The Scent Of Shadows Part 27

I looked back at the locker doubtfully, then grudgingly pressed the b.u.t.ton. "Open up, motherf.u.c.ker."

"Colorful," Warren commented.

"Open Sesame!" I tried again. "Abracadabra! Hocus-pocus! Shazam! Shalom! Anyone home?" Then I smacked the panel a few times with my palm.

I straightened and smiled innocently at Warren. "Still not opening."

"I can't imagine why," he said dryly, before suddenly shooting me a smile of his own. Quickly, before I could react, he pulled the photo of Ben from his pocket and shoved it through one of the tilted openings in the locker. My cry of protest was met with a stone hard stare. "When you can open that locker, you'll be ready to face, and mask, your emotions for Ben."

Ruthless, Greta had called him...but this was just downright cruel. I clenched my jaw, preparing to argue, but in the middle of my first eye roll my vision snagged on something peculiar, on something that wasn't there, actually. "That's the sign of the Scorpio, right? Stryker's sign?"

My question knocked him off balance. Warren swallowed hard, the cords working in his neck like the breath had caught there. "It was."

I stared at the symbol; vacant, dark, dead. And though Greta had already explained it, I wanted to hear what Warren had to say. I needed to discover for myself just whom I could trust. "You said the lineage of the star signs was matriarchal. Didn't this sign revert back to his mother when he was killed?"

"Stryker's death..." He paused, searching for the right word. "...unhinged Tekla. She's been in solitary confinement, recuperating in our sick ward for months."

And he'd put her there. Left her there. I pursed my lips at that. "So the Scorpion sign remains empty? Even though she's alive?"

"Half alive, and not especially happy to be so."

This time I felt a sorrow that wasn't mine coursing through my core. It felt like raw onions curdling in an empty stomach, and I touched a hand there, surprised. I didn't know it worked both ways. I also didn't think emotion that strong could be fabricated. "Well, maybe that's because she's alone, and has no one to talk to."

"Maybe it's because her son was torn apart in front of her eyes," he said shortly.

I swallowed hard and thought of Olivia, limbs pinwheeling into the night. I nodded. "Can someone else take her place in the Zodiac even though she's alive?"

"Only if she's willing to relinquish it to them, but for reasons unknown to all but her, she's not. We've asked her, begged her, even, but she just starts spewing obscenities, making illogical accusations, tries to injure anyone who approaches."

I remembered the first of these accusations from the pages of Stryker's comic. There's a traitor among us.

"So, did my mother relinquish the Archer sign to me when she...left?" I asked, changing the subject.

Warren inclined his head, looking relieved. "Your mother believed that when the time came, you alone would be able to create this house anew."

The house of the Zodiac. The first sign. The Archer, agent of Light.

I shook my head, only able to grasp one thought at a time. I voiced the one I thought most pressing. "But she's still out there, right?"

"She's alive, we know that much. Her power is muted, diminished because she gave it all to enshroud your ident.i.ty, so she's essentially a mortal. It's a dangerous position for a member of the Zodiac to be in, but one that has, ironically enough, kept her safe."

I folded my arms over my chest. "I want to see her."

He shook his head, began to open his mouth.

"She's my mother!" I pounded my fist on the locker with a sudden fierceness that surprised even me. It had been growing there, I guessed, ever since I saw her belongings hanging in a closet. I had smelled her on them.

"There are some doors, Olivia, that are closed even to us."

I stared at him, thinking that of all people, a superhero shouldn't have to hear that.

"Come on," he said, turning. His limp made an exaggerated slap-and-drag sound on the concrete floor. "There's more to see."

Something other than Stryker's fate, or Tekla's, or my mother's? I wanted to ask. Of course, Warren-the b.u.m-could give me no a.s.surances. It seemed that even a supernatural life, for all its benefits, didn't come with guarantees.

"Okay, Warren," I said, walking, walking right past him. "Then just promise me one thing."

"If I can," he said gravely.

I shot one last glance back at the unyielding locker and the centaur glowing with six other star signs. "Shoot me if I ever grow hindquarters."

19.

We bypa.s.sed another series of hallways on the way to Saturn's Orchard, Warren pointing out the children's ward-the tinkling of bell-like laughter punctuating the air in confirmation-and then made a quick stop by the animal habitat, where cats of every shape and size were striding, sitting, playing, or sleeping purposefully around the room.

"We breed them," Warren explained, lifting a pure white Persian kitten from behind the guard gate, his face softening as the two wide blue eyes stared unblinking into his own. "Cats are wardens. They're naturally territorial, so good guardians of our s.p.a.ce. They can also identify a Shadow agent no matter what they've done to mask their ident.i.ty."

"I wonder if Luna came from this bunch," I said, inching closer.

"Did Zoe give her to you?"

"To Olivia." I ran a finger along the soft fur tufting from the kitten's cheeks. "For her eleventh birthday. She's had her ever since."

