I shrugged. “And?”
Tripp huffed, a trail of smoke zinging from the side of his mouth. “It’s Miss Sola wants you dead, girl.”
“Solange?” I almost choked on the name.
“She ain’t talked about nothin’ else since you left.”
Solange. The most powerful woman in that realm, and one who’d once dismantled everything inside of me-all the bits that made me “me”-without ever touching my body. I cringed, remembering the way my spirit had jigsawed free of my physical body before being thrown down a flight of stairs. Sure, it’d come back together at the bottom of the staircase, but had it been a physical repiecing, my thighbone would have been connected to my neck bone. I didn’t know if I’d recovered or just gotten used to the feeling, but I did know that of everything I experienced in my year as an agent of Light, I’d never been so thoroughly frightened as I was by Solange’s soft, gorgeous rage.
“Why?”
“’Cause when them divas and goddesses and matriarchs discovered they done released the woman with lineage divided equally between the two warring sides of the Zodiac, the uproar was cataclysmic. Even in that world, you’re legend. The
I shook my head, but it didn’t stop my mind from spinning. Sure, I was still technically equal parts Shadow and Light. Believe me, if I could change my parentage, I’d have done so long ago. But why would Solange want me dead? I was no longer the Kairos. The woman who could bring to life the portents that would have one side of the Zodiac asserting dominance over the other.
But you once were, I thought, trying to remain reasonable. And only one person could have told Solange all that.
Tripp studied the air around me, trying to match it up to the emotions unraveling from me like a knot. He gave up, gaze landing back on my face, implacable. “I don’t know why Miss Sola hates you so much. I ain’t seen her so riled up ’bout a person before. Not that I envy you the distinction. But if you help me, Joanna, I’ll keep you from Sleepy Mac.” He paused, his next words sounding near a vow. “And anyone else who moves to harm you.”
I thought about it, automatically repulsed at the idea of working with a Shadow. Even if he was the only person with a hand extended to me now.
Yeah, I thought, biting my lip. That anonymous dogooder had been a
Angling my head, I gave him a quick once-over. “You’re really trying to kill the Tulpa?” He nodded, and I immediately shook my head. “Helping you will put a bull’s-eye on my chest, Tripp. From both the Shadows and the Light.”
He shrugged. “Don’t make you different from any other rogue agent.”
“Except for the whole mortality issue,” I said, but he shrugged again. Near fuming, I ticked some of my shortcomings off finger by finger.
“You can give me your blood.” He waved his cigarette in the air. “I mean your bloodline.”
I shook my head, swallowing hard. “What does that mean?”
“The Tulpa doesn’t know you’re mortal yet, right?”
“Right.”
“So we use you as a lure. Ask him for a meeting, then fake anger over Warren treating that ex-boyfriend of yours-”
“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” I interrupted, giving the phone Warren had left me a hard glance. Hunter and I hadn’t gotten that far before our mutual pasts had reared up to trample the present. As for Warren? I wouldn’t have to fake anything when it came to him. Though, in a move as inexplicable as a woman who went back to an abusive husband, I pocketed the phone.
“Whatever. But we get him to meet you alone, which will probably take more than one conversation. He’ll be willin’ to, though, ’cause you’re his daughter and the Kairos…”
The Tulpa cared only about the latter. Outside of his initial shock in learning of my existence, he’d never given a shit that I was his daughter-but I didn’t interrupt Tripp again. He couldn’t see past his need for vengeance to converse about this intelligently or see anything other than his own bloodred obsession.
“And once he lets down his guard…bam! I’ll be there. We’ll make sure you’re out of harm’s way, of course. Then I’ll paint the walls with his blood.” He puffed out his chest, drawing heavily on his cigarette.
And despite myself, despite the danger in playing chicken against a being who could kill me with a look alone, my heart skipped in my chest. Sensing it, Tripp almost smiled. I saved him from cracking his face with a brisk shake of my head. “No.”
His eyes narrowed and he licked his lips, then ran his tongue along his top teeth before slowly nodding. “Okay.”
I drew back in surprise.
Shrugging his broad shoulders, he flicked his cigarette to the floor. “I’ll let you think on it.”
“Listen, Tripp-”
“No, Archer, you listen!” And he was suddenly inches from my face, his wide with fury and animate with hate. He jabbed his finger into my chest and I stumbled backward. The smoke of both cigarettes was on his breath, the first one trying to lasso me back. “I aim to kill that motherfucker, understand? Him and Lindy Maguire and every other Shadow agent who helped kill my family. I’m going to pull their veins from their limbs like straws, then suck ’em dry. I’ll hang their muscles in jerky strips, and if you stand in my way, I’ll fucking kill you too.”
He was breathing hard, and I glanced back at the closed door, my own heart racing. Any agent within a fivemile radius would be able to scent the sudden rise in his emotions, and they’d follow it right back here, to me. I didn’t know what was preferable. The Shadows, the Light, or Tripp. But he caught my worried glance and calmed himself, his will tugging hot rage back into his physical shell. If I could still see auras, I bet he’d have been rimmed in black tar. But I saw nothing.
Which rather underscored my point.
“Look, you saved me from Mackie, so I won’t tell the agents of Light of your quest.” It was the best any reasonable person could expect from me under the circumstances, though it remained to be seen if Tripp was reasonable. “But I can’t get involved. You’re a rogue agent, Tripp. That means you’re free to flee the city. You can get away from Warren and the Tulpa and anyone who might know of your story and past. You can start a new life elsewhere. Don’t underestimate the power of a new beginning.”
Tripp’s anger evaporated so quickly it was like clearing an Etch-A-Sketch. “Well, I’ll take that under consideration just as soon as you do, Archer.”
That wasn’t the same at all, and I put a hand on Tripp’s chest to push him back. Annoyed when I couldn’t budge him, I ducked around his frame and peered into a tabletop mirror to fluff my hair. “Las Vegas is my home. I’m not going to let them take that from me.” I’d been stripped of enough.
Tripp loomed behind me, gaze lost beneath the brim of his Stetson. “I might not be able to save you next time.”
I glanced at his leg, already festering with pus, though he’d just cleaned and cauterized it.
Which settled things pretty handily for me. I wasn’t going anywhere near the underworld. If Tripp kept my identity to himself, and the agents of Light continued ignoring my existence, I could live in peace, in my city, as casino magnate Olivia Archer. I’d use the phone Warren had given me to tell them when Mackie showed up, and then they’d do what I couldn’t…and what I seriously doubted of this lone rogue agent.
I’d also avoid the damned party buses.
“There won’t be a next time.”
Tripp snorted loudly. “Girly, I’ve seen some scary shit in both the worlds I’ve lived in, but Mackie’s willpower has been fired in Midheaven’s kiln. His mind will not, cannot, be changed. And don’t forget that knife. It’s imbued with his soul so it damned near does his will all by its lonesome.” He pursed his lips in worry, clearly thinking of his leg, though he didn’t glance at it again. Instead he eyed me. “So the ‘next time’ you’re trying so hard not to think on is just a matter
Tilting his hat my way, he then limped back to his hiding place at the back of the store. It was another few
