"Which is when?"
That head shake again. "I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you."
She thought he'd be mad, start railing about lies and secrets, trust and duty. But he simply leaned back against the leather seat and squinted up at her in the sharp morning light. He could see it out here, she thought. The veil between worlds was wide enough on this hopeful, thankful day that her intentions were clear in the light. And clearly Light.
"I didn't say it before," he finally said, admiration and, yes, love sharpening his words. "Happy Birthday, Zoe."
She gave him a wide smile, then turned to face the long walk leading to the stark white house, up the steps that were almost silvery in the brilliant sun, where she casually rang the doorbell. When it opened, she said what she'd been thinking; her wish for Warren, a vow for the day's work, a final goodbye. "Happy Thanksgiving."
The woman who answered the door was named Lindy Maguire. She was frumpy, matronly, favoring lace collars and long skirts, and she was also the Shadow's Leonine sign on the Zodiac. Like all Leos Lindy was ruled by the sun, and like most, also ruled by the heart. She had long ago set aside personal aspirations in order to remain as close as possible to the Tulpa, so it was natural that Lindy was acting as vanguard for his home. Natural, too, that she hated Zoe.
Lindy's delicate nostrils flared as she examined Zoe, scenting out humanity as she ran her eyes skeptically over the cream slacks and overcoat, though she didn't place her until Zoe opened her mouth.
"Damn, Lindy," Zoe said, studying the woman's beehive. "Still stuck in the sixties, I see."
Recognition had barely flashed in Lindy's eyes before Zoe found herself crushed against the wall, blood welling in her mouth as she thought, I used to be that fast… but I hit harder.
"Uh-uh-uh," Zoe said, shaking her head as much as she dared. Lindy's conduit was out—Zoe hadn't seen her draw that, either—and the honed nail file was pressed against Zoe's larynx, so that breathing was no longer the best way to stay alive. Zoe shifted her eyes to the camera trained on them from above. "Don't want to ruin all his fun, do we?"
Lindy cursed under her breath then let up, but not before flicking the file just enough to draw blood. Zoe hissed at the flash of pain—it still surprised her—and Lindy's frown turned upside down.
"I must be dreaming, because every sense I own tells me the mighty Zoe Archer is a mortal." She wrinkled her nose as she said the word, like it befouled the air around her. And while she was gloating, reveling in being the first to know, and at holding her longtime foe at a distinct disadvantage Zoe discreetly shifted her weight… and plowed her fist into Lindy's already flat nose.
She probably felt no more pain than a pinch, and the blood was only a trickle, but Lindy's eyes watered as her nose mended itself, shifting back into place with an audible crack. Zoe smirked and picked up her toppled cornucopia.
"Mortal doesn't mean pushover."
"No. It means walked-over."
"Just tell him I'm here," Zoe said curtly.
The house quaked like the hills of San Francisco.
Lindy grinned as she swayed. "He knows."
As, it seemed, did everyone else. As Zoe was escorted beyond the foyer and into the core of the house, doors began to swing open. She didn't make eye contact as speculative whispers turned to hissing, and curiosity turned hostile. Instead she let her eyes stray over the shoulders of her enemies—Raven was here, she saw, and Polly and Damian; they leered at her as she passed—but she ignored them all and searched out the rooms she remembered and recognized by layout, pretending to look for the Tulpa. There was neither anything resembling a nursery, nor any sign of a child. He'd called these his drawing rooms when she was living here, and she was surprised to find nothing had changed. Not even the furnishings. Even after Zoe's infiltration that first time, even though he knew she'd returned to the Light and reported every secret detail of his lair—and she knew them all—he'd stayed put.
Arrogant bastard, she thought, as Lindy smiled back at her from over one slim shoulder. That arrogance would be his downfall.
She wiped away the thought like cleaning a slate in her mind. Imagination was what was needed to keep her alive through the day. So instead of thinking that the Tulpa was stupid as well as manipulative and cruel, she thought of him as trusting and hopeful, just waiting for the day Zoe would return to him.
"I'll take that." Lindy said, holding out her hands for the cornucopia once they'd reached the end of the hallway. It was an unnecessary precaution. Nothing on the physical plane could injure the Tulpa. But Lindy wasn't about to release Zoe without letting her know she wasn't trusted. Zoe almost thanked her. It was a good reminder after the relative ease of the entry.