Cheat the Grave

29

I’d been thinking about weapons and fighting and blood, about chaos and death and battles that never seemed to end, about what it meant to be mortal and what it meant to be super, and how strange that all these forces were gathering during a ceremony of “this man joining this woman.” Something both so ordinary and celebratory. Irony had such a dark sense of humor.

So when I stepped back onto the giant pool patio, with its white and gold runner draped over the floating Plexiglas aisle and dock, I blinked up at a blue, temperate sky with a sense of amazement. The air was utterly still, every color and object sharp, as if outlined in charcoal. Glancing at the front of this small arena, where the priests and Arun stood side by side, I saw that the candles signifying two people being joined as one were now lit, burning straight up as though lifted by strings. The still, perfect setting made me wonder if Arun controlled the weather in addition to a good portion of the Asian world.

The sitar player let the last haunting notes fade, and the full string orchestra used my appearance as a cue to begin the first song of the ceremony. Eight hundred of Suzanne’s closest friends-and two of my greatest enemies-turned to watch me make my way down the floating Plexiglas aisle.

The longest fucking aisle of my life.

I plastered what I hoped was a pleasantly expectant look on my face and tried to keep my eyes off the water reflected through the clear plastic at my feet. It was a beautiful touch, light refracting against the undulating water, but it combined with my nerves to nauseate me, so I lifted my eyes, looked straight ahead, and steadied my breath.

I was also overly conscious of the trident at my back and the gun at my thigh, and kept my movements small so the sari stayed put, revealing neither. When I made it to my position at the western priest’s left without being attacked, decapitated, or injured in any way, I gave both him and Arun a nervous smile. The priest nodded back, but Arun barely glanced at me before returning an anticipatory gaze to the aisle. A second later the wedding march started up, and the rest of the guests did the same.

The dress appeared first, full, but with the odd effect of making Suzanne look taller. Or maybe it was pure bliss doing that, because she beamed as brightly as the winter sun, beginning that fateful walk down the center aisle, acknowledging the oohs and ahhs with a slight inclination of her head. She was beautiful for a woman of any age, but the years had somehow come together on this day to make her more solid somehow. She moved like a gift, wrapped in all that jewel-encrusted gold. It was probably just the reflection off the walkway, but her glowing skin was bested only by her eyes, dewy with emotion.

Arun, in turn, was thunderstruck. She reached his side, unable to look away from him as well, blindly offering me her bouquet before holding her hands out to him. He took them almost by rote, staring into her face like he was trying to adjust his eyes to some new phosphorescent light.

Oh yeah, this guy was totally going down.

I’d have found that more amusing if I wasn’t preoccu pied with stopping the wedding, Warren’s hard attention, the Tulpa’s paranoid edginess, and the small task of staying alive.

With all those concerns buzzing around my head, I barely listened as the western priest began to speak, the words unexceptional despite the bridal pair’s status, the guest list, and the opulent setting. Even the eastern priest’s melodious Hindi rang familiar. In the end, a wedding was a wedding. But at this one I kept my attention divided; half on a gently swaying Arun, half on the violent stare-down between Warren and the Tulpa.

Glancing back at the American priest, I tried to mentally nudge things along, but like Judge Ito, he was milking his moment for all it was worth. He was also beginning to sweat despite the coolness of the day, his eyes shut as if his words about love being the foundation of a marriage were a heartfelt prayer.

And his weren’t the only eyes shut. The Tulpa had willfully broken the staring contest, and now he faced forward, a look of intent concentration petrifying his features. Well, why not? I thought, swallowing hard. His archenemy wasn’t going to make a move with all these people about. Yet something about this panicked Warren, and his restless gaze darted between the Tulpa and me.

Then a muffled argument broke out at the back door. That confirmed it; the Tulpa was using his mental energy to call for backup. Fortunately, due to my preemptive security measures, the Shadows couldn’t enter the room in the middle of the ceremony without an invitation, and-most importantly-without making a scene. Thus, at a particularly loud shout, the Tulpa’s brows furrowed and he cracked an eye in the direction of the door. Suzanne, and most of the guests in the back row, glanced over as well.

Poor Suzanne.

However, the American priest only grew louder, speaking passionately about this most sacred personal union. Arun still stood starstruck next to his bride. That pulled her attention back to the ceremony, but the continued banging and shouts unnerving the crowd were working their way across the pool deck. Even the water below us seemed choppier, and though the Tulpa had to notice, he was the only truly still form alongside this sudden makeshift sea.

Well, I thought, breath catching. Not quite the only one.

