City of Souls Page 7

  “He’s taking some time off,” she answered stiffly, nose high, skin sallow, and expression as disapproving as ever. All that was alive on her were those beady, assessing eyes. I met them openly. “I’m forced to take up his post.”

  “Didn’t he recently take a vacation?” I asked, tilting my head so blond curls fell over my shoulder.

  The visual cue that I was nothing more than a ditz, a nuisance, had her relaxing enough to shut the door behind us. She had yet to acknowledge Felix. Good. “This isn’t a vacation. It’s…a little more than that.”

  I raised a perfectly waxed brow. Ralphie Deluca hadn’t taken a leave of absence in the twenty-odd years he’d been employed by the Archer estate. I paused long enough that “Helen” registered my deliberately blank look as impossibly vacant.

  “Ah, well. This is my boy—” I broke off, pretending to stumble. “This is my friend, Nathan.” I took Felix by the arm, pulling him close. She’d think I was trying to pull a fast one on my father again by dating someone unsuitable, and would run to him with the news as soon as I left. Olivia’s flighty, unstable reputation would remain unsullied. “Nate, this is Helen…um, So-and-so.”

  Helen surprised me by addressing Felix directly. “I anticipated your arrival, Mister…?”

  “Stewart. Nate Stewart. Nice to meet you, Mrs. So-and-so.”

  My laugh rang, genuinely. Felix liked getting his digs in too.

  “But how’d you know I was coming?” he said before Helen could take offense. It was one of the traits that made him so likable, and it kept stoic, severe Helen off balance. “Olivia and I hooked up this afternoon rather…spontaneously.”

  He let the memory of something hidden and secret ring in his voice. I flushed at the intimation in it, shuffling my feet. Wow. Those coeds didn’t have a chance.

  Helen colored as well, before clearing her throat. “Well, it wasn’t you, precisely. Our Olivia seems incapable of traveling anywhere solo…” She left the sentence incomplete as she motioned for us to follow her into the sitting room. “I’ve prepared refreshments. You may wait here for her business with her father to be concluded.”

  It didn’t surprise me that she wasn’t going to let my new friend near Xavier’s office. The last time she had, a valuable mask had temporarily gone missing.

  “Actually, Nathan is looking to find a job at Valhalla.” I motioned toward the offices, and Felix half rose from the settee he’d just sunken down onto, his abject confusion perfect for the moment. “We want to ask Daddy if we can work in the gift shop together.”

  Xavier wouldn’t concern himself with minor personnel decisions, but Olivia would have been able to get away with it.

  “No, Olivia.”

  “But it’d be fun,” I protested with a little foot stomp. “Nathan’s great at getting people to buy things they don’t need. He could sell shot glasses at an AA meeting.”

  “I mean, no, your friend must remain here.”

  “The office is big enough for all of us.”

  “Your father’s not in his office.”

  My mouth snapped shut in surprise. At last, an emotion I didn’t have to fake. Xavier might have turned into a recluse, but he lived in his office.

  He siphoned away his soul there. I suppressed a shudder.

  “So where is he?”

  “His suites.”

  “He has suites?” Felix asked, picking up a scone and taking a bite. “Sweet.”

  I smirked. “She means his bedroom.”

  Felix turned on his heel. “I’ll be with the cookies and tea.”

  Clown, I thought, letting my smile show. But what a clever clown. While I kept Xavier busy, he could take care of Helen. “Divide and conquer” I could practically hear him thinking as he kicked up his Pumas.

  So I blew Felix an air kiss, and Helen guided me to the elevator reserved for Xavier’s personal staff. Except there was no one bustling about, changing linens or dusting or vacuuming, and the secretary’s wing was eerily quiet. What the hell was going on?

  “Helen,” I said, peering into one of the kitchens.

  She kept walking.

  “Helen!” I ran to keep up, my heels clacking off the Italian marble. “What’s going on around here?”

  “Mr. Archer is making changes.” She punched the elevator button. The doors slid open silently. “These reductions in staff are just…preparations.”

