The Taste of Night (42 page)

“Run!” I yelled at Ian as I launched myself over the seat of the chair and tackled Joaquin from above. We skidded across the room, and Ian leaped awkwardly over us to clear the entry. Joaquin, struggling and swearing beneath me, managed to lift a hand and grab the other man’s ankle. This time Ian didn’t squeal, but stomped down hard on Joaquin’s arm, twice, while I pummeled him from the top. Joaquin let go with a murderous howl, and as Ian escaped, turned the full force of that rage on me.

This time we were more evenly matched. I was grown now, my warrior skills honed first as a mortal and now as a heroine of Light. The passage into the center of the maze had taken a toll on both of us, though, and neither of us were throwing our best blows. I reached up to his greased head, fisted my hand, and pummeled his skull into the ground. My body was pressed so firmly against his that the reverberations sounded in my breast.

It sounded like a choir of angels.

Joaquin bucked beneath me, scrambling for purchase against the ground, my body, the nearby chair. What he found was an invisible wall. Unfortunately, the maze didn’t discriminate between bodies locked so closely together, and raw power shot into me, exploding in my brain in a shower of stars and pretty lights. I flew backward and crumpled against the bolted chair, head torqued awkwardly.

Joaquin, though, had taken the brunt of the blow. I rose first; grasping the base of the seat, I heaved with everything left in me. Biceps straining, lungs aching, I was rewarded only by a faint creak. I glanced back. Now he’d found an elbow and was propped up, almost sitting. I strained against the base again, and the cement ruptured beneath my feet. But the fucking chair held.

If I’d been fresh, this wouldn’t have been a problem, and I wondered if the Tulpa was enjoying all the new power my stolen energy was allowing him. All that kept me on my feet was knowing he’d zapped quite a bit of Joaquin’s as well, and I strained again, groaning with it, and this time was rewarded with a resounding crack. My cry turned victorious, and I steadied myself, pivoted, and sent the chair plowing into Joaquin’s face.

Or where his face should’ve been. A hand locked on to a chair leg, then another. I pushed, but Joaquin was quicker, a forward kick catching me in the sternum beneath my makeshift weapon. Tumbling backward, doubling over, I anticipated the chair cracking over my back.

Anticipation didn’t make the reality any less painful. The breath flew from my body as I ate cement, and I could’ve sworn I heard vertebrae collapsing in my spine. Sprawled, the line of agony concentrated in my core before burning itself out in my limbs, I screamed in pain and frustration as my hands and feet went numb and useless.

I heard the chair clatter, then crackle as it sparked against a wall, then Joaquin was on me, flipping me over.

“This is familiar,” he taunted, and though he didn’t ex
actly look fresh, he was straddling me, propping his weight on the center of my spine, bearing down. When I’d finished screaming—and that only because there was no more breath left in my lungs—he spoke, words liquid and smooth, his face glazed over in satisfaction. “Look at you. You’re exhausted. Burned so badly your skin is peeling…probably sensitive to the touch.”

He plowed his fingertips into the burns along my neck, but this time I couldn’t even spare the breath to scream. Pain was a constant, but so was the rapid thudding of my heart. Which meant I was alive.

“You don’t look…any…better,” I told him, and he whipped his hand across my face so hard, my cheek ricocheted off the cement.

He propped himself up on my waist, sitting so straight I could’ve toppled him if I’d still had the use of my limbs. Instead I had to wait until I recovered, or thought of something better. Nothing was coming to me right now. “I’ll never understand why you guys do that,” he said, running his hand through his hair, smoothing all the ends back into place. “Expending all your excess energy protecting a mere mortal. You might’ve had me if not for that. And now”—he shook his head in mock sadness—“you’re my victim again.”

“No. This was my choice,” I said, almost at peace with that. Funny, but I felt more centered and relaxed now that it was almost over. Staring Joaquin in the face was easier than avoiding him in my dreams and thoughts, the way I had all these years past. That had been a useless expenditure of energy, I knew now. And just as debilitating as the Tulpa’s maze.

But that wasn’t the only reason I remained still. I had one more choice available to me, something actually learned in my endless lessons with Tekla. True, I’d never been able to knock walls down with my mind, but I had become somewhat adept at building them up. Therefore, as sweat seeped down my back, I fought to imagine a single, solid wall into
existence, hoping my strength would be enough to manage that much. Fortunately Joaquin was busy shooting off at the mouth, and as the air five feet to his left began to ripple, he noticed nothing.