The head was a black, unmoving abyss in the restless crowd, though the depth of that darkness lessened when Mackie lifted his empty gaze and threw off his stillness. He’d been slumped, lost in the crowd of hundreds, which was why I hadn’t made him out before. Yet he straightened now, deeming whatever was happening outside those doors as his cue to move. He rose, knocking into the guests hemming him in, and edged his way to the center aisle.

I gasped, holding back a scream only because Suzanne stiffened and I needed time to inch my hands down to weapons at thigh and back. If I brought attention to my defenses before I could get to them-never mind draw them-Mackie’s knife would open my aorta before you could say “Kiss the bride.” Besides, was it too much to hope the Tulpa would wake the fuck up and intercept?

A giant pause in the priest’s diatribe caught my attention, and I angled my eyes over to find him staring mutely as Mackie drew closer. Suzanne whimpered, distressed by the minister’s loss in concentration, and I slowly tucked my hand in the hidden hem of my sari.

Where was Carlos? I wondered, heart pounding. Where were the grays? And why wasn’t anyone in the audience screaming at the sight of a walking skeleton?

Because they can’t see his face, I realized, gaze shifting again to his. Sure, they passed along quizzical looks after he’d passed, but he was walking so stiffly it was almost like he was a part of the ceremony-which was probably how he saw it. He only inched closer, drawing the moments out, a familiar low whine starting to whirr in his throat as he reached one bony hand beneath his dusty bowler hat. I found the trident at my back.

But why wasn’t the Light moving against him? I wondered, sliding my bouquet hand down my leg. I risked taking my eyes off Mackie long enough to locate Warren, and found him leaning against the pillar again, face hard, eyes shuttered.

Damn him, he was going to let this happen!

The noise from inside the hotel increased, and a sharp bang made everyone, save Mackie, jump. That was when the Tulpa finally opened his eyes. His brows furrowed as he found me, no doubt unnaturally white and wideeyed, and he finally turned to stare Mackie fully in the face.

There was no other way to describe what Mackie did next. Still believing the Tulpa was my protector, his head snapped so far forward it was as if he possessed an extra row of vertebrae. His beef jerky skin stretched over his neck and he hissed.

The guests around him gasped. The Tulpa stood, rising like a plank, free of his chair, and more horrified gasps sounded as the two faced each other across half an Olympic-sized pool.

Warren remained where he was, content to let the Tulpa and Mackie take one another out.

Suzanne’s restless movement let me know it was time. I pulled out my gun as she turned toward the ruckus. Poor Suzanne, I thought, aiming at Mackie. She just wasn’t meant to have the wedding of her dreams.

Someone screamed. Mackie tested the Tulpa, whose eyes were still locked on him, by taking another step toward me. The Tulpa responded by baring a mouth full of fangs, which only made Mackie yank out his soul blade, eliciting real screams.

Suzanne growled in frustration and yanked at her voluminous gold skirts.

“That’s it!” To my utter surprise she reached behind her, pulled a sawed-off shotgun from a Velcro holster hidden somehow at her back, and aimed the barrel down the aisle. “You guys are fucking up my wedding!”

And she shot Mackie straight through the chest.

The crowd exploded into action, everyone running for the single set of doors like rats escaping a maze. Everyone, that was, but those who knew what was going on. Or, I thought, ears and mind buzzing, those suddenly finding out. I blinked as guests fell into the pool, swimming toward the other side to avoid the corpse now sprawled on the center aisle. I saw Warren straighten from the corner of my eye, but my gaze winged back to the Tulpa as the screams escalated.

“Hello, boys.” Suzanne reached behind her without looking, and again I was surprised when she pulled out the saber I’d planted, the one I thought no one knew about. I replaced my gun at the small of my back as she handed me the shotgun, though kept my eyes on her. Everyone did. A smile like flint glittered on her goldpainted face. “Miss me?”

Warren and the Tulpa both froze, and their shocked expressions spoke volumes.

Warren found his voice first. “Zoe?”

“Fucking Zoe…” the Tulpa’s voice rasped.

“Suzanne?” I shook my head. I seemed to be having the hardest time coming around to this. I shook it again.

“M-Mom?”

The Tulpa’s gaze rocketed my way.

Pivoting, we both turned our weapons on him, suddenly back-to-back on the floating dais.

“Get behind me or get out,” she told me, her voice so wooden it didn’t sound familiar at all. Warmth rose in my belly, an anger only there when my mother tried to tell me what to do. It felt foreign, strange, upsetting…and fucking good.

“Kinda bossy for a mortal, aren’t you?” I said, resighting on Mackie as he tried to push into a sitting position.

