made it for him. “Oh, don’t look so worried. I’m going to make sure you have the best seat in the house.”
And before he could object, I motioned to one of the attendants. “Center aisle, front row, closest to me,” I instructed, and while the Tulpa paused, what could he really say? I was smiling sweetly. Warren was in the same room, though he didn’t know why. And as he was supposed to be Olivia Archer’s advisor, appearances had to be upheld.