"It's fitting that you should see this today, on Thanksgiving," he told her before throwing open the great doors and spreading his arms wide. "Because this is my first harvest. And it's a bumper crop if I do say so myself."
They were lined on the floor in rows of five, wearing dark brown robes in the fashion of the ward mothers, each masked like the first boy, uniform but for their heights. They were all children, and from size alone Zoe guessed their ages fell between three and ten. Except for those along the wall, where another unblinking ward mother stood guard. There cribs were lined up for the smallest of them. Zoe, aware of the weight of the Tulpa's stare on her face, tore her eyes away. "I don't understand."
But she was beginning to. The horror of it was slowly sinking in as she watched a ward mother read to the silent, unmoving children from the Shadow manuals, introducing the mythos and lore of the paranormal world into impressionable young minds encased in living wood. Zoe pocketed her shades, bent, and passed her hand in front of the child nearest her. The girl didn't move. That's when Zoe saw the tiny pins anchoring the mask in place. There was a slot next to the temple where a perfume vial was cradled, half-full.
Zoe swallowed hard. Not just a mask to keep out the light, then. Or one that merely limited expression. It was shackled to their skulls, and the drug did the same to their minds. Because children, she thought, as she straightened, should never be this unnaturally still and silent.
"It's simple, really," the Tulpa was already explaining. "It's children's belief in us and our mythology that grants us the energy to battle the Light. Problem is, children grow up. They become adults and stop believing in comic books, star signs. Me. So I came up with the idea of harnessing their minds, and of harvesting all that potential energy and intelligence and natural curiosity. They think solely of the Shadows. They study our history. They worship me."
Zoe couldn't help herself. Despite her mortal senses she suddenly recalled the smell and taste and touch of this creature's festering spirit. Her Thanksgiving dinner spoiled in her stomach. "So they're your slaves."
"They're my family," he corrected smoothly.
"And the babies?" she asked, her eyes instinctively searching out Ashlyn in one of the cradles. At least they had no idea she was a child of the Light. They'd merely stolen her because the opportunity presented itself… as they'd stolen all these children from their families. "Surely they're too young to contribute?"
"Oh, no. They've the most concentrated chi of all." the Tulpa smiled. "I'd take them from the womb if I could."
Zoe was glad they were no longer in the mirrored room, because for one moment his image flickered and the skeleton that flashed from beneath his skin wasn't human. It was scorched bone: tooth, fang, and the invisible power that reared up from the bowels of midnight. Zoe quickly realigned her thoughts, glancing around to make sure none of the ward mothers had noticed.
The Tulpa, oblivious, went on. "Think how devoted the mind would be if we could form specific neural pathways and manipulate a person's thoughts from birth on. My children," he said, arms again wide, "will make Wyatt's mind look like a shrunken head."
And that was how he planned on manipulating time. Using the chi of dozens of young, trained minds, he would bend natural law, and make reality conform to his wishes. Why not? Stranger things had happened.
"But how do you keep them so docile?" Zoe asked, playing dumb as the Tulpa motioned her to the front of the classroom.
"We limit their choices and experiences." He grinned as he whirled to face her. "And we provide examples of what happens to those who attempt treachery."
The Tulpa's grin dropped, along with the floor beneath Zoe. She yelped, free-falling and above her the previously mute children let out a collective cheer. Somehow, the evidence of health and life didn't warm her.
Chapter 7
The drop was short, and she hit solid concrete, unsettling enough dust to have her coughing in the complete dark. Her first hint that she wasn't alone was the threatening growl that came from her left. As if she didn't already feel threatened enough. She swung around as an insistent whine and heavy panting emerged, closer to her right.
Wardens.
Fear reared instinctively. The animals sensed it, and the whining strengthened. But fear can still be attributed to my humanity, Zoe thought, whirling blindly again. Who wouldn't be afraid, trapped in a dark underground pound?
"Uh… babe?" she tried, revealing her fear and all-too-human nerves in the shake of her voice.
"Still alive, then?" the Tulpa asked casually from directly above. Zoe looked up and saw his slim outline blocking the dim light from the children's classroom.
The question was telling. It meant he hadn't expected her to be. She felt a sniffling along her arm, a wet nose, then the tentative lick of a very large tongue. The Shadow wardens were dogs, paranormal pets that could scent out enemy agents and rip them apart in seconds. They were the only things, other than conduits, that could actually kill an agent. Well, thought Zoe looking up again, conduits, wardens… and the Tulpa.
"Clearly. But, and this is just a wild guess, I take it you have some other questions for me?"
"I have one." Then his voice was in her ear. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
And one after another, four giant spotlights boomed to life, flooding the cave with light so bright Zoe had to cover her face. The wardens whimpered, their claws scratching as they scampered blindly away. Zoe fished for the shades she'd dropped in her pocket and slipped them back on. Her eyes still teared as the light assaulted her from beyond the lenses, but she could finally make out the perimeter of the room… and it chilled her to the bone.
It was a stupa, a building in the Tibetan tradition meant to honor Buddha. The Tulpa had always meant to build one… but his, he'd said, would be dedicated solely to himself. Zoe had researched the subject when she'd lived with him, so she knew there were three types of stupas: ones to commemorate events or occasions in Buddha's—or, in this case, the Tulpa's—life. Ones erected to gain favor… but those were generally small and this was anything but. Finally, there were those used for the burial of relics from a funeral pyre. Zoe felt the grit caked beneath her fingernails from her abrupt landing and swallowed hard.
Yep, she thought, looking up. The room was cone-shaped, indicating solar worship. There was also an altar to her right. And while most burial stupas held vessels containing the bones and ashes from a crematorial fire, Zoe didn't look for them. The entire room was the vessel. All that was missing was fire.
"I mean, you must think I'm stupid," he went on, voice circling her like a vulture from above. He was circumambulating, walking in a clockwise direction, reflecting the movement of the sun and rotating planets. Zoe fought back the whimper that wanted to come. "I have to admit you caught me by surprise, just waltzing up and knocking on the door that way. That was a stroke of brilliance, as was the way you've obviously clothed yourself in humanity. But it only means you're that much easier to break… I'll have to be careful if I want our time together to last."
She wrapped her arms around her middle. "So you don't believe me."
The understatement of the year.
"Believe that you went to my creator intending to free me? To name me?" Outrage made his voice shake, but his outline above had gone unnaturally still. "No, Zoe. I know you went there believing that his life, and death, was linked to my own."
She jerked her head. "But you'd broken free of him! You already had enough consciousness and ability to rule the mortal and supernatural plane. I knew that. So why risk killing the creator only to leave behind my signature scent?"