City Of Souls (20 page)

And
now
I was trapped in a hole with my two greatest enemies and the one weapon that could totally obliterate my existence. I teetered, my knees and elbows wanting to buckle.

“This
is
handy,” he said, nails clacking against my conduit. I grimaced, swallowing hard as he pulled back on the crossbow. It felt like he was pawing one of my internal organs.

“I’ve also been following your daughter, gathering intel on her haunts and friends, her habits. May I share them?”

She waited, and so did I, heart slamming, a lump closing my throat. The news that she’d been following me was a surprise, but it was a concern I shunted aside for later. Because consent
now
would mean forgiveness, and would make Regan dangerous again. The Tulpa took a long time before delivering his verdict.

“Speak.”

I closed my eyes and fought not to sag. And Regan began telling him about the real me, the one the rest of the world thought dead, the one he knew was alive…but not how or where.

“She’s a woman of surprising regularity, coming and going from her residence like clockwork. Admittedly one with a skewed sense of time, but regular for someone who abides by the rules of two realities.”

“Where is it?”

“The Greenspun Residences. Do you know it?”

Of course he did. His main mortal ally’s daughter, Olivia Archer, lived in the same building. Crafty, I thought. Regan both was and was not telling him my identity. Her ass was in tatters and yet she was still covering it.

“You think she’d know better,” Regan was saying, “but hubris is her greatest fault.”

The Tulpa let the useless remark pass. “What else?”

The effort to speak was paining her, and as Regan swallowed, I imagined congealing blood clots sliding down her tattered throat. She might be substantially more helpless than she’d been as a Shadow agent, but her determination was still terrifying. “She visits Master Comics with shocking regularity.”

“As you said. Hubris.” His voice was noncommittal, but that he was allowing her to continue spoke volumes.

“She’s no longer in contact with her mortal boyfriend, and as far as I can tell, cares nothing for him. He has no memory of their relationship beyond their dalliance as teens.”

The romance between Ben Traina and me had popped up in the Shadow manuals over the last few weeks, now that the information couldn’t be used against me. Still, I tensed.

“Rewiring,” the Tulpa said.

“Complete.”

I couldn’t afford a sigh of relief, but the confirmation that Ben had been eliminated from the Tulpa’s mental radar was nice. A month ago he might have still gone after him. These days he had bigger fish to fry.

“She’s in constant search for a way to heal the changeling of Light—”

“That is not news.” He said it like she was wasting his time.

“And she has a daughter.”

A gasp escaped me before I could stop it. Particularly loud in the wake of the Tulpa’s shocked silence, it was no surprise that the next sound was again talons scrambling against concrete. I envisioned his tail jerking from that barbed spine as the growl slipped from his throat. His eyes pulsed in a red strobe, expending some of that precious energy to light the tunnel before him. I held as still as a corpse…exactly what I’d be if either of them saw me hanging there like a big blond bat. My eyes were closed—I couldn’t risk them reflecting that red—but through the thin lids I made out his methodical scan, like a tiny searchlight slipping along the slick walls. It paused on algae and graffiti, caught light from water crystals hanging like stalactites from the ceiling, but I remained tucked into that inverted basin, silently praying nothing of my clothing or self hung tellingly from above.

“It was probably just a rat. They’re as large as cats down here.”

“And if it wasn’t?” A step forward. I swallowed hard.

“I’ve been in this tunnel almost a week. I’d have heard anyone entering or exiting.”

Or not, I thought with smug relief as the Tulpa’s attention returned to her. Perhaps Regan had mistaken me for a very large rat that morning.

The light relented. “So where is this daughter of my daughter’s?”

“I don’t know,” Regan admitted, “but her name is Ashlyn.”

“Surname?”

“Still working on that, sir.”

I did sag then. I couldn’t help it. This was salvageable. Warren and Micah could amend Ashlyn’s birth records. They could convince her adoptive parents to move, as they’d done once before. Of course, that was when Warren had believed she was only a mortal infant targeted by the Shadow side.

I’d have to tell him, I realized. That she was my daughter. A future Archer. And Warren--a man who’d told me to venture into a soul- and power-stealing world in search of a Shadow who was really Light--would take Ashlyn, almost ten and completely oblivious of her paranormal future, away from everything she’d ever known.

