Shadowshaper Legacy

by Daniel José Older

  “Sierra?” Tee said quietly. “What did you say? Why are you whispering?”

  “Why are you whispering?” Sierra hissed. “This is, uh, not a great time to talk. Where are you? Is Izzy okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s with Caleb,” Tee said. “And I’m … No time to explain. I don’t know how long I have. It’s the guy, Mort, you told us about who came at you last month.”

  “What?”

  “I know,” Tee said. “I just —”

  “Tee, get out of there.” Sierra’s voice was a shrill, desperate whisper. “We beat the crap out of him, and he’s extremely powerful and probably wants revenge! Get out now!”

  Tee scowled. “He said he has an offer to make us. I’m going to hear him out. I just wanted to — I wanted to check in, is all.”

  “Tee, go! Get away! Nothing he’ll say is on the level. You’re not safe!”

  Something moved in the shadows a little down the block. Tee lowered herself down in the seat and squinted through the tinted windows. “I think he can help us, Si,” Tee whispered. “I promise I’ll stay safe.”

  “Where are you?” Sierra demanded.

  Tee hung up. Sierra was right to be worried — of course she was! But this made sense in a way Tee couldn’t explain, at least not with Mort about to show up again at any moment and creepy things sliding through the darkness. She put her phone on silent and tried to find whatever had moved, but the night was perfectly still around her.

  There! A figure slid along the sidewalk, almost gliding. It crept between the two buildings nearby and was gone. It looked like a regular person, maybe, but … taller. And ganglier. And maybe just a shadow? Tee shuddered. This day had already been extremely long and terrifying — she’d seen a man crushed to death, for crying out loud, and even if he had been someone who would’ve probably killed her without hesitation … it was the first time she’d seen someone die. And Izzy was out and already mad at her and …

  Someone walked down the street toward her, but she couldn’t make them out. Another figure, this one short, hunched over. Swathed in black cloth, it looked like. What was happening? A chill came over Tee and she had to fight the urge to just get out of the car and make a dash for it.

  But then it would’ve all been for nothing. She’d lose track of Mort, and this whole situation would spin even further out of control. If only she could track him somehow even after she left, if she ever did leave.

  If only …

  The idea wasn’t even fully formed when she’d finished pushing the CALL button beneath Izzy’s name. It rang once and then went to voice mail. There were three missed calls from Sierra. Everything was shit. Tee called again.

  “I want you to know,” Izzy said, “that we’re fighting right now, and I’m only picking up because you might be in mortal danger and I don’t want to live the rest of my life with the burden of having missed your final call as a living pers —”

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Tee snapped. “I get it — we’re fighting. Shut up a sec and listen to me.”

  Izzy growled but shut up.

  “Remember when we went through that really obnoxious codependent period and we got that app that allows you to know where the other person is at all times?”

  “I — Stalkr?”

  “Yeah, that one. Do you still have it on your phone?”

  “I mean … I feel kind of attacked right now.”

  “Izzy!”

  “Yeah, but only because I never delete anything. And it can’t track you unless I turn it on and you turn yours on and —”

  Now someone was running, yes, definitely running, toward her from the rocky embankment. It was definitely Mort.

  “Turn it on,” Tee said, and hung up. She found the app and clicked it open. Cheerful blue letters splayed out across a white background with a little twinkle of sunlight around them: STALKR! followed by the emoji of two curious-looking eyes. Mort was a few feet away, glancing behind him.

  “Come on,” Tee whispered. “Come on.”

  He’d stopped running and was fishing for something in his pockets, still looking back toward the river.

  The home screen appeared and a message box popped up asking Tee if she wanted to activate the app. “Yes, goddammit,” she snarled, clicking the button. An excited star popped into a confetti drop, and then the little icon signifying Izzy’s account materialized on her screen. “Thank God.”

  Mort had turned back toward her and was sprinting to the SUV, face stricken.

  She let her phone slide to the floor and then kicked it under the seat just as Mort pulled the door open and threw himself in.

  Had she silenced it? Tee felt her heart rate surge. Mort, panting, threw the car into gear and screeched off.

