City of Souls

“Nah.” I shook myself, realizing I was frowning and staring into space, and that I hadn’t yet answered Suzanne. “A man, actually.”

“Then you don’t want him in your life. A man like that is poison, do you understand?”

A man, sure. A mortal, and I’d agree. But I wasn’t sure the same held true of a powerful and overbearing superhero. I also wasn’t so sure that “want” had anything to do with it. I took a bite of my own pancakes just to avoid answering, when a movement at the back door window caught my eye. I froze, fork halfway to my mouth, as I was caught in the gaze of a tulpa.

Suzanne, seeing my stricken look, whirled. Of course, there was nothing there but the strangely blotted sky, and a small dust devil blowing up debris behind her pool. She turned back around and I raised my brows.

“Just had a thought. Gotta go.”

She lifted her brows as high as the Botox would allow. “What?”

“Yeah, um…funeral plans. Gotta get it done. But the pancakes fortified me.” I patted my tummy before dropping a hand on her arm. “And so did the chat. Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes and shook off my hand. “Well, sheesh. Just hold on.”

I did, tapping my foot impatiently as she disappeared at the back of the house. Skamar popped up again, and I made a face, waving her away. Suzanne rounded the corner again, and I turned the gesture into a smooth patting of my hair, smiling grimly.

“Here,” she said, holding out her hands.

“What is it?”

“A necklace given to me by my first husband. Actually, it was the first gift he ever gave me. Said it shields you from the evil eye. It’s Asian, so Arun will most certainly know what it is…and he wouldn’t understand if I hung onto it. I want you to have it.”

I frowned, and stared at her, Skamar forgotten. “What about Cher?”

Why me?Though, too late, I remembered Suzanne didn’t differentiate between the two of us. We were both daughters to her.

She rolled her eyes as she circled behind me. I lifted my hair and she slid the necklace over my neck. “She’s the one who thought of it. Actually, she wanted to give it to you herself.”

I looked down. It was a solid pendant of intricate scrollwork and bright gold. There were seven places for precious stones, all different colors, though I noticed there were a couple missing. I attributed that to age, which meant it was all the more valuable. “It’s beautiful. But I can’t possibly accept it. It means so much to you both.”

She nodded, like she’d been expecting that, and folded my fingers over it. “Then just wear it to your father’s funeral.”

“Okay,” I said, deeming it easier not to argue. “Thank you.”

She followed me to the door. “Cher’s going to be upset that she missed you.”

“I’ll see her at Thanksgiving. Tell her I’m doing okay.” I stepped from the patio and into a gust of whipping wind as I headed down the drive.

“Olivia!” Half out the door, Suz shook her head. “You’re not gray. You’re a fuckin’ rainbow. Got it?”

I could only smile and wave…and hope that she was right.

18

“Yo, Rainbow Brite,” Skamar said, meeting me around the corner. I hoped we looked like two neighbors swapping recipes on the street corner. Or, from the way Skamar had her hands fisted on her hips, at least like two women fighting over the same man. That, at least, wasn’t too out of the ordinary. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Don’t criticize her,” I said, ignoring the latter half of her question. I walked a bit farther so we could duck beneath the concealing shade of a giant plum tree. “I’m being Olivia. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh, just dodging the Tulpa.”

“You mean he’s here?” I couldn’t keep the panic from bleeding into my voice, and I cleared my throat, remembering that revealed emotion normally caused my troubles.

“Not yet. But he’ll find me. He always does.”

I wanted to tell her that I’d been trying to find her, but the fatigue in her voice had me softening toward her, as did her explanation. It couldn’t be easy. She’d only come into full being a month ago, and had been fighting nonstop ever since. Not exactly the homecoming most newborns were given in this world.

“Look, I’m sorry for showing up here. I had to get you alone.”

My full attention narrowed back on her, along with my hard gaze. “You’re not going to try to eat any of my vital organs again, are you?”

She gave me a tight smile. “It no longer appeals, no.”

Good. Devouring the organs, and particularly the heart of the person whose face and life a doppelganger mirrored-and I mean that in a twisted, funhouse sort of way-was the fastest, most efficient means of becoming a fully realized entity. Fortunately, I’d satisfied her greed for life with something even stronger than my flesh: her name. Skamar meant star in the Tibetan tongue. I’d thought it apropos for someone who’d begun life as a mere thought-form constructed out of the myth and meditation so critical to the eastern culture.

“You look different.”

What I meant was she didn’t look like me.

When we’d first met, Skamar was a doppelganger, the evolutionary precursor to a full-fledged tulpa. Sporting a body of ripples and waves, one as malleable as tensile foam, she’d shone with a light that made her skin snap with every movement, like a diamond in the sun. Intent upon killing me and taking over my life, that bubble and light had solidified into a body mirroring mine so closely in both physical aspect and mannerism that even I wasn’t able to discern the difference. However, in the weeks since I’d last seen her, Skamar had taken on an identity of her own.

Thin and small and pale, she’d have been plain too, were her features not so sharp. Her short hair was blunt and red, her matching lashes so light she looked bald-eyed, but her lips were defined even without color, and her nose arrowed between cheekbones you could hang laundry from, wide and high. I’d have commented about one of Jane Austen’s characters inadvertently wandering into an action flick, but I didn’t think she’d appreciate it.

Her clothes were dark, but silk and lightweight, obviously chosen for comfort and mobility rather than warmth. Not remotely appropriate for a chilled winter day, I thought, but from the looks of them-tattered and bloodied-she’d been wearing them awhile.

For a moment I wondered what I’d choose to look like were I given physical creative carte blanche. As much as I loved my sister, and had come to accept my transformation into her, I wouldn’t have been a buxom, blond socialite who needed a calendar just to keep up with her physical maintenance.

“I need more power, Joanna. The energy from the name-giving is no longer enough.”

“What? You want a middle one? Fine. Matilda. Take it.” I flicked my hands at her, more of a nervous gesture than a dismissive one. “Be merry.”

That almost earned a smile. “Skamar is sufficient, thanks. But a true live birth in this world is always recorded in written form. Mine still hasn’t been.”

I drew back at that. “Like a birth certificate?”

“Exactly.”

“Dude. You were born of thought and, like, bubbles.” She’d been practically see-through when we first met. “No offense, but the drones down at County probably won’t certify someone who could have once passed as a bath product.”

“The manuals, Joanna. My name must be made public in the manuals of Light.”

Again, the manuals. But the sharpness in her voice obliterated my sarcasm. A chill