  “For what?” I asked, joining her inside the steel box.

  She spared me a glance through the mirrored doors as they closed. “For his death,” she said, and the emotion of my genuine shock perfumed the air.

  7

  After the attack on my life when I was a teen, my mother’s subsequent abandonment, and long after my early adolescent irreverence dried up into an ashy ball of hate and bitterness, the household staff of the Archer estate continued to treat me like one of the valuable antiques, to be looked at and cared for, but not touched. If the gardener or one of the maids asked how I was, it was done in that tone of disinterest reserved for strangers. I think it actually startled some of them when I moved.

  And then there was Lindy.

  I’d done some research since discovering my lifelong housekeeper was also a Shadow agent. At first I was merely awed that my mother had been able to live with a woman who could scent out the tiniest aberration in emotion. But then I realized that if Lindy had been here back then, my mother would have found a way to let Warren know, and get him to take care of her long ago. So somehow Lindy had taken over the life and identity of the original Helen, who had been a mortal…and was probably now dead.

  One thing I knew for certain. Lindy McGuire loathed Zoe Archer, and the hate that could fuel two women for decades could only have one thing at its molten core: a man.

  Because in contrast to the apathy the Tulpa showed Lindy, he’d fallen for my mother like a felled oak. Twice. The first time had been twenty-seven years ago, when Zoe got close enough to ferret out the identity of his creator, then killed that man in the hopes that it would kill the Tulpa as well. This “closeness” had also led to my conception, another reason Zoe fled. As I grew in her womb, her body had begun recklessly kicking out the pheromones that would mark her as Light.

  The second time she’d conned him was after giving up her near-immortal state in order to save me. I’d survived the attack on my life…and so had my baby. Premature, the infant clung to life like she knew herself the successor in a long line of stubborn women, but then she’d been abducted from her adoptive parents on the day she was born, almost lost to the Shadows. Zoe Archer—having given all her power to me, and more vulnerable to the Tulpa than she’d ever been before—went after her granddaughter, and reclaimed the child despite her mortal flesh, embarrassing the Tulpa in the process. Again.

  This, I thought, was what burned the Tulpa the most. Not only did Zoe betray and dupe him, she’d done it as one of the mortals he scorned.

  Yet in between those bookend betrayals, when my mother had lived under this roof, she’d been seen as nothing more than the trophy wife of a mortal casino magnate, with two daughters and an unbreakable Wednesday morning tennis mixer at the Las Vegas Country Club. This proved that most people saw only what they expected to see. Even archvillains.

  As for Xavier, after she disappeared he gutted the rooms they’d shared and built a new wing with all new furnishings, one dramatically devoid of any feminine presence. Helen wasn’t even allowed to put fresh flowers in the sitting area, which was why the half-dozen bouquets perfuming the foyer shocked me. I slowed, eyes lingering on the get-well cards sent by employees and acquaintances as we moved into the main bedroom’s sitting area. There, a foursome of club chairs sat unimaginatively before a crackling fire, a peculiar scent rising from the flames, like herbs had been baked in with the kindling.

  “Try not to upset him, Olivia,” Helen said, ever imperious. “He needs his strength. Just nod and agree to everything he says.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  I
let my placating expression fall as she led me into the recessed darkness, and hadn’t taken three steps when the scent of sickness washed over me like a viscous wave. I fought not to gag, which would certainly give me away. Were I mortal, I wouldn’t have smelled a thing beyond the scented fireplace and the battery of flowers fading outside this room. Helen, though, pulled a surgical mask over her mouth, explaining that it was to decrease the risk of additional illness.

  I’d have asked why I didn’t get one too, but it was too sharp a question to come from Olivia. My sister would be more concerned about her father, so I merely popped some chewing gum into my mouth to help manage the scent and quickly crossed the knee-deep carpet to the poster bed, where privacy screens were raised and a lamp was dimmed to low. I steeled myself to the task of having to suck up the hatred I felt for Xavier long enough to kiss him alongside his jutting jaw. It was one of the hardest parts of being Olivia.

