“Escort me away for a private talk,” he whispered. “I’m going to resist, at least a little.”
Kira, recognizing a face-saving move when she saw one, tightened her grip on the young man’s jacket, then spun on her heel, dragging him along behind her.
“Hey, I didn’t do nothin’!” D’Aurius exclaimed, sounding every bit the harassed put-upon victim and not the perpetrator.
“That’s for me to decide,” Kira retorted, conscious of the gaggle of hybrids watching their every move. She led the young hybrid a distance away so that neither the other hybrids nor the humans could hear them over the bikers running stunts.
She let him go as Khefar joined them. “All right, we’ve got as much privacy as we’re bound to get out here. What’s with the show?”
D’Aurius straightened his jacket, glancing sidelong at Khefar. “Do you trust him?”
“More than most,” Kira said, which was true. After that dominance display with Bale earlier in the evening and now the were-hyena, however, Khefar was almost like a stranger.
They watched a rider blow by them doing a no-handed wheelie. “Does this have something to do with your clan?” she asked when the noise had died down. Clan business was the only reason D’Aurius would want to talk to her privately. Pack issues weren’t shared with anyone and everyone.
“I heard that there’s a challenge,” D’Aurius said, his features pinched.
“Are you sure? You haven’t been mixed up in the pack since you were what? Sixteen?”
“I’m sure.”
“Is your mother not healthy? And what about your sisters?”
“Kandake Amoye is healthy—or at least she was the last time I saw her. DeVonne isn’t the one making the challenge, and neither is DeRhonda.”
That made sense. Dolores Amoye had led her clan for more than thirty years, Kira knew. The matriarch’s daughters were both strong and smart, and more than capable of fulfilling their hereditary duty of leading the were-hyenas. They were also completely devoted to their mother. Neither would seek to take Kandake Amoye’s place until the kandake was ready to hand over power and move to Great Mother status. “Who’s the challenge from, then?”
“Roshonda Biers.”
Kira had heard the name before, and searched her memory to put details to name. Roshonda couldn’t be much older than D’Aurius. What the young woman lacked in years she made up for in deviousness, though. Still, she was nowhere near experienced enough to head up the Westside were-hyena clan.
“Why are you telling me this, D’Aurius?” she asked. “You know I don’t get involved in internal power struggles.”
“I know you don’t, but this don’t feel right.”
“How would you know?” Khefar interjected. “You haven’t been part of the day-to-day pack activities for a while.”
D’Aurius rolled his eyes. “I might not live with the clan anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on with my own family.”
“Khefar.” She held up a hand. With his type of help, she wouldn’t be able to get any information out of the young hybrid. She turned back to D’Aurius. “Is your mother seriously entertaining this challenge?”
“She has no choice.”
He fell silent as another bike blasted by. “Roshonda’s been on the fringe of the clan since her mother died, almost as long as I have. She likes the protection of being associated with the clan without having to do any of the heavy lifting of actually making a meaningful contribution, you know what I’m saying?”
“So why is she suddenly making a power play?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s out of the blue. She suddenly started making noise about how there needs to be a change, that the clan is limiting itself because Kandake Amoye has grown complacent.”
“Complacent? Hardly.” Antagonizing a were-hyena matriarch in her prime was a suicidal move. “From what I know of Roshonda, she has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Criticizing the current clan matriarch isn’t like her.”
“I know. That’s why I think she’s got some outside help.”
That would be trouble. “Who?”
“I don’t know, and neither do my sisters. I got a feeling that Roshonda’s going to try to pull something. She’s never done anything the right way if the wrong way is easier.”
“She’s still got to work within the traditions,” Kira pointed out. “There are enough old-school members of the pack who won’t take kindly to Roshonda pulling anything. They should be able to keep her in line.”
“Why don’t you go?” D’Aurius suggested. “If you go oversee the challenge, that may keep Roshonda from trying anything against my mother.”
Kira considered it. She didn’t get involved in the day-to-day activities of the hybrids who called Atlanta home. That was good business. Then again, she needed to make sure none of the hybrid communities imploded or caught the attention of mundane law enforcement. That was also good business.
“When is the challenge?”
“Two days from now, in the center courtyard at sunset,” D’Aurius said, relief smoothing his features. “So you’ll go?”
“It won’t hurt to patrol over near that area around sunset,” Kira said. “I can stop in and pay a visit to your mother while I’m at it.”
“Thank you, Chaser, I appreciate it.” He turned to head back to his friends, taking a few steps before pausing. “There’s one more thing.”
“What?” Kira asked, painfully aware of Khefar’s disapproval.
“Have you recommended me yet?”
Damn. She was hoping the hybrid had forgotten. “I thought you’d change your mind.”
“Yeah, right. And do what? Boost cars or sell drugs?”
“You could join the human military,” she pointed out. “Your kind can pass the human physical. You’re not tied to lunar or solar phases for your shape-shifting, so you could fit in anywhere. Take some time to explore the world, experience everything—anything.”
