The Touch of Twilight

“Hey, Mr. CSI, why don’t you let the agents worry about the detecting work, so you can continue playing armchair quarterback in this particular playing field?” I straightened and he dove for his Windex. “Now I’m looking for-”

“The original manual, blah, blah.” He sprayed fervently, and I took a step backward as he tapped his head with his index finger, rag in his hand. “You don’t think I already know? It’s not here, we don’t have it. Move on, little girl. Go play in someone else’s sandbox.”

He wished, I thought as he dismissed me with his frenzied polishing. Zane’s lifelong quest was to find and possess the original manual, but no one knew exactly why. Certainly he’d be able to auction it off to the highest bidder, making himself a multimillionaire and incurring the debt of the Tulpa’s slayer in the process…but I didn’t think he was after mere money. He was too passionate about his work, and when he wasn’t drawing manuals, he was poring over them; studying them, dissecting them. It made me wonder if he’d ever had the opportunity to hold out on us; if maybe there was something Zane knew that had never made it into the written text.

“You’re a dick,” I told him lightly.

“Yeah, well at least I’m not an evil, chi-stealing bitch.”

My hand was on his throat before I even knew I’d moved and there was a sooty cast to the air, not unlike the smoke that’d swirled in Xavier’s lair, though this didn’t have the overlaying trail of incense to soften the odor. Glancing down into the spotless glass case housing Star Wars collectibles, I saw a fabulous hairdo and two eyes glaring like burning black marbles. I loosened my grip on Zane’s neck.

“No,” I said, dusting his shoulders, though he was wearing a ratty Farscape T-shirt and not a suit. I ignored both his flinch at my suddenly deep voice and the surprised exclamations from the group of the kids now backing away from me. I cleared my throat, but I was still angry, and my words scratched at my larynx. “You’re not a bitch. You’re just a mortal with a God complex. So remember who the fuck you’re talking to.”

I didn’t know if it was fear or anger that had him shaking, but his hands were unsteady as they knocked mine from his shoulders. “You touched me,” he said, in an incredulous whisper. “You’re not allowed to touch the record keeper!”

Obviously.

Carl put a hand on my arm now that the smoke had literally cleared. “Hey, Archer. Look, maybe you should go.”

His rebuke shamed me. I glanced around at the wide-eyed kids-including Jasmine-and frowned. What was I doing?

“It’s the rise of her Shadow side!” Douglas called from behind a carousel displaying the entire Anita Blake series. “The third sign of the Zodiac is coming to fruition!”

“Wait…I can feel it,” I said, turning his way and putting one hand to my chest. Douglas’s head popped out, eyes going wide. “Yes, here it comes…”

Carl stepped forward. Zane stepped back.

“It’s amazing,” I said loudly, my face going slack as I stared into an unseen distance. “It’s here…oh my God, it’s the rise of…”

An unnatural hush overtook the shop.

“My middle finger.”

I smirked at Douglas and he scowled back.

“Bitch!” he yelled, before ducking back behind the Executioner titles.

“Evil, chi-stealing bitch,” I corrected, before turning again to Zane. He was looking at me with renewed disgust. This is what we, in the grown-up world, call irony. “Can I go look in the archives now?”

“Whatever,” he muttered, picking up his pencil. “Just don’t ask me to help you.”

I didn’t; instead I told him to do something anatomically impossible as I whirled to the storeroom.

“You can go alone, and you may even look at the covers of the ancient ones.” He made them sound like artifacts rather than comic books. I’d have laughed but I wasn’t so sure that they weren’t. “But if you even think about slipping one from its protective cover, I’ll know it, and I’ll charge you. Handsomely.”

I sneered back at him and pulled out a wad of bills Xavier had thrown me in hopes that I’d forget about my pipe dream of getting a job. “Take cash?” I said, and smiled prettily, turning away before he could answer.

10

Despite my bravado and anger over Zane’s accusations, I was shaken by the news about Jasmine, as well as Chandra’s reaction to it. It wasn’t her threat to tell Warren what I’d done that had me daunted. I screwed up pretty regularly around these paranormal parts-the product of a youth misspent as a mere mortal-and we were all used to that. But messing Jasmine up to the point that I’d effectively blown up the system keeping our world in balance… well, it was obvious that hadn’t been done before.

One mark of the Kairos was the ability to do things others could not, such as reading both the Light and Shadow manuals. This was a physical manifestation of my ability to act on behalf of either side of the Zodiac, and it was why-despite repeated assurances to the contrary-the Tulpa still hoped the strength of his bloodline would win out over my mother’s. Messing up the cosmic balance to cataclysmic proportions certainly qualified as such, I thought wryly, and fueling the angst of a teenager wasn’t far off either. Threatening the record keeper-and, worse, feeling no remorse over it-was probably also a big supernatural no-no.

And even though I knew Zane’s analysis of the situation was off, I wasn’t so sure my troop leader would pause long enough to hear my side of the story. I was certain Warren would be pissed.

“Drama, drama,” I muttered, trying to push the worries aside as I headed down the surprisingly long, dark, and cold tunnel leading to the storeroom. We’d find a way to fix Jasmine, I’d get Zane to tell me which of the thousands of manuals would lead me to the original, then I’d kill the Tulpa, escape my doppelganger, pick up the dry cleaning on the way home, and we’d all live happily ever after.

And that highly probable plan hinged on the elusive treasure of knowledge buried in the storeroom.

Taken one by one and read on their own, the comics recording our adventures were nothing more than paranormal parables, anecdotes to entertain the masses, a product to engage the imagination of readers in illustrative and written form. But together they formed a comprehensive map leading to the master manual. There were clues planted throughout the manuals supposedly leading to the original’s location, especially in the earlier ones. As time went on, the clues were spaced farther apart, but there was always something a knowledgeable reader could piece together. A template leading backward, all the way to the beginning.

Since the earliest manuals were created prior to the widespread use of the printing press, each major world metropolis possessed only one handwritten and highly coveted edition. I didn’t expect to find one of those here; if there were such a treasure on the open market, it would be secured behind a case of unbreakable glass, protective wire, and a laser-tripped alarm. Frankly, I didn’t know why I thought I could find something nobody else had, including the Tulpa, but at least I was doing something.

I paused at the entrance, letting my eyes adjust to the dim room, its accompanying length and width, and its surprising decor. It had more in common with an eighteenth-century English manor library than an urban shopping center. The perimeter of the room was lined with mahogany shelves, filled with manuals and studded with index cards sporting dates and which side of the Zodiac was grouped there. Still, you could cram an awful lot of comics into shelves that soared from floor to ceiling, so finding one with a recognizable clue was a long shot, and it would take considerable time.

I skipped past the foursome of leather easy chairs in the center of the room, resisting the urge to drop into one of them and fall asleep with my feet propped on the hearth of the ever-roaring fireplace. The last time I was here it’d been the peak of summer and the room was stifling with heat, but this time the fire shooting up the suspended flue was welcoming…and distracting.

And I bet that’s why Zane had it here, I thought wryly. Invite the agents in, set them down for a warm cup of cocoa, and keep them from asking for help in pirating his beloved stash.

So I circumvented the fireplace, scooted past the half-full shelves holding the latest issues, including those