Because he knows the Tulpa won’t kill me.
So he’d just leave me there?
“Yes,” the Tulpa continued, in a loud, clear storyteller’s tone. “My creator once considered the very same thing. He felt my power growing, and knew too well what thoughts had gone into creating it. Do you want to have a guess at what those elements were?”
“Snakes? Snails? Puppy-dog tails?” I gave him a bitter smile.
“Venom. Vice. And everything nice.”
Warren swallowed audibly next to me.
“When Wyatt Neelson tried to destroy me, when he tried to remove the layers of personality he’d given me and dissolve my consciousness back into the world, it felt like hot knives were carving my thoughts into slivers. When I resisted, he then tried imagining me differently. A kinder, gentler tulpa. He mixed up my personality traits, and tried to imagine them anew. But I was already too strong. I did a cross-feint in his mind, and then I wrapped myself around the coils of his gray matter and I squeezed. I could have killed him then and there. I could have brought on an aneurysm that would have created a crater in his mind, or sent him into early dementia.
“He begged. He couldn’t form words, but his thoughts were desperate.” He licked his lips, gaze faraway as he remembered. “He told me that he loved me, and thought of me as the son he never had. He said if I let him live he’d leave the city forever…or he’d stay put and act as a sort of gofer, whatever I preferred. That was the exact word he used too. ‘Preferred.’”
The Tulpa looked up at the sky. “What I preferred was for him to stop trying to kill me.”
Identical eyes found mine, and I knew he said it as a part of the story, to be recorded, but also for me.
“I made him a deal. I let him live, and he, in return, would spend the rest of his days reinforcing me. Chaste as a monk, as focused as Buddha himself, nothing and no one else would ever come between us. We sealed it in blood.”
“And then came Zoe.”
“Yes. Zoe then,” because she’d killed Wyatt Neelson, “and Zoe now.” Because she’d created Skamar. “What a bitch.”
“That’s my mom.” Odd, but under the straining sky, and standing before this demonic creation, I don’t think I’d ever been more proud.
The Tulpa shook it off. “So the moral of the story is, I have a right to be here. I fought for life the way nations fight for independence. I was birthed of blood.”
“If that’s your criteria for greatness, then you have no greater claim over it than anyone else.”
“True. I just have more power to back it up.”
And that’s what it came down to. For some people it wasn’t enough to simply have power over their own lives. They needed to assert themselves upon the living landscape of other hearts and minds. For some reason, power only mattered to them when it affected others.
The Tulpa twirled his umbrella, one hand shoved in his suit pocket. The water was at his calves now, a tiny river rushing around him, but he didn’t even sway. He was rooted to the earth, like an oak that had been planted there. “Don’t look so disgusted. Mortals do the same. It’s why monarchies work, democracies ultimately fail, and faith becomes a crutch. And that’s fine. Most people want to be told what to do, where to go, when to piss.”
“If they do, they generally ask first.” They ask with their vote, when they join the church. They don’t ask for their lives to be sideswiped by imagined beings on—and here I looked at the splitting sky—a literal power trip. There wasn’t much further to go on this one. “I find myself curious about something, though.”
“Yes, darling daughter?”
“If you’re not going to kill me—” I amended the statement when he raised his brows. “—right now, I mean.” He nodded for me to continue. “Because you don’t want my chi to unite again in my changeling, thereby healing the Zodiac, bringing the fourth sign to life, recording Skamar’s name and giving her all the power swirling above in that sky—”
“One little death. So many repercussions.”
"Exactly,” I said, shortly. “So why’d you kidnap Jasmine?”
“Kidnapping is such a harsh word. I’m merely keeping her safe.”
He meant away from me, just in case I decided to take my chi back by force. “But you can’t touch a changeling.”
“No, but she’s only half. The other half?” He licked moisture from his bottom lip. “Fair game, same as you.”
I clenched my teeth. “Where is she?”
He paused, then jerked his head at the tunnels…and the pipeline that was flooding more than a foot a minute. Blood drained to my toes. If a thirteen-year-old girl was in there, the rushing water would already surround her. I looked up. “She’ll drown.” And she’d do it before this sky had completed its tumultuous belch.
“Have faith, dear. I’ve prepared better than that.” He smiled grimly. “She’s high up in an alcove, quite close to Midheaven, actually. Of course, knowing of your little connection, I had to make her go to sleep for a while…but she should be coming around just in time…”
He smiled, and left the sentence unfinished. To die.
And she was tucked high, because if she drowned before the sky fell, my chi would be reunited in my body. Then the fourth sign of the Zodiac would come to life, Skamar would gain her recorded name…the Tulpa would be defeated. If not, it would all go the Tulpa’s way.
But either way, Jasmine would die.
I thought of what she must be going through right now, how small and cold and utterly terrified she must be. The Tulpa looked at me, face devoid of guilt. “Now don’t look so shocked. You’re the one who gave me the idea.”
After I’d been found hiding from him in the cutout after my first return from Midheaven.
I turned to Warren. “We have to save her.”
He had the nerve to roll his eyes. “Jo. You’re the Kairos.”
That was it? That was his explanation? “I know,” I said through clenched teeth. No one would let me forget.
He stared at me. “Then let me remind you what that means. The prophesy of the Kairos is that it will forever elevate one side of the Zodiac over the other. Good over evil.”
“Not necessarily,” the Tulpa sang, ever the optimist.
“So I care about you above all else, and yes, that includes Jasmine.”
“We can’t stand here and do nothing,” I said. “She’s a baby!”
“And you,” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders while water rushed past our knees, “are a wild rosebush that needs to be pruned back and strengthened.”
I’m a person.
You’re a weapon.
Warren looked into my eyes with the fervor of televangelists and politicians, his fingers digging into my skin. “I will provide the environment and nutrients you need to bloom, but I also hold the shears, and I will not hesitate to cut off all the branches and suckers that threaten to weaken you.”
Like Hunter. Like Ben. Like a mortal we were sworn to protect. A child.
I looked at him then, and wondered if he’d forever run off everyone I depended upon and loved. For the first time, I also wondered if he was the one keeping me apart from my mother. I wondered if I professed my love for him, if he’d simply go away. Because that one might be worth a shot.
“If you don’t help her, you’re just as guilty as he is.”
“No, I didn’t do that. Besides, don’t you see, Archer?” He leaned forward slightly. “I’m putting you above all of us. Including myself.”
Always put others above yourself.
Frowning, shaking my head a little, I turned the thought over in my mind. Xavier had been the first person to say that to me, and at the time I’d thought him delirious with guilt and fatigue. But, I thought, looking back at the Tulpa, the second person to say it was Solange. Though a Shadow, she’d once been of this world too.
Put her, always, above yourself.
I glanced up at the sky as the downpour began to beat at my skin in earnest,
and swayed as the water rose past my knees. It might already be too late, but if I found Jasmine quickly, if she could be revived, if she knew how to swim, if I just acted…
No. If I acted like the Kairos.
Warren read my thoughts as clearly as if I’d spoken aloud. “No, Joanna.” He used my real name even though it was pounding hard now and hearing was limited. The Tulpa leaned forward in the downpour, straining. “It’s already flooding. She’s just…”
“She’s what, Warren?” I said, turning to face him fully, not caring if the Tulpa heard or not. I wanted to hear him say it. No, I corrected myself, I wanted him to hear how it sounded when he said it. “She’s what?”
Warren clenched his teeth, rain rolling down his craggy face like tears that started at his skull. “It’s either her, or there will be thousands dead. We need to save ourselves. In light of that…what’s one person?”
“No. We need to save everyone we can…starting with her.”
Warren shook his head. “You’ve got to choose your battles, Archer. Haven’t you learned that by now?”
But if this wasn’t my battle, what was?
I stepped away from Warren until we were all an equal distance apart. He shifted, but the Tulpa inched toward me, recapturing his attention. I looked at the two leaders of the underworld, one cocooned beneath an umbrella, the other sodden in a battered trench, and in the thunderous roll of ball lightning—just for a moment—I couldn’t tell one from the other.
I’m a person.
You’re a weapon.
“Hey, Warren.”
He was looking at the Tulpa. “What?”
“Warren,” I said, more sharply. He jerked his head, eyes fixed on my birth father.
I sighed, and whispered, “Warren.”
This time he looked. I smiled. “Boom.”
And I bolted.
25
It was impossible to keep my feet beneath me, so I rode the filthy, rushing waves, the raging current easily whisking me into the dark. I was shocked at how loud the water was inside, and by how many other things were swept away with me; tires, wood planks, unlucky animals, discarded clothing, even sheet metal, which banged against my torso and thighs as I was whipped around and, every so often, pulled under. Flash floods were living things, fierce animals given temporary animation, but if I didn’t get to Jasmine before the power fueling this storm fell, then the heavens would fall with it, and the Tulpa would win all. There was little I could do for the city at large, but I could begin with the girl who’d started it all.
Put her, always, above yourself.
“Jasmine!” My voice echoed along the widened corridor, slipping along unlikely corners even the most sadistic of city planners wouldn’t have dreamed up. I was in the belly of the paranormal pipeline now, and though the rushing water would keep a mortal from hearing my call, I was hoping our shared chi would enable Jasmine to hear me, and give her enough strength to answer in return. I listened, but only heard the sky scream outside.
So I kept swimming, floating, and calling out, growing less hopeful the farther into the system I went. At one point I spotted one of the iron ladders drilled into the side of the sloping tunnel and stopped myself so the swollen water rushed past me. The waves were chest deep even in the largest pipes, and the current kept jerking my feet from beneath me as I tried to link them around the rungs. So when the mewling sound came, I barely heard it.
Until it reverberated in my chest.
“Jas!” I called out again, screaming this time, suddenly certain she was trying to reach out to me. Hadn’t she said on the rooftop of her house that she’d felt me drawing nearer? So why would it be any different now? The thought gave me an idea, and I inhaled deeply and submerged myself in the icy flood. I held, one-handed, to the ladder, listening…and heard it again.
It was coming from deeper in the pipeline, a different entrance, but closer to the core and Midheaven, as the Tulpa had said. I bobbed for air, inhaling a mouthful before giving in to the current and allowing myself to be sucked under again. Jasmine continued calling, the sound growing increasingly stronger. I was becoming used to the tumult of the waters, almost finding a rhythm to its twisting violence, and was so surprised by the sudden slamming of my body into a wall that I actually sucked in a mouthful of the gritty deluge. Flailing as the water continued to press me against the unyielding concrete, I fought to the surface, which proved even higher than I thought. However, once I managed it, I was rewarded.
“Jasmine,” I sputtered, and almost managed a smile.
“It hurts,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.
At first I thought she was talking about her restraints. The Tulpa had secured her with ropes that stretched the width of the tunnel, fastening on opposite ladder rungs. It didn’t look painful, however, and the rising water kept her body weight from pulling on the ties, so that couldn’t be it. Of course, when she cringed again, eyes squeezed shut, short dark hair plastered to her skull as she ducked her head, I realized she was reacting to something I couldn’t hear. Dolphin language, perhaps.
I looked up.
But her proximity to Midheaven was a more likely bet.
I willed my glyph to life, gaining my bearings in the meager light. I’d hit the rounded wall that marked the vertical entrance, and the ledge to Midheaven above. Perhaps mortals couldn’t stand to be this close to the entrance. I suspected the only reason Jasmine could manage it now was because of the power she shared with me.
“Okay, Jas. I’m going to get you out of here,” I said, going to work on one of the restraints. I latched one foot in a lower rung, as water continued to rage at the wall, rising swiftly. I had no idea where to take her once I did free her. To a broken world where the sky had caved in? Back to a family that might have been crushed under its weight? Certainly not to Midheaven. The passage alone would kill her, even if the way wasn’t locked.
As if on cue, a piercing wail sounded, almost directly through the walls.
So the sky was falling, the water rising—neck height now—Skamar was dying, Jasmine drowning…and I couldn’t get this damned knot untied!
So swim away, you idiot! I glanced up. Because I could. I could decamp to Midheaven again, disappear into another world, saving myself, escaping it all.
Catching my look, Jasmine smiled, bittersweet. “I wondered how long it would take you to think of it.”
I shook my head and went back to work. She winced in response to some sound I couldn’t hear, and I felt the shudder slide into me, as if our bodies had melded where they touched. “Don’t worry. I’m not—”
She cut me off. “I would.”
Surprised, I jolted and my foot slipped, sending me far enough underwater that I got another mouthful of the briny stuff. It was metallic and gritty, trace amounts of gasoline making pretty liquid rainbows off the heaving surface. I spit as I regained my feet and tried to lift Jasmine up. There was enough slack to have her half hidden in the hole leading to Midheaven—and put her always above yourself might mean literally, right?—but the higher we got, the worse it was for her. She screamed and the water rolling down her face was from tears, not the flood. But if I left her alone, she’d drown. I didn’t know which was the lesser of the evils. So I held her to me.
“I would,” she repeated against my chest.
“Shh.” I stroked her head, as something in the sky lost its riveting. The tunnels shook.
Jasmine gave up, relaxing against my chest. Water lapped at her lips. Her skin was clammy and cold, like she was already dead. Despite my best efforts to hold her up, the water was winning. She lifted her head in the air so she was staring straight up at me.
“You’re not going to get me undone in time. It’s okay. And…and I’m happy for Li. If I die, it’ll be better for her.” She bobbed, gurgled a bit, and I lifted her higher. Too high. She screamed in pain.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I clasped her close again and suddenly tears were rolling down my face as
well. I didn’t know what to do!
Jasmine coughed, spit out more water. “You should…go.”
“No. I won’t leave you.”
“Okay.” She shut her eyes. “Then stay with me for as long as possible, okay?”
“Yes,” I whispered, watching the water climb past her lips.
“It’s okay…” She bobbed, gurgled. “You said the first time sucked anyway.”
The reference to her virginity had me laying my cheek across her forehead. “Jasmine.”
She had fought becoming a woman because it meant letting go of the power afforded changelings, but I knew she’d longed for it too. All girls did, at once excited at the prospect and ambivalent at the unknown. That had been a long time ago for me. Before attacks and a metamorphosis, before superheroes and tulpas and tunnels leading to other worlds. I felt tears sliding down my cheeks, almost burning my skin in contrast to the water infiltrating every pore in icy jabs. I lifted Jas a bit higher. Not too high. Not so the proximity to Midheaven would cause her any more pain. She’d had enough of that.
Her head was pointed straight up now. Her ears were submerged.
“Stay with me…” she said again. Water again lapped at her lips.
“I’ll go under with you,” I whispered, because little girls shouldn’t have to die alone. Because when I was not much older than her, I’d been left to do just that. I smiled, then bent, and kissed her like I knew her mother would if she were there.
If the feeling that passed between us was visible, it would have been a hot spark, a welder’s fire, a burst like a comet shooting from my mouth into hers. Shocked, I pulled back, and she gasped, sucking in a lungful of the floodwaters.
Put her, always, above yourself.
And in the moment, when I really believed it was the last for both Jasmine and me—for Skamar and Las Vegas, and for Warren’s beloved troop—I had the strangest thought. I thought of Suzanne and her blabber about goddesses…and how she’d told me I wasn’t gray, but full of color. The life of the world. A fucking rainbow.
City of Souls Page 32
