Shadow Fall

by Glass, Seressia

  Power rolled off the matriarch as she quickly shifted back to her human form, the necklace around her neck. Every female in the clan wore one, Kira now noticed, causing her to wonder if the bultungin’s power lay in the shell and wood, or if the necklaces simply were an outward statement of wealth and power. It was information she’d have to pass on to Gilead for the Commission database.

  With every bultungin in the courtyard paying obeisance, the eldest daughter immediately stepped forward with the matriarch’s clothing. The kandake waved her off. Clothed in nothing but power, the alpha female was an awe-inspiring sight. “Roshonda Biers. You are evicted from this bultungin family. No one will come to your aid. No one will share their den or their kill with you. The clan no longer knows you.”

  The kandake turned her back on Roshonda, a final insult, and then took the robe from her eldest daughter. Kira stepped forward, one eye on the supine changeling. “Kandake Amoye, the Gilead Commission would be interested in knowing who gave Roshonda that boost of Shadow magic. I would like to take her in for questioning.”

  “Do what you will, Shadowchaser,” the kandake said as she took her seat. “I know nothing of her movements before she challenged me. I’m done with her.”

  Kira made a mental note to never cross the were-hyena matriarch. “C’mon, Roshonda. We’re going to take a trip downtown.”

  The young bultungin whimpered, scrabbling in the red dirt where the matriarch had left her. The air around her vibrated as she tried to shift forms but failed.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” Kira said irritably. “But I am going to make sure you don’t cause me any trouble.”

  Khefar strode over to the bultungin and dropped the hilt of his khopesh against the base of Roshonda’s skull with more enthusiasm than needed. Several of the were-hyenas darted closer, their eyes glowing as they looked at their defeated former kin.

  “We need to get out of here,” Khefar urged. “I gotta figure this girl has some accomplices here, and one fight always begets another.”

  “True, that. Grab her, and I’ll cover our backs.”

  They quickly made their way out of the courtyard, back through the apartment, and to the street, several of the were-hyenas following. Khefar dropped the unconscious changeling to the ground, and then pulled out his keys to disarm the car alarm and open the trunk.

  Kira pulled off her glove. “I don’t want to do this, but I can’t have you waking up and throwing a tantrum.”

  She dug her fingers into the were-hyena’s fur, gripping her skull. Green energy flowed from her hand and over the unconscious changeling. Images flowed back, controlled instead of chaotic. A hooded figure extended something to the young bultungin, something that glowed with the fluorescent yellow of Shadow magic. If she could go back a little further, back to figure out how Roshonda had been exposed to the Shadowling …

  Khefar touched her shoulder. “That’s enough, don’t you think?”

  “What? Oh.” She blinked, and then released the shifter. “I wanted to make sure she’d stay out for a while.”

  “She’s drooling,” Khefar said. “I think that’s sure.”

  Kira dragged the unconscious shifter to Khefar’s car. “Tell me your trunk’s reinforced.”

  “Probably not enough to contain a pissed off were-hyena regaining consciousness,” he said.

  “Dammit. I was afraid you’d say that.” She dug into her jacket pocket for her phone and touched a speed dial number.

  “Travel Department.”

  “I need a pickup.”

  “First-class, business, or coach?”

  Kira looked down at the hyena. “Business, when she wakes up.”

  “Triangulating position,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “We have you. Looks like there’s a transport five minutes from your location.”

  “Make it three, and leave the engine running.”

  “Understood.”

  Kira disconnected, then pocketed her phone. “Retrieval team’s on the way.”

  “Are they going to be able to handle her?” Khefar asked.

  “Retrievers are a special brew of brave and crazy,” Kira explained. “There’s usually at least one combat-trained Light Adept on the team, and they handle transport not only for Shadowchasers, but field agents that have the authority to pull in a Shadowling that’s a threat to the general population. A were-hyena won’t be a problem for them.”

  A white van with a pizza delivery sign atop it sped into the complex. The back doors swung open and several heavily armed agents swarmed out before the vehicle could roll to a stop. The team leader, a Slavic male in his late twenties, gave her a salute. “Ma’am. What do we have?”

  “Female were-hyena, twenty-one human years,” Kira said, pulling her glove back on. “Tried to incite the clan against the matriarch and failed. Then she tried to attack me, and also failed.”

  “Not a good night to be a were-hyena,” one of the guards deadpanned.

  “Someone boosted her power,” Kira said flatly. “I didn’t get a good sense of who or how. We gave her an extra tap to make sure she’d stay out, but I can’t say for sure how long that will be. Process her and get her into holding as fast as you can.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Tell the section chief I’ll be in at oh eight hundred to submit my report,” Kira said as the team loaded the unconscious were-hyena into the back of the van. “Hopefully by then our troublemaker will be willing to tell us who boosted her power.”

  Chap†er 14

  Thank you, by the way.”

  Khefar watched as Kira pulled the damp towel across her braids, refreshing them. They’d spent the past weekend rebraiding each other’s hair—the parts of his that still could be braided anyway. Sure, he could have found a local place to take care of his hair but Kira couldn’t. It had been one of those simple yet profound moments that he liked giving her. Besides, he enjoyed the noises she made when he ran his fingers through her hair, down her back. Hell, he enjoyed the noises she made when he touched her, period.