“The military is full of changelings in the closet,” D’Aurius retorted, waving his hand in dismissal. “And if I could fit in anywhere, why can’t I fit in with Gilead?”
He had her there. She could feel Khefar’s eyes on her as she tried to come up with a suitable answer.
“You don’t think I can handle it, do you?” D’Aurius guessed, his shoulders slumping. “That’s why you don’t want to recommend me.”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Kira said hastily. “Chaser training is nothing like growing up in a were-hyena clan. It’s four years of willingly and unwillingly putting your mind, body, and spirit on the line between Light and Shadow. It makes human boot camp look like preschool. The final exam is called the Crucible for a reason, and claiming your dagger if you make it through training can be even more dangerous. There are easier paths to walk in life, D’Aurius. I really want you to be sure before you step onto this one.”
The young were-hyena squared his shoulders, his gaze unwavering on hers. He nodded. “I am sure.”
She studied him for a long moment. In all her years on Santa Costa, she had seen plenty of novices who’d looked like him, eager, burning with the conviction of being called to serve the Light. Then there had been those for whom Shadowchasing was the only way to survive, those who danced a fine edge between madness and sanity, like she had.
Most Shadowchasers began their training between sixteen and seventeen years of age. She’d been an anomaly, entering training at twelve. She was still an anomaly, but that didn’t mean she’d been the only one.
“All right, D’Aurius.”
A grin split the were-hyena’s face, giving Kira a good indication of what he’d look like in his alternate form. “Thank you, Chaser Solomon,” he said. “You won’t regret the faith you placed in me.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she cautioned. “I’m going to discuss this with the section chief. The final decision is hers.”
“If you get me an interview with her, I can prove
to her that I’m Shadowchaser material.”
Kira suppressed a snort. She’d like to be a fly on the wall, if only to see Sanchez’s expression as she dealt with the young changeling. Telling the very human section chief a male were-hyena wanted to become a Shadowchaser would be entertaining enough.
“Like I said, I’ll put in a word with the section chief. After that, we’ll see what we see.”
“Cool. I owe you one!”
D’Aurius ran back to join his friends as the crowds began to disperse. Kira turned to Khefar, her hands raised. “Dude, what the hell?”
“What do you mean?”
“You stepped on my toes. I have to maintain order in the hybrid community here, which means I need to be able to talk to people. I don’t know what that attitude of yours was, but you and it can both stay home next time.”
“You need someone to watch your back.”
“I need someone who’s not going to get in my way while watching my back,” she retorted. “I’d rather come out alone than have you antagonizing hybrids for no reason. This city is my responsibility. I have to live with these people. You don’t.”
There was enough ambient light in the parking lot for her to see his jaw clench. “Sorry I stepped on your toes.”
Not even the thinnest thread of remorse lined his voice. Okay, so the encounter with the were-hyena was a big deal for some reason. “Mind telling me what the hell that was about?”
“What?”
“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Khefar.” She crowded him, their noses almost touching. “D’Aurius is still young by bultungin and human standards. You, however, are old enough and experienced enough to know better. What’s your deal?”
He glanced at the thinning crowd. “Not here. I’ll tell you when we get home.”
“Fine.” She turned and stalked toward the bike. “But if you think I’m going to let it go, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Every mile closer to home ratcheted up the tension in Khefar’s gut. The longer he was around Kira, the more opportunities there would be to expose his past. Thousands of years of action and reaction had happened since he’d ended his mourning and decided to follow through on the charge he’d accepted from Isis. A lot of it had been good, a lot of it had been bad. Some of it had even been tragic. Many things he had forgotten, and still more he wished to hell he could forget.
He didn’t blame Kira for getting pissed at him over his standoff with the young were-hyena. He was surprised by his own reaction too. He’d schooled himself to get his job done without the complication of emotions. It was easier that way. But the bultungin had gotten to him in ways he could neither ignore nor forgive. And now he had to tell Kira why.
It was still a few hours till daylight by the time they returned home. Khefar knew Kira should get more rest before heading back to the exhibit at the Congress Center. She had to run by the Carlos Museum as well. He also knew that she wouldn’t put off getting answers from him, no matter how tired she was.
She gave him time to take his jacket off before she pounced. “All right, we’re here. Talk.”
He hesitated. Words weren’t easy on the best of days. Dancing across hot coals would be easier than this conversation.
Kira settled one hand on her hip. “Khefar, if you weasel out of telling me this story, so help me, I will kill you and store your body in a deep freezer until I’m good and ready to resurrect you.”
“Would you really do that?”
“Would you really want to find out?”
He almost reached for his dagger, which would have been a stupid move. Kira was on edge, and it wouldn’t take much to push her over and have her draw her Lightblade against him. As interesting as it would be to see which one of them would win with their lives on the line, Khefar didn’t want to do anything to propel Kira further into Shadow, not when she had enough of it surging through her as it was. The only reason he was in her house—and her bed—was because she trusted him. He didn’t want to ruin that.
