City of Souls

17

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

My loss, I thought, staring at the suit of yet another man smiling placatingly in front of me. I’d arrived at Xavier’s compound directly from the warehouse, and had to push aside the thoughts of my relationships with Hunter and my ability to use his conduit as if it were my own, for the time being. But the fact was, all my thoughts seemed to be sluggish right now, and I finally gave up on trying to remember this man’s name-or even care-and simply nodded. This pattern repeated itself as I moved on through the sitting room, the family room, the living room…all the misnamed rooms in Xavier Archer’s house, while I avoided the sympathetic gazes of the strangers around me and thought about my loss.

The man who’d despised me practically since birth was dead. The man who blamed me for my mother’s abandonment was dead. The man who treated people as usable objects, and siphoned his soul to the Tulpa in return for unlimited power and money was, finally, dead. I looked around at all that remained.

I’d lost nothing.

But strangely, I didn’t feel I’d gained anything either.

“My condolences, Ms. Archer.” I did recognize this man. This was John, Xavier’s closest confidant, and a man who moved like an offensive lineman instead of a lawyer. He’d never given either Olivia or me a second glance, but that had changed now. I could see him developing plays as he looked at me, looking for weaknesses, figuring out if I needed to be double-teamed, trapped, or cross-blocked. And why not? Once a Playmate, a plaything-arm candy to be given a second glance but not a thought-Olivia Archer was no longer simply an heiress. She was a mogul. John, I knew, had strategies for dealing with moguls.

I made my way to the winding staircase and the upstairs corridor under the watchful eye of John and the army of sycophants Xavier had left leaderless, though I knew I wouldn’t be followed. They thought I was in shock. Xavier’s personal physician had already offered me soothing sedatives, so I’d take the path of least resistance and play the part of the frail princess until I could get out of there and back to searching for Jaden Jacks. I didn’t feel bad about the hypocrisy, pretending to care when I knew I did not. Xavier had gotten what was coming to him. He was an ass, he was greedy, and I’d never loved him.

So why was my heart heavy, as if I did?

I dodged two maids who averted their eyes, arms filled with linens, their Spanish whispered once they thought I could no longer hear. The household staff had returned upon Helen’s orders, and were putting things back to order, dusting and scrubbing and wondering what I was going to do with all this space and belongings, with their paychecks and all their lives. Their gazes were just as assessing as John’s, which was probably how I ended up in Xavier’s vacant wing. There was no other reason to be there. But it was quiet, and with Xavier’s body still in residence, no one seemed ready to tread there yet.

Exactly what I needed.

Yet I hesitated until the soft dulcet tones of Spanish arose again behind me, then pushed the door open and slipped inside.

The first thing I noticed was that the flowers sent by well-wishers were no longer moldering in lukewarm water, the table once holding them now a bald spot among the rest of the ornate tableaus of the sitting room. I crossed to the window where thick curtain blotted out the sunlight and shoved it open. Xavier was dead. He couldn’t say a thing about it.

As if approving of this belated rebellion, the storm clouds that’d been dogging the valley last night had thinned and parted, revealing a tender blue sky and a sharp morning sun. I saw John step outside on the patio below me, the bald spot on his head a perfect O from directly above, a phone to his ear as he lit a cigarillo. Unlocking the window, I slid it open an inch, all I’d need to hear his end of the conversation even though I was thirty feet above him.

“Of course she’s incompetent,” he scoffed on a thin stream of smoke. “A figurehead is all…with the emphasis on her figure…”

He laughed, and so did the person on the other end of the line. I did not.

“…an easy mark for anyone with the intelligence above that of a soybean. I’ve called an emergency meeting with the board of directors. Yes, we’ll handle that now. And her…”

He disappeared under the back portico, totally unaware that I was there…and I was a woman who disliked being handled. Guessing he was going to take this conversation into the inner courtyard, I crossed into the bedroom, where I could watch and hear him from Xavier’s window. I was so preoccupied by listening in that I forgot about Xavier’s body, lying like an empty shell on the linen shore of his crisp bedsheets. I was also halfway through the room before I realized I wasn’t alone.

“He underestimates you.” The voice was strong and low. Charbroiled.

My gut reaction was to run. I jolted, automatically reaching for the mask in my bag, though the reaction could be attributed to the shock of finding someone else in the room. I played it off that way…and turned around to face the Tulpa.