  She had. She definitely had. Right? Yes.

  She glanced out the window at the dark street and the even darker river as they peeled away. Nothing was coming. Nothing that she could see anyway.

  “Are you scared?” she asked.

  “Ha,” Mort said dryly. “Terrified.”

  Sierra pocketed her phone and growled inwardly.

  Tee wouldn’t pick up. Sierra had no way of finding the girl, and she sounded alright somehow — excited even. Which didn’t mean she was, not by a long shot, but there was nothing Sierra could do about it. And Tolula was probably with her, and … anyway, the night was crisp, and the spirits deployed, and the whole world, each molecule and passing breeze, seemed ready for Sierra to make her move. Finally.

  So she would.

  Anthony’s house seemed gigantic in front of her, his room a million miles up. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t. She closed her eyes. Nodded. Felt the spirits slide into place around her, felt the night hold its breath (or was that her holding her breath?), and then felt the ground fall away from her feet as her tummy turned one somersault. She would have her answer, she thought, as she rose into the sky and the markings on her arms tingled and prepared to strike.

  Anthony’s room was on the fourth floor, her reconnaissance spirits informed her, and there was a window, sure, but she wasn’t about to bust in that way or even just show up knocking like some freaky vampire. That was too dramatic, honestly, and he would probably scream, and the whole thing would go to hell.

  No, Sierra would act like a slightly more normal person and come in through the hallway window. That made sense. More sense anyway.

  The spirits brought her there and she paused, peering into the darkness within. Breathed in and out, and then placed a hand against the cool, rain-speckled glass and sent a spirit-guided shard of ink down along her arm and directly into the lock. Why was her hand trembling, though? She’d faced down horrific foes in combat. She’d destroyed the House of Light and Bloodhaüs. She was unstoppable and she damn well knew it, so what was this shiver and why wouldn’t it go away?

  The lock gave with a tiny click, and ever so slowly, Sierra opened the window. It made more noise than she would’ve liked, but the house remained silent as she slid inside and stood panting in the third-floor hallway.

  “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay. I got this.”

  Sierra! Alice’s voice cried over the soft sound of feet rushing up stairs.

  “Got what, bitch?” a voice said behind her. Sierra spun around just in time to see a figure swinging through the dark hallway toward her.

  “You gonna tell me what that was all about, now that you’ve gotten some heart-attack comfort food in you?” Tee said. “Or nah?”

  Mort shoved some more fries in his mouth and managed to look somewhat remorseful. He was unpredictable, she had to give him that.

  They’d driven in silence all the way through Williamsburg and Bed-Stuy, and then Mort had parked on a dark street in Prospect Heights and led her to a brightly lit late-night diner where everyone seemed to know him. He seemed to be legitimately shook, Tee realized, so she’d decided to give him the grace period and let him eat in peace, but now he’d decimated that “California Burger” disaster and she was fed up not having an
swers.

  When he didn’t offer any up, she took a pointedly loud slurp of coffee and continued staring at him.

  “Agh, teenagers,” Mort finally said with a roll of his eyes. He looked tired: face sallow, that half-moon of stubble reaching down his neck. Was he aging right before her eyes? “And people think Hierophants are a pain in the ass.”

  “You are a Hierophant!” Tee whisper-shouted. “I knew it!”

  “Keep it down, kid,” Mort said, furrowing his brow.

  “It’s not like anyone really knows what that is,” Tee pointed out. “Or cares.”

  “Yeah, well, you never know, ya know?”

  “Not really.”

  “Point is, yeah, I am, and I was trying to make you guys an offer tonight that would’ve really helped turn the tide, if you can believe that.”

  Tee squinted at him. “Huh?”

  “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t seem likely. I accept that. Your buddies did beat me unconscious a few months ago, true, and by all rights and means I should probably want to kill you.”

  Tee just stared.

  “And I could kill you, just FYI.”

  She knew it was true, but it didn’t sound very convincing when he said it out loud. “Okay.”

