Vicki Pettersson - The Taste Of Night

“You don’t look like I thought you would,” I said, changing the subject.

He actually smiled at that. “Sure I do.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. I’d expected him to look regal or something, literally larger than life. Instead he looked like one of the guidos who used to run this town…which made me think, contrary to the evidence, that his creator had absolutely no imagination whatsoever. “You don’t.”

“Joanna. You’ve been in our world long enough to realize expectations create reality.”

“So?” I asked smartly, not liking the fatherly tone he was taking with me. Too late for that. Nearly killing me had blunted the appeal.

“So what exactly is it you think you’re seeing?”

I drew back, knowing my surprise was written all over my face. “You’re saying I’m projecting what I expect to see onto you?”

“What you want to see,” he corrected, leaning onto his knees, giving me a clearer look. My eyes raced over his face.

“So the dirty guinea mobster before me doesn’t really exist in this form outside my imagination?” I said, grimacing. That would mean it was my imagination that was lacking.

The Tulpa was inspecting his reflection in the mirror behind me, and sighed before turning back to me. “It’s to be expected, I guess. A wop is benign for a Vegas girl. Fatherly. I’m none of those things, of course. I should abuse you of the notion by chopping off your limbs and feeding them to my new sharks.”

I swallowed hard. “Should probably leave a severed horse’s head at the foot of my bed,” I agreed. “But won’t.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

I was next to him in a flash, leaning over the coffee table before he even had a chance to lean back. He did lean forward, though, and I found myself nose to nose with the Tulpa. Up close, the similarities were startling. Up close, I thought, you could see the eyes nailing our bloodline in place.

“Because you’re enjoying this conversation too much,” I whispered. “And because… You. Owe. Me .”

His nostrils flared. “But you’re holding up your end of this conversation just fine. Perhaps because you know I can give you more power than Warren can even dream of possessing. I can teach you the history of the Shadow side, the full legacy of the Kairos.” He lowered his chin and leveled me with a knowing look. “With what I can give you, you’ll drink your enemies’ blood for breakfast, and sup on the bones of those you despise. I can promise that, and I never break my word.”

I straightened, shaking my head, even though I knew doing so was my death sentence. “I don’t want a damned thing from you.”

He smirked. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Before I could ask what he meant, he broke eye contact. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could see them working like minnows beneath his lids. When he opened them again I wanted to ask what he’d done, what magic he’d conjured. Where the buzzing in my veins had come from. But I didn’t have to. A door slammed above us, then footsteps pounded down the stairs, and the smell alone-nauseatingly sweet-was enough to tell me Joaquin had arrived. The Tulpa was watching me for a reaction, but I only allowed my hands to ball into fists behind my back.

“You can call people to you without picking up a phone?” I said, both pleased and surprised to hear my voice was even and normal since I was now standing in a room with my two greatest enemies.

“I can,” the Tulpa said, “and so can you.”

“Control your thoughts and you control your reality,” I said, the residual electricity from his magic still thrumming in my veins. It felt good.

“What is thought but another form of energy?” he said, seeing this, his words eerily close to Tekla’s. Neither of us had acknowledged Joaquin yet, and he shifted on his feet, though he made no move to speak. It must have rankled. “As a man who was once nothing but gray matter passing through the mind of one individual, I can tell you that applied thought is enough to move mountains.”

“That doesn’t mean she can do it,” Joaquin interrupted, revealing his discontent.

“I’m his daughter,” I said, turning to him for the first time. He was wearing a suit too, though it wasn’t as fine as the Tulpa’s. His hands were behind his back, possibly an unconscious mirroring of mine, so all that was visible of his body was the slim neck and long face, his thin lips pressed together, not a hair out of place. “I’m the Kairos. I can do anything I set my mind to.” I let loose so he could see the resemblance between dear ol’ dad and me, and it must’ve been more impressive than it’d been in Master Comics, because he jerked back. Delight thrilled through me.

The Tulpa chuckled. “Come with me, Joanna, and I’ll show you how.”

I kept my eyes on Joaquin. “I already told you no.”

“Come with me now and I’ll give you Joaquin on a platter.”

For the second time, Joaquin was jolted, and looked from the Tulpa to me and back again. I had to smile. Then I had to smother it because the Tulpa smiled in return. It was one thing for Joaquin to think we were symbiotic, it was another to let my erstwhile father believe I’d caved even an inch.

I clenched my hands into fists, arms ramrod straight at my side, and told him evenly, “If you think you can just waltz into my life after twenty-five years, you’d better apply your thought in a different direction. I don’t roll that easily. I don’t come when called. And I don’t take from others what I intend to get for myself. Don’t think I don’t remember who sent him after me in the first place.”

“That was Zoe’s fault!” he exploded, and those black eyes flared to life, bright flames of fire dancing in the pupils, smoke pouring from his mouth. Shit, but his fuse was short. “She should’ve told me about you.”

“Fine, it’s Zoe’s fault,” I allowed, choking on the dusty air as I waved my hand in front of my face. Talk about bad breath. It was the Tulpa’s turn to look surprised. “She’s not exactly on my Christmas card list either. But, you know”-and I mimicked his shrug here-“you’re here. She’s not. So you get the brunt of my overdue adolescent rebellion.”

“Vendettas are the most unstable form of power,” he said gravely. Oh goody, a lesson in morality from Mr. Evil himself. I barely contained my eye roll. “If you proceed in this fashion you may get what you desire, but I can’t promise it won’t come at a deep price.”

I crossed my arms and pretended to consider that, glancing from him to Joaquin and back again. “So make me a different promise,” I finally said.

He leaned back on the couch, his face disappearing back into the shadows so I could no longer read his expression. It didn’t matter. That movement alone told me all I needed to know. Joaquin swallowed hard, seeing it as well. “Would it be enough to bring you over to the Shadow side?” the Tulpa asked, voice disembodied. “Allow me to show you firsthand what I’m willing to bequeath to you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Right now.”

The Tulpa straightened where he sat. Joaquin froze.

“Name it,” the Tulpa said, instantly back in the light. I barely kept from smiling.

“You always honor your promises, right?” It was rhetorical, but he nodded anyway. I echoed the movement. “So allow my mother to come out of hiding. Give her your solemn word that you’ll never hunt or harm her, or seek vengeance for the destruction of your maker. Let her live a normal life in peace, or return to the agents of Light to take up the Archer star sign when I leave.”

Slowly he leaned back again. “No.”

One side of my mouth quirked. “Not even for the Kairos?”