City Of Souls (42 page)

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, you were pretty out of it, mumbling about the water and how it was stealing your soul and being lost in the middle of heaven. Getting swept into that tunnel system must have been really rough for you, not just physically, but…” She shrugged at my raised brows, realizing she was making me recall something I’d rather not. I turned back to the window. “Well, they sedated you then, and you seem fine now, but I know these things don’t just go away. So, you know, if you ever want to talk about it or anything…”

Slowly I turned my gaze on her. It didn’t burn red anymore, but from the way she startled, I was pretty sure the effect was the same. “Let me see your hands.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your hands, Ms….?”

“Scaglia. But you can call me Angie.” She frowned as she came forward, and I could tell I’d insulted her. “I wash them religiously. I know my job.”

I looked anyway. Fine whorls and liquid lines were laid like artwork upon each fingertip, the prints marking her as mortal. I swallowed hard, and managed an apologetic half smile as I glanced up. “I, um, read palms. Your arrival here is…fortuitous.”

“Oh. Really?” She brightened at that, and began to speak again, but before she could get too chatty, I dismissed her.

“Thank you, Angie.”

“Oh. Sure.” She put her chart away and looked around for something else to do, anything else I might need, but there was nothing. Another small smile and she turned to leave, but she paused in the doorway, looking back at her right hand, wondering what I’d seen there. “By the way, your mother stopped by.”

“What?” The word barely passed my lips. I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.

“At the hospital? After you were sedated.” She glanced up, noted my surprise, and realized she’d just said something that could get her fired. If she knew her job as she claimed, she would’ve read up on the Archer family history. Color spread to her cheeks and she began to stutter. “At least s-she said she was your mother.”

“What did she look like?”

Angie opened her mouth, her inhalation hanging on the air like a question mark. She searched for the memory for so long that I knew she’d never find it. Whoever it was had either messed with her memory or was well-disguised.

“Honestly?” she finally said, shaking her head. “She looked pissed.”

And Angie, a woman who knew nothing of superheroes or Shadow agents or worlds outside this one, crossed herself as she walked out the door. I leaned back in my stacks of supporting blankets and pillows and imagined what Zoe Archer was capable of when she was pissed. Then I closed my eyes to rest.

Later, alone, with the curtains drawn and the house silent, I studied myself in a hand mirror. I looked past all of Micah’s impressive handiwork, tried not to get hung up on my sister’s beautiful face, or the physical scars I’d accumulated in the past year…beyond it all to that which even Micah couldn’t hide. Eyes so dark nothing shone in them. Funny, I thought with a sigh, but before my near drowning, I’d actually begun to believe my mental wounds to be healing.

I leaned forward, scanning my body, tentatively feeling along my forearms, my waist, my neck, fingers finally playing over my face. I swallowed hard, meeting my own gaze, trying to see myself as soft and vulnerable as the world saw Olivia, laughing at parties, taking trips on a moment’s notice, lunch dates like they were a part of a regular business day. After a moment I lowered my eyes and shook the visual away. Yes, those were Olivia’s pastimes. But not mine.

“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men…” I muttered to myself.

Couldn’t put Jo together again
.

“Then it’s up to you alone,” I told myself, lifting the mirror. “Again.”

That’s when I finally saw something I liked. It was very close to the expression my mother must have worn earlier in the week at my bedside.

I cleared it from my face when Helen entered. She flipped on the overhead light without warning, momentarily blinding me. I dropped the mirror, blinked, and covered my face with a pillow.

“You should let me change your bandages.”

I cracked an eyelid to look down at my wrapped palms. They were folded carefully so that my printless fingers were hidden—good habits die hard—though the light caught on the smooth tip of my right thumb, making it gleam like a pearl, a beautiful taunt.

“You should go to hell,” I muttered, pulling the covers up to my chin.

The room grew uncomfortably still, though if Helen was going to strike, I’d have been six feet under before I even knew she’d moved. As it was, the undercover Shadow agent left in a huff, slamming the door behind her without another word.

