Holidays are Hell

Zoe shrugged one shoulder, and hugged herself. "I finally decided the only way to convince you of my sincerity was to come to you on this, your favorite holy day, when mortal observance and emotions could be tapped and channeled for your benefit and strength. If you use that power you'll see I'm telling the truth. I've returned to you out of love. I miss you. I just… want to come home."

She held up her hand when two of the Shadows opened their mouths to speak. "But I also knew that wasn't enough. I had to prove myself, lose something irreplaceable, as I caused you to lose the creator. It took me a year to get up the nerve to actually do it. But I've shed it all for you—my past, my chi, my near immortality. I come to you with a basket of fruit to commemorate this holy day of bounty, thanks and forgiveness. And I come to you only as a woman."

It was all she had, and it was the truth. The Tulpa leaned back, lifting his cup, and finally smiled. Lindy's head swiveled back and forth between them, her confusion and growing anger magnified on every mirrored surface. "Bullshit!"

Zoe's eyes never left the Tulpa's face, longing and hope naked on her own. "Just a little clue, Lindy… if you've had fifteen years to seduce this man and still haven't made it into his bed, chances are it's not going to happen."

Lindy was fast, but the Tulpa was faster. A flick of the wrist and another mirror sprang up in front of Zoe, halting Lindy's lunge with a resounding crack. She grunted and fell back into her seat, and the mirror—all the warning she'd get—disappeared.

"Returned with a woman's weapons too, I see." the Tulpa murmured.

Zoe looked at Lindy who was straightening her glasses. Her hands were shaking now. "They're all I have. I'll be damned if I die without them."

"You may be damned yet."

"Shut up, Ajax." The Tulpa finally took a bite from his own plate, continuing while he chewed. "You weren't here before so you don't know, but Zoe and I have always had a strong bond."

"Opposites attract," she agreed, before sadness again overtook her face. "Though it seems that too has changed. Like you."

Again he checked his reflection in the mirror, studying what Zoe had created there. "I look exactly like before."

"I mean on the inside. I don't need extrasensory power to see you're holding back."

"And do you blame me?"

"I understand it," she said, shaking her head. "But I regret it all the same."

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" Lindy half-rose from her chair, but the Tulpa held up a hand. Her mouth snapped shut, the words scuttling off into a growl. Zoe held back the smile that wanted to visit her face. Still, she knew they all could sense her satisfaction. It didn't bother her, and it didn't seem to bother the Tulpa, either. He pushed back his chair and stood.

"Walk with me," he said, holding out his hand. The others stood. "Only Zoe."

They floundered, looking around at one another. "Sir, please…"

"Shut up, Lindy."

Triumph thrilled through Zoe, warming her so thoroughly she didn't even feel the chill of the Tulpa's palm in her own. She smiled up at him, let him gaze into her glasses to see himself as she saw him—handsome, healthy, hers—and they exited the mirror room alone.

Zoe took it as a very good sign.

It was three in the afternoon when the Tulpa escorted Zoe from his mirrored room, and a part of her was aware, and surprised, that she'd lived that long. Trapped in a house with supernatural enemies who could snap her neck as easily as she had Wyatt Neelson's, she'd expected the high drama of her return—in whatever way it played out—to have climaxed by now. Instead she'd gotten to explain herself, have dinner, and was now taking a promenade around the grounds. She was so in. She linked her arm in the Tulpa's, squeezing lightly, thinking this might just be her best Thanksgiving yet.

Then she saw the boy.

He couldn't have been more than seven, and he rounded the corner struggling with all his might against the hold of two women in long dark robes, their eyes as large as silver dollars and completely overtaken by blackened pupils. Their appearance, however, wasn't what made Zoe's heart stutter. They were ward mothers of the Shadow children, charged with raising and schooling the Shadow initiates until they metamorphosized into full-fledged agents, and Zoe'd seen them before. But this was no initiate. It was a mortal child with fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and fear etched on his face. He caught sight of Zoe, probably the only normal person he'd seen in this gloomy mausoleum, and lunged for her. "Help me, please! I want to go home! I want my mommy!"

Zoe had to force herself not to run to him as one of the ward mothers knelt in front of him, her blackened eyes drawing a scream from deep within his tiny chest. "Now, now. Let's behave. You don't want to scare the other children, do you?"

"Others?" Zoe said, before she could stop herself. The Tulpa only put one finger to his mouth, shushing her.