“And Joanna’s new identity?” His voice was deadly soft now, like snow falling. “Who is she now, while freely roaming my city?”

Regan hesitated. “Allow me to return to the Shadow troop, and I’ll tell you.”

A soft sulfuric sigh. “Your sign has already been filled by a new Leo.”

“Kill him,” she replied without hesitation. No, destroyed body or not, Regan hadn’t changed at all.

“Tell me Joanna’s cover identity,” the Tulpa countered.

“No.”

Smoke—instant, hot and venomous—roiled in the tunnel. I fought not to cough. Fortunately, Regan’s pained hacking covered my own small sounds. The toxic smoke had to burn against those raw, festering wounds. Had it been anyone else, I’d have felt sorry for them.

“You insufferable little—”

“Kill me now,” she coughed, “and you’ll never know.”

Silence. A moment where his emotions could have tipped either way. “Clever, Regan.”

“You’ve no use for anyone who is not.” Relief oozed around the sibilant hiss of her shredded tongue. She sounded, I thought, like a different species altogether.

“True. But if this information isn’t entirely correct, I’ll make sure the rest of your days are spent as nothing more than a beating heart encased in bone.”

“But if any small bit leads to her capture,” she negotiated, “from her residence to her associates, then I’ll be allowed to return. And repair.”

A moment’s hesitation, coupled with a considering breath. “I can do that.”

I closed my eyes, head drooping.

“Additionally, I promise this: I’ll deliver her to you alive.”

“How?” The noxious scent had receded, like the Tulpa had pulled it back into his pores, but a puff of it returned in that one disbelieving word. “You can’t go out in public. Even at night she’ll scent you out.”

A shrug seeped into her voice. “Except I have a new friend.”

“A goat?” the Tulpa asked, referring derisively to our mortal helpers. “Another changeling?”

“Better. An agent of Light.”

The Tulpa sucked in a surprised breath. And I couldn’t breathe at all.

“Do we have a deal?”

There was no hesitation now, just another sharp scraping along the floor. “Take back her conduit. Use it as bait and leverage in leading her to me. She’s desperate for it.”

“Unfortunately for you both,” said another, new flowing voice, an unexpected bloom. “It has absolutely no effect on me.”

Skamar charged. Wind lit through the tunnel like a match thrown on gasoline. The two tulpas careened past me, clawing and snarling as they rolled over one another before slamming into the dead end. The impact shook the entire pipeline, and dislodged me from my hidey-hole. My feet swung down, one hand slipping from its rung.

Spotting the movement, Regan gasped.

“Oops.” My glyph burst to life.

She fired.

Too late to drop, I swung. The bolt clipped my chaps and pinned my left leg to the wall.

“No!” Skamar barreled into Regan so quickly the Shadow ricocheted off her, bounced against a wall and fell still.

I whipped my head the other way. The Tulpa’s eyes, literally, lit on me.

“Got him!” Skamar pinballed back the other way. “Go!”

As the tulpas again collided, I yanked the bolt from where it was embedded in the wall and dropped to a crouch on the fetid floor. Ahead of me, Regan was rising. Flipping the crossbow bolt in my hand, I wound up like hometown hero Greg Maddox and let it fly.

My pitching arm was no better over here than it’d been in the Rest House. I didn’t hit Regan’s torso…but I did nick her arm, and she screamed as her flesh endured yet more injury. Then she ran.

“I like these odds better.” And leaving my bag tied to the rungs, and the tulpas battling like rabid wolves behind me, I gave chase.

Though I could no longer see Regan, I tracked her scent easily. It wound through the pipeline like a rancid ribbon, her fear and pain so heightened there might as well have been a bloody arrow pointing in her direction. Sure, she had my crossbow, but I’d appeared out of nowhere, and she couldn’t be sure I was alone.

Her instinct to play it safe married well with my pent-up need to hunt.

One last slithering corner and the tunnel’s mouth came into view. I burst into a full sprint because I knew that once outside, Regan’s scent would scatter. If she moved fast enough, she could disappear in the shifting wind. I slowed into a quick sidestep as I neared the entrance, but still managed to barrel square into the figure who pivoted into my path, like a shadow eclipsing the sun.

I immediately began swinging. Strong arms absorbed, deflected, and eventually held mine. “God! You’re here!”

