Cheat the Grave

back into the destroyed office, both Tripp and Alex’s severed arm were gone. Not even blood marked the floor.

“I think they were after my father’s financial information,” I told the investigating detective, aware Helen was listening intently from over my shoulder. “They tore the room apart, and the only thing they stole was a binder he’d given me upon his death. It contained everything he wanted me to know about his affairs, the company, and its financials. That means the money,” I explained earnestly.

There. That would get back to the Tulpa, first thing, and I’d be off the hook for the missing binder. As for the rest…

“I hope you have a copy somewhere,” Officer Greenlaw replied, jotting in his notepad.

“And how did you get away?” Helen butted in, earning dual glances of irritation from both Greenlaw and me.

“I hid in the room where my father apparently liked to pray,” I said, shifting to train my gaze on hers. “I stayed there even after the noise outside had stopped, just in case the scary man was still there.”

“And you said he was wearing a bowler hat?” asked the cop, again taking notes.

“That’s right, a dusty one. In fact, everything about him was strangely musty.” I shuddered in the girliest move I could think of. The officer gave me a sympathetic nod. Helen didn’t look as convinced. So as the interview continued, I shivered and sighed, explaining I’d gone to the office because I was missing my father, that I’d been alone the entire time-in keeping with the Tulpa’s hypnotic suggestion, which Helen would also relay- and remembered very little after hitting my head. Then I started crying, switching subjects to mourn Suzanne’s ruined rehearsal dinner, nerves making it easy to produce the tears that had the detective planning his own getaway.

Yet enduring an interrogation wasn’t all bad. For one, it got me out of the sleepover. The other guests were methodically interviewed and dismissed, including Cher, who had left her dinner at some point to come looking for me. The police interviewed her separately, but came to the conclusion she’d gone upstairs to my bedroom and seen even less of the destruction left in the tulpas’ wake than the guests mingling off the foyer.

Suzanne, meanwhile, was beside herself. She left in tears, bottom lip quivering, apologizing to me as if it were her fault, and wondering aloud if the dinner’s interruption was bad luck in either American or Indian culture. In contrast, Arun simply looked unaccustomed at having anything upset the natural order of his world. Yet he did his best to soothe his distraught bride, one arm draped protectively over her shoulders, whispering soothing platitudes in her ear as he guided her to the door.

“Let’s hope the wedding goes more smoothly tomorrow,” she sniffled before kissing my cheek, tears staining her worried and disappointed eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, squeezing her hand, and I truly was. No bride should have to remember chaos when marking her wedding anniversary. I caught Cher’s glance over her shoulder, and she nodded, signaling she’d accompany her stepmother home and remain with her through the night.

As for Arun, there was no opportunity to corner him, and no reason we should be seen conferring alone. So I followed the trio out onto the steps of the marble entryway and waited until Cher and Suzanne had their backs turned, arms tucked consolingly around each other’s waists. Leaning against a white pillar, I whispered, the words immediately lost to the night-soaked air. Arun still turned at his name.

“I’ll kill you if something happens to her.”

Arun merely tilted his head and smiled up at me. Then he replaced Cher’s supporting arm with his own, and allowed Suzanne to lean into him. I made sure their car had been whisked away before I allowed my sigh of despair to perfume the air. I had to stop that wedding.

After the guests left, and the household crew was busy whispering among themselves, Helen excused herself, muttering something about a migraine. I knew she’d be desperate to discover the status of her leader-that nasty unrequited love again rearing its head-and seek instructions on what to do next.

So I disappeared as well. Throughout Cher and Suzanne’s whimpering concerns, the police’s questioning, and Helen’s looming suspicion, Tripp’s final words kept rattling through my mind. You’re a high roller, girl. Still sittin’ at that table. Still in the gam… .

Because of the other men’s chips.

Also because I was headstrong, stubborn, and I was right. So his final sentiment took hold, grew roots, and sprang up fully formed in my mind.

If someone’s keeping you from your reasons, you’d do damned well to question theirs.

And more than Mackie, more than the Tulpa, more than Solange and everyone else who would have me caving to their whim, one man had kept me from being anything more than useful in this world. Warren, the leader of the Light, the man who saved, introduced, and initiated me into the world of the Zodiac, had also consistently manipulated me into doing his will. Instead of telling me the truth, instead of trusting I’d want to do all I could to advance his goals and the goodwill of the troop, he kept me in the dark. In shadow. And he’d done it all while holding his own reasons tightly to his chest.

He’d known of Solange’s deeds, that she had stolen a changeling’s aura all those years ago to safely cross into Midheaven, thus he also knew it was possible to use another person’s soul for that purpose. Yet he kept me in ignorance, allowing and even encouraging me to give up mine in thirds!

Worse, knowing Hunter had been pursuing Solange, he shared nothing of Midheaven with him. He could have prevented Hunter’s defection and disappearance step by aching step, but had driven him to that ultimate decision instead, then banned him from the troop.

“And locked away the man I love.”

The one, I’d just learned, who still loved me.

So I changed into head-to-toe black, crossed to the guesthouse by the light of an uncertain moon, and encased my body with weapons. I removed safeties, cocked back hammers, and sharpened blades. I took Xavier’s fastest Ferrari to the warehouse Tripp had convinced me to leave unlocked and unguarded, picked up one more vitally important weapon, then raced directly to the tunnel where Skamar had sucked the sentience from Luna’s pulpy body.

Then I called that bitch out.

The way you call a tulpa to you, the way you direct them like a satellite tracking enemy warheads, is to think upon them and their looks, their actions, and especially their name. The Tulpa gained power from his followers in this way. He demanded an around-the-clock rotation of meditative prayer and ritual, all focused on providing him with greater life force. Hence, Xavier’s hidden room.

But Skamar had a given name, and a person’s mind could latch more easily onto a being with a name than without. It was hard to pinpoint something’s relevance in the world without knowing what to call it. That was the Tulpa’s main problem…and it was the reason I screamed Skamar’s name at the top of my lungs now.

With a bunch of curse words interspersed in between.

I heard her first, though the blast of energy accompanying her flight thrust me back against the curved, mildewed wall. When I opened my eyes, she was caught in the flashlights I’d brought in from the outside-in case cursing her wasn’t enough to lead her to me-and glaring like I’d interrupted her midnight nap. Like I was a minor nuisance, I thought, even more pissed. Without warning, I lifted the saber, and used its small, antiquated side firearm to take out a chunk of concrete beside her.

“What the-”

“The last time we spoke, you told me I smelled of despair.” I reloaded, tilted my head, and caught her in my sights again. “What do I smell like now, Skamar?”

The skin over my face no longer thinned to allow my skull to rise eerily to the surface, my eyes no longer burned tar-black like my birth father’s, but the bile in my belly surely still stained the air, and my heart pumped wildly, overriding my fear.

“Put it down before you hurt yourself,” she said, meaning before she burst forward and yanked it from my grasp.

I redirected the barrel on the center of her chest. “You chose to chase the Tulpa over helping me. After you told me you’d watch over me.”

“I said I’d help when I could.”

“You could have helped me tonight! And your choice cost a man his life!” The image of Tripp’s bubbling chest