“What about her?”
“She’ll be fine. Probably more comfortable on a lounge chair in the back, but no one will disturb her here.”
I glanced at him dubiously, then down at the conduit still clenched in my hand. “Why couldn’t I kill him?”
“The shop is neutral territory. Both sides of the Zodiac come here to study, so it’s considered a safe zone, even for those on the Shadow side. Neither of you can touch the other.”
Which Regan had known when she gave me Joaquin’s location, I thought wryly. But the rest of her information was good. Joaquin was here. As unprepared as I was for my conduit not to work and my glyph not to fire-not to mention having my own demon-child protectress-Regan hadn’t put me in danger. She’d even said she’d give me enough information to catch him…when the time came. Smart girl, I thought again.
“Are you sure?” I asked Carl. The last thing I needed was to waltz into the shop front and face another surprise attack.
He nodded. “Jasmine will preserve your identity as long as her aura is molding your true frame. Just don’t make any jerky movements. Limbs sometimes disengage-it’s gross-so if he lunges at you just ignore it.”
Easy for you to say, I thought, but nodded as I took a step forward. It was a strange feeling at first, like hearing my footsteps fall a second after I felt them land, but there was a sense and rhythm to it, and after steeling myself with a steadying breath, I entered the shop.
He was seated at a gaming table in a chair that was too small for him, one long leg crossed over the other, hands linked at his knee. Sebastian, as slate-colored, slack-jawed, and long of tooth as Jasmine had been, was stationed at his right side. The twins had also morphed into onyx-colored changelings, and were standing guard on each side of the door, though whether they were keeping us in or everyone else out, I had no idea.
And right now I didn’t care. I only had eyes for Joaquin. He shifted, and I glanced down, expecting to find a weapon in his hands. I was actually surprised to find them empty. It was something he carried around inside him, I then realized, a sort of vigilance that made him look ever-armed. He was one of the few agents who didn’t have a conduit fashioned just for him. His body was his weapon, and it was all he’d ever needed.
Sebastian tried to shield him from me, but Joaquin brushed him aside with a flick of his wrist. As he did, his hand passed behind the changeling’s form, and I got a glimpse of the real Joaquin. Blackened bone, cracked nails, and charred flesh hung from his frame. My nose was right. He was as corrupted and rotted on the inside as he smelled. He watched me watching him, and after a long pause, slowly licked his lips. My jaw clenched reflexively as I fought the urge to gag.
“Back off, changeling,” he told Sebastian. “Nobody in here frightens me.”
I was half insulted, half relieved. I didn’t really want to view the rot lying beneath that composed exterior. I should’ve realized long ago that his disguise was that he was alive. Human.
“Nobody?” I asked, and let the darkness living inside me temporarily rise to the surface. It was little more than a parlor trick, but Joaquin swallowed hard, which gave me a glow of satisfaction. I increased the effect, and Sebastian hissed. I grinned at him and let my father’s face fade.
“Neat trick…if you weren’t hiding behind a child’s aura while you did it.” He’d recovered well, and motioned to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”
I didn’t move. “Sitting would indicate an interest in talking with you.”
“Refusing would imply you’re afraid to do so.”
Which, from my mad scramble back in the hallway, he already knew. I crossed my arms and remained where I was.
He shrugged. “Back in the archives, eh? What were you searching for? Clues to your past? Some link to Mommy? Buried treasure, perhaps?”
I didn’t answer. He didn’t expect me to.
“Carl, you should get the Archer manuals number 3543 and 4721. They document Zoe Archer’s failure, as well as the many innocent lives she cost in her quest for notoriety. Amusing reads, both.”
“Forget it, Carl,” I said, my eyes never leaving Joaquin. “The Shadow manuals don’t interest me. Except as a tool for hunting their agents.”
“But how else will you keep from repeating history’s mistakes? Your troop leader obviously tells you nothing.” He was talking about my reaction to Jasmine, and how I hadn’t known her function as a changeling.
“Warren tells me what I need to know, when I need to know it,” I replied coolly, because Warren had actually mentioned it. It had just slipped my mind while staring into Jasmine’s sharp, elongated jaw.
“He lies to you,” Joaquin said flippantly, examining his fingernails like he was just making conversation. My eyes fastened on those fingers, and though I tried not to stare I couldn’t help it. I’d have known those hands anywhere. I’d felt the knuckles pummeling my bones, the fingers scraping my throat, the tensile strength in those palms pinning me to the desert floor. I had to force my gaze from his hands to concentrate on his words. When I met his eyes, he smiled, knowing what I’d been thinking. Dammit. “He doesn’t want you to know the extent of your powers. The truth is, he thinks you’ll turn on him.”
“That’s not true.” I shook my head, not allowing the thought, like a fly, to settle. “Besides, Warren saved me.”
And that was the truth as I knew it. I used it to anchor me while my nerves settled.
“But for what purpose?” Joaquin said, one brow raised in question. “To be a puppet for his whim? To string you along just so he can say you belong to him?”
That rattled me-I’d never thought of it that way before-but I put on a good front leaning against the wall of comics behind me. “You know what purpose, Joaquin. He believes I’m the Kairos. They all do.”
“Then why do they fear you?”
Zane, who’d been scribbling furiously throughout this whole exchange, looked up. I felt all the kids’ eyes on me, including the Sebastian-thing, and Carl next to me, who’d exclaimed softly at Joaquin’s words.
“They’re training me and teaching me to grow in power,” I said stiffly.
Zane’s pencil was flying again, scratching against a yellow pad, his tongue stuck out between his chubby lips in an obviously unconscious habit. He glanced hurriedly from us to his pad, back and forth, and I wondered which series this exchange would show up in-Shadow or Light.
Joaquin, following my gaze, glanced over his shoulder, then turned his face back to me. “Ah, the record keeper. A tedious job, if a necessary one.” He smiled at Zane apologetically. Insincerely. “He’s bound by two laws: to tell the truth, and to resist favoring either side of the Zodiac. But when you think about it, it’s not such a hard line to walk. He has the power to color our stories. He chooses the words and verbiage to describe our realities, our existence. Without him, we wouldn’t exist. Now that, my dear, is power.”
“What about me?” Carl muttered under his breath. “I’m the friggin’ penciler.”
“Power isn’t about inflicting your will upon other people’s lives,” I told Joaquin. “It’s the ability to control the impulse to do so.”
Joaquin clucked softly, shaking his head. “Spoken like someone who has none.”
“That’s not true,” I said softly. “Simply being alive is power.”
He blanched at the reminder that he’d failed to kill me, and it was my turn to smile. As I did, he tilted his chair back. “And snuffing out a life is all that power amplified.”
I felt my eyes grow empty and flat. It was arrogant to engage him in conversation, I realized, and we were both all too aware our words were being recorded. So I thought for a moment and abruptly changed the subject. “And is that what you have planned for the agents of Light? You think it’ll be easy to wipe us all out in one fell swoop?”