“It is,” I said, but glanced up to hold his eyes with my own. “The only chemistry Ben Traina ever felt was with and for my sister. Joanna.”
Hunter trailed his eyes over my face, his eyes hooded again, his expression unreadable. “Well,” he finally said. “She must have been quite a woman too.”
I acknowledged the compliment, and his silent agreement to keep my identity secret, with a tilt of my head. “She was.”
We started walking again, and Hunter draped a comforting arm around my shoulder, surprising me by pulling me close. “Come on, Olivia Archer. It looks like we get to live to fight crime another day.”
“Whoopee.”
Still I leaned my head on his shoulder and let him wheel me away from the Hall of the Gods, following him into the crisp air of dawn while the city sparkled around us with the same hope it held for every new day. We walked down the Strip, kept walking, beyond Tropicana and Flamingo, Spring Mountain and Sands, Sahara and Charleston, to where the bones of the old city lay. I welcomed the light rising in that sky, bathed in the touch of the cool air against a whole and healthy body, and welcomed Hunter’s warm and reassuring presence beside me. I was happy to be here. To be alive. To be Olivia.
Happy, even though I could still feel Ben’s hot stare burning a hole through my back.
30
“Did you really call the Tulpa ‘Pops’?” Warren asked, holding up the latest manual from Master Comics. I glanced at the title. It arched across the cover in bold silver letters.
I’d picked it up for Warren the previous day, thinking he’d enjoy reading it while he recuperated. My experience in the comics store was markedly different than the first time. Carl had nearly flown to my side, taking liberties by grabbing my chin with one fuzzy palm, twisting my head from side to side, ostensibly to get his drawings right. I finally had to tell him I’d shoot an arrow up his nose to get him to stop. The twins peppered me with questions about the sanctuary and my eye shields, and even Sebastian had asked, shyly, to see my bow and arrow. Zane, however, merely nodded my way and said my trading cards would be in soon.
“Your twisted sense of humor must be rubbing off on me,” I told Warren, inwardly pleased as he chuckled and continued to leaf through the comic. He’d been in the sick ward for over a week, and his color was only now coming back. Still, Micah said he’d been lucky. Ajax had skewered his insides with a mortal weapon, not his conduit. The latter, he’d said, would have killed Warren too quickly for Ajax’s liking.
Instead I had arrived, Ajax had died, and Warren would now heal. Meanwhile, the latest comics, both Shadow and Light, showed our enemies backing off, licking their wounds, forced to rethink their strategy against us now that Greta was no longer marking us for destruction.
And now that there was a new Archer among the agents of Light.
“Lunch,” Chandra announced, entering the room with a loaded tray. She was careful not to look my way—as she’d been for the past week. Goaded by Greta, it was Chandra who had slipped the newspapers under my barracks door that night, and she’d since apologized unflinchingly, like a recalcitrant inmate waiting for her sentencing. I’d acknowledged her apology gracefully, if stiffly, but if anything, it made her more antagonistic toward me.
This was further inflamed by my swift, unanimous acceptance into the troop the day before. She hadn’t opposed the vote when given the opportunity to do so, and there’d been no further jabs about my resemblance to a rogue agent, but she’d been sure to wonder loudly about my true identity in front of the others. It was a little obvious, even for Chandra, not to mention totally unnecessary. Ever since Greta had revealed that I was not really Olivia Archer, they’d all been watching me curiously. Though that, I thought, was certainly better than suspiciously.
“Wonderful!” Warren set the comic aside. “Lasagna, chocolate cake, and a nice pinot, I hope.”
“Try oatmeal, water, and a few sliced greens.”
“Damn.”
That drew a smile from Chandra, but after running a quick hand over his forehead, she only nodded her satisfaction and left the room without another word.
“She’s still not talking to me.”
“Give her time. She’s a good person deep down.” He dug into his oatmeal, while I wondered exactly how deep that was. “Meanwhile, the first sign of the Zodiac has been fulfilled, and the legacy of the Archer grows. You’ve become rather well known in the paranormal world. How does it feel?”
I shrugged, recalling that I’d once told him I didn’t want to be a part of this world. A superhero, I’d scoffed. A freak among freaks. “It’s easy to idolize someone from afar. Most of the people reading those,” I said, pointing to the comic, “don’t know me at all.”
“Rena knows you. She thinks the sun rises and sets on your shoulders.”
I quirked a brow. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Rena is a bit impaired when it comes to matters such as, oh, say, the sun.”
“But she’s a damned good judge of character.”
And I had to agree with that. She’d been willing to trust me when no one else had. I’d have never been able to prove Greta’s culpability without her. For that, I, and Warren, owed her much.
He turned back to his comic, and I watched him for a bit. Greta had told me that something in Warren’s past had made ruthlessness a virtue, and knowing what it was—that the man lying before me had killed his own father —I also wondered what he’d do from now on to make sure it’d been worth it. He’d already proven himself willing to give up everything for the troop. The group was worth more to him than the individual. I liked Warren…but I was going to be careful to keep that in mind.
“Tell me something, Warren,” I said at last.
“If I can.”
“Did you know there was a traitor in the sanctuary?”
After a long pause, he shook his head. “No. I didn’t believe it. I
“Then why was it so important to you that my true identity be kept a secret from the rest of the troop?” I asked him, shaking my head. That had thrown me. It’d even made me wonder, for a time, if he wasn’t the real mole. “Why didn’t you want that revealed if you trusted these people so much?”
“Because your arrival was the last prediction Tekla made before Stryker died. She knew…something.” Warren dropped his head back on his pillow, his expression glossed over in one of pain, but it wasn’t for himself. Guilt popped up in him, washing over his outline in a wave of mustard yellow the thickness of tar, its scent as sharp as tear gas. “I don’t know if she foresaw his death or her own imprisonment, but she made me swear never to reveal your true identity once you were found. I didn’t want to break my last promise to her.”
That made sense, I thought, nodding slowly. If Greta had discovered who I really was, it wouldn’t have been long before the Tulpa did as well.
“Okay, but there’s one other thing I don’t understand.” I pointed to my chest, where his second heartbeat had once resided. “Why did I stop feeling you in here? Did the mark Micah gave us wear off?”
He shook his head. “Once I knew you were coming for me, there was no need for you to feel that kind of pain. It would have hampered your ability to perform. You needed all your concentration for the task at hand.”
“So you took it all upon yourself,” I murmured.
“I knew you wouldn’t keep me waiting long.” He shrugged, but there was a world of pain in the movement. It made me want to kill Ajax all over again. Seeing it, Warren changed the subject.
“What do you think of Tekla?”
I couldn’t help but smile. He knew what I thought of her. I’d been spending nearly every waking hour with her since my return, listening to her rant about the “quacks” who read palms or tea leaves instead of looking to the skies. I tried to follow her astrological lectures on planets and houses, elements and polarities, meridians and angularity, but it wasn’t easy. She spoke in code more often than not, had a tendency to begin mumbling to herself in the middle of a conversation, and—most disturbing—mourned Stryker’s passing at the beginning of every hour. I
