The Taste of Night (5 page)

She was just saying it to regain her footing, to feel more in control and appear less rattled about the thought of Liam killing her, but I swallowed hard. She really did know it all.

“I found out shortly after you became an agent of Light,” she continued, propping one foot behind her, against the pillar. “After Butch killed Olivia, and before you killed Ajax.”

My jaw clenched at the mention of Ajax, but I gave a stiff nod. It was what she wanted—a gold star for figuring out what no one else had—and it cost me nothing to give it to her. After all, I’d made sure neither Ajax nor Butch would ever harm me again.

Satisfied, Regan flicked some ash on the floor and smiled. “It wasn’t that difficult. I knew the agents of Light were trained to stay away from those they’d been close to in life. So are we. But the way I figured it, nothing about you was normal. You changed all the rules on us. I didn’t have to use supersensory powers or even be a full-fledged agent to figure it out. All I did was put myself in your
place, then ask myself, ‘What would I do?’”

She was once again drawing parallels between her and me in a bald effort to forge some sort of tenuous link, one that was destined to fail…though she couldn’t know that.

“We thought no one knew,” I said, to encourage her further…and because it was the truth. There were only three others in my troop who did, and my heart sank as I thought of what this meant. I’d have to change my identity again. I’d have to invent a new life for myself.

I’d have to say good-bye to Olivia
…

“No one else does,” Regan said.

I looked up at her sharply.

“Think about it and you’ll know it’s true. Half the Shadow Zodiac is like this guy.” She flicked her cigarette butt at Liam’s corpse. “They want to kill you just because you’re of the Light. The other half are looking out for their own interests, so they’d kill you anyway. That’s why your fa—the Tulpa, hasn’t pushed very hard for you to come to our side. He wants you to make your own decision, and he wants to give the rest of us time to get used to the idea.”

“And what about you, Regan? What do you want?”

“You.” The truth of her answer sat like acid on my tongue. “It’s been prophesied that your arrival on the Shadow side will usher in an era the likes of which have never been seen before. Our mythology tells us the second sign of the Zodiac will soon be fulfilled. I want to sit at your right-hand side when you rule this city. I want to tell my children and grandchildren I was born in the generation of the Kairos.”

I looked at her and smiled wryly. When most people heard of the zodiac signs they thought of the sun signs, the positions each of the twelve houses held on the horoscopic wheel. What Regan was talking about, though, was an actual portent signaling one side of the Zodiac’s ascendancy over our enemies. The signs were revealed only as the one before them was fulfilled, and the first sign had been the rise of the Kairos. That was me, and my discovery six months ago. Once I’d satisfactorily proven myself to be the
Kairos—causing mayhem, destruction, and ultimate victory for my chosen allies, in that order—the second sign was revealed.

A curse upon the Zodiac’s battlefield
.

Cheery, huh? Regan obviously thought this obscure riddle meant the Shadows would come out the victor, and therefore I, the Kairos, would have to switch sides. I could only assume this belief had been passed down from the Tulpa. Why else would he be content to sit back and let me come to him? Especially when the second sign indicated a battle had to be fought and won?

But there were two problems I could see with Regan’s theory. First of all, it just plain wasn’t going to happen. I’d shoot myself with my own conduit before becoming a Shadow. And second, even if I did want to switch sides, I doubted it’d be as simple as just waltzing into the Tulpa’s house and announcing my intentions. Nothing in this world ever was.

“You guys kill innocent people for fun and profit,” I told Regan, not caring if I sounded prudish. Murder just kind of niggled me that way.

“I haven’t killed anyone,” she said, ignoring Liam’s death. “See, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. You think we’re wired differently than you, but it’s not true. We have a job to do, and do it to the best of our abilities. Like you.”

I looked at her like she was a toddler with a fork and a light socket. This from the girl who’d just sacrificed a senior troop member to be part of the most wicked era in Shadow history. Yeah, I thought, unable to keep my eyes from rolling, she was just like me. “But there’s another reason you’re keeping my identity a secret, isn’t there, Regan? If you befriend and convince me to become your troop’s Kairos, you incur the debt of the Tulpa. And it’ll be your name that’s passed down for generations to come.”

Her jaw clenched, and she returned her hard gaze to mine, as if to say,
So what?