I looked up. “Hunter?”

His eyes searched mine wildly. “Geez, are you okay?”

“Move.” I pushed him aside, sniffing as I risked a peek from the tunnel. Though still dark, the sky was a night-light compared to the pitch of the pipeline behind me. “Which way did she go?”

“Who? What?”

“Regan! She was here—can’t you smell her?”

“I smell tunnel water and blood, and most of it’s coming off you. Uh, why are you dressed like that?”

I reeled, and almost pushed him out of frustration. “She came out this way!”

He held up a hand, shaking his head. “Jo, I’ve been standing watch all night. We’ve been scouring the pipeline ever since Warren told us he thought you’d gone into Midheaven. No one even came near this entrance.”

“But the Tulpa—”

The Tulpa rocketed into the sky in a wheeling screech of power that had me cringing even from a distance. His ascent was followed by a comet, Skamar, burning a bright rainbow on the night sky.

I sighed and let my body sag. “The Tulpa was down there.”

And Regan had been as well. I tried not to sulk over the lost opportunity. Maybe this had flushed her from the pipeline. She’d be easier to find out in the open.

“Holy hell.” Hunter was still watching the rupturing sky, the tulpas in the distance now, cutting a path like a black rainbow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, he didn’t see me until it was too late. I had my mask on the whole time.”

I removed it now and ran a hand over my damp forehead. Hunter ordered me to wait while he looked around, though I could tell he still didn’t believe me about Regan.

This was a different drain than the one I’d entered, I saw, and I took in a deep breath along with the view of an abandoned cardboard shelter, blissing out as an icy breeze caressed my chapped skin. It was colder than when I’d breached Midheaven, like the temperature had dropped twenty degrees in the hours I’d been gone—though it was probably only in contrast to the relentless heat of that other world.

“Like returning from a trip to the moon,” I murmured, letting my eyes fall shut. I was happy I’d returned at all.

“Nothing,” Hunter said, dropping into the tunnel from the ledge above. I wasn’t surprised. Regan had probably already planned for this eventuality.

“She’s been following me,” I murmured, knowing he could hear, though my head was bowed. “She knows about my daughter. She told the Tulpa about Ashlyn.”

Shock kept him silent for long seconds, and I kept my face hidden. I didn’t want to see the disbelief and blame in that gaze. “But you haven’t gone near Ashlyn…have you?”

I shook my head before daring a glance up. “Someone’s been helping Regan. She says it’s an agent of Light.”

He stared for a long moment to see if I was serious. Then he pulled out his cell phone. “We have to tell Warren.”

“Wait.”

His eyes flicked to me under brows that furrowed, but he punched his speed dial and put the phone to his ear. I spoke faster, knowing Warren would come on the line soon.

“Hunter, no. Please. He knows things.”
He knew what that place would take from me and let me go anyway
. “He’s kept secrets from us…Jaden Jacks, he was Light.”

I could tell the second Warren came on the line. Hunter stiffened, wide eyes searching my face. “I have her.”

Knowing Warren would hear if I even made a sound, I pleaded with my expression alone. Hunter threw up a hand. He didn’t know what to do.

“Yes,” he said, to Warren’s inquiry. I held my breath. “Yes. At dawn.”

He put his phone away without saying good-bye…or anything about Regan’s alleged ally. “Your explanation had better be damned good.”

I slumped, grateful for the reprieve. I needed time to reorder my thoughts, not just soak in everything that’d happened to me in Midheaven, but what I’d learned of Warren, of Regan…and to figure out what do to now that the Tulpa knew of Ashlyn too.

Oh my God. The Tulpa knew about Ashlyn.

“What the hell happened to you over there?” Hunter meant Midheaven but he gestured at me like I was in a full body cast. I glanced down at the halter, the bangles and armbands, the rings like industrial screws, the chaps now overtight at my hips, then flattened him with my own hard look.

“You can’t possibly think this was my idea.”

“I’m not talking about that. You’re bleeding.”

“No, it’s…” Regan’s, I was going to say as he lifted my hands. My palms were only lightly scraped, but it was easy to scent the blood with our magnified senses. The larger injury was where the cross bolt had grazed my thigh. If not for the leather chaps, I’d certainly have noted it sooner.