  “Point is, ah …” He shook his head and sportled up the last dredges of his chocolate milkshake. “Point is, I’m sick of this shit. And I don’t care much for you guys, but I care even less for the other guys, if we’re being honest, and anyway, you destroyed the one house that used to give me any play, really, so now I’m just … I’m just out here, and I just want this all to be over. Problem is, I tried to do it the right way, talking to the others about it — well, two of the others. No one knows where the Reaper is, ever. Or what even. And La Contessa’s always holed up in her palace, so … it was just me and the River and Fortress, as always.”

  “Didn’t seem like it went very well.”

  Mort made a tragic kind of smile. “Ah, no. But look — this little war you guys are fighting? I’m gonna let you in on a secret, Trejean. It’s about to not be going well for you, okay? The Hierophants are pissed. The other ones, I mean. Well, some of them. And when the Hierophants are pissed, well, there’s not much that can stop them, you know? And yes, your boss lady might’ve laid some mean hands on me and toppled my whole shit, I’ll give you that, but when I say she’s no match for what’s coming? I’m not just making shit up, okay? I know these guys. Hell, I am these guys. And it’s not gonna be pretty. She shirked the rules, and that means all bets are off. No hostages, no prisoners, no mercy. Understand?”

  He never raised his voice, but people were starting to stare anyway. That low rattle of danger swirled through the diner, raised the hackles of a table full of EMTs nearby.

  “I …” Tee said, shaking her head. “I guess?”

  “What I’m saying is, you need an ace. And I’m offering you one. There’s only so much I can do, and … and I’m really done, quite frankly. Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you back to the lot. You have twenty-four hours to decide, and then I take my business elsewhere.”

  “How are we supposed to decide when you haven’t even said what you’re offering?” Tee growled.

  Mort stood up, dropped a fifty on the table, and walked out.

  “Wait!” Sierra hissed, blocking the first kick and dodging the second. “Hold up!”

  It was a girl, Sierra realized, raising her arm to ward off another blow as she backed down the hall. Her age, maybe a little younger. She wore Batman pajamas and had her hair tucked into a bright green headwrap.

  “Get the hell out my house!” the girl yelled.

  Anthony’s little sister. Of course! A half second after the pieces came together, Sierra caught a socked foot directly in the face that sent her hurling backward into a wall.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” a voice boomed from down the hallway. Anthony, Sierra thought, trying to steady herself for the next onslaught. “Carmela, chill!”

  He came running past Sierra, blocking his sister’s next attack and holding her off.

  “Who this trick, Anthony?”

  “That’s Sierra, Carms! Juan’s little sister! Chill!”

  “Why she in our house, man?”

  Sierra’s face throbbed — that kick had not been the work of an amateur. She rose, steadying herself against the wall. “Where’d you learn how to do all that?”

  Carmela blinked at her, caught off guard, but her eyes stayed narrowed, fists clenched. “Why do you care?”

  “She does capoeira at the rec center,” Anthony said, glaring at his sister. “And obviously she takes it a little too seriously. Carms, go get an ice pack from the freezer and bring it back up here for my —”

  “For your stalker?” Carmela damn near spat. “No problem.” She whirled around and stormed off in a huff.

  “Wow,” Sierra said. “I’ve never seen someone look so vindicated while wearing Batman pj’s.”

  “I heard that,” Carmela yelled from the next floor down.

  Anthony just blinked down at her. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how all his clothes seemed to fit just right and accentuate all the right parts, how it felt to be standing this close to him, even if he was … whatever he was.

  “Sierra, what are you doing here?” Anthony hissed.

  “I could ask you the same question.” It halfway occurred to her that that probably wasn’t the best comeback as she was saying it, but the words came out anyway, and she tightened her face and just went with it.

  Anthony let his stern face do the talking, and they ended up just staring at each other for a good couple seconds, which left Sierra feeling queasy in her stomach. All she would have to do was get on tiptoes and she could reach his lips with hers and they could just clear this whole thing up the right way. But no. Anthony was the enemy now, and that was that.

  “I live here,” he finally said, but it was almost a whisper, defeated, instead of the triumphant shattering clapback it could’ve been.

  “I know,” Sierra said.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was still low; it sounded more like a warning than a threat.