The kitten's eyes slitted shut and she pushed her cheek against my hand, a purr rising from the little body that could have shook the entire building. Warren chuckled, then dropped a kiss on the ivory head and returned her to her litter. He blushed when he saw me watching.

"They are wonderful little gifts. And fiercely protective."

"You don't have to tell me," I said, an image of Butch's sheared eyelids and gouged retinas popping into my head. Just then a young boy darted into the room, scrambling nimbly between us, an outraged cry rising in his wake. He lunged for the gate, climbing so quickly I knew this wasn't the first time he'd hatched this particular escape plan. Warren plucked him up with one hand, and I stared down at the blond crown of his head as he proceeded to wiggle and squirm, struggling toward the kittens that lay just beyond his reach.

"Marcus!"

A tall woman in a simple white robe reached around me and s.n.a.t.c.hed the child from Warren, pulling him to her in a possessive and practiced grab. An immediate screech rose from the child, but the woman only smiled up at us as if to say, Sorry for the inconvenience, but you understand. I'm sure this would have been accompanied by an eye roll...except that she didn't have any.

"They're so boisterous at this age," she said, smiling tightly.

"They are that," Warren replied, his own smile a bit wider.

I said nothing, just continued staring at the skin, shriveled and wrinkled and scarred, where her eyes should have been.

Marcus, however, had no interest in her looks. When he saw there was no escaping her grasp, and no chance of retrieving one of the kittens, his face turned a bright shade of red, a howl like winter wind rose from his throat, and then his face, literally, burst into light. "Give me my warden!"

I whirled away, covering my eyes with one of my forearms, clutching my furry little charge to my chest as heat from the child's anger slammed against the back of my neck. The rays of light blasted past me into the concrete walls, and his voice did the same. I heard a m.u.f.fled smack, a howl of outraged pain, and then a scuffling before the light disappeared, like a wick snuffed between wetted fingers.

When I uncovered my face, the boy was gone, but the woman remained. She shot us an easy smile and serenely folded her hands together in front of her. "Somebody made the mistake of telling Marcus he was next in line for the Virgo sign, and he's bedeviled us ever since. Wants his warden, wants his conduit. He's a bit headstrong these days."

That, I thought, was an understatement.

"Need some help?" Warren asked, inclining his head toward the hall where chattering, screaming, shrill little voices rebounded off the concrete interiors. The sound cut a path straight to my lingering headache.

"I might," she admitted, with a frazzled lift of her brows. "There's only Sondra and I for the lot of them. The other ward mothers are in cla.s.ses. But first..."

She angled herself toward me, raising her brows.

"I'm sorry," Warren said. "Where are my manners?"

"I've been wondering the same for years."

I smiled at that, instantly liking her, and held out my free hand. "I'm Olivia."

She found my hand, and held fast as she tilted her head, regarding me in some unknown way. "Rena," she offered. "Ward mother of the Zodiac offspring, charged with overseeing their development until the first life cycle. As you can see, Marcus has a way to go in the control department."

"Is that why...uh-"

"My eyes?" she asked, smiling. She would have been beautiful, I realized, if not for those dual scars blooming where said eyes should have been. "I'm afraid so, though not him. Another child of Light, long before little Marcus came along. I've been ward mother here for nearly forty years now. Saw Warren here through his first life cycle."

"Really?" At closer glance, I saw light wisps streaking away from her temples to mingle with the ginger hair she'd secured into a low bun. Creases that had to do with age, not scarring, also lined her face, though I noticed the ones where she smiled were deepest of all. Given her words, I placed her around sixty. A very young and vibrant sixty.

"Er, let's not get into that," Warren said, wedging between us.

"Another time, then," she told me in a conspiring whisper, then waved good-bye and headed back out into the melee in the hallway.

"I'll be right back," Warren said, following. "Then we'll head to the Orchard."

I nodded, but he was already gone, and soon so were the crisp, bell-like voices of the children and the slap-and-slide of Warren's uneven gait.

"Well, now what?" I asked the fur ball snuggled tightly against my chest. With no answer but a soft purr, I decided to look around while I waited.

The hallway was empty, but as before, the strange symbols and strips of light marked my progress as I strode away from the habitat, still stroking the kitten's cheek. I soon came upon a separate hallway I hadn't seen before, blocked by heavy double doors, closed, but without a lock. "A clear invitation to enter," I muttered into the soft, spiky fur.

But this hallway, if possible, was even more stark and cold than the rest. No lights lit up as I entered, and the rooms lying diagonally to one another were laced with viewing windows and bars, each dark inside. The kitten stirred restlessly in my arms. I took this as a sign that maybe I shouldn't be there, and was backing up when one of the doors suddenly bounced open. Greta appeared, murmuring softly, and I would've called out to her except that she was followed by Chandra. Both women were focused on a third, whom they had by the arms and were gently coaxing into the hallway.