“Must be the boobies.” And we fired at the same time. I plugged Mackie through his chest again twice. She pulled the trigger on the saber’s sidearm, sight steady on the Tulpa.

The unmistakable sound of gunfire and Mackie’s grace less cannonball into the middle of the pool caused further panic, though the Tulpa caught the bullet in his hand. Zoe had actually aimed a bit high, not wanting to strike any of the still-fleeing guests. Meanwhile, Warren still had yet to move. Nice time to go into shock, you asshat.

The Tulpa began levitating. “Put the weapon down, or I’ll kill every mortal here.”

Zoe hesitated, then slowly lowered the saber to the floor. While there, she reached beneath the mounds of gold tulle and pulled out a paranormal bazooka.

I looked down at my puny shotgun. “I see you saved the best for yourself.”

“Always hold a little bit back, Joanna,” she said, jerking back on a loading lever. “I did.”

Which, I guessed, was how she could touch the conduits now.

The Tulpa wasn’t interested in chitchat. He floated even higher, edging over the pool surface. “I’m warning-”

“Fuck yourself, babe. ”

He stilled, floating but frozen. “Everybody underwater,” he said coolly. “And stay there.”

The chaos instantly calmed. Those already in the pool simply sunk to the bottom, those near the seats or platform-and there were still at least three hundred-slipped over the sides like a school of brightly colored, well-mannered fish. Silence descended, and when Arun made to follow the priest into the water, Zoe pulled him back with one arm, never taking her eyes from the Tulpa.

Warren finally found his voice, running forward, but was helpless to stop the mass drowning. “No!”

The Tulpa ignored him completely. “Give yourself over to me,” he said, floating closer. “Or I’ll kill your groom too. No prince, no happily ever after.”

I licked my lips, and though the Tulpa spared me a glance, I was all but forgotten. It was Zoe he wanted; Zoe he’d always wanted. He hated her more than he loved life. More, even, than he loved death.

Zoe yanked Arun in front of us both.

“What are you doing?” I asked, confused, but the Tulpa whipped his arm around so fast the bullet Zoe had shot returned our way with twice the speed, and Arun’s chest exploded like a Catherine Wheel on the Fourth of July.

Cringing, and covered in a thick layer of gelatinous goop, I shivered at the icy substance, wiped at my face, and looked over to find Zoe also masked in the see-through substance. She shook her head as she looked down.

“Shit. I was almost done too.”

“A doppelgänger?” I asked in disbelief. “You were making another one?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “It gets easier with practice, but no. I picked this one up off an old shaman in Bali. The transfer from his mind to mine laid me up for weeks, but it was worth it.” She stared at the ooze, now edging into the pool, that had nearly been a life-form. “Well, almost worth it.”

“Y-You were going to marry a tulpa?” Warren asked, just as shocked. All three of us turned his way. He sounded like a prejudiced nineteenth-century southerner.

Apparently Zoe thought so too. “Why it’s every girl’s dream, Warren. Who wouldn’t want a man they could control?”

I couldn’t help it. I snorted.

The Tulpa growled, floating closer, nearly to the center aisleway now. Bodies upon bodies were trapped beneath it, faces pressed against the transparent bottom like a macabre windowpane. “Why would someone just give you their doppelgänger?”

It was a good question. I kept my weapon on him, though my arms were shaking, and looked at Zoe.

She smiled. “I asked nicely.”

“You mean you fucked him.”

“Oh my gawd. Different note, but still the same fucking song.” Zoe didn’t sound one bit afraid of him, and he sagged so greatly with her words that his toes hit the water. “I told his creator what I wanted him for. I’m not the only one who thinks you need to die.”

“The weak,” spat the Tulpa.

“The Light,” said Warren.

“The righteous,” Zoe said, arrowing a hard look at Warren, correcting them both. “I’m not Light anymore, and haven’t been for a long time. I’m an independent, though independent even from the rogues. I like it that way.”

“How can you say that?” Warren was at the edge of the pool, as dumbfounded as I’d ever seen him. “You dishonor your family by disavowing us.”

“What would you know about honor? You’ve treated my daughter like shit, you bastard. So don’t talk to me about who has failed to live up to their word.”

Warren jolted as if slapped. “Zoe-”

“After I entrusted you with her care, no less. If I’d known, I’d have schooled her myself. She wouldn’t be here now. The identity we secured for her would still be a secret from it. ”

The Tulpa dipped farther, and he had to fight, arms pinwheeling himself back into the air from his calf-high immersion. There was still no sign of Mackie.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked hurriedly, because I didn’t know if I’d get a chance again. The Tulpa might kill her once fully recovered. Or me. Or she could, so easily, just disappear again. “School me yourself, I mean.”