“Ah, yes. The
noble
sacrifice.” He buffed his nails on his chest, pretending to inspect them closely. “Though that’s nothing new for you, is it? You did the same for your sister years ago. And now you can expect the same results…except this time I will destroy you.”

“
I will destroy you.
” I mimicked, right down to the low baritone. It halved my concentration, but it made me feel like I still had a degree of control. “Jesus. Been practicing that one long?”

He rose, nearing the wall solidifying on his left, and I’d have cursed myself for building it too close if I had the time or energy to do so. And maybe if he hadn’t kicked me in the kidney. I curled into the fetal position, my concentration snapped, but after a moment was able to take the pain and my will and center it back into the wall. Sweat began to form on my forehead, sliding along my cheeks and jawline, though I didn’t dare wipe it away. If I did, Joaquin would know I was doing more than recovering from his blow. I had to keep him talking.

“I should’ve killed you at the swingers’ ball,” I said, angling myself so he was again in front of me. A second wall began to shimmer to his right.

“And I should’ve killed you as soon as Regan told me of your new identity.” He laughed at my surprised expression, and I had to refocus as my second wall bobbled. “She did, you know. Right after she ambushed you at the aquarium. I didn’t believe her, of course. It was too obvious, too risky…totally out of character for the agents of Light.”

“And because she was just an initiate,” I added, because that’s what I’d thought too.

“There was that,” he conceded, dropping back down on my waist, gently wrapping his fingers around my neck. He didn’t squeeze, just held them there, thumbs soft on my
windpipe. “For some reason she seems to hate you even more than I do.” He quirked his head as if considering that while his fingers played gently over the row of vertebrae in my neck. “Of course, I don’t really hate you. I desire you…but I’m still going to kill you.”

The second wall was solidifying strangely, an amalgamation of Tekla’s mirrored practice walls and the Tulpa’s invisible barriers. Though I doubted they possessed the same energetic sting as the maze surrounding us, it was amazing what the mind could do once it knew what was possible. I couldn’t overthink it, though, because just then Joaquin’s fingers tensed, then stilled as a popping sounded from behind me, also within. The pain was momentary, the nausea fleeting. And the paralysis was immediate. Fear flooded my brain, and the third wall I was erecting behind Joaquin disintegrated. I had to refocus—I couldn’t be broken or killed this way; Joaquin knew it, he was just fucking with me—but more than the physical abuse, his words had crept into my mind, and questions now warred with my concentration. I shook my head to clear it of these thoughts, the only movement left to me, but Joaquin stilled the movement with only a slight press of his thumbs.

“Regan got a real kick out of setting you up,” he told me, his own nerves giving a strained lilt to his voice. He was getting excited now. “She loved that she got you to watch those fireworks, to infect your friends, chase me, lose your place in the troop.” He released his hold on my neck and rose to his knees, inches from the wall on his left. I swallowed, felt my throat working painfully, and was careful not to let my eyes stray to any of the walls surrounding him. He continued to stare me down as he stood.

“I have to confess, it has been fun watching you chase your tail, Joanna. More fun than simply killing you.” He kicked at my feet playfully, then stopped playing and slammed his boot down on my kneecap. I heard the crunch of bone and cartilage shattering, and even though I felt nothing, the need to scream welled up inside me. I clamped my
teeth together, squeezed my eyes shut, and refused to let the tears come. That’s how I caught his next words, the most telling. “I know the Tulpa thinks he can lure you to our side, but I don’t. A monarchy is all good and well, especially given no choice, but nepotism rubs raw.”

I swallowed down another bout of nausea, my head now pounding, which meant the physical abuse was registering somewhere, despite my numbed limbs. Voice rasping, I said, “You don’t sound very afraid of your leader.”

“He acts independently of his maker; we act independently of him.” Joaquin shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. He was almost fully recovered now.

“The Tulpa’s creator is dead,” I reminded him. If I could keep him talking I could get a fourth wall up and trap him inside. And if they all held, I could heal and figure a way out of this maze. But damn, that was a lot of ifs.