  “I decide where I should and shouldn’t be, thank you very much.”

  They were still staring. Sierra had no idea what to do with her body, because any move she tried to make might turn into hugging him, and that was definitely not the right thing to do.

  Carmela’s soft footsteps could be heard making their way up the stairs toward them. Sierra hated this moment, but she didn’t want it to end, because at some point she’d have to get to the bottom of why Anthony was with the House of Iron, and bad as this uncertainty was, whatever came next was surely worse.

  “I miss you,” she whispered, and Anthony closed his eyes.

  “Ice pack,” Carmela said from the top of the stairs. “But I can’t believe you made me go get this after I successfully defended the house from an attacker.” She was smiling, Sierra noticed, and she’d wrapped the ice pack in paper towels, which was thoughtful. “How’d you get this high anyway?” Carmela asked, walking over to them.

  “You’re not the only one with secret ninja skills,” Sierra said.

  Carmela tried to scoff, but it was really more of a laugh. “No, c’mon, for real. That’s like forty feet, girl. You got a grappling hook?”

  “I told you she was magic,” Anthony said quietly, and at first Sierra thought it was a joke.

  Carmela didn’t laugh or roll her eyes, though. Instead, she quipped back, “Yeah, but I just thought you meant it like in a gross lovey-dovey-type way, not in a shows-up-at-the-fourth-floor-window-like-some-Dracula-stalker-freak-type way.”

  “I meant it both ways,” Anthony said, still looking at Sierra. Sierra’s heart gave a frustrated lurch, but somehow it felt like it did in her stomach instead of her chest.

  “Okayyyyy, then!” Carmela said, handing the ice pack to Sierra with wide eyes. “I’ll just be going now! Bro: I’m glad you’re back and mostly okay, but, um, for re
al, yell if you need anything. And you.” She shot a smirking glance at Sierra and raised one eyebrow. “I got my eye on you. I kinda like you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass from here to Riverdale if you hurt my brother, feel me? Especially after all he’s been through.”

  Sierra liked her too, in spite of being on the receiving end of her capoeira skills. “I feel you,” she said. “And, uh” — she rubbed her face, where there was probably a nice black-and-blue making its way to the surface — “nice moves, for real.”

  “Yeahhh,” Carmela said, backing away. “Sorry ’bout that.”

  She disappeared down the stairs. Sierra went to speak, but Anthony held up a hand and rolled his eyes. “I can hear you listening, Carms!” he called.

  “Fine, fine, fine,” Carmela grumbled from the third floor. “Going to bed for real now.”

  Anthony tilted his head, closed his eyes. “Carms!”

  Sierra lingered somewhere between cracking up and bursting into tears.

  “Okay! Sheesh! I’m out! Ain’t nobody interested in your weirdo love life anyway! Damn!” Finally, they heard her footsteps retreat and a door slam shut.

  “Why don’t we go in my room and talk,” Anthony said.

  Sierra clenched her jaw. “I don’t know, man.”

  “You came all the way here.” He waved a hand at the stairs. “You got past my crack security team. I assume you have some questions.”

  “You’re damn right I do,” she said, the anger flushing back through her. How dare anyone even consider betraying her? She was Sierra María Santiago, and she was Lucera, dammit. The spinning center of the shadowshaper universe, the Lady of Shadow and Light, conqueror of the Sorrows, the mysterious Dr. Wick, and the Bloodhaüs. First of her goddamn name.

  So why was she shivering inside?

  “Fine,” she managed curtly. “Lead the way.”

  “Don’t forget,” Mort said as the tinted window whirred closed over his weird grin. “Twenty-four hours.”

  Tee stood in the rain for a moment, watching him drive off through the night. Then she turned around and ran to the doorway. None of this is going to go well, she thought, ringing the buzzer over and over. None of it. But the worst of it all would be Izzy. She would probably never forgive Tee for running off on the same night of her release, and she’d be right. Tee was an asshole for running off into certain danger — and that much maybe was okay, or at least the right thing to do in some weird reckless version of the world — but she’d tried to do it on the sly, which would’ve left Izzy waking up alone and confused — and that was the real asshole move.