Vicki Pettersson - The Taste Of Night

I glanced at the beveled mirror mounted behind the desk, which showed arrows being tossed onto the spotlit table, bloodless, though I knew they’d just come from someone’s body. That someone leaned forward, and though the rest of him remained cloaked in darkness, a grin flashed like the Cheshire cat’s.

“Thank you, dear,” a voice said, and a single hand joined that smile, the vial flipping carelessly in bone-white fingers. “I take my power where I can get it.”

“Tulpa,” I whispered, mouth going dry.

The smile widened, the hand gestured. “Call me Pa.”

Fuck. I tucked away my conduit because I knew it wouldn’t help. The Tulpa couldn’t be killed by supernatural means, as unconventional as they were. In fact, from his comment I gathered it was exactly the opposite; he gained more power from the energy expended trying to kill him. I considered making a run for it, but there was that damned mirror. I could be seen crouched behind that desk just as easily as I could see him, and right now I felt the Tulpa’s gaze burrowing into me, probing behind my wig and glasses. I swallowed hard. Hiding wasn’t going to help me either. He could knock this desk through the back wall with a kiss, and I was alive now simply because he willed it.

So I took a deep, steadying breath and stood.

He sat in the middle of the couch, same as before, leaning forward only enough to reveal those pearly whites, elegant hands currently splayed across his knees. He linked them as I approached, letting me know he’d do nothing to impede my progress…for now. The vial sat gleaming, back in the spotlight.

The radio squawked on the floor between. “Jo? You heading out?”

I stifled a sigh, frozen in place. Thank God Hunter had used my real name. Thank God he knew it.

“You should answer that,” the Tulpa said, voice deep and deceptively reasonable.

I had to answer it. Worse than revealing my identity, Hunter might slip and reveal his own. I might be momentarily spared a gruesome death, but such hospitality, I knew, wouldn’t extend to other agents of Light.

I bent, eyes ever on those hands as I lifted the radio. Not that it would do any good. I was unarmed. He was the Tulpa. I weighed the risks, decided I had nothing to lose, and held the device out to the Tulpa. “Why don’t you answer it? He works for you.”

For a moment I thought he’d take the bait. I didn’t know how much an explosive device would hurt the Tulpa, but it’d create a powerful distraction. There was a discreet sniffing-like a hound on the trail of deer’s spoor-and a disappointed sigh. He leaned back, disappearing, and when he spoke again, that calm voice had honed to an edge.

“Tell your partner to join us. All he has to do is take the south elevators to the basement floor. I’ll wait.”

Then Hunter’s voice again. “Hey, you there?”

I couldn’t tell him I was with the Tulpa. He’d tear the building apart trying to find me, and I was already past the point of rescue. I was at the mercy of a being who didn’t even know the meaning of the word. I lifted the radio to my mouth and pressed the button.

“Let’s abort. No more communication. Meet me back at my place in thirty.” I clicked off the radio before Hunter could respond and tucked it back into my belt. Thirty minutes was long enough that whatever was going to happen to me would be a distant memory before Hunter realized I wasn’t coming home.

“Willing to go it alone in order to save your partner. Admirable, Joanna. You’ve grown more confident since we last met.”

I stared into the void where my father’s face was hidden, and found the courage to speed my fate along. It wasn’t that I wanted to die. I just couldn’t see a clear way out of it this time.

“Scared?” I asked, my tone nearly haughty enough to rival his.

He chuckled, a big change from the last time I’d sassed him and he’d responded by nearly blowing the lungs from my chest. “Not particularly.”

“But interested.” I was his Achilles’ heel, and we both knew it.

He leaned forward, and black marble eyes narrowed on mine. “Always that.”

I swallowed hard and looked at him for the first time. Other than the creepy gaze and malleable features, he was disappointingly normal; tanned-large, of course, I’d expected no less-with a crop of salt-and-pepper hair that looked like it’d curl if it ever grew long. Damn. I hadn’t expected him to be handsome. “I’d be flattered, but seeing as how the first interest you showed in me nearly got me killed, I’ll go ahead and reserve judgment.”

“That which doesn’t kill you serves to make you stronger,” he said flippantly, pulling at his cuffs. Gorgeous suit. So soft it almost looked buttery. “What I want to know is what took you so long? You entered the property almost an hour ago. Ever hear how I hate to be kept waiting?”

The bleeding aura. Not just his DNA identifying mine, but a tracking device? I didn’t want to ask. I was already down, and we were in the ninth, so I just shrugged the question away, trying to look relaxed.

His voice sharpened again. “I find your reticence surprising since the last time we met you were extremely vocal about…what was it? Annihilating the entire Shadow Zodiac, including myself?” He tilted his head, and I saw a lock of dark hair shadow his forehead. “How’s that going for you?”

“’Bout the same as your vow to hunt down and kill my mother,” I said, and had the satisfaction of watching that blinding smile drop. There were Achilles’ heels…and then there were just plain sore spots. The jab gave me confidence.

“Speaking of enemies,” I said, taking another step forward. “You might want to cull your ranks. One of your newer agents seems to have taken a liking to playing both sides.”

Take that, you stupid bitch, I thought, an evil sort of pleasure warming at the thought of outing Regan to the leader of the underworld. But the Tulpa just spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Ah, youth.”

My jaw tightened. “She’s the one who killed the Piscean Shadow,” I said, not wanting to give him Regan’s name outright. It was childish, I know, but I wanted to make him ask for it. “She told me about the virus. And gave me Joaquin’s home address.”

I folded my arms and waited for his response.

“And what?” he finally asked, each syllable rolling languidly over his tongue. “You think it was innate talent or wisdom or experience that allowed her to think of all that on her own? Why, what a clever girl that would be.”

I blinked and couldn’t keep my mouth from dropping open. “You knew? But to allow the death of one of your agents…”

“A sacrifice for the greater good,” he said, elegant hands linking together again, tone all too reasonable. “Regan had to gain your trust. And you had to take her bait. From there it was easy to deduce where your hate for Joaquin would lead you. Your mind is analytical and pure, Joanna.”

He meant straightforward and simple. I narrowed my eyes. “You had her set me up.”

He shook his head, his index finger swaying side to side with it. “Uh-uh-uh. I told her to find you”-again, that helpless shrug-“she took it from there.”

Joanna. Not once had he used my cover name. And he would’ve, right? I asked myself. Had he known the Olivia Archer identity, he’d want me to know he knew. So maybe he was right and his brilliant little charge had taken well to her role, improvising more than a bit. Playing two sides would suit a woman seeking to make her own name among the Shadow ranks. The Kairos’s identity was information she believed no one else in her troop had, and I bet she was holding that card close to her chest. It was a good theory, anyway. One I’d keep to myself for now.