She lifted a shoulder. “What if I’m wrong? What if you stay with those goody-goody losers? Though I don’t think you will. You have two fates spiraling before you, but only one will lead you to true greatness. Eventually you’ll see that.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“You’re not even a little curious?” she asked, light brows furrowing. “Don’t you want to know where we live, what it’s like? How we train?”
“If I knew any of that you’d all be dead.”
She crossed her feet at the ankles, took a long drag, and blew smoke in my direction. “What about your father? Don’t you want to know what he’s really like?”
“Uh-uh. You’re not going to tempt me with that shiny red apple.”
“Oh, a biblical reference. Thanks,” she said, and smiled, serpent-sweet.
“It wasn’t a compliment,” I said, and I raised my bow, aimed for her heart.
“I know where Joaquin is,” she said quickly, hands flying up in front of her as if to ward me off. After a few moments of neither of us moving I lowered my conduit. Regan swallowed hard, then licked her lips, eyes still on my weapon. “I’m not going to tell you everything because you just might raise that bow again, but I’ll give you enough to catch him. You have my word.”
“You are smarter than Butch and Ajax were combined,” I said, unable to keep the admiration out of my voice. Because if there was one thing I’d stop, drop, and roll for, it was information about the man who’d assaulted me when I was just a mortal teen.
“I know,” she said, relaxing a fraction. “Just think what a team we’d make if we were on the same side.”
I started to lift my hand again.
“Okay, okay. No more trying to convince you. It doesn’t matter. You’ll come to the same conclusion soon enough. You’ll see.”
“About Joaquin?” I prompted.
“He’ll be at Master Comics tomorrow at four P.M. He likes to be the first to read the Zodiac manuals, and Zane will sometimes put them out a day early if you go right before the shop closes.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s more than you have now,” she pointed out. “And it’s enough. Once you see him you’ll know I’m telling the truth, that I’m really on your side. Then I’ll tell you more.”
“More about Joaquin?” I asked stiffly. I wanted to know his habits, his haunts, his schedule, down to the food he had for breakfast every morning.
“More about everything.”
I sighed. She was right, it was more than I had now. And while it could be a trap, I didn’t think so. As Regan said before, she could have killed me at any time in the past six months…shit, she could’ve handed me over to Joaquin if she’d been inclined. For some reason she wanted me alive-though I doubted that reason was as simple as hope that I’d become the Shadow Kairos.
Besides, slaying Joaquin was worth the risk.
I glanced back at Regan, knowing I was walking a moral tightrope here. If Warren was here she’d already be a pretty corpse. But I possessed the aureole. Nothing I did could be tracked, none of my actions would be recorded in the manuals, and this decision was mine alone to make; kill this initiate, or let her live in exchange for intel on my greatest enemy.
Regan was silent, letting me work all this out for myself, and sensing I’d made a decision, she glanced up, looking almost innocent bathed in the aqua light of the tanks, leaning there next to sharks.
“Make one move from that spot, and I’ll pin you through your heart and yank it back out of your chest. Got it?”
One corner of her mouth lifted, and she blinked slowly, inclining her head.
“Don’t follow me, and swear to stay away from my…Olivia’s house. No tailing me, no contacting me, no trying to convince me to come to your side. Any of that, and I’ll kill you.”
“Okay.” She waited for me to leave. “But where will you go?” she asked, then held up her hands when I half turned on her. “Not that I’d follow. But I can’t help wondering…where does a woman belonging equally to the sun and moon escape to when she can’t be followed? Where does Joanna Archer go in a world that no longer believes she exists?”
I wanted to tell her there was no escape, and that being a superhero wasn’t something you shed like clothing, or that just because I was alone didn’t mean I could be and do what I really wanted in this life. But I was afraid that answer would reveal even more of myself than she already knew. Besides, she’d be a full-fledged Shadow agent within months. She’d find out for herself.
For now, though, I left her reclining against the shark tank, thinking she’d won something tonight just because she was still alive.
“Nice shoes,” she called as I left the aquarium, and though she didn’t move, her bell-like laughter followed me down the Boulevard.
4
I was too antsy to return to the auction, and knew if I made myself sit down in a confined space I’d just spend the night berating myself, replaying the events that’d led me to the aquarium, near death, and Regan. So ignoring the nightly bacchanalia of the Las Vegas Strip, I took a succession of rights on the gridlike streets and climbed into the city’s gritty underlife, where I truly felt at home.
When I’d been me, Joanna, I’d canvassed these streets religiously, snapping pictures and documenting the welfare of Sin City’s displaced and forgotten. Back then I’d been tough, a student of a fighting system called Krav Maga, but these days I was practically immortal, and I didn’t have to worry about my safety while handing out sandwiches to the men and women pooled in the city’s darkest crevices, or while helping the runaways I found cowering beneath the possessive arm of someone bigger and meaner and more predatory than themselves. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get off on that. Now I could protect people without worrying about getting hit or stabbed or shot, and how cool was that?
Tonight I had the additional protection of the aureole, which meant I could climb into bed with my greatest enemy if I desired, and he’d never even know I was there. I was like a ghost in both the paranormal and the mortal world, and right now that suited me fine.
About a block away from a run-down strip club I spotted a man watching the building’s back door. Actually I scented him first. He was breathing hard and smelled like wild game and curdled desire. So I began to stalk him, the spikes of my heels ticking like a time bomb as I snuck up behind him. He was already jittery with ignoble intentions and fled easily, even as one of his prey slipped out the back door.
By the time we hit Carlisle Street, the sweat rolling down his neck had nothing to do with the evening’s warmth, and he was breathing harder still. If there was one thing I hated, it was a human predator. And after a night in which I’d been on both sides of the hunt, his ill intent struck me like a punch to the gut. Finally he swerved down an alley filled with large green metal Dumpsters, weaving his way past stripped tires, broken bottles, and the carcass of something that used to be small and furry and living. Scenting that his desire to stalk had been blunted, I let him escape over a fence topped with cyclone wire, whimpering under his breath as the scent of fresh urine joined the stale urine already staining the alley walls.
I know what you’re thinking. Big, bad supernatural chick picking on the poor little human, but I didn’t do it just for sport. A decade earlier I’d been attacked, raped, and nearly killed by a man who’d smelled a lot like this one, and I’d be damned if I was going to let some other woman fall prey to the same fate. And yet I didn’t know if that drive came from the heroine in me, or if it was-as I really suspected-my father’s genes asserting themselves.
My father. The Shadow Archer. The Tulpa.
I sighed and leaned against the rusty metal fence. It was easier to face that here, in the dark, surrounded by refuse. Easier too to admit that I’d lied to Regan about not being curious about my father.