He was seated in a straight-backed chair next to Xavier’s bed, looking neither large nor small, not overdressed or under, but as comfortable in this clothing and body as he was in any other. The skin he lived in today was pale, but a blank-slate pale, without a freckle to mar the entire canvas. It made him look as lifeless as the corpse next to him, and made me wonder if he’d hidden in the dark long enough to gather enough power to willingly take on these features, or if they’d been superimposed upon him by the mind and expectation of one of his followers. Perhaps Lindy-or Helen-as she was downstairs? I forced myself to calm. My scent was masked; I’d injected the pheromones before leaving the warehouse. I was here as Olivia, so Olivia I would be.

Still, I couldn’t help a fleeting wish for a layer or two of Micah’s protective webbing. “Y-You heard what he was saying?”

Of course he had. His hearing was sharper than a jungle cat’s.

The Tulpa shrugged. “Don’t worry about John. He’ll come at you head-on, full-force, like he’s in a demolition derby. I, on the other hand, learned long ago to be more circumspect around beautiful women.”

His smile widened, dimples appeared, as if that was supposed to be a compliment. Knowing what I did of his past, how it intertwined with my mother’s, I remained on guard. “Who are you?” I asked. Like I didn’t know.

“You mean Helen hasn’t mentioned me?” He tsk-tsked at the shake of my head. “I was a mentor of sorts to your father. A benefactor, if you will.”

But he still didn’t say his name. I tilted my head, frowning. “Daddy never mentioned you either.”

“I was a sort of fairy godfather, if you will. There when he needed me. Behind the scenes the rest of the time.” He stood, unnaturally unwrinkled. I took a step back, and he smiled benignly. “I could do the same for you.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ll need help running this empire.” He gestured to the window, then folded his hands in front of him. “Navigating men like John who see only dollar signs when they look at you. They’ll see you as someone to run down on their way to a financial utopia. But I could teach you how to nullify his greed while using his skills for your own gain. I’ve known many such men myself.”

He was the archetype for such men.

I bit my lip, nodding, then changed the subject lest he think me too smart. “So what are you doing here now?”

“Paying my respects, of course.” He sighed heavily, looking over at Xavier. “Saying good-bye.”

Seeing if there was anything left of Xavier’s soul to drain, I thought wryly. Maybe I should offer him a straw.

“Well,” he said in the wake of my silence, “at least promise me you’ll think about it.”

He held out his hand. I looked at it as shock struck me like a bolt. He’d know who and what I was as soon as I touched him. He’d feel my too-smooth fingertips. And from the narrow, assessing look in his eyes, that was the point. He wasn’t here for Xavier, he was here because he knew Olivia Archer would be also. He was testing the waters of this relationship, beginning to build trust on both sides.

Shit, shit, shit.

I swallowed hard, making damned sure to keep the scent of my emotions dampened, and took a step forward. But I let my gaze veer to Xavier’s lifeless body, willed my face into a teary frown, and ran right into the footstool that’d been pushed thoughtlessly aside.

“Ow!” I leaned down, rubbing at my shin.

“Are you okay?” Though buried beneath layers of control, the annoyance was sharp in his voice. I glanced up and gave him one of Olivia’s most sheepish and sweetest smiles.

“I’m such a klutz. I mean, I fell down half a staircase just yesterday. See?”

I pushed up my shirt to reveal the marks I’d received from Hunter. Most men would focus on the petal smooth belly and curve of my hip. The Tulpa, I knew, was only seeing the bruises. He relaxed further into the shadows, no longer interested in touching, testing me. Why should he? I was clearly mortal. “You should be more careful.”

“That’s so true,” I said, pulling my shirt down. I nodded vigorously, then looked again at Xavier.

“Oh…” The Tulpa stood fluidly. “How rude of me. Of course you want a few moments alone to say good-bye.”

“Yes.” I lowered my head, pretending not to see his outstretched hand. Fortunately, he dropped it. “Thank you.”

He slid by so smoothly I expected to hear a rattler’s tail. I stepped to Xavier’s bedside to ward off my shudder, and bit my lip as I looked at Xavier’s body.

“You may call me if you need anything at all. Helen knows how to get ahold of me.”

I nodded but didn’t look up, not wanting to give him too much deference, too early. Olivia would have no idea who he was, so this first impression wouldn’t leave much of a visible mark. But he would be back, I now knew, hearing the sitting room door snap shut. The Tulpa was going to try and use me. The Archer dynasty was too vast and strong to allow a little lost soul to get in the way.

I lifted my gaze to Xavier’s face, wondering how he’d feel about that. Again I was shocked from thought by his appearance. He was hardly much more than a skeleton with skin, a thin, brittle covering that would be decomposed by week’s end. I will not feel sorry for him, I thought, clenching my jaw as my gaze drifted down his once-great frame, snagging on the fingers that had once curled in cast-iron fists. They were pencil thin now. I could reach out and snap them like twigs.