I smiled at the small power. She probably had orders to stick close to the remaining Archer, see if I couldn’t be as easily bought as my father, turned into a lackey for a secret paranormal organization. The Tulpa had to be growing increasingly desperate, weak, and with fewer resources than ever before. I thought of the way Warren would pounce on that. How Vanessa would be sharpening the blades of her steel fan while Felix joked about the chances of a Shadowless city by spring. I wondered if Gregor still parked his cab behind the Peppermill in wait of dawn and dusk, and if Micah ever wondered about my long-term medical prognosis.

Tekla, I knew, was probably trying to determine the same via her charts and constellations and diagrams, though one never knew with her. She, more than anyone else, operated autonomously of Warren, and according to her own whim. Kimber wouldn’t be sorry to see me gone, that was for sure, and I wondered if Chandra had finally been given my Archer sign.

My heart squeezed at the thought, and I turned away from it so fast I ran smack dab into another.
Hunter
.

I turned away again.

Hunter.

Everywhere I turned.

Hunter. Hunter and me. Hunter and Solange.

“You knew me,” I whispered into my pillow, feeling the darkness draw in closer. He’d known me, shared my bed and body—even a surprising ability to wield the same weapon for a while—and he’d said there was nothing wrong with me. I wondered if he’d retract that now. How flawless he’d find me without even two superpower chips to rub together.

Of course, the greatest hurt in all this was that Hunter had been looking for Solange long before Skamar’s appearance in this world alerted him to the existence of Midheaven. Even with all of Warren’s lies and denials, once he found out about Midheaven, he knew that’s where she was, and had been plotting his way to her, and using my greatest enemy’s soul to do it. Maybe someday I’d be able to look at the manuals detailing how and why, and begin to understand.

“Unlikely,” I said to the empty room, because meanwhile he’d made love to me even while knowing he would soon return to Solange.
Sola
, he had called her, I remembered with a sneer. The worst of it was, I’d really believed he’d felt something for me…and maybe he had. Lust. Possibly affection. Probably pity.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t strong enough to temper those old feelings. That old love. And he’d had the nerve to be angry with me for revisiting Ben.

It’s not what you think. There’s more. So much more that you don’t know
...

“Hypocrite,” I muttered, but there was no heat to the thought. I remembered all too well the division of the heart, and how difficult it was to step into a murky future when you still had the option of returning to a familiar, if dangerous, past. Solange and Hunter—or Jaden, as I needed to start thinking of him—had a history. He was right; I didn’t know what “more” had led to his actions, but in light of what I’d put him through, I couldn’t blame him for wanting to shield himself under the tapestry of that past. It was my own fault that I was the one stuck in this world, shivering and mortal and alone.

I looked over at the phone. It was dangerous, stupid to even consider with Helen in the house, but emotions won out over thought. I picked the phone up and punched in a long memorized emergency contact number for the rest of the troop. I felt like a jilted woman drunk-dialing her ex, though without the benefit of alcohol. I felt even more stupid once the electronic voice announced the number was disconnected. I didn’t bother checking to see if I’d misdialed.

“I am not disposable,” I whispered to myself, repeating it until Hunter, the troop, my mother, and the Tulpa were all smothered under my new mantra. No, I was recyclable, I thought with black humor. I lifted my shirt to reveal a belly with the glyph of the sun fading around a healed piercing. Those things that were recyclable could be reinvented in the world, right? I could become someone new. Again.

“Miss Archer?” Angie poked her head in after a short series of knocks. “You have visitors. A woman named Cher—um, no last name—and her mother?”

A soft smile visited my face, like a hesitant sparrow on its first flight. I nodded for her to send them in.

“I am not disposable,” I repeated, smoothing out the bedsheets as I waited. I decided to do the same with the edges of my wrinkled life; find some worth in what remained behind. There was value simply in being human, in being alive, I thought, lifting the hand mirror to finger-comb my hair. Right?

My reflection stared back at me, not looking at all sure.

“My gawd, girl.” Cher swooped in on a magic carpet of worry, estrogen, and Chanel No. 5. “Next time you decide to go for a swim…”

Suzanne followed not far behind, tears in her eyes. “It was the necklace, wasn’t it? It weighed you down?”

