Vicki Pettersson - Cheat the Grave

“I had no idea you could slip into the sanctuaries of both Shadow and Light,” he said, fingering through the chips curiously. “Or that you could leave the valley even before you were thrown from the troop.”

Neither had I.

“Oh, lookie here. You got Shen’s sense of smell. And the albino’s aether.”

I glanced at the two new chips he held. “What?”

“Their powers. I heard you cleaned up at soul poker once I was off the table.” He tossed one of my chips, my speed, aside, muttering, “These are all useless.”

Yeah, this warehouse was just rife with my losses. I sighed…and my emotion clearly bloomed into scent. Tripp blew out a chiding breath and readjusted the big, black Stetson on his head. “Man, what a double standard. You won’t allow others to feel anything soft for you, but you wallow in your own pity. Know what your father would say?”

“He’d be happy to relieve me of the problem?”

He picked up the canister we’d come for, a modified fire extinguisher holding the fortifying preservative, and motioned for me to hold still. “He’d say just ’cause you got something doesn’t mean you got the right to it.”

“Swell guy.” I shut my eyes, and a soft mist enveloped me, falling over clothes, hair, and skin in an even invisible webbing. A conduit could now strike me once, and the effect would be the same as trying to chop through petrified wood. It wouldn’t even make a dent. Opening my eyes, I motioned at Tripp, and he handed it to me.

“But he’s right,” he said, inhaling so deeply his black vest moved against his great belly. I misted him, then handed back the canister.

“Easy for you to say when you’ve got all your strengths.” I swung away to leave, but Tripp was suddenly in front of me, aptly illustrating the speed I didn’t possess.

“Stop.” I jerked back when his hand fell to my waist. But he wasn’t touching my flesh. He was fumbling for the trident secured in my pants pocket. There was a faint hum when he found it, a vibration rising from the pocket and up his arm. He gasped, his face scrunching in pain, and when he pulled his hand away a second later, his palm was mottled, red at the edges, black in the center. The smell of burnt flesh filled my nose.

“Oh my God.” Dropping my chips, I reached for his hand, but he flipped it over, grasped mine and pulled me closer until my gaze returned to his face.

“Ya don’t know what you can do till you try,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Or if your talents are unique until compared with someone else’s. So just stop underestimating your damned self. Now, come on. The others are waiting.”

I followed Tripp, dumbstruck by what he’d just done and unsure of what it meant. So he couldn’t touch the old weapons? Was that the same for all rogues? Thinking back, I hadn’t seen any conduits in the bunker, any of the grays armed, or heard anyone speak of their conduits.

“I’m thinkin’ we should leave the alarm off,” Tripp said, interrupting my thoughts. “Locking the door should be enough to convince the Light nothing’s amiss. They already know the place will blow without the right security code.”

And none of them had it.

“That’ll allow us to leave Buttersnap too, since we can’t exactly show up with her to your big bash tonight.” He put his hand on my back, guiding me to the door.

We then paid a visit to the complex’s Dumpster, where Tripp tipped in the protectant, the foam templates, and most of the drawings, though I had a feeling he’d tucked a few away in the inner pocket of his leather vest. I too had the soul chips tucked away. They might be useless, but they were still mine.

The thought had me giving the cabdriver we hailed an address far from the Archer estate. I leaned back, trusting Tripp wasn’t yet familiar enough with the city to object…at least not until it was too late. Meanwhile, the driver’s log would contain the account of this trip, one easily traced were someone so inclined. Which was the point. Someone, I knew, was very interested in the activity in and around this neighborhood. I waited until the cab’s taillights disappeared, then headed the other way, jerking my head so Tripp would follow.

“This ain’t right,” he drawled, clearly uncomfortable. I smiled. Good. Let him be the one in the dark for a change. “Don’t you have a rehearsal dinner to attend?” he finally said, sidestepping a fledgling anthill. How cute. Just like a Buddhist. “And a tulpa to kill?”

Or a Buddhist’s polar opposite.

I made a humming noise in the back of my throat but kept walking.

Our destination was a flat-topped single story, neither the nicest home in the neighborhood nor the least attractive. This was not only anticlimactic for Tripp, but probably a downright disappointment. As we halted before a sprawling patch of lawn, I knew he scented nothing of the Shadow or Light around this house. After all, great pains had been taken to keep anything related to that world away from the people inside this home.

I studied the simple residence, looking for a place not easily visible from the driveway and front walk, but not exactly hidden either. A place the vigilant would easily spot. The hose spout might do the trick, though the silver cassia planted before it would obstruct its view if someone were driving by in the dark.

Fuck it, I thought, pulling out the gun with the glowing green liquid vials. I needed a guaranteed reaction.

“What’re you doing, girl?” Tripp hissed, his natural instinct to run from mortal attention clearly warring with his need to remain next to me.

True, it was five-thirty, and people were headed home for dinner after a long day’s work-the perfect time to draw the attention of the Neighborhood Watch-but I might not get another opportunity to return before my next near death experience.

I fired at the living room’s giant glass window. Mortality didn’t affect my aim this time, and I hit the pane dead center. The tempered glass exploded into a million glass pebbles. A light flipped on, and panicked voices filtered through the curtains. A moment later one lace panel parted hesitantly. I kept watching.

“Come on!” Tripp was ready to bolt.

“Wait,” I said, eyes angled the other way. A woman yelled for someone to call the cops. Still, I stood in open view. “Wait,” I whispered again.

And there it was. A shifting at the window opposite the first, a wide parting of girlish curtains, then a bold, defiant stare. Locking onto a gaze similar to mine, I watched a little girl’s eyes darken. My eyes used to blacken in the same way.

Tripp gasped. “Holy shit!”

His nostrils widened as he scented the girl’s anger…and her heritage. He turned to me with eyes as wide as I’d ever seen them. “You’re baitin’ her. Darin’ Zoe Archer to come after you.”

“She’ll come after you too,” I said coolly. “Because that girl may not know who we are, but she obviously knows what we are. She’ll tell Zoe there were two people here.”

He swallowed hard as he realized I’d just bound him to me in secrecy. If something happened to Ashlyn, Zoe would have no problem finding out Tripp was the one standing next to me today. And if she knew it, so would her creation, the most powerful being in our world, Skamar.

Tripp whistled through his teeth, shaking his head as sirens sounded in the distance. “You best be careful, forcin’ that woman’s hand.”

It was about time someone did. “I’m just shaking things loose a bit. See how she reacts.”

Tripp blew out a breath and shook his head. “She’s gonna lose her God-given mind.”

Good. Because the days where Zoe could hold back, stay safe, and pull strings behind an impenetrable curtain of anonymity were numbered. If I had to be out here, actively risking my mortal ass for a world that wanted to crush me, then she could very well join me.