No, I’d waste no sorrow on Xavier. The man had willingly sold his soul for status. He’d given the Tulpa a front of respectability, and a base from which to operate. Xavier, more than any other person, had helped the Tulpa actualize in this world.

And he’d treated me like refuse.

“Don’t think of that,” I muttered to myself, wiping at my eyes. There must have been pollen or dander or dust mites thick in the room. “Just focus on facts.”

And the fact was, it made no difference that someone else would have taken up the mantle if Xavier had refused-there was no shortage of people who’d abandon morals for money-because it had been him. All through my youth. Even while I suffered, I thought, sniffling, he continued to fuel and feed that limitless evil.

So Xavier hadn’t died from something practical, like a disease that had forgotten to question his station and power and status before creeping up to strangle his arteries. He hadn’t even died from something as dramatic as a broken heart. No, he’d finally expired because there was so little left inside of him that was still human. This physical shell, which looked like it would blow away in the faintest of winds, was simply the last of him to fall to rot.

“I should dance on your grave,” I said, a tear from the allergens falling down my cheek. But there was no snapped comeback, no sense of being heard, now or ever. Xavier’s soul was finally, utterly depleted, and now the hollow shell his wealth had created could finally be put to rest.

I wiped my eyes and left the room.

There were twenty-eight messages of condolence waiting for me by the time I left Xavier’s home-now mine, I supposed-and twelve of them were from Cher alone. I cursed silently, but knew I’d have to visit her before I did anything else. That’s what Olivia would do, and people were certainly watching now.

By the time I reached the sprawling ranch house where Cher lived with her mother, the sun was once again blocked in by barren clouds, and a chilled wind whipped over the ground, causing me to think of Northern Lights instead of neon ones. What was going on with the weather? I gazed heavenward, but didn’t have much time to dwell on it. The door flew open almost as soon as I knocked, and I was swept up into an all-encompassing hug.

“Hey, Suz,” I said, sounding strangled. She loosened her hold. She was wearing thin fleece sweats, her gray zip-top making it clear she wore nothing underneath, and her hair was piled atop her head, dark roots visible at the base of her neck. It was still early morning, so her face was barer than I’d ever seen it, but it was creamy and smooth, still silky perfection at forty-something. She never spoke of her age. She considered it bad juju.

“Oh, darlin’,” she began, and it was all I could do not to sigh. She tilted her head, soft errant strands falling around her face as I turned to her. “We only just heard. It’s terrible. I’m so sorry for your loss. Are you okay?”

Pulling me through the threshold, she simultaneously answered her own question. “Silly. Of course you’re not. If anyone should know that, it’s me.” From all appearances, she was the typical Vegas trophy wife. She’d married someone far older than she, yet by all accounts she’d truly loved Cher’s father, something that’d been questioned in the recent spate of articles and gossip surrounding her new engagement…and that meant we really didn’t share the same loss. I did not love the man who had died in the night. Still, I appreciated her effort and knew Olivia would be grateful for it.

“Thank you.” Wanting to distract her, I said, “Where’s Cher?”

“She went to Xavier’s to find you, of course. You two probably drove right by each other on the way over. We should call.” As she picked up the cordless phone, I tossed my bag down on the cream sofa, immediately relaxing. It was nice to be in a safe, estrogen-filled environment that wouldn’t actually kill me. Thick white candles dotted nearly every surface, their sheer numbers and smooth melted shapes making them art all on their own. Their scent lingered among the silk and brocades of the pillows and throws, and softened the stark collage of photos blanketing an entire wall. My sister was a significant part of that collage, and in the past year I’d been incorporated as well…though, of course, in Olivia’s softly smiling, beautiful form.

Suzanne turned to me after she’d hung up with Cher, who promised to be right home, and gave me a watery smile. “Is there anything at all I can do to help?”

“You’re doing it,” I told her, and blew out a long sigh. And I did feel better. Lighter, though I had no reason to be down. “But what are you doing here? I thought Arun moved you into Asgard?”

Apparently the roomy but modest home wasn’t good enough for a future princess, and Arun had chosen the palatial suites at Valhalla as his bride’s new residence until he could have his own compound built. He knew she liked living in Vegas, and was indulging her desire to have a fourth home here. Or was it fifth?

At any rate, Cher would have the sprawling, if slightly aged, home to herself from now on, and for some reason that brought on my melancholy again. A home without the two of them in it, I realized with some surprise, wouldn’t feel like much of a home at all.

“I think I’m doing the same thing here that you are,” she said quietly, looking up at me as she lowered her head. “Escaping.”