  Good thing Helen had allowed me to take the lead, because if she’d seen my face as I rounded that privacy screen, she would have noted not an ounce of love in the horror and shock and revulsion that swept through me. I put one hand to my mouth and another to my heart, consciously trying to still its pounding as Helen slipped up close beside me. Quickly, I bent closer to the rank, and yes, rotting, human being instead.

  “Daddy?” His chest was bird-bone frail, and rattling with the effort of wakefulness. I jerked my hand away, covering the movement by straightening the covers over shoulders gone gaunt.

  “Helen,” he rasped, making even that sole word seem laborious. “The lights, if you please.”

  Helen wordlessly twisted the knob on the table lamp and I steeled myself…but even anticipating it couldn’t prepare me for the carnage that could be wracked upon the flesh of someone still living. He was all bony protrusions and cutting angles, concave where he should have been convex, and vice versa, with a sunken chest, a distended belly, and eyes that bulged within disappearing sockets. He was, I realized with a start, a Shadow clothed in mortality. A human unable to escape his flesh, even while rotting inside.

  I swallowed hard and set my jaw. That’s what happened when you siphoned off your soul to fuel unadulterated evil.

  Unbeknownst to Xavier, I had walked in on him twice when he was performing a ritual that fed the Tulpa parts of his soul, an exchange for the paranormal leader’s patronage—money and power, a network of allies, and a surprisingly diminished pool of rivals—so that they could each continue to rule their respective worlds. At first I’d thought it a willing exchange, and it probably was in the beginning. But the second time, I’d watched the woman beside me force Xavier to his knees, and the scent of his soul mingled with fear—burnt anise and rancid vanilla—so cloying and white-hot it cauterized the lining in my nose.

  I returned my gaze to his, still locked on mine. When he caught sight of me chewing gum, I thought he was going to start in again about pedigree and class and the way even the tiniest public action was a direct reflection upon him. But the zeal that had always fired this particular tirade only sparked for a second before dying off in a sigh. He simply didn’t have the energy.

  “Daddy?” I said again, letting uncertainty coat my throat. It wasn’t hard.

  “Still ringing up T-shirts and polishing mugs?” His voice cracked, caught somewhere between a whisper and a growl.

  I inclined my head. “Unless you’re firing me.”

  “My own daughter? Not likely.” He didn’t like me working, but he had to maintain appearances as well. “Of course, quit now and I’ll buy you a new car. Didn’t you say you had your eye on that Aston Martin?”

  I thought of the Vanquish, and sighed. “Thanks, Daddy, but I’m saving up for it myself.”

  Xavier stared. It would take decades to afford that car on my salary. He finally grunted and half turned on his pillow. Helen moved to help, but a low growl had her jerking back. I knew who was really in control here, but neither of them knew that I knew, so in front of me she had to at least pretend to be servile.

  “Then this should help.” Xavier pulled a giant wad of bills, wrapped in a rubber band, from behind his pillowcase. Laboriously, he reached back and followed it up with another. I clasped the bundles to my chest, barely able to get my hands around each.

  “You sleep with your money?” I was unable to stop myself from asking.

  At the same time, Helen asked, “Is this from the safe?”

  A madman’s fury bloomed behind his eyes, and I stepped back, more surprised than alarmed. “Don’t question me about my own money! I’ve earned every cent!”

  I scented the gaseous odor of her contempt, and knew she’d like to snap his neck like a matchstick. She wanted to do it in front of me. Instead she sucked in a deep breath, then let it out through her nose…a sliver of briny hate leaking like a noxious fume. Olivia would never scent it, so I gave no indication that I could, but Xavier immediately began hacking. It sounded like his heart was trying to climb through his throat. Helen chose that moment to leave.

  “Shh, it’s all right. Just be calm. And of course you’ve earned every cent,” I said when he was comfortable again. My job now was to keep Xavier occupied while Felix took care of Helen…though I could see I needn’t bother. Xavier couldn’t even sit up on his own after that last attack. “And that’s what I want to do too. Earn it myself. Make my own way in this world.”

