Kim Harrison - Holidays are Hell

He almost grinned as she continued to stroke him, but shook his head. "Not a sighting of you, not like this. Reports had you posing as a young girl who was caught and killed in the desert."

They thought she'd been posing as Joanna, Zoe realized and almost shuddered at the easy way he spoke of her death. "And did you believe them?"

"Oh, no. I knew you were still alive. I felt it in my mind and core, no matter what Joaquin said."

Joaquin, she repeated, committing the name to memory.

The Tulpa mistook her silence for confusion. "He's always been one for hyperbole."

"Then you've… reprimanded him?" she asked, hopefully.

"Oh, yes. He knows how I love children."

And the reminder was all she needed to shore up her nerve. "Fruit," she asked sweetly, holding out an apple. He smiled down at her and took it willingly.

Zoe watched him bite into it, imagined it as the juiciest and sweetest fruit he'd ever tasted, the crisp skin smooth against his tongue, the juice trickling down his throat. She put all her energy into envisioning this as she watched his eyes flutter half-shut as he swallowed and she rose up to her elbows, placing the cornucopia—the horn of plenty—on his belly as he reclined, trance-like, the scent of ripe fruit rising to permeate the air.

He came back to himself slowly, so that by the time he realized what was happening it was too late. The cornucopia was once again a tool of the Greeks, the pagan farmers… a tool of Zoe's will melding with the traditions of the past. The wicker unraveled as those ancient powers merged and the straw was once again a living thing, slipping around the Tulpa's body, burrowing through the bed and deep into the earth. The growth was slow at first, but it sped up as Zoe's excitement soared… and the Tulpa's spirit was enslaved in the narrow tip of the horn.

His eyes flew open, black searing to red, only to be snuffed by Zoe's power. She smiled, closed-mouthed, then rose—fruit and nuts, pomegranates and gourds, peppers and artichokes all spilling over the bed and floor. Each grew stems and spines and burrowed into the earth, both rising and falling, vines weaving among themselves to bind the Tulpa where he lay. Zoe knew the fruit he'd already eaten was doing the same to his insides and smiled again, feeling his eyes follow her as she dressed. When she was done, she turned.

The Tulpa's throat worked, visibly paining him, but he managed a deep breath, even as an emerging leaf shot from his mouth. "But… you're… mortal."

Zoe brushed the remains of someone else's ash from the crease in her slacks. "You forget what mortals are capable of, Tulpa dear. We can use belief to create, imagine, wish, and will things into being. And those of us with extremely powerful minds believe anything is possible."

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "You asked me before 'Who do you think you are? But I never got to answer, did I?" She licked her lips and despite himself, the Tulpa's gaze flickered down before he drew it back to her eyes. She smiled knowingly. "Well, I'm Zoe Archer, dear. The woman who can break you at will. And the real question—you nameless, formless fuck—is who the hell do you think you are?"

His enraged howls were muffled as a miniature gourd spilled over his tongue.

"I'm leaving now. I'm going to bring in your so-called harvest and return those children where they belong, but keep one thing very clear in your mind," she flipped her hair back from her shoulders, knowing she was planting another seed, this one in his mind. "I can and will get to you again. Mortal or not, on this plane or another, anytime and anywhere."

Dozens of images of her smirking saluted her as she turned to leave the room, but before she did she glanced over her shoulder one last time. "Oh, and next time, babe ? You'd better have a castle and a moat. Because I'll have learned how to kill you by then. And I won't be stopped by a mere kiss."

And with that she strode out the door to find Lindy slumped, anchored against the wall by the woody growth of a cranberry vine, the hard bitter fruit spilling like bright marbles from her mouth. Immobile, her eyes alone followed Zoe as she stooped to meet those hate-filled orbs. "You're lucky, Lindy. The cornucopia's powers won't hold you all long enough for me to both kill you and still get away," she paused as relief played across Lindy's face, then shrugged. "So I'll just let the agents of Light take care of that for me. Have fun ."

Lindy's protests were berry-choked as Zoe strode down the long silent hallway, back to classroom where the children were now sleeping, curled up in the same even rows they'd occupied before. The ward mothers awoke when she entered, stood in tandem, but did nothing to stop her. They weren't warriors, and that wasn't their job. Zoe wove through the children, searched out the one she wanted, and lifted her sleeping granddaughter from her crib.

"He'll find you, you know," one of the mothers spat. "He won't stop this time. Not until your blood runs like a river."

"Yeah," Zoe said, drawing out the word as if considering it. "That's what you said the last time."

Then she left the room, and threw open the front door of the Tulpa's house. Chaos erupted behind her as the alarm sounded, the house coming to life too late, and a piercing whistle rang through the night as Light descended on the mansion. Her former allies, felt rather than seen, rushed past her, war cries pealing like bells in the cool air, but Zoe had already fought her battle. She turned her back on it all, and gratefully, thankfully, finally took her granddaughter home.

She laid low for an entire week. Her cornucopia's magic had held long enough for her to get away, and since that was all she wanted—and all she believed was possible—the agents of Light and Shadow had fought yet another epic battle. She'd pick up a manual at one of the comic book shops later so she could get the Cliff Notes version of what went down, but she already knew the Tulpa had escaped with his life. Like him, she could sense his existence in her marrow, and knew she always would. She didn't waste time regretting it, though. She was already plotting how to double back and give him the "next time" she'd promised. She might be mortal, but the word that still summed up Zoe Archer best was single-minded .

The McCormicks paid daily visits to the facility the agents of Light had set up just on the outskirts of town until Ashlyn was strong enough to return home with them. They had no problem forging the new identity papers Micah had prepared for them, and immediately put their home on the market as Phaedre instructed. They were still under the assumption that Phaedre, Gregor, and Zoe worked for the government, that Ashlyn was at risk and needed to be placed in a witness protection program, so they told no one where they were going, and left no forwarding address. But Zoe knew it, and she planned on keeping a close eye on them, as she had the night the moving van came and they loaded up all their belongings. She couldn't be there for her daughters any longer, but she could at least watch over Ashlyn.

But what she really needed to do was finally, fully, embrace her humanity. There could be no more dipping into the paranormal world she'd left behind, no lamenting all she'd lost. In order for her to be a whole woman, and a person who could act and move through the world with purpose, she had to accept her limitations, just like anyone else. She had to release once and for all her knowledge of what went on beneath the veil separating this reality from the next.

But this time she would say goodbye.

So the following Thursday found her pacing the walkway of an apartment building just one block from the Guardian Angel Cathedral, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her black slacks, the collar of her winter coat turned up to shield her face from the whip of an angry wind. The weather had turned suddenly, and the streets were empty because of it. Zoe inhaled a deep breath of the biting wind, and as she blew it back out she thought of the Tulpa, naked but for the vines and leaves canvassing his body like living entrails. It was so satisfying, even now, that her laughter stilled her in her tracks.