She folded her arms across her chest, her defenses at maximum. “Let me break this down for you. In two days I have to go into the den of the Westside were-hyena clan. It’s not the best of neighborhoods on a good day. If there’s an outside force stirring things up, it’s going to get a helluva lot worse when a Shadowchaser shows up. If you’re going to back me up, I need to know that you’re not going to screw things up six ways to Sunday and leave me in a shitstorm because you have a bug up your butt about the bultungin.”
“Holy hyperbole,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides.
“I’m an archaeologist, not an English major.” She made a show of unbuckling her Lightblade, placing it carefully on the kitchen counter. “I think it’s pretty obvious that you’ve encountered the bultungin before.”
His sudden humor fled. “I have.”
She cut her eyes at him. “And it wasn’t all hearts and flowers, I’m assuming?”
“Not a bit.” Khefar answered. Ghost images danced behind his eyes, half-formed specters of a time he’d rather forget. “I spent some time in Nigeria, in the northern part of the country. There were a couple of villages there that were completely populated by were-hyenas. May still be, for all that I know. Some say they were hyenas who learned to become human, rather than humans who learned to become hyenas. Regardless, they acted like their natural cousins. I learned the hard way that they’re best to be avoided, especially when you are a lone male.”
“Did someone try to turn you into a were-hyena?” she asked carefully, as if feeling her way across a minefield. Except that he was the one in danger of being hit by shrapnel, not her.
“A man doesn’t have to be turned to give to the gene pool,” he said, his voice tight. “Though I’m not sure give is the right word to use. If the matriarch considered a male a viable stud, he was captured, kept, and encouraged to … perform.”
Kira stared at him. “‘Encouraged’? You mean against your will?”
He nodded curtly. Funny how he couldn’t remember images, but he could remember sounds: the eerie crying laughter-howl of the full pack, the panting breath of the dominant female, men making light of their “sentence” until they realized they had to mate both were-hyena forms, the pleas and cries of captive men pushed beyond their mental and physical limits. “Raped, tortured, they didn’t care what it took as long as they got what they wanted. The matriarchs aren’t called lipwereri for nothing.”
“Lipwereri?”
“Man-eater.”
“Oh.” Horror flowed across her face, then was quickly suppressed. “How did you end up there?”
A safer question. “Isis sent me to retrieve a young woman. I managed to spirit her away, but I was caught during our escape.”
“You mean you sacrificed yourself so she could get out.”
He grunted. “You know me that well, huh?”
“You did it for me,” she reminded him, her voice soft. “I find it hard to believe that in four thousand years I’m the only one you’ve truly risked your life for.”
No, she wasn’t the first, but if he managed to protect Kira and see her through whatever plan Ma’at and Isis had for them, she would be the last.
Kira felt her way toward another question. “So the bultungin captured you, and I can guess that they weren’t too happy that you helped the female. How long were you with them?”
His jaw worked. “Three seasons.”
“Three quarters of a year?”
“No.” He stomped down every bit of emotion. Tell it and get it done. Satisfy her curiosity and she’ll never ask you any of this personal crap again. “Three years. Once they found out I was a quick healer, I was also used to teach the young ones how to hunt.”
She made a sound, something between a curse and a half-caught cry. The Dagger of Kheferatum throbbed in its holster beneath his arm, reacting to Kira’s unseen flare of power.
He spread his hands, hoping to end the conversation. “As you can see, I escaped. That’s my history w
ith the were-hyenas.”
“Dammit, Khefar.” Anger and power flared in her eyes. “Three friggin’ years? Where the hell was Anansi, and why didn’t he help you?”
“Politics from on high. The local god had more power and more clout with the were-hyena than a West African trickster, so Anansi couldn’t directly interfere.”
“So he helped indirectly?” Anger still thrummed through her voice. “Tell me he did something.”
“He is a spider, remember? Escaping took three years. Anansi sent a venomous spider, one that had never been seen in Nigeria before or since. Four young bultungin died and several more fell violently ill. In the panic I made a break for it, got chased, and ended up falling off a cliff and drowning in a river with a spear in my gut.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a long moment after that, her hands fisted at her sides. Finally, she looked up at him. Neither Light nor Shadow filled her eyes but something human, something just as powerful. “I want to hug you,” she said, her voice crumbling. “Is that stupid?”
The tension inside him eased. He held out his arms. “No, it’s not stupid.”
She pressed against him, throwing her arms around his neck and hanging on as if her life depended on it. He ran his hands up and down her spine. The sound of rustling cloth, the sound of her, pushed back those remembered noises, drove them back into the dark and distant past where they belonged.
After a long moment she spoke, her voice warm against his neck. “The Westside were-hyenas haven’t had a challenge for leadership in more than twenty years, and this one is from an unexpected and questionable source. Someone has to oversee it.”
His hands stilled. “And that someone is you.”
“Yes. They don’t like Gilead field agents all that much—they think their need to follow regulations makes them weak. A Shadowchaser, especially a female one, should be seen as strong. There isn’t anyone else.”
“Hey.” He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “Don’t apologize for doing your job. Especially not to me. Of course you have to go. And I’m going with you.”
Shadow Fall Page 9