I winced. “That bad, huh?”

She shook her head, too quickly. “Not bad at all, actually. But…different.”

“Well, why don’t you talk to Arun about it? He seems like he’d move the world for you.”

Her smile brightened and she actually blushed at that. “Maybe I will when he gets back.”

“Back?”

“He went to Scottsdale for meetings. He’s a bit superstitious. Says the weather here is unlucky, and that it looks like the sky is falling.”

I eyed the bulging nest of power through the decorative glass of the front door. It did look like it was falling. “So he left you under it?”

“I told him I didn’t want to go. It’s my home.” She leaned against the back of the sofa and crossed her bare feet at the ankles. “Besides, Thanksgiving is coming up soon. You’re still spending it with us, right?”

“Of course.”

“Are you injured?”

“Wha…?” I glanced down in the direction of her gaze and saw the dried blood from where I’d run into the footstool. Damn it. I was going to have to get used to moving around differently again. “It’s just a scratch,” I said sadly.

“Sit here,” Suzanne said, pointing at an overstuffed ottoman. “I’ll get the Bactine.”

I sighed as I sat. Bactine today…a full body cast tomorrow.

She returned with the medicine and a whole bag of cotton balls. “What happened?” she asked, dabbing lightly.

“Dark club,” I lied. “Too much to drink. Late night. I fell down some stairs.”

“Ouch,” she said, and I watched the cool liquid bubble on my skin. I couldn’t believe I was going to have to get used to this again. How the hell was I going to tell Warren?

“Well, that which doesn’t kill you, right?” I said, quoting him now.

Suzanne grimaced. “I’ve always hated that saying.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“There, that should do it.” She sat back on her heels and blew hair from her eyes. “Want pancakes while we wait?” she asked, looking up at me.

“Oh, is that what you’re burning?”

She leapt to her feet. “Shit!”

I followed her to the kitchen, where she was, indeed, enthusiastically burning pancakes. While she went to scrape those into the trash and start over, I looked around.

The View played on in the background, some pseudo-Thanksgiving show reminding me that in this world-despite being camped out over another one, despite Xavier’s death-celebration was only days away. I eyed the tiny TV mounted beneath the shiny beech cabinets, the light granite countertops, the collection of ceramic roosters and pigs, and sighed. Sometimes I wished I had Suzanne’s life. And that was without the prince.

I leaned on the counter across from her and watched as she poured more pancakes into the skillet.

All this, I thought with a grimace, and she couldn’t flip a pancake for crap.

“Here,” I said, nudging her aside. “Let me.”

I took the spatula and turned down the heat. Suzanne dropped onto a bar stool and sighed in relief. If only taking over pancake duty was the most tasking of my heroic duties. I added some butter to the pan and poured the batter, glancing at her as she blithely sipped from her tiny espresso cup.

“Let’s talk about something cheery, shall we?” she said. “What about you? How’s your pursuit of pleasure and bliss going?”

It took me a moment to recall our conversation at the lingerie trunk show, right after Madeleine and Lena had turned on her. That seemed a lifetime ago now-before Vanessa, before Midheaven, and before I’d knew real goddesses existed-so I’d forgotten all about it. That was the problem with lying. Remembering what you were lying about was often harder than telling the truth.

“Not great.” I thought about Solange languishing beneath her stars, fashioning precious jewels out of other people’s souls-beautiful and strong…and more deadly than I’d ever be. “Um, I met a woman who showed me I have a long way to go.”

“Bitch,” Suzanne said shortly, which caused me to bark out in laughter. “The Olivia Archer I know and love would go head-to-head with her.”

The thought was laughable, and I actually snorted. It would take me weeks alone just to learn how to walk in Diana’s spiked shoes. But what really got me was the women’s amplified power. I’d doubted a lot of things about myself in the past, but I’d never doubted my strength. Yet Solange’s power made me feel like the Karate Kid.

“I’m afraid I’m out of my league there.” I shrugged, a move that betrayed my self-consciousness. “It’s easy most of the time here. Vegas, I mean. Big fish, small pond. But this other woman is…formidable.” I handed Suzanne a plate and slid her the syrup.

She put off answering long enough to cut into her food, groaning with the first bite, taking a second as I poured more batter. She spoke with a full mouth. “You still don’t get it, do you? Want me to spell out for you what a real man finds most attractive?”

I was talking about might, not men, but I nodded for her to continue. She lived, very simply, in another world.