  I held the bundles out, but he waved them away with an irritable grunt and knuckles too large for the rest of his hands. “Just take it. Use it as toilet paper. I don’t care.”

  I stared at the money for a moment, then tossed it into my handbag. “Daddy, Helen says you’re…” I hesitated, swallowing hard, and tried again. “Well, that you think you’re…that you might be—”

  “Dying. Jesus, Olivia, just say it!” Xavier’s body jerked, the covers slipping down those nonexistent shoulders again. “I am dying. I’m scheduled for open-heart surgery the day after tomorrow. I won’t live through it. I’ve known that for a while now.”

  “Is that why you let the household staff go?”

  “They’re not gone. They’re temporarily released, with pay. I’m sure most will be happy to return to their positions, if you’ll have them. My suggestion is that you allow it. This ship runs smoothly.”

  “Shh.” I smoothed my hand over his brow, my cool flesh against his heated skin, remembering that Helen had said to keep him settled, and Olivia would endeavor to do just that. When he was reclined again, breath as settled as it was going to get, I straightened. “Okay, but Daddy, why did you release them?”

  “Because I don’t want an audience when I die.” This time he merely sounded weary. “A man shouldn’t have to worry about who’s listening while he’s in the throes of his last breath.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, some nonsense about how he wasn’t dying and he couldn’t give up, that the doctors were overreacting and he’d come out of it just fine.

  He cut me off with a hard glance. “It’s fine. The long illness has given me a chance to get my affairs in order. Including this.”

  He jerked his head at a thick black binder resting atop the bedside table. I flipped it open to find graphs and charts and things I really didn’t understand.

  “A log of all my businesses, properties, and acquisitions. There’s another for pending developments. I’ll have one of my lawyers go over those with you, but this is a good start.”

  I paged through the folder, grateful for the dim light that kept the smooth pads of my fingertips from gleaming unnaturally. “A start to what?”

  “To taking over my empire. Someone needs to when I’m gone.”

  I lifted my head and audibly swallowed my gum. “No. You’re going to get better.”

  He saw the lie in my eyes, and responded in kind. “Just in case, then.”

  I looked away, actually panicking, feeling far less at ease with this binder in my hands than my weapon. “Well, why can’t someone else do it? Someone on the board? Maybe we could s
ell it to MGM?” God knew they owned practically everything else.

  “Because you’re my daughter. An Archer. And the only one I can truly trust.” He didn’t seem to notice when I looked away at that. “Besides, now that you’ve sold your illicit underground enterprise to one Maximus X, you won’t have to divide your time.”

  My mouth fell open before I could stop it. “You know about that?”

  His smile was self-satisfied and he looked himself for the first time since I’d entered the room. “I’ve known since you hacked into the Archer Enterprises database.”

  “Oh, that.” I ducked my head, mind spinning. Olivia had done that at sixteen. She might have been built like a brick house, but it was her mind that was really mighty.

  To chide me for it now, both the hacking and the interest in “indelicate activity” must have seemed senseless. He also glossed over the morality of the illegal activity. “So the timing is…convenient.”

  Selling it had been necessary. I didn’t possess the facility with computers my sister had. Although Maximus hadn’t been happy with his gorgeous debutante bailing on their covert plans to take over the world, he’d gotten a smokin’ deal on the business.

  For the first time, I wondered if Helen wasn’t the only one in the household who’d been lulled into complacency. If Xavier had been keeping an eye on Olivia’s secret life and I hadn’t known it, what did that say about my powers of observation?

  “Everything’s in there,” Xavier continued. “Just read it carefully, and call John if you have any questions. His card is up front. I’ve seen to it that you’re the controlling investor. The board members value their positions…and they’ve also signed contracts that allow you to fire them on the spot. Even if they don’t respect you at first, they’ll respect your power.”

  “Power,” I said airily. It always came down to that, didn’t it? All of life’s wars, from the bedroom to the battlefield, seemed to be fervent bids for power.