“So what if I don’t play along?” I continued. “What if I just keep hunting Shadows?”

“Then after I become a full-fledged star sign—”

“You come after me yourself,” I finished for her. “You kill me—”

“And still go down as one of the most celebrated Shadows in history.”

“Perhaps the most.”

She inclined her head, and her pretty blond ponytail swung slightly. “Perhaps.”

I nodded slowly. “Quite a coup. It would’ve been easier all around to kill me while you still could.”

“If you’re into short-term gratification.” She shrugged. “As satisfying as it would be to know I was the one who’d killed you, I’d rather wait until the world could know it too.”

“All the world’s a stage, huh?”

“And I could’ve killed you at any time in act one,” she said, and paused so I could think about it. “You may die yet if you foolishly stick with your current allies. The Tulpa has plans for them, and it doesn’t matter to him that you’ve been filling your star signs. It’s a—what did he say?—a
nonissue
.” She shot me a sly smile. “He’s found a way to wipe you all out in one fell swoop.”

“And that’s what you were going to warn me about?”

Regan nodded, and though it still felt like there was something missing, it made a sketchy sort of sense. “It’d be more helpful if you told me exactly how he’s planning to do this.”

She rolled her eyes. “You must not have heard me earlier. I said, Do I look like I’m Light?”

I crossed my arms, tapping my fingers impatiently. “So what can you tell me?”

She lit another cigarette, then angled her head up and to the right, blowing smoke that spiraled prettily in the blue light. “You can’t go back to your sanctuary, Archer. We’ve got something big planned for the agents of Light.”

“But you won’t tell me what.”

She lifted a shoulder. “What if I’m wrong? What if you
stay with those goody-goody losers? Though I don’t think you will. You have two fates spiraling before you, but only one will lead you to true greatness. Eventually you’ll see that.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“You’re not even a little curious?” she asked, light brows furrowing. “Don’t you want to know where we live, what it’s like? How we train?”

“If I knew any of that you’d all be dead.”

She crossed her feet at the ankles, took a long drag, and blew smoke in my direction. “What about your father? Don’t you want to know what he’s really like?”

“Uh-uh. You’re not going to tempt me with that shiny red apple.”

“Oh, a biblical reference. Thanks,” she said, and smiled, serpent-sweet.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” I said, and I raised my bow, aimed for her heart.

“I know where Joaquin is,” she said quickly, hands flying up in front of her as if to ward me off. After a few moments of neither of us moving I lowered my conduit. Regan swallowed hard, then licked her lips, eyes still on my weapon. “I’m not going to tell you everything because you just might raise that bow again, but I’ll give you enough to catch him. You have my word.”

“You are smarter than Butch and Ajax were combined,” I said, unable to keep the admiration out of my voice. Because if there was one thing I’d stop, drop, and roll for, it was information about the man who’d assaulted me when I was just a mortal teen.

“I know,” she said, relaxing a fraction. “Just think what a team we’d make if we were on the same side.”

I started to lift my hand again.

“Okay, okay. No more trying to convince you. It doesn’t matter. You’ll come to the same conclusion soon enough. You’ll see.”

“About Joaquin?” I prompted.

“He’ll be at Master Comics tomorrow at four
P.M.
He
likes to be the first to read the Zodiac manuals, and Zane will sometimes put them out a day early if you go right before the shop closes.”

“That’s it?”

“It’s more than you have now,” she pointed out. “And it’s enough. Once you see him you’ll know I’m telling the truth, that I’m really on your side. Then I’ll tell you more.”

“More about Joaquin?” I asked stiffly. I wanted to know his habits, his haunts, his schedule, down to the food he had for breakfast every morning.

“More about everything.”

I sighed. She was right, it was more than I had now. And while it could be a trap, I didn’t think so. As Regan said before, she could have killed me at any time in the past six months…shit, she could’ve handed me over to Joaquin if she’d been inclined. For some reason she wanted me alive—though I doubted that reason was as simple as hope that I’d become the Shadow Kairos.

Besides, slaying Joaquin was worth the risk.

I glanced back at Regan, knowing I was walking a moral tightrope here. If Warren was here she’d already be a pretty corpse. But I possessed the aureole. Nothing I did could be tracked, none of my actions would be recorded in the manuals, and this decision was mine alone to make; kill this initiate, or let her live in exchange for intel on my greatest enemy.