“Because the agents of Light have conduits, a troop, and a sanctuary.” Zoe spoke so quickly I knew she’d prepared this defense long ago. The speed also told me she shared my concerns. “But I contributed in my own way. I haven’t stopped fighting since the day you were attacked. I haven’t rested in years, not for a moment. I gave all my power, my family, and then stayed away. All I have left is this mortal life.”

The Tulpa floated higher, looming at us from a forty-five degree angle. My arms shook almost uncontrollably as I forced my weapons to follow. “I can help relieve you of that,” he said.

Zoe followed him too. “You’ll have to if you want to get to her.”

“Gladly,” he said, and lunged.

“No!” Warren threw himself at Zoe, deflecting the Tulpa’s blow…but not stopping it. Zoe flew backward like she’d been spat from his fist, without even getting off a shot. That was for the best-struck with a conduit, the Tulpa would only grow stronger. Her head hit the pillar behind us with a force that left her sprawling awkwardly on the floor. I raced for her while a battle I couldn’t see raged behind me.

Zoe was flattened. I checked for a pulse and found one-fucking strong too-so moved her head to my lap, lifted her bazooka again, and vowed to blast anything that even hinted at coming our way. Was it too much to hope that Warren and the Tulpa would destroy each other? That they’d rip each other to shreds in the effort to get to the woman who had betrayed and left them both?

Of course it was.

Even at his weakest the Tulpa was more powerful than a single agent. The other agents of Light were probably on their way, drawn by the turmoil and the rising scent of battle, but so were the Shadows. I had precious few minutes to get Zoe out of there. I caught a rare glimpse of the fight going on over the water as the Tulpa rammed Warren into the platform. The impact must have momentarily severed his spine because all his limbs flew wide, like a starfish, and when the Tulpa kicked him over the side, he sank with a numb expression of horror and deep sorrow.

Then the Tulpa charged me so fast the sound was sonic. A flash of light, the impact of two powerful beings imprinting on the air, and I raggedly exhaled. Skamar had arrived. Finally. Their growls and blows were a sandblasting, and sent me scrabbling backward, pulling Zoe behind the giant floral arrangement.

“Mom?” I supported her back and neck as she struggled into an upright position and tried to untangle her legs from her dress.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” She put a hand to her head as if trying to hold it on.

“Can you stand?” Because I couldn’t carry her. Frustration at my mortal frailty rose from me in a low-pitched growl.

As if to underline that, Warren-dripping but healed-was suddenly at my side. “I’ll take it from here,” he said, reaching for her.

“No!” both Zoe and I yelled, automatically pulling into one another, voices and limbs locking us together.

For the first time since I’d known him, Warren looked injured. He could just take her from me, of course, but he wanted her to come willingly. Like the Tulpa, he very simply wanted her. “Please. Let me help you.”

Some silent thing passed between them, some old conversation that had probably ended unresolved, because there were feelings there I couldn’t understand. Slowly, Zoe shook her head. “Save Jo. That was the agreement.”

Warren gazed at Zoe with a mixture of confusion and softness, and licked his lips, eyes on hers. Oh my God, I thought, surprise rocketing through me. He loves her.

Then, probably scenting my shock on the air, he looked at me. There was no confusion in that look, and certainly no softness. Just bitterness for causing his love story to come to this, as if it was both my doing, and purposeful.

“Warren…” Zoe’s voice was a warning.

He lunged, and my hands were empty before I blinked. Zoe was suddenly gone-tulle and touch, strength and frailty-the only thing remaining behind were gold flecks and elongated screams. “No! Go back! Joanna! Jo!

Help her!”

The cries faded quickly, Warren fleeing as fast as he could. I had a moment to wonder what exactly he was trying to outrun, but then the Tulpa froze, head jerking up. Determination rode his face like a stampede, and he shot to the sky like a reverse comet. Skamar didn’t hesitate. She followed in an equally earsplitting blast.

I slumped, dazed, to find myself alone on the dais, my raspy breath breaking the eerie silence of what looked like a mass suicide. Yet the Tulpa’s absence released the mortals of his magic. They began popping up from the pool bottom like colorful mushrooms, coughing and sputtering as they swam to the pool’s edge, helping others do the same. The water, in turmoil, appeared shark-infested, and sure enough, no sooner did I have that thought than a roiling pressure ruptured the surface.

Out of that-stiff, dripping, and bloody, but with bowler hat firmly in place-Sleepy Mac rose like a specter. His blind, mad gaze was already fixed on me.