I recognized her immediately. Her robe was grimy, and she looked thinner than she had in the manual, but it was Tekla. Shuffling forward almost reluctantly, her head was down, eyes moving over the floor vacantly, seeing nothing. The two other women continued to murmur soft encouragements, and I did back away then, not wanting to interrupt.

Then Olivia's cell phone went off in my pocket. The kitten startled awake in my hands, and I scrambled to soothe her as "Viva Las Vegas" continued to chime from my thigh. I fumbled for the phone as tiny claws burrowed into my chest and Chandra cursed at me from down the hall.

"Olivia Archer," I answered, shooting Chandra and Greta an apologetic smile. But whoever was on the line, and whatever they were saying, was lost on me as Tekla lifted her head and frowned, staring directly into my eyes. "I...I..."

I didn't know what I was saying so I flipped the phone shut and swallowed hard as Tekla regarded me with utter clarity. "I'm sorry," I managed, not sure which of the women I was talking to. Greta had noted the change in Tekla too, and her eyes were darting from her to me and back again. Chandra just continued looking p.i.s.sed.

"I see you."

We all froze, except Tekla, who'd uttered the words and was uttering them again, over and over, her voice cracking as it grew louder and louder. "I see you."

"Tekla, love," Greta soothed, taking her more firmly by the arm and trying to guide her the other way, "calm down now. Let's go this way."

But Tekla's eyes had narrowed on mine, and she was suddenly heading my way. "I see you," she said, and Chandra cried out in surprise as Tekla broke free from their hold, while Greta fumbled in her pocket. She came out with a syringe, but Tekla was well out of reach by then.

"Get back, Olivia!" Greta yelled, but I was afraid to exit the sick ward. If I stayed where I was, she'd be contained, and Chandra and Greta could regain control.

In fact, Chandra had recovered enough to catch up to Tekla, but when she laid her hands on her this time, Tekla wheeled and struck out blindly, her arm crushing Chandra's nose. Chandra fell backward, Greta yelled again, and Tekla began to run.

"Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!" She was on me so quickly I could only release the kitten. Hissing, it escaped out the double doors as I fell into them. Tekla tripped me up, fell on top of me and climbed my chest until her face was inches from mine.

She smelled of unwashed skin and sour memories, and I swallowed hard, not wanting to fight or hurt her. Thankfully, Greta was suddenly there, a syringe prepped and already angling toward her shoulder. Tekla whimpered when it struck, whipping her head around to face Greta before slumping without another peep.

I relaxed beneath her as Chandra reached her other side and she and Greta began lifting the unconscious woman to her feet.

Then her head jerked back up, and he was alive in her face.

The skin and even the bones of Tekla's face stretched, and the Tulpa leered out at me. "I see you," she repeated, but it was his voice, rotted and threatening. "You think you're safe in there? You can't hide from me. I'm your bogeyman...I'm your poisoned fate."

"Jesus!" Warren was suddenly there, pulling her-him, it-away, and it took all three of them to do it as the Tulpa's face continued to leer at me. Halfway back to her room, Tekla's head again dropped, bobbed, then lifted, her gaze returning to mine. It was imploring again, as was her whisper. "Traitor..."

Then the door to her cell slammed behind them all, and I was left lying alone on the floor, my glyph once again burning a hole through my heart.

20.

An hour pa.s.sed before they got Tekla settled. Afterward, Chandra was sent to tell the others the training session in Saturn's Orchard would be postponed, and the rest of us gathered in Greta's office, where she busied herself with making yet more tea, though her hands shook as she stole nervous glances back at me. For the longest time Warren didn't look at me at all.

We were trying to figure out what had happened to Tekla. I was relieved because they too had seen the Tulpa leering from Tekla's vacant face, but my relief was diluted because even Warren didn't know how it'd happened. But after I told them about the night before, and how a memory had turned into a nightmare-the Tulpa speaking to me as clearly as if he'd picked up a phone-he was pretty clear on the why.

"Obviously Ajax has told him about you," Warren said, pushing his teacup aside. "He knows you're his opposite, the new Archer. He's letting you know he's targeted you."

"He wants vengeance for Zoe's betrayal," Greta said softly, shuddering.

"Okay," I said slowly, not liking it, but following easily enough. "But how's he getting in my dreams? In the sanctuary?"

"Well, he's not really in the sanctuary, dear," Greta answered, steadier after my explanation, the suspicion that Tekla's accusations had raised in her seemingly tucked away, if not entirely forgotten. "Dreams are simply psychic energy, and the one you had last night was linked to a particular past trauma. My guess is that you had a hard day yesterday, and like Tekla, that left your mind more open to his influence."

"So he can get to me? At any time?"

"Not physically." Warren shook his head adamantly. "You're safe in here."

"So why was there a woman with a demon's face straddling me, Warren?" I said sharply.

But he merely stared back at me, and the suspicion was still clearly alive in his face.