Lai leaned forward slightly, cane tip lowering.
He’s a Tulpa,” he explained. His tone was shifting, less mocking now, more clinical. “Or close enough to one to be indistinguishable.” He tapped the desk for emphasis. “You know this, Al, you’re the head of an academy for Gods in training, for pity’s sake. Everything has a spark, a baseline. Don’t feed it, and it’ll never be more than just a spark. But you fed it.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” he cut in. “Day after day, you drove past that lot. You noticed him. You chose him. You gave him an identity as you fantasized about him.”
I stared at him, expecting a laugh, but he wasn’t joking.
“Al,” Lai continued, softer now but somehow more serious. “You are a God-maker. You can’t stare into the abyss of creation and then act surprised when something looks back at you. You remember the last time this happened, don’t you?”
My stomach dropped.
“The microwave,” I muttered.
Lai’s expression went flat. “Yes. The microwave.”
“I didn’t make that! It was possessed! It started a rebellion, remember? Klein nearly lost the whole kitchen!”
“Yes,” Lai snapped. “Because you insulted it every day for not heating your lunch evenly.”
I winced.
“And that,” Lai continued sharply, “was something you hated. This?” He gestured in the direction of the garage. “You wanted this. You obsessed over him. Lusted over him! For months! You drove past at the same time every day, ritualistically praying him into existence.”
I covered my face with both hands. Yeah. Yeah, that tracked.
“Oh, this is going to be so much paperwork,” I groaned into my palms.
“That’s your takeaway?” Lai sounded offended.
I dropped my hands, staring at him. “What else am I supposed to do?”
He leaned back, spreading his arms like he was presenting the obvious.
“What are you supposed to do? Congratulations! You manifested an undesirable Mustang model with an extremely unpleasant personality, and just like anything else you sire, you now have to raise it.”
“Don’t tell me I have to raise him, you’ll make it awkward,” I sighed. “And Fox isn’t as bad as the microwave.”
“He tried to kill me,” Lai said flatly.
“You called him ugly, and he’s proud.” I ignored the pain of the cane shoving into my breastbone. “Look, Fox just needs a bit of time to adjust.”
Lai stared at me.
I pressed on anyway. “He needs a run. Something to burn off the energy.”
Lai leaned forward again, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowing. “How,” he asked venomously, “are you planning to burn off two hundred horsepower-worth of energy?”
I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say. I knew I wanted Fox, and he wanted me. I just had to break him in before he broke me first.
“He needs to feel secure,” I offered optimistically. “He wason that lot for a while, and I think he just needs to be loved. Like a rescue dog. He needs time to adjust.”
“Al, look at me.” Lai was serious, worried. “You got one of those rescues that can’t be around other animals, or kids, or, in your case, other cars. Fox is going to chew everything you love into pieces if you leave him alone for even a second. He’s got a temper, he’s dangerous; I hate to say it, but he’s probably better off in a scrap yard.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than I expected.
Lai stilled.