Cher hopped on the bed, settling close to me without asking. Angie looked a bit taken aback at this invasion, but I nodded that it was okay, and she shut the door softly as she left. I looked up at the two women who remained behind with me.

“Actually,” I told Suzanne, my hesitant smile widening, “I think it was what kept me afloat.”

In addition to the support of two flighty, mortal women who’d never wavered from my side, it helped somewhat that I had achieved my goal. I discovered Thanksgiving week that in my last completed task as a superhero, I’d finally brought the belated fourth sign of the Zodiac to life. This effectively ferried Jasmine on to the next phase in her life, healed Li, strengthened the agents of Light, caused the manuals to be written again, and gave Skamar a recorded name.

By transferring the rest of my soul, and all of my powers, over to Jasmine in the depths of that flooding pipeline, I had reunited an aura within the changeling, making her whole again. Skamar was resurrected…and though I’d missed what had proved to be a stunning climax, I’d read later in the first printing of the manuals of Light that she screamed to life under the power of a broken sky, and rocketed from her cross to pin the Tulpa to the ground with only her thumb. He managed to flee, but she followed, trailing sizzling sparks, like stars, behind her.

As for the fourth sign of the Zodiac—what we’d all been wondering for months now—it had proven more obvious than the previous three:
the Kairos will sacrifice herself for a mere mortal.

Good thing I hadn’t known that one beforehand.

The fifth sign, or portent that one side of the Zodiac was gaining dominance over the other, was also brought to light. I had my driver pull into the strip mall parking lot at Master Comics, and waited in the car while he went inside, partly because I didn’t want to risk an appearance by Olivia Archer in the shop—not only because I was lacking powers, a conduit, support, or a troop—but mostly because I couldn’t bear facing the changelings. Despite saving one of their lives and restoring the balance between the two sides of the Zodiac, I had a feeling they too would turn their backs on me, and I couldn’t take that. Not yet.

This intuitive feeling was confirmed when my driver reemerged empty-handed, and thoroughly confused as to why the owner of the shop had refused to sell him a mere comic book.

“Did you tell him who I was?” I asked, sounding a lot more imperious than I felt as he peered in the passenger’s window to give me the bad news. He clearly expected to be sent back into the shop.

He’d also not only told Zane who the comics were for, but offered more money for them, and expressed an interest in a number of collectibles as well…all to no avail. His frustration and pure wonderment at the situation—and I was sure part of this was due to my interest in a comic book to begin with—was etched across his normally placid face.

I sighed and leaned back in my seat. “Get in the car, Kevin.”

“But—”

“It’s fine.” I shook my head. “It’s…fine.”

But just as we were sliding from the curb, a figure darted in front of the town car. Kevin slammed on the breaks, narrowly avoiding the small child. He cursed her and wiped his brow, but I slid the tinted back window down and took a good long look at the healthy, glowing, beaming girl.

“Hi, Miss Archer,” Li said in a high voice that was as strong as I’d ever heard it.

I could only nod.

“Zane has reconsidered your driver’s offer. He’ll take the money along with your word that these remain…collector’s items only.”

I cleared my throat. “They’re for my personal collection.”

Kevin looked puzzled as he watched Li hand me the small stack of comics through the open window. Our fingertips touched as she drew her hands away, and I felt a light squeeze on my pinky, so fleeting I might even have imagined it.

“Thank you,” I managed in a whisper.

“No. Thank
you.”

Li turned away, and I twisted in my seat to follow her progress around the back of the car, until she leapt back onto the walkway. “Wait!”

I fumbled at the console until Kevin finally lowered the opposite window for me, and Li turned.

“You, um, you look familiar,” I was stuttering, and I reminded myself that high emotions could sometimes be scented. “D-Do you have a sibling?”

“An older sister, but…”

“But?”

She frowned, pretty face pinching up. “But we don’t hang out much anymore. She’s…moved on.”

The air whooshed out of my chest like it’d been kicked. “Oh, well. I’m sure you’ll be close again one day. When you grow up.”

The faraway look disappeared as her eyes met mine. Her beautiful, unmarked face widened in a perfect smile. “No rush.”