Cheat the Grave

freeing me.

And as long as he was going to pay, he was going to make it worth it. His mouth found mine like it was a target, and my eyes fluttered shut, the last strangled threads of my breath lost to his lips. The trees and bells blurred my name overhead, while Hunter’s mouth moved against mine without sound. Then his expression shifted, separated, and dissolved. Yet his final words chased me back into my world. “Don’t ever return. She wants your power, your ability to-”

A hand touched my shoulder and I located the floor beneath my back. Gasped for air.

And smelled burning sulfur.

When I opened my eyes, I froze, and thought about ignoring Hunter’s advice and calling back out to Solange. Because I’d just woken up in a tomblike room, bereft of weapon or help…and with the Tulpa looming over me like I was already dead.

22

“What are you doing here?”

The Tulpa’s tone was ice, his eyes narrowed, and if I could still have seen auras, I knew that his would be bright red.

When in doubt, I thought, the taste of tin still sharp at the back of my throat, answer a question with a question.

“What happened?”

“You tell me, dear.” He straightened, leaning on a cane, his voice still sharp. “I walked in and found you sleeping in the middle of the floor. I had a hard time rousing you. In fact, you seemed to be in some sort of meditative trance.”

The last two words were said in the same tone a judge might use on a defendant…one he’d already found guilty.

Pushing the fear away, I stretched and yawned loudly. “Too much wine, I guess. I was missing my father, so I came to his office to be-I don’t know, near him somehow. I was thinking how much he’d like to be at this dinner…” The Tulpa’s brows arched, and I quickly amended my statement. Xavier would have loathed the festivities and not allowed it on his grounds. I shot the Tulpa a knowing smile. “I mean, everyone who is anyone is here, and he was so smart he could probably get Arun to put up the capital for some new business venture…”

The Tulpa twisted his cane handle thoughtfully. I hurried on. “So I was looking at the pictures on the mantel when I brushed up against those poky things out there, and found this.” I motioned around the room, suddenly no more spacious than a honeycomb cell. The Tulpa’s eyes following my fingertips certainly made me feel like I was about to get stung.

I dropped my hand to my side…too fast. A shift in expression and suddenly the elderly visage he’d donned for

“Olivia’s” benefit grew into points and angles. Shit. I started speaking quickly. “So I came in, picked up one of these old toys, and suddenly I was out like Kim Kardashian on a Saturday night.”

He didn’t laugh. In fact, the word “toys” had the dark brow lowering further. I tried on an innocent smile, but it sat forced on my face. The Tulpa stilled like an empty beach minutes before a tsunami.

Kill him, Joanna, I thought, swallowing hard. Kill him, gain the aureole, free the rogue agents in Midheaven. Turn his own weapon against him.

I glanced at the singing bowls and mallets. What was I supposed to do? Bonk him over the head with a handheld prayer wheel?

“H-How did you get here?” I asked, pushing to my palms. “I didn’t see you at the party.”

Meaning I hadn’t invited him.

“I stopped by on a whim. The guard at the gate knows me. Then Helen told me you were here.”

I recalled the scraping noises earlier at the door and fought not to sag. There was simply no way a mortal could escape these people’s notice.

“It’s an interesting room,” the Tulpa said, pretending to look about. “Do you remember your father as being particularly…religious?”

I tilted my head, pretending I didn’t know what he was asking as I continued my search for a weapon. A prayer flag up the nose? Stab him with incense? “No, of course not. He was a Christian.”

He didn’t laugh. But he didn’t strike me or smite me or, like, eat me either. Instead he held out his hand to help me up.

I rubbed a hand over my face like I was clearing the cobwebs, then accepted his offer with the other. He lifted me so smoothly it was like taking a magic carpet ride to my feet. When I looked up, the Tulpa’s gaze was also smooth…and boring into mine. His fingertips played beneath mine as he traced my prints. I prayed Io’s handiwork held up under the soft scrape of his fingernail. If not, I’d next feel my bones cracking beneath his palm.

But the charming smile from the boardroom had returned, if sporting an edge it hadn’t before. “I think, my dear, that I can be a significant influence in your life.”

I almost laughed. He already had that pretty well covered.

“I have enough people telling me what to do, thanks.” I inserted a little pout in my tone, petulance topping it off like a sticky sweet cherry. “The board of directors wants me to hand control over to them, my secretary tries to hold me to my father’s rigorous work schedule…” the Tulpa snorted. Xavier hadn’t done a whole lot of work in his waning months. “Even my housekeeper keeps badgering me about responsibilities.”

There. If I got through this alive, if he thought I was becoming suspicious or annoyed or fed up at Lindy’s perceived place in this household, maybe he’d tell her to lay off. It would buy me the space I needed to inspect the mansion for more of its secrets. Sure enough, the Tulpa’s top lip thinned.

“Now what in particular would a housekeeper be badgering you about?”

Inching toward an ornate gold-plated blade on a triangular base in the corner, I gave him a look that said, Exactly! “Household budgets and stolen cars and moving back in here.”

“But you live in the Greenspun Residences, don’t you?”

Though anyone would know that, the Tulpa wasn’t asking out of mere curiosity. Regan Dupree, the Shadow Leo, had been meting out information about me to the Tulpa by the spoonful to advance her own precarious position and get back in his good graces. She’d told him the Kairos was residing in the same building as Olivia before I managed to kill her.

The Tulpa leaned against the wall. “I’m assuming you have friends there? Neighbors? People you greet in the hallways…who help you with your groceries?”

“No one in particular,” I said, and was about to say more, then thought better of lying. “Though one woman has been particularly friendly since Daddy’s death…”

“And what’s her name?” His voice smoothed out even further, tugging on my consciousness, so my head teetered on my neck. It was the same fizzy loss of control one had after doing shots on no sleep and an empty belly. I didn’t even have to feign dizziness as I struggled for words.

“I don’t think she ever told me. Odd, huh?”

“But she lives there?” The dream state intensified, and though I could fight the mind control- somehow I could fight it-I slouched a bit more. “Oh, yeah. She couldn’t gain such regular access otherwise.”

“And what does she look like?”

“She has red hair…” I frowned, pretending to think on it further. “And blond, and brown. Once even blue. But the red is best on her.”

“A disguise, then?” he muttered, as if to himself. I reached for the gold knife, folded my palm around the upright handle.

“Wigs, anyway.” I yawned loudly, feeling the buzz lessening. Good. His suspicion was lifting. “Big party girl,”

I added, and pulled upward. The knife didn’t budge. It was welded to the base.

To hide the homicidal movement, I caressed the ornate bell propped next to the knife, before letting my hand