  “Thank me for what?” she asked, her brows scrunching.

  Instead of answering, he padded over to his side of the dresser. Turning his back to her, he took his time pulling open a drawer, removing a pair of dark red pajama pants. He made a show of pulling the loose-fitting pants on, conscious of her eyes on him. Kira still had skin hunger, but Atlanta had decided to acknowledge the arrival of winter with bone-chilling temperatures that the modifications in the converted warehouse couldn’t quite stave off. As much as he liked sleeping naked with Kira, he also liked not freezing his balls off when answering nature’s call in the middle of the night.

  “For protecting me from the bultungin,” he finally said. “I appreciate what you did.”

  She dipped her head, but not before he caught the discomfort arcing across her face. “That was nothing.”

  “It was something to me,” he said, stepping closer to her. “It’s not often that I am defended, or need to be defended. For you to stand between me and the entire pack, risking your life for mine, was awesome in every sense of the word.”

  She looked up at him, the weird golden light in her eyes darkening with solemnity. “After what you told me about your last time with bultungin, there was no way in heaven or hell that I was going to let them take you. I don’t care if it would have caused a diplomatic incident. You have my back all the time. Why shouldn’t I return the favor?” She dipped her head again and mumbled, “Besides, I need you too much.”

  Well, well. He tilted her chin up. “What was that?”

  Her eyes glinted. “You heard me.”

  “Maybe I want you looking at me when you make a special declaration like that.”

  She shoved him away. “I don’t know what’s so special about it,” she grumbled. “You already know I need you. My life’s been turned upside down, and right now you’re the only sane part of it.”

  She tossed the towel into a hamper and raked her fingers throug
h her braids. The action tightened her tank top in interesting ways. “Who would have thought that I’d be calling a four-thousand-year-old guy who can get killed but resurrects with the morning sun the sanest part of my life?”

  “I’m glad I could provide a little sanity for you.” He hid a grin. She sounded aggravated, but he knew she wasn’t angry. They were still adjusting to each other’s company but so far, the transition had been smooth. As long as neither one mentioned his vow to her, they could pretend to be normal lovers cohabitating.

  Normal. He snorted. What they had, whatever it was, was likely as close to normal as they would get. He was gone on her and he knew he was gone on her. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but it had. What he didn’t know, and wouldn’t ask, was if she was as gone on him.

  Her eyes swept over him and he could almost see the gears turning behind them in her brain. “What are you thinking?” he asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

  “I know that your whole duty has been one of atonement so you could rejoin your family,” she said, choosing her words carefully.

  She seemed to be waiting for a response, so he said, “That’s true.”

  “I also know you can’t have been a monk all that time.”

  He studied her, but couldn’t get a hint of her thoughts and feelings. “You know I haven’t been.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. But what I don’t know is if you’ve had ongoing relationships since you were given your charge. Have you?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “Four thousand years is a long time to be alone.”

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “But that’s not what I asked.”

  “I know. I was trying to avoid answering.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Now is not the time to be evasive in your storytelling, Nubian.”

  “All right.” He leaned forward, dropping his elbows to his knees. “When I lost my family I was consumed with rage. It took a long time for that rage to burn out, longer still to rejoin humanity. And still longer to want to be a part of humanity. Even with that it’s a hard thing to go without the company and comfort that another human being can offer.”

  “I understand,” she said softly.

  “It was several centuries before my heart even thought about awakening,” he said, his voice and expression far away. “I was tasked with protecting a young woman and her children, four of them. I didn’t want to—it was too similar to what I’d lost—but Isis was insistent. We were married, and I became a father to her children. I remained with the family long enough to see great-grandchildren.”

  He fell silent, pushing back through layers of memory. “I suppose Isis was teaching me a lesson.”

  She sat beside him. “What sort of lesson?”

  “Teaching me to care about my charges.”

  “Of course you care!” she exclaimed. “You wouldn’t have saved all those people if you didn’t.”

  “You’re right,” he said, gratified that she would rush to his defense even in this. “Unfortunately, I cared more that I was adding to my total than that I was saving each person. Staying with that family for four generations … I learned to care about the people my charges were and would become. To view them as human beings, not goals. Living with them, celebrating and mourning and loving with them … that’s the lesson I needed to learn, in all its painful glory. It helped me to remember what it is to be human.”

  She lifted her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she rubbed it down his forearm to clasp his hand. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re very caring and very human. I … appreciate that you’re here, and that you care.”

  A wicked smile bowed her lips. “Shall I show you how much I appreciate you?”

  “Hellz yes.”

  With a delighted laugh, she pushed him down on the bed and proceeded to show him in no uncertain terms how appreciated he was.

  Buzzing slid along Kira’s arms as she pulled her bike into the underground garage for Light International, the privately held multinational conglomerate that served as the front and funding source for the Gilead Commission. Light International had been a company longer than the United States had been a country, and no one questioned its existence.

  She rolled through the security shield and stopped at the mechanical arm at the guard shack. It looked ubiquitous, exactly as it was supposed to, but Kira knew that layers and layers of protection—both magical and mundane—swathed the entry. She’d heard that a Shadow Adept had tried to breach the entrance five years ago, but had been violently repelled. Kira didn’t know if it was urban legend or not, but there was a dark, oil-stain-looking blotch on the pavement in front of her, a blotch that resisted all attempts to pressure-wash it clean.

  The security guard squeezed out of the small kiosk, handheld scanner aloft. How Rhino managed to fit his bulk into something the size of a guest closet was beyond Kira. He was so big people were afraid to step into an elevator with him, afraid of being stuck between floors or worse yet, being stuck in his massive layers only to suffocate unnoticed. The fears that kept others from riding with Rhino were the reasons Kira did. His presence kept her from accidental contact.

  She lifted her visor, not that Rhino needed to see her eyes to make a positive identification. He held the palm-sized scanner in one beefy hand, and she wondered if it could read the Shadow that still tainted her and turn her into an oily stain on the ground. “Hey, Rhino.”

  “Hey, Kira.” People expected the security guard to be slow, yet he was anything but. He came from a family of hybrids sometimes called slag demons because their highest evolved form looked like a giant lava version of the Thing. His voice was an even tenor, and she knew for a fact that he could cut a rug with the best of them. He lowered the scanner without activating it. “Two visits in as many weeks.” Kira had stopped by two weeks before to retrieve some new equipment. “I’m going to stop being surprised when you show up around here.”

  “I’m here because of the were-hyena the SRT brought in last night,” she answered, easing her bike forward. “Don’t worry, I’ll get back to my hermit-like ways pretty soon.”

  “I hope not. You’re the highlight of my day.”

  “Then we need to get you out of that guard shack more. Are you staying warm?”

  Rhino nodded. “I’m managing. The elders have gone to ground for the winter, except for the clan leader of course. Atlanta is warm most of the time, but it is not Hawai’i. By the way, I have a chipotle turkey chili recipe you have got to try.”

  “Are you kidding? You have a molten lava core. I don’t, and I’m not planning to get one anytime soon. I felt the effects of that curry you gave me for an entire week!”

  Rhino laughed. “You’re a gutsy lady, you can handle it.”

  “I’ll think about it while I’m inside, and let you know. See you later.”

  She rode her bike deeper into the underground parking deck, three levels down to a thick gate that required a pass code. She punched in her code, and then rolled forward as the wide steel barrier silently slid open. Tactical response vans not currently in use neatly lined the concrete, noses out, ready to roll. Opposite them was another massive metal door that led to the bowels of Gilead East’s headquarters. This was where the Special Response Teams delivered their high-priority packages for containment.

  After parking her bike and punching in another pass code, Kira took the lift to Gilead East’s containment area. Outwardly, it looked like an indoor storage facility, long corridors with matching gray doors set at equal distances along the hallway. Colored markers outside each door designated the threat level of the occupant. Low-level hybrids sleeping off an intoxicant were flagged green. Shadow Adepts in the grip of chaos madness were flagged yellow. Shadowlings too dangerous to be let loose into the human population and who needed to be transported were flagged red. The Fallen and their Shadow Avatars were the most dangerous, of course, but no Shadowchaser or Light agent would be insane enough to let one live long enough to be brought in, if o
ne could be brought in anyway.

  A blond woman in a navy blue suit beneath a white lab coat walked along the far end of the corridor, a tablet computer in her hands. “Chaser Solomon,” she said. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Dr. Ingrid Rasmussen.”

  “I do remember you, sort of.” The doctor had been part of Kira’s rehabilitation after her encounter with the Fallen. “A team brought in a were-hyena last night. Have you cleared her for questioning?”

  Rasmussen tapped her screen. “Oh. That detainee hasn’t regained consciousness.”

  “She hasn’t?” Kira frowned. “I know the fight with the bultungin matriarch was pretty intense, and we gave her a good rap to the back of the head, but it’s been almost eight hours.”

  Rasmussen stared at her screen. “The subdural hematoma has improved, as to be expected with a shape-shifting hybrid’s rapid physiology,” she said, her voice cool. “We detected a high concentration of a Shadow-infused drug. The med sweepers were able to remove most of it, but not all. I expected her to regain consciousness a few hours ago. There’s no physical explanation for it, so I can only assume it’s something metaphysical.”

  Crap. Kira reviewed her actions from the previous night. She’d touched the changeling specifically to incapacitate her, not to read her. Khefar had intervened because he’d noticed Roshonda’s condition deteriorating. What would have happened if he hadn’t? Would she have killed the bultungin so casually?

  “Chaser?”

  “Hmm. Yes?”

  “Is there anything you can recall about the challenge that you can share?”

  “No. Nothing about the fight seemed out of the ordinary to me, except that it was over fairly quickly.”

  “All right.” The doctor made notations. “Thank you. The section chief would like to see you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kira took the elevator up to the administrative levels, her mind whirling. Had she somehow incapacitated the were-hyena as a side effect of her blended nature? She wasn’t sure, simply because she hadn’t taken the time to think through the ramifications of having Light and Shadow inside her.