“An authentic woman. Someone who walks through this world following her own whim. He’ll see her, he’ll watch her, and he’ll continue to stare, unblinking, as if mesmerized by the tail of a kite soaring and tossing about on the wind. For the right man, one who’s ready, just watching his woman move around scores new patterns on his retina, creates new pathways in his mind-or, for the first time, lights up the ancient ones-about what a real woman is.”

I tapped my spatula on the side of the pan, sharply, and put a hand on my hip. “Really? So what about all that lingerie and…” Shit. “…stuff?”

“Oh.” She sat up straighter, popped another bite into her mouth. “That’s not for a man. That’s for me.”

I stared.

She stabbed some more cooked batter. “These are really good.”

I glanced down, realized it was time to flip over another. “My sister showed me how to make them,” I said softly, moving another pancake to a plate.

Suzanne reached over the countertop and touched my arm. Her fingertips were cool and light, almost like she could float away. “You look tired, honey. Do you want to lie down in the guest room after breakfast? Just for a bit?”

I was exhausted, flipping the last pancake. But my mind was wired, and I still had too much to figure out about Jasmine and Warren. Solange and Jacks. Hunter and me, I thought, returning to Suzanne’s words. An authentic woman? I frowned, pouring the syrup.

“Suz,” I said hesitantly, not looking at her. “You know when you told me that women were the color of the world? That we were the life and-”

“The beauty.” She nodded, sighing to herself. “It’s so true. It’s our natural state. It’s-”

“I’m not,” I said suddenly, and I didn’t know why, but I wanted to cry at the statement. I swallowed hard. “I’m gray.”

“Has someone been telling you that? Who? That woman?” She was suddenly at my side, soft blue eyes burrowing into my own. I looked down. Solange had shown me. But Warren, I now realized, was the one treating me that way. And it wasn’t in words, but specifically in what he didn’t tell me, in the things he kept close to his chest. He claimed that he wanted me close, but then he’d sent me away. He said he valued me, but he continually put me at risk.

“Nah.” I shook myself, realizing I was frowning and staring into space, and that I hadn’t yet answered Suzanne. “A man, actually.”

“Then you don’t want him in your life. A man like that is poison, do you understand?”

A man, sure. A mortal, and I’d agree. But I wasn’t sure the same held true of a powerful and overbearing superhero. I also wasn’t so sure that “want” had anything to do with it. I took a bite of my own pancakes just to avoid answering, when a movement at the back door window caught my eye. I froze, fork halfway to my mouth, as I was caught in the gaze of a tulpa.

Suzanne, seeing my stricken look, whirled. Of course, there was nothing there but the strangely blotted sky, and a small dust devil blowing up debris behind her pool. She turned back around and I raised my brows.

“Just had a thought. Gotta go.”

She lifted her brows as high as the Botox would allow. “What?”

“Yeah, um…funeral plans. Gotta get it done. But the pancakes fortified me.” I patted my tummy before dropping a hand on her arm. “And so did the chat. Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes and shook off my hand. “Well, sheesh. Just hold on.”

I did, tapping my foot impatiently as she disappeared at the back of the house. Skamar popped up again, and I made a face, waving her away. Suzanne rounded the corner again, and I turned the gesture into a smooth patting of my hair, smiling grimly.

“Here,” she said, holding out her hands.

“What is it?”

“A necklace given to me by my first husband. Actually, it was the first gift he ever gave me. Said it shields you from the evil eye. It’s Asian, so Arun will most certainly know what it is…and he wouldn’t understand if I hung onto it. I want you to have it.”

I frowned, and stared at her, Skamar forgotten. “What about Cher?”

Why me?Though, too late, I remembered Suzanne didn’t differentiate between the two of us. We were both daughters to her.

She rolled her eyes as she circled behind me. I lifted my hair and she slid the necklace over my neck. “She’s the one who thought of it. Actually, she wanted to give it to you herself.”

I looked down. It was a solid pendant of intricate scrollwork and bright gold. There were seven places for precious stones, all different colors, though I noticed there were a couple missing. I attributed that to age, which meant it was all the more valuable. “It’s beautiful. But I can’t possibly accept it. It means so much to you both.”

She nodded, like she’d been expecting that, and folded my fingers over it. “Then just wear it to your father’s funeral.”

“Okay,” I said, deeming it easier not to argue. “Thank you.”

She followed me to the door. “Cher’s going to be upset that she missed you.”

“I’ll see her at Thanksgiving. Tell her I’m doing okay.” I stepped from the patio and into a gust of whipping wind as I headed down the drive.

“Olivia!” Half out the door, Suz shook her head. “You’re not gray. You’re a fuckin’ rainbow. Got it?”

I could only smile and wave…and hope that she was right.