Free The Harvest by Vicki Pettersson Page B

why. This was the one room in the house that had undergone a complete renovation, and it was why he hadn’t needed to move. Here—in the place that’d once been the Tulpa’s bedroom, where Zoe had lied time after time, and betrayed him the night she’d gone to kill his creator—he’d built a funhouse, full-sized mirrors to reflect a true picture of the inhabitant’s intent. Reflect it upon, and for, him.
    It explained why no one had accompanied her inside. It was harder for the Tulpa to solidify when multiple people projected their expectations upon him, and it was uncomfortable for him to exist under the weight of too many people’s gazes at once—he’d actually feel himself mutating and changing under their conflicting emotions. So only the person he was most interested in reading could initially face him directly. Now that he had fully solidified the others could come in, pick up on it without risking influencing the image, or causing any embarrassing mutation. But she hoped they wouldn’t. She had a better chance of convincing him to spare her life if they remained alone.
    So they stood as a couple, reflected back on themselves in dozens of shapes, sizes, and angles so that not an inch was omitted or hidden from his sight.
    “You are the most clever man,” she said, letting her realization play out on her face as she caught his eye through one of the mirrors and smiled seductively. “In addition to being the most handsome, of course.” She whirled back toward him, intending to draw him closer again. “God, how I’ve missed you.”
    He caught her arms, stopping her short—again, gently— and held her in place. It was something Zoe had forgotten. He didn’t move from one position to another. He glided. And that wasn’t something she had to imagine. He had the ability all on his own. “Oh, I’ve missed you as well, Zoe,” he said, smiling back.
    She shut her eyes and held her breath as panic threatened to thread through her veins. She let him sense her uncertainty. It was only natural for her to question whether it’d been a good idea to come here, so she let him feel that hesitancy as well. When she opened her eyes again, he was staring over her shoulder at his mirrored self, waiting to see what emerged. But there was only the Tulpa as she’d always seen him, and she suddenly felt like she’d never been gone, or escaped him, at all. “Please, baby. You have to let me explain.”
    “Explain why you betrayed me?” he murmured, only now that she’d spoken of it.
    “Explain how I managed not to,” she replied, and willed him to believe her with eyes, voice. Her mind. He must have felt it because after a moment he appeared to soften.
    “And is this a peace offering?” he asked, eyes flicking down to the cornucopia she still held.
    A small smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Merely a centerpiece for your holiday celebration. I remember how you enjoyed Thanksgiving.”
    He had. It was his favorite holy day.
    “Then you plan on staying for dinner?”
    She lifted her free hand and removed her glasses, raising her head to gaze directly into the cold black depths of eyes she’d never thought to see again. “I was hoping,” she said softly.
    He nodded after a moment. “Good. Then over dinner you can offer your explanation to us all.”
    And he glided to the door to usher in his sycophants, movements impossibly smooth … and entirely too quiet for Zoe’s liking.

Chapter 6
    D inner was held in the same mirrored room, the hollowed out center suddenly taken up with an elongated black marble table, the cornucopia Zoe had made centered like a bull’s-eye. A gleaming table setting of mirrored plates, china, and crystal winked in the studded light of two shining candelabras. The Tulpa could now see himself above, below, and in the mirrored glasses of his half dozen guests. He’d become even more of a control freak since Zoe’s hard betrayal, which she understood. Ignoring the fact that he was