Zoe decided to begin. "You care nothing about this—or me—I see."
"On the contrary, darling. Time hasn't lessened my feelings for you. It strengthened them."
Lindy popped a handful of berries in her mouth, snickering.
"And mine for you," Zoe said softly, looking down, pushing a walnut across her plate with her index finger.
"Then why hide from him?"
She glanced up to find the man directly across from her leaning in, feigning interest. Licking his lips. Wasp thin, he reminded Zoe of a snake, that tongue seemingly testing the air, tasting it, honing in on her. His grandmother had been one of Zoe's first victims after she ascended to her star sign. His name was Ajax, he was the new Shadow Virgo.
Zoe leaned back and blotted her lips with her napkin. "I wasn't hiding from him… or any of you. I was hiding from them."
Everyone looked toward the Tulpa. Zoe waited. Sixteen years was a long time to have hidden from both sides of the Zodiac, but she willed him to believe it. Willed them all. The Tulpa stared, blank-faced, before motioning for her to continue. So she told them the story she'd rehearsed, the past she'd invented, the history she now believed, passing it along so they would believe it as well. It was true that Zoe had killed the Tulpa's creator, Wyatt Neelson. But her intent, she said, wasn't to destroy the Tulpa, but to strengthen him.
"Do you remember the way we spoke of him?" she asked, stopping to address the Tulpa as the others listened carefully. "About the way he clung to you even after you broke free of him to assert your independence. You said he was dead weight, like a stone attached to the string of a kite that would otherwise sail free."
"So you decided to sever that weight yourself."
"No," Zoe shook her head. "I went to convince him to give you a name."
The Tulpa froze and silence settled heavily over the table. Because even though Wyatt had visualized the Tulpa so completely to construct a fully developed consciousness, he'd refused to give the Tulpa a name. There was power in a name. It was why Adam named all the earth's creatures in the bible, giving himself power over all of them. Why in Jewish tradition a child's intended name wasn't revealed until after they were born. It was why cultures all over the world were superstitious about sharing names, and why all parents chose their offspring's names so very carefully.
And it was why the Tulpa desired one so very badly.
Zoe reminded him of that now. "You'd refused to see him for months, and that had taken its toll on his psyche. He was unkempt, mumbling like a crazy man about abandonment, and having nothing to show for his life's work. When I told him what I wanted, that we even had a name picked out—" Here the others looked back and forth between them, curiosity stark on their faces, but Zoe continued on blithely. "Well, he only laughed, then spat at my feet. It angered me."
She bit her lip and the tears welled. "I snapped. I told him I was the most important person in your life now, not him. That he may have created you but I was also supernatural, and that we were creating something new between us. That's when he lunged." She swallowed hard, drawing a shaky hand across her brow before letting it drop. Her voice fell to a whisper. "I don't know… I guess I'd begun to think of him as one of us, as having powers, being able to detect intent. Plus I was furious with him for his crazed rebuff. I swear it was only meant to be a slap… but it was enough to kill him… and to reveal that I'd once been Light. I knew once you found my psychic imprint on the kill spot that you'd be so enraged you'd never hear me through. So I fled."
Zoe stared at her hands like she couldn't believe she'd done it, and the others studied her—and the Tulpa—from behind their safe, shining lenses. The Tulpa continued watching his own reflection, and waited for Zoe to finally look up.
"So it was all an accident?"
She nodded, eyes trained on his too-calm face, like he wasn't listening, though Zoe knew he heard every word. All syllables. Every breath drawn in between. "And all these years I've been wracking my brain, trying to think of a way to return to you and prove it'd been unintentional. I needed an excuse that the agents of Light would fall for, or a mission that would bring me back into your arms. Then I realized you'd never believe me. Not if I showed up here as before, with power, ability. Light."
"We don't believe you now," said one of the others.
Zoe's frustration showed even from behind the dark glasses. "Why would I lie? Why would I walk right up and ring the doorbell if I didn't want this more than anything in the world?"
"It is a conundrum," the Tulpa finally said, voice still too gentle.
Which meant he was indulging her out of curiosity. She took a bite of turkey and felt it catch in her throat. But curiosity was a good start, she told herself, swallowing. Curiosity could be turned into concern. Concern into desire.
Zoe shrugged one shoulder, and hugged herself. "I finally decided the only way to convince you of my sincerity was to come to you on this, your favorite holy day, when mortal observance and emotions could be tapped and channeled for your benefit and strength. If you use that power you'll see I'm telling the truth. I've returned to you out of love. I miss you. I just… want to come home."
She held up her hand when two of the Shadows opened their mouths to speak. "But I also knew that wasn't enough. I had to prove myself, lose something irreplaceable, as I caused you to lose the creator. It took me a year to get up the nerve to actually do it. But I've shed it all for you—my past, my chi, my near immortality. I come to you with a basket of fruit to commemorate this holy day of bounty, thanks and forgiveness. And I come to you only as a woman."
It was all she had, and it was the truth. The Tulpa leaned back, lifting his cup, and finally smiled. Lindy's head swiveled back and forth between them, her confusion and growing anger magnified on every mirrored surface. "Bullshit!"
Zoe's eyes never left the Tulpa's face, longing and hope naked on her own. "Just a little clue, Lindy… if you've had fifteen years to seduce this man and still haven't made it into his bed, chances are it's not going to happen."
Lindy was fast, but the Tulpa was faster. A flick of the wrist and another mirror sprang up in front of Zoe, halting Lindy's lunge with a resounding crack. She grunted and fell back into her seat, and the mirror—all the warning she'd get—disappeared.
"Returned with a woman's weapons too, I see." the Tulpa murmured.
Zoe looked at Lindy who was straightening her glasses. Her hands were shaking now. "They're all I have. I'll be damned if I die without them."
"You may be damned yet."
"Shut up, Ajax." The Tulpa finally took a bite from his own plate, continuing while he chewed. "You weren't here before so you don't know, but Zoe and I have always had a strong bond."
"Opposites attract," she agreed, before sadness again overtook her face. "Though it seems that too has changed. Like you."
Again he checked his reflection in the mirror, studying what Zoe had created there. "I look exactly like before."
"I mean on the inside. I don't need extrasensory power to see you're holding back."
"And do you blame me?"
"I understand it," she said, shaking her head. "But I regret it all the same."
"Oh, for fuck's sake…" Lindy half-rose from her chair, but the Tulpa held up a hand. Her mouth snapped shut, the words scuttling off into a growl. Zoe held back the smile that wanted to visit her face. Still, she knew they all could sense her satisfaction. It didn't bother her, and it didn't seem to bother the Tulpa, either. He pushed back his chair and stood.