Vicki Pettersson - Cheat the Grave

Because of the other men’s chips.

Also because I was headstrong, stubborn, and I was right. So his final sentiment took hold, grew roots, and sprang up fully formed in my mind.

If someone’s keeping you from your reasons, you’d do damned well to question theirs.

And more than Mackie, more than the Tulpa, more than Solange and everyone else who would have me caving to their whim, one man had kept me from being anything more than useful in this world. Warren, the leader of the Light, the man who saved, introduced, and initiated me into the world of the Zodiac, had also consistently manipulated me into doing his will. Instead of telling me the truth, instead of trusting I’d want to do all I could to advance his goals and the goodwill of the troop, he kept me in the dark. In shadow . And he’d done it all while holding his own reasons tightly to his chest.

He’d known of Solange’s deeds, that she had stolen a changeling’s aura all those years ago to safely cross into Midheaven, thus he also knew it was possible to use another person’s soul for that purpose. Yet he kept me in ignorance, allowing and even encouraging me to give up mine in thirds!

Worse, knowing Hunter had been pursuing Solange, he shared nothing of Midheaven with him. He could have prevented Hunter’s defection and disappearance step by aching step, but had driven him to that ultimate decision instead, then banned him from the troop.

“And locked away the man I love.”

The one, I’d just learned, who still loved me.

So I changed into head-to-toe black, crossed to the guesthouse by the light of an uncertain moon, and encased my body with weapons. I removed safeties, cocked back hammers, and sharpened blades. I took Xavier’s fastest Ferrari to the warehouse Tripp had convinced me to leave unlocked and unguarded, picked up one more vitally important weapon, then raced directly to the tunnel where Skamar had sucked the sentience from Luna’s pulpy body.

Then I called that bitch out.

The way you call a tulpa to you, the way you direct them like a satellite tracking enemy warheads, is to think upon them and their looks, their actions, and especially their name. The Tulpa gained power from his followers in this way. He demanded an around-the-clock rotation of meditative prayer and ritual, all focused on providing him with greater life force. Hence, Xavier’s hidden room.

But Skamar had a given name, and a person’s mind could latch more easily onto a being with a name than without. It was hard to pinpoint something’s relevance in the world without knowing what to call it. That was the Tulpa’s main problem…and it was the reason I screamed Skamar’s name at the top of my lungs now.

With a bunch of curse words interspersed in between.

I heard her first, though the blast of energy accompanying her flight thrust me back against the curved, mildewed wall. When I opened my eyes, she was caught in the flashlights I’d brought in from the outside-in case cursing her wasn’t enough to lead her to me-and glaring like I’d interrupted her midnight nap. Like I was a minor nuisance, I thought, even more pissed. Without warning, I lifted the saber, and used its small, antiquated side firearm to take out a chunk of concrete beside her.

“What the-”

“The last time we spoke, you told me I smelled of despair.” I reloaded, tilted my head, and caught her in my sights again. “What do I smell like now, Skamar?”

The skin over my face no longer thinned to allow my skull to rise eerily to the surface, my eyes no longer burned tar-black like my birth father’s, but the bile in my belly surely still stained the air, and my heart pumped wildly, overriding my fear.

“Put it down before you hurt yourself,” she said, meaning before she burst forward and yanked it from my grasp.

I redirected the barrel on the center of her chest. “You chose to chase the Tulpa over helping me. After you told me you’d watch over me.”

“I said I’d help when I could.”

“You could have helped me tonight! And your choice cost a man his life!” The image of Tripp’s bubbling chest and melted palms angered me all over again. “An independent agent who was finally about to claim his life on his own terms. He had a right to that, Skamar. Instead he gave it to protect me because you-someone who is practically immortal-would not.”

“Hey, you came to me for help!” Unused to being challenged or questioned, she was angry now too. “If you’ve a bone to pick, first remember I’m not obligated to assist mortals at all.”

“A ‘bone’ to pick?” I said disbelievingly. “Obligations? Skamar, I’m talking about weighing your options and then doing the right thing. Even if it means you don’t get what you want.”

She laughed harshly, though the sound was hollow, and not entirely because of the tunnel. “You want me to grow a conscience?”

“Since my mother clearly didn’t imbue you with one, yes. It’s a basic personality trait in a friend and ally.”

She sneered, perfect teeth almost radiant in the spotlights. “Well, I’m not burdened with such bad habits.”

I lowered my chin and voice. “You mean you’re not blessed with them, you bitch.”

A quiver went through her body, like the words actually stung. And that was where I was the more powerful. Maybe I’d just given her another name. I grinned as evilly as she had a moment before…and found I couldn’t stop. “You think you have consciousness? Why, because you can breathe and move around freely in this world?”

I didn’t have to smell her anger to know it stained the air. Her eyes bulged, wide and wild, like her gaze wanted free of her body. Her body stiffened like a petite petrified board, fingers making fists without her willing it. “I can control people! I can break things on whim.”

“So can a toddler,” I retorted, and had the satisfaction of seeing her face fall slack.

She tilted her head gently, dangerously. “My every action reflects the noble purpose your mother created me for.”

“Exactly my point.”

“Which is?”

“You mistake animation for a life.” My saber was heavier, so I readjusted, refocused on her. “You might as well be Mickey-fucking-Mouse because right now you’re just a clump of walking tissue, and always will be unless you let something touch you.”

“Like what ?” she demanded, fisting her hands on her hips. “A knife with someone’s soul inscribed in the blade?

Because this is what happened two days ago when I kept Mackie from following your mortal ass!” And she lifted her shirt to reveal a screaming red scratch on the soft white flare of her hip.

I regarded the injury coolly, though dialed it back a bit since she had, at some point, tried to assist me. So Mackie’s blade could even injure a tulpa. It made him the most dangerous being I knew, at least on this side of Midheaven. And that was saying something.

“I’m not talking about that.”

“Then what ?” she screamed, causing me to jump, and the tunnel to shake. “The Tulpa? The Shadows? Who do you think I should allow to touch me?”

“How about letting a poem touch you, Skamar. How about a song to lift you up and reassure you that you’re alive. How about love?”

“Weakness!”

“Life!” I screamed, because those were the things she, and everyone who wanted to point me in a given direction like some wind-up toy, were trying to take from me. “You’re not really alive, Skamar. You know things because my mother knew them. You think you know me because you’ve mined her thoughts and come up with your own emotionless conclusions about what makes me tick. You think because you have stolen memories, because you ruminate, that you’re entitled to walk around this world as you fucking please.”