“Yes, and we have your mother to thank for that,” he murmured, nudging my other kneecap. I winced instinctively. “If only she’d finished the job.”

I blinked, swallowed hard, and then it was done. All three walls were erected, and either my work would hold, those walls would stand, or they wouldn’t. And there was no reason to prolong this any longer. Besides, his fucking stench was getting to me.

“So we have a pretender to the throne, is that it?” I said, gazing up at him. The fourth wall began to shimmer at the edges, but gave away as he stepped forward. Either he hadn’t felt it or pretended not to, because he only had eyes for me. How romantic.

“I’ve a greater right to it than you,” he said coldly.

“And I’m sure Regan told the Tulpa you said so,” I said, and got to watch him flinch. “No wonder he sent you in here with me.”

“No.” Joaquin straddled my shoulders, forcing me to look straight up at him. “If he knew, I wouldn’t be here now. He wouldn’t have given me a shot at his precious Kairos. You wouldn’t be walled up in a maze I’ve already walked through,
or lying on the ground with my boot print on your spleen.”

“Now why does everything you say come out like a line in a B-grade spaghetti Western?” I said, feeling my limbs start to tingle to life. Too bad, because this was going to hurt. “You’re so conscious of being recorded in the manuals…Joaquin, the Shadow Aquarian, the big star.” I scoffed as his expression tightened again. “You’re so fucking wooden you make Keanu Reeves look like a method actor.”

And then his expression blanked. I was beginning to recognize this as a bad sign, but as he stepped back to regard me from a distance, he unexpectedly backed into my trap. I scrambled to get the fourth wall up while there was space between us, and his face remained impassive as the air shimmered between us. Maybe, just maybe…

“Let me speak more plainly, then,” Joaquin said slowly. “Your walls can’t hold me.”

Or maybe not.

And he rammed his fists outward, one to each side, and my walls materialized, shining briefly, before disintegrating altogether. In what was almost the same movement, his right fist plowed through the front wall, the weakest, and it wobbled, then evaporated. He was on me so fast—fingers around my throat, spittle raining on my face—that my gaze had barely found his before he spoke. “I’m going to rape you raw, Joanna Archer. I’m going to shove myself so far down your throat I’ll tear your lungs. And after I’m done with you, I’m going after Ashlyn. Is that clear enough for you?”

A flash of fear arrowed through me like heated quicksilver, stronger than any physical pain so far, mightier than the Tulpa’s walls or Joaquin’s fists or even my long-held hatred, and my vision blurred—from lack of oxygen or Joaquin’s words, I didn’t know—but inside my head the images were clear as polished glass.

A baby squalling as it was lifted from my body.

A photo of a family I didn’t know, now complete, and a card sent to me in thanks.

Ben’s curls on a child’s head.

All this mingled together in a collage of color and action and sound, and then…nothing. Not even light. Just a blank canvas in my mind where clarity and intention finally found a resting place, and I saw what Tekla had really been trying to teach me.

That, I thought, and a way to write my own future.

“How about that?” I managed, voice strangled. “Tekla was right.”

“That loony bat?” Curiosity had Joaquin’s grip loosening. “I thought she stopped making predictions the night I tore her son’s head from his neck.”

I shook my head, my skull rubbing against the pavement beneath me, but Joaquin yanked my hair back to still the motion, though he did allow me to speak. “No…she saw this. You and me, here.” I gasped out a strangled laugh, amazed I hadn’t seen it all along. “God, how could I be so blind? I was going to get what I wanted all along. I just had to be patient and not fight it.”

Joaquin, unhappy with my digression, slapped me hard. Strangely enough, that restored my vision. “And what did batty ol’ Tekla say? That we’d meet again in the warehouse where I murdered her only child, both of us trapped until one of us dies? That you’d end up victorious? Because it doesn’t look that way to me. Did she also see you unarmed, sprawled beneath me, unable to move?”

I looked up, blinked. “Yes.”

Joaquin looked as if he couldn’t decide whether I was joking or not. Then he laughed, the sandpaper sound coarser and sharper than his nails at my neck, harder than the thighs pinning me in place. It was such a strange thing to behold, a wide, delighted grin on a face I’d only ever seen hooked in a sneer, and the thought of joy penetrating the wasteland of this man’s life was so startling I nearly froze. Nearly.