“As much as any other mortal.”
I stared at the man who demanded so much of me, who pulled levers and pushed buttons behind emerald green curtains, and he shrugged. But it was true enough. I thought of Helen, a.k.a. Lindy Maguire, and knew I’d have to take care of Xavier’s pushy, bitchy, stank-ass housekeeper sooner rather than later. But it wouldn’t have anything to do with Xavier Archer’s well-being.
“Yes,” I said, taking my cue from him, deciding to hide a little more of what I was all about. “But no more.”
“No less.”
Despite Warren’s words, the urge to fight drained from me. Did I really have a right to be angry with him? I’d known he always put the good of the troop above that of the individual. I’d been lucky my desires had coincided with that thus far. God help me if they ever did not, I thought, and couldn’t contain my shiver as I watched him recline against the concrete hill, the duster of his coat flapping as cars and an errant gust from a far-off battle sped past. I was glad I hadn’t told him of Ashlyn’s existence.
I’d hate to go to war with you, Warren.
But I’d do it if he took one limping step near her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told him, turning again.
“Dawn or dusk?”
“Dusk.” Loneliness suddenly gored me, expelling breath from my gut, and as it passed through my chest, by my heart, I thought I felt a crack. I glanced back, knowing Warren had scented it, but he must have interpreted it, and my expression, as regret over losing Ben. He was beside me before I blinked.
“It’s the right thing,” he said, strong hand on my arm.
I shook off his touch and wrapped my arms around my middle in the encroaching night. I felt the sudden need to go somewhere safe, but we’d already missed the even splitting of this day’s light, so crossing into the sanctuary was out. Cher and her mother had only returned from Fiji the day before, but they weren’t too far from here. It’d be good to forget about supernatural politics for at least a little while. Perhaps it would even distract from the loss of Ben. No matter what, I had to get away from Warren.
“No,” I told him, turning my mind back to the image of Ben lying crumpled at my feet, second-guessing the wisdom in handing him over to Micah. He hadn’t looked like the man I’d wanted him to be, the one I’d been desperate to save and love and live the picket-fence, one-point-two-children, nine-to-five lifestyle with. Instead he’d looked like a cutout of himself, like the paper dolls I’d played with as a child, imposing the clothes and background and life I wanted them to have.
Had I become that already? I wondered, thinking of the last mortal I’d struck on the head. Since I was the primary benefactress of the head trauma unit, the hospital director had kept me apprised of Laura Crucier’s condition. She had emerged from her coma the previous weekend, and with time and patience and care, was expected to make a full recovery. I sighed in relief at that, though it still didn’t answer my question.
Was I really someone who so easily plucked others from their chosen existence because it suited my own needs? Someone who so quickly accepted it as my right just because I was stronger and could do so? Because that would mean I was like Warren, moving people around like pawns, though he did so with superheroes as well as mortal men.
“No.” I sighed again, the question still brightly unanswered in my mind. “But it’s the wrong thing for the right reason.”
31
“Hey, asshole,” I called out the next day, banging the handbell on the glass countertop at least a dozen times. The pitter-patter of giant, corn-riddled feet thundered down the hall, and I smiled wryly to myself. Seconds later, Zane trundled into the comics shop, sneer already in place.
“Get out. We’re closing early.”
“Because it’s Nevada Day?” I asked, eyes all wide, blue innocence.
“Because it’s Halloween.”
“All the kiddies run off to play with friends their own age? I guess trick-or-treating gets old after seven or so decades.” I slapped a Shadow manual onto the countertop, and Zane flipped it around to stare at the cover like he hadn’t been the one to create it. It showed the Tulpa ringed in giant saguaros, a marble-eyed woman poised to take a bite from his shoulder. I waited for him to mention the manuals of Light-or lack thereof-but he was studying the cover, expression as alive as any changeling’s.
“This was a great issue to interpret. The Archer of Light always comes through.”
I blinked, surprised. “Thanks, Zane.”
“I’m not talking about you.” He scowled up at me, and slapped the comic down. “I mean Zoe Archer’s successful entrée back into our world. Despite her humanity, she’s still a force to be reckoned with, with a mind and will so strong she created another living creature.”
I listened to his speech, and drew back from the counter as realization dawned. “Ew. Do you have a crush on my mother, Zane?” I asked, making a gagging noise when he colored. “Isn’t she a little young for you?”
Not looking at me, teeth clenched, he asked, “Is this going to be all?”
“No, it’s not all,” I snapped, suddenly tired of being treated like a gaming piece on some paranormal chessboard. My mother, Warren, now Zane…all moving me around at will. “How about acknowledging that I gave that doppelgänger a name, turned it loose upon the Tulpa, and brought the third sign to life? I mean, I just annihilated every threat to my life, but I suppose that doesn’t warrant mention in here, huh?”
“Is the Tulpa still alive?”
“Yes, but-”
“And did you ever manage to track down the former Shadow Cancer?”
“No.”
“And has the fourth sign of the Zodiac been revealed?”
He already knew the answer to all these questions. “Your point?” I asked tersely.
“The point is that nothing’s changed. The Tulpa still wants your life-”
My turn to interrupt. “He’s busy defending his own.”
“Regan still knows who you are…and she has your conduit-”
“And she couldn’t sneak up on me if she were as well-wrapped as King Tut. I’d scent out her blood a mile away.”
He pinned me with his gaze then, eyes gleaming. “And even when the fourth sign of the Zodiac comes to pass, nobody will recognize it.”
My mouth stuttered before it fell shut. There was that. Jasmine still thought she was a superheroine in the making. Li was still deteriorating by the day. “I’m working on it,” I muttered, unable to keep the guilt from coloring my words. Hearing it, Zane pounced.
“Well, work harder. That changeling isn’t going to heal herself!”
“Oh, are we exchanging advice? Fine, then don’t forget to take your fiber, and the Fixodent should be applied liberally.”
Zane grumbled but rang me up, and I snatched the plastic back out of his hand. Later, Gramps.”
“Wait until you’re my age,” he called after me. “You won’t find it so funny!”
“Zane.” I turned, back against the door. “Do you really think I’m going to live that long?”
“Good point.”
I was too apathetic to let the comment bother me, and too late in meeting Gregor for the crossing to immediately rip into the manual. As soon as I was tucked in the back of his cab, though-and alone for a change-I flipped through it to relive the Shadow version of the events at Cathedral Canyon. I glanced up to find Gregor observing me through the rearview mirror, curious as he studied the flash of color and light rising from the manual to wash over my face.
“Learn anything new?”
“No,” I lied and looked back down. The manual shook in my hands. The cryptic ending was clearly meant “to be continued,” but that’s not what was most confusing. I’d simply never expected to see Hunter Lorenzo gracing the pages of a Shadow manual.