Vicki Pettersson - The Touch of Twilight

“Drama, drama,” I muttered, trying to push the worries aside as I headed down the surprisingly long, dark, and cold tunnel leading to the storeroom. We’d find a way to fix Jasmine, I’d get Zane to tell me which of the thousands of manuals would lead me to the original, then I’d kill the Tulpa, escape my doppelgänger, pick up the dry cleaning on the way home, and we’d all live happily ever after.

And that highly probable plan hinged on the elusive treasure of knowledge buried in the storeroom.

Taken one by one and read on their own, the comics recording our adventures were nothing more than paranormal parables, anecdotes to entertain the masses, a product to engage the imagination of readers in illustrative and written form. But together they formed a comprehensive map leading to the master manual. There were clues planted throughout the manuals supposedly leading to the original’s location, especially in the earlier ones. As time went on, the clues were spaced farther apart, but there was always something a knowledgeable reader could piece together. A template leading backward, all the way to the beginning.

Since the earliest manuals were created prior to the widespread use of the printing press, each major world metropolis possessed only one handwritten and highly coveted edition. I didn’t expect to find one of those here; if there were such a treasure on the open market, it would be secured behind a case of unbreakable glass, protective wire, and a laser-tripped alarm. Frankly, I didn’t know why I thought I could find something nobody else had, including the Tulpa, but at least I was doing something.

I paused at the entrance, letting my eyes adjust to the dim room, its accompanying length and width, and its surprising decor. It had more in common with an eighteenth-century English manor library than an urban shopping center. The perimeter of the room was lined with mahogany shelves, filled with manuals and studded with index cards sporting dates and which side of the Zodiac was grouped there. Still, you could cram an awful lot of comics into shelves that soared from floor to ceiling, so finding one with a recognizable clue was a long shot, and it would take considerable time.

I skipped past the foursome of leather easy chairs in the center of the room, resisting the urge to drop into one of them and fall asleep with my feet propped on the hearth of the ever-roaring fireplace. The last time I was here it’d been the peak of summer and the room was stifling with heat, but this time the fire shooting up the suspended flue was welcoming…and distracting.

And I bet that’s why Zane had it here, I thought wryly. Invite the agents in, set them down for a warm cup of cocoa, and keep them from asking for help in pirating his beloved stash.

So I circumvented the fireplace, scooted past the half-full shelves holding the latest issues, including those telling of my arrival on the paranormal scene, and slipped deeper into the storeroom. I slowed as I hit the section I knew held tales regaling readers with my mother’s exploits. There was the story of the way she’d killed the Tulpa’s creator, which I’d already read, but loads more that I hadn’t, including one everyone kept telling me about called “The Harvest.” Warren had promised me its issue number, but conveniently kept “forgetting” it every time I asked. I could search for it now, but again, there was time to consider. I also knew Zane had some sort of silent alarm alerting him to any disturbance, and had no doubt he’d do as he said and charge me an exorbitant amount of money for anything I touched. With a wistful sigh, I left those shelves and continued to the back of the room to begin my search for something leading to the original manual.

I hadn’t been at it five minutes when a voice bloomed behind me. “Well, isn’t this an interesting coincidence?”

I whirled, then narrowed my eyes across the length of the storeroom as Regan DuPree stepped inside. Douglas followed her, though he’d now assumed the form changelings took when acting as protectors for their agents. His body looked like it’d literally been pounded into putty, his skin taking on the sheen of light reflecting off blackened water, blinding me to what was going on inside that pliant body. His jaw was misshapen, the softly curving cheeks of a preteen replaced by a hinged mouth the length of my skull. All the better to eat you with, my pretty , I thought, peering at the elongated teeth everybody in this world seemed to come equipped with but me.

For now Douglas only flanked Regan, swaying in a slightly nauseating motion, but if she needed protection from me he’d throw his aura over her like a supernatural cloak. Her true form would then appear, replacing this pseudo Joanna she’d donned for Ben, and Douglas’s prepubescent body would fall to the floor, emptied of his life force, nothing more than a vulnerable shell until his aura was returned.

Jasmine appeared then, looking bored and put-upon, and pushed past Regan without looking up from her cell phone. I couldn’t help but compare the sullen teen in front of me with my memory of the girl who had once been eager to help me, and had even consented to lay lifeless and fragile in a sea of jewel-toned pillows while I flitted around town wearing her aura. But whatever was broken in her was not on the outside. I’ll fix it , I silently swore, even as her gaze locked on mine, resentment clear in those giant eyes.

Li, my would-be changeling, followed her sister so closely, she kept trodding on Jasmine’s heels, clearly trying to get her to hurry. Jasmine slumped when she finally reached my side, and Li bounced on the tips of her tiny feet. Douglas snickered, a soft squishing sound, like slugs underfoot.

“A little sense of urgency would be nice,” I told Jasmine.

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should’ve snapped your fingers and whistled.”

“Why are you even back here if that’s how you feel?”

“It’s the rules,” Li provided, obviously anxious to help in some way. “We’re obliged to assist our agents in the designated safe zone where we derive our powers and have sworn to do our part in keeping the Zodiac balanced.”

Good to know. I turned back to Regan, who’d drawn closer, and just seeing the smug look on her face made my blood sizzle. “How’d you find me?”

Regan hesitated as she considered allowing me to go on wondering and worrying about that, but her changeling had already dug a cell phone from his pocket, holding up the answer in one blackened, gelatinous hand.

“Is he allowed to call her?” I asked Jasmine, as Regan bawled him out about waiting for her signal before answering questions, and hit him upside his head. The slap made a juicy sucking sound as she yanked her hand away.

“Boys.” Jasmine watched in disgust as his skull wobbled back into place. “You’d be amazed how much mileage you can get out of a wine cooler and a tittie magazine.”

“Actually,” Regan corrected, “it was a six-pack and a subscription.”

“Maybe I should start bribing you to do your job as well.”

“Why?” Jasmine said, studying her nails. “She already knows who you are.”

“Good point,” Regan said, studying her own. “And I also took down the license plate number of a car left overnight at a country bar on the outskirts of town. Know a guy named Lorenzo? Hunter Lorenzo?”

I froze momentarily, then quickly remembered he used a different surname as the head of security at Valhalla. His identity there was still safe, but if she could find that out so quickly, what else did she already know?

My hesitation made her laugh. “Relax, Archer. I’ll uncover his alternate identities eventually. But discovering this one was easy. After all, it’s plastered all over town.”