Regan was silent, letting me work all this out for myself, and sensing I’d made a decision, she glanced up, looking almost innocent bathed in the aqua light of the tanks, leaning there next to sharks.

“Make one move from that spot, and I’ll pin you through your heart and yank it back out of your chest. Got it?”

One corner of her mouth lifted, and she blinked slowly, inclining her head.

“Don’t follow me, and swear to stay away from my…Olivia’s house. No tailing me, no contacting me, no trying to convince me to come to your side. Any of that, and I’ll kill
you.”

“Okay.” She waited for me to leave. “But where will you go?” she asked, then held up her hands when I half turned on her. “Not that I’d follow. But I can’t help wondering…where does a woman belonging equally to the sun and moon escape to when she can’t be followed? Where does Joanna Archer go in a world that no longer believes she exists?”

I wanted to tell her there was no escape, and that being a superhero wasn’t something you shed like clothing, or that just because I was alone didn’t mean I could be and do what I really wanted in this life. But I was afraid that answer would reveal even more of myself than she already knew. Besides, she’d be a full-fledged Shadow agent within months. She’d find out for herself.

For now, though, I left her reclining against the shark tank, thinking she’d won something tonight just because she was still alive.

“Nice shoes,” she called as I left the aquarium, and though she didn’t move, her bell-like laughter followed me down the Boulevard.

I was too antsy to return to the auction, and knew if I made myself sit down in a confined space I’d just spend the night berating myself, replaying the events that’d led me to the aquarium, near death, and Regan. So ignoring the nightly bacchanalia of the Las Vegas Strip, I took a succession of rights on the gridlike streets and climbed into the city’s gritty underlife, where I truly felt at home.

When I’d been me, Joanna, I’d canvassed these streets religiously, snapping pictures and documenting the welfare of Sin City’s displaced and forgotten. Back then I’d been tough, a student of a fighting system called Krav Maga, but these days I was practically immortal, and I didn’t have to worry about my safety while handing out sandwiches to the men and women pooled in the city’s darkest crevices, or while helping the runaways I found cowering beneath the possessive arm of someone bigger and meaner and more predatory than themselves. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get off on that. Now I could protect people without worrying about getting hit or stabbed or shot, and how cool was that?

Tonight I had the additional protection of the aureole, which meant I could climb into bed with my greatest enemy
if I desired, and he’d never even know I was there. I was like a ghost in both the paranormal and the mortal world, and right now that suited me fine.

About a block away from a run-down strip club I spotted a man watching the building’s back door. Actually I scented him first. He was breathing hard and smelled like wild game and curdled desire. So I began to stalk him, the spikes of my heels ticking like a time bomb as I snuck up behind him. He was already jittery with ignoble intentions and fled easily, even as one of his prey slipped out the back door.

By the time we hit Carlisle Street, the sweat rolling down his neck had nothing to do with the evening’s warmth, and he was breathing harder still. If there was one thing I hated, it was a human predator. And after a night in which I’d been on both sides of the hunt, his ill intent struck me like a punch to the gut. Finally he swerved down an alley filled with large green metal Dumpsters, weaving his way past stripped tires, broken bottles, and the carcass of something that used to be small and furry and living. Scenting that his desire to stalk had been blunted, I let him escape over a fence topped with cyclone wire, whimpering under his breath as the scent of fresh urine joined the stale urine already staining the alley walls.

I know what you’re thinking. Big, bad supernatural chick picking on the poor little human, but I didn’t do it just for sport. A decade earlier I’d been attacked, raped, and nearly killed by a man who’d smelled a lot like this one, and I’d be damned if I was going to let some other woman fall prey to the same fate. And yet I didn’t know if that drive came from the heroine in me, or if it was—as I really suspected—my father’s genes asserting themselves.

My father. The Shadow Archer. The Tulpa.

I sighed and leaned against the rusty metal fence. It was easier to face that here, in the dark, surrounded by refuse. Easier too to admit that I’d lied to Regan about not being curious about my father.

Why wouldn’t I be? I’d been born on his birthday—exact
date, exact time—yet another herald of the Kairos legend. But what
he
was—other than the darkest of the Shadows—was another legend entirely. Because the very definition of the word Tulpa was rooted in Tibetan mysticism: it meant materialized thought. And it meant my birth father was a being who’d been created rather than born.

Created, I thought, pushing off from the fence, by someone with a profound amount of energy, perseverance, patience…and, if you asked me, too much time on his hands.

So how do you wrap your brain around the idea that your birth father first existed as a thought form? Well, first you had to get on board with the idea that thought was just another form of energy; same as desire, belief, love. But energy was a powerful, volatile thing, and if a person—and not just a supernatural, but a mortal too—could visualize something so completely even their own mind was fooled into believing it existed, they could generate that thing in their life. If they were adept enough, they could even create a separate being. A Tulpa.

But if what I knew about the Tulpa was enough to fill a thimble, his knowledge of me was even smaller. At first he’d only known that I was the new Archer of Light, his opposite on the paranormal Zodiac, and that alone would’ve been enough to make him wish for my destruction. But as our lineage was matriarchal, he also knew my mother was Zoe Archer, once his greatest love, now his greatest enemy. With her in hiding for the past decade, he was all too willing to take her betrayal out on me.

And then he discovered I was
his
daughter as well, and the tactics had changed. He was now trying to recruit me to the Shadow side, an approach that obviously wasn’t sitting well with all his evil, stank-ass minions.

I was jolted from my thoughts by Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer” pealing from my handbag. “Not now, Cher,” I muttered, peering down at the glowing face of my cell phone. But duty had me answering anyway.

“Where did you go?” she asked without preamble. “One minute you were there, the belle of the ball, and then next you were gone.”

“I got…sick.” I mustered up a cough as I left the alley. “Decided to head home early.”

“Oh, honey! Do you want me to come over and play nurse? I have a great product to loosen up congestion. It contains pig placenta and no preservatives!”

“No!” I swallowed, softened my tone, and said, “No, Cher. But thanks. I’m just going to work on the computer for a bit, and then go to bed.”

Which was as big a lie as any I’d ever told. While Olivia had been a closet geek beneath all the peroxide, gloss, and L’eau d’Issey, the computer guru bit was something I’d had to drop as soon as I took over her identity. I could impersonate a bubble-brained socialite, but a self-taught computer genius was a bit beyond my second-rate dramatic skills. Luckily, most people who knew her in real life, as opposed to cyberspace, didn’t know about her surprising, and sometimes illicit, little hobby.

Another pause, this time with Cher mentally ciphering what I meant by this. “Starting up your business again?” she asked carefully.

As if, I thought, rolling my eyes. I’d never even gotten Olivia’s blasted machine to work, even after inputting every word I thought she might use as a password—Archer, her birth date, Prada. Nothing worked.

“No, I…I forgot my stupid password.”

“Oh. Want your backup disks?”

Backup disks? I blinked as I slipped past a stray dog, unnoticed. “Uh…you still have them?”

“Of course. Locked in the floor safe just like you told me. Momma tried to move them into the safety deposit box, but I told her you needed easy access for times like this, you know?”

I did a quick mental calculation. Dusk set at seven-fifty tomorrow. Joaquin would allegedly be at the shop four hours
before that. So I could feasibly squeeze in a visit to Cher, grab the disks, kill my arch nemesis, and still manage to cross over to my troop’s headquarters no later than mid-dusk. And that brought the first true smile to my face since I’d found out about the bachelorette auction.

So Cher agreed to meet the next afternoon and made me promise to rub vapors over my chest for my cold, but as we hung up I’d never felt better. There were secrets stored on those disks that had to do with me. My past.

Maybe even my mother.

Because I had questions for Zoe Archer, and they weren’t just of the where-ya-been? variety either. She was the only agent who’d ever gotten close enough to the Tulpa to try and ferret out a weakness to be used against him, to sleep with him. To make him vulnerable.

And that was what I was
most
curious about. How to find him, hurt him, kill him. I’d vowed on our first and only meeting that I’d do all those things. Ruin anything with the Archer insignia on it—which included all of Xavier Archer’s businesses—and commit my every waking moment to destroying him and the Shadow organization. He’d suffer for all the cruel deeds he brokered in this valley, and more importantly, for authorizing the attack that had devastated me a decade earlier.

So I left the abandoned streets behind me, heading home as I thought of death and destruction. Wanting to cause it all myself.

Sometimes I was such a daddy’s girl.