“In and out, Archer. Make it fast,” I murmured, licking my lips as I focused on the candle. Dread washed through my body at the sight of that pinched taper, and I couldn’t help wondering how many days or weeks of my life I’d lose this time around. At least now I knew what to expect. I also had something to look forward to-or back at-once I was there. Hunter would get my message and be waiting for me upon my return. So, shaking, I leaned forward and blew. Nothing. I’d forgotten to grasp it at its base, linking my energy and-I now knew-my soul to it. I did so, blew again, and this time the candle snuffed out.
Smoke wrapped around my body, somehow managing to be both insistent and light. I heard a sound, faint chaos stirring inside me so that my thoughts bolted and scattered. Then my mouth was pried open. My soul screamed. And my world disappeared once more.
I was shaking as the Rest House revealed itself, smoke and vision clearing gradually to reveal the bar like a mahogany snake across from me. My hands were empty; the water bottle hadn’t made it over. The knife in my belt was gone too. Dammit. I frowned as Bill gave me a little wave from behind the bar. The silver-eyed dealers just stared, and the torpid denizens merely shifted their eyes before turning back to their cards. Mackie’s acknowledgment extended only to a tip of his hat and, of course, the second verse of my personal song. The murder ballad, I realized, that he’d begun on my initial visit here.
When that temper bursts to life, dear
Her pretty eyes, they flare to red
But that black heart has its own fear
Which may strike her down instead.
“Cheery,” I deadpanned. His head swiveled my way, as if on a hinge, and he grinned that skeletal smile, adding an extra flourish to the song’s finish.
I turned my eyes to the wall with the Most Wanted posters, gaze locking on my yellowed sheet in time to see more features being burned into the fraying paper. The whole of my surname was now visible, and the O and A clearly outlined in the first. One more entry and they’d have my portrait in full. I’d be stuck there forever.
Bullshit. I wasn’t going to return here, ever. I was going to find Jacks-ask, force, coerce, convince, kill him, if it meant getting what I wanted-and then take the information back home, save my world, a child’s life, fix the manuals of Light, strengthen my troop, keep Ashlyn safe, and live up to the designation of superhero and Kairos.
In that order.
For now, I searched out that asshole, Tripp. My eyes landed on Shen.
“How you healin’ over there, Miss Olivia?”
“Better than you would if I laid hands on you,” I shot back. “In any world.”
He grinned, and despite my words I knew I’d be in trouble if I took one threatening step toward him, so I dismissed him and went back to searching for Tripp.
He was actually at the bar, and it was clear he was suffering, the teetotaler giving in to temptation. I smiled as our eyes met, his weakness invigorating me. I wanted to tip his head back and pour that cloying liquid down his throat. I wanted it to permeate his every cell and slow his movements like sap running down a tree trunk. I wanted his power stolen from him as thoroughly as mine had been ripped from me. I strode across the room, boots reporting off the hard pine floor. The feeling of all eyes on me made me feel powerful, even as the heat seeping in from behind that bright red door began its invisible assault.
“Welcome back, Miss Olivia,” Bill said, with his easy friendliness. I fought the urge to stuff the bar rag down his throat.
“Bill.” I angled my head his way. I caught my reflection in the mirror. Old Joanna-dark-haired and dark-eyed, pissed. “Hello, beautiful,” I said to myself, then turned. “Tripp.”
Tripp licked his bottom lip, his mustache twitching with a knowing smile. “Told you you’d be back. One taste of the power afforded women in this world, and the other is easily abandoned. Especially irresistible to Shadows too.”
“I’m not back to stay, and for the last time, I’m not a Shadow agent.”
He scoffed, and leaned his elbows on the bar, addressing me though the back mirror. “Well I am, on both counts apparently,” he muttered, but got over his bitterness quickly enough to shoot me a dark look. “And I recognize one of my own. You are Shadow. Look at your fucking eyes in that picture.”
He jerked his head toward the wall, but I didn’t follow his gaze. I’d already seen my father’s eyes staring back at me, and I shrugged away the comparison.
“In any case, why not return to a place where you’re untouchable?”
I raised a brow.
Tripp scoffed at my arch look. “Your exit didn’t count. You destroyed gaming chips. You wasted valuable fuel when there’s too little of it to begin with. Besides, first rule in the Rest House: don’t piss off the piano player.”
“And speaking of our homicidal little entertainer,” I said, glancing over at the man who’d fallen still and silent again, like a giant mechanical doll. “When do you think Mackie’s going to come after you?”
Tripp jolted at that. “Why would he? I play by the rules.”
“You don’t drink, which allows you to win all of the hands-”
“Have you seen how long it takes these fuckers to finish a hand?”
Good point. “But you don’t give up any powers that way. In fact, you haven’t given up much beyond the initial soul energy it took to cross, have you? The people running this show are bound to get sick of that after a while. Even the freebies in Vegas dry up when you don’t play.”
He snarled, resettled his cowboy hat over his head, and swirled his drink. “It’s a game to them. A novelty. They want to see how hard they can push me. How long I can withstand their temptations.”
“But, Harlan, you’ve already been here a very long time.”
His eyes snapped back to mine, and I let knowledge shine through in my smile. I’d looked him up after Warren’s mention. My ability to read the Shadow manuals was still coming in handy.
“I’m willing to tell you how long…for information that can help me bring down your old master, the Tulpa.”
He looked away, but there’d been hesitation in his gaze. “You got the wrong Shadow agent.”
I looked around the room like I didn’t care, wiping my brow as I watched slow hands being dealt. The soles of my feet were starting to burn. Tripp didn’t move. Time for a different approach. “Why didn’t you ever try to escape?”
He looked surprised at the question, but shrugged stiffly after a moment. “I did. Right after I first arrived. The dealers tried to stop me, same as you. Every time I made a move toward our lantern, Mackie would raise that knife. Then they stopped trying. They realized before I did that someone had locked the entrance from the other side.”
The memory blanketed his face like a fever. There’d probably been a moment of exhilaration, where he thought he’d had them all bested, only to be followed by a dizzying plummet as he realized he had nowhere to go. I swallowed hard, and told myself to remember who this guy was. He destroyed mortal lives…and once belonged to the troop that most wanted me dead.
“And now? Why don’t you try again? Why didn’t you attempt to come with me? Follow me? Help me?”
“You’ve only been gone half an hour,” he said, and glanced back down at the glass in his hand. He tipped it to one side, watching the liquid run down the sides of the glass, and missed the way I goggled. A half an hour on this side of the candle? My God, time wasn’t just altered over here. It was turned inside out. “But I was thinking about it.”