Shadow Fall

by Glass, Seressia

  Most beings fell somewhere in the middle of the Universal Balance, making choices and living their lives without directed intent to good or evil. Because of that, their free will determined whether they would turn to Shadow or to Light, and also made it easy for most to live in balance. People could reform or backslide, their scales constantly shifting. It was the nature of life.

  The elevator doors opened with a soft ping. Kira made her way through the administrative wing to Sanchez’s office. The section chief had on her usual uniform of a sharp business suit, chocolate this time, her dark hair pulled into a chignon at the back of her neck. A few files littered her desk, but Kira knew most of the reports and decisions were made via the tablet that was never far from Sanchez’s hand.

  “Nice work with the were-hyena last night,” Estrella Sanchez said in place of a greeting.

  “The matriarch did most of the work,” Kira said honestly. “We took out the trash. The doctor told me that Roshonda is still unconscious.”

  Sanchez nodded. “More than unconscious. She’s nonresponsive to stimuli. And she hasn’t regained her human form.”

  “Really?” That didn’t sound right. “I don’t think the matriarch cursed her in any sort of way, but Roshonda was tossed out of the clan last night. There might be some sort of metaphysical backlash that got compounded when she was formally evicted.”

  “The retrievers told me that you touched her before they arrived. How long did you hold on to her?”

  “It wasn’t long. Khefar knocked her unconscious. I touched her long enough to know that she got some sort of vial of concentrated Shadow magic from someone in a hoodie. Then I called the retrieval team.”

  “Dr. Rasmussen needs as much information as possible on our detainee. Her medics found some sort of Shadow-infused drug in the bultungin’s system, but she doesn’t think that’s responsible for the detainee’s current condition.” Sanchez regarded her, her arms folded across the front of her expensive jacket. “Nothing else out of the ordinary happened?”

  “Nothing that I can think of. I’ll submit an official report before I leave. You can also ask Khefar if you want.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Sanchez moved around her desk. “Make sure it’s a detailed report. Somehow I don’t think the were-hyenas are going to be open to another Gilead visit soon.”

  “Probably not.” Kira moved farther into the office. “We need to find out why someone would want to meddle with the bultungin’s affairs. They tend to stick to their own kind in their own area. I wouldn’t consider them power brokers or anything, so why destabilize the clan? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’ll have a couple of field agents start a case file,” Sanchez said, making a note on her handheld. “It may be tied to that incident we had with the SRT Five back in October.”

  Kira didn’t answer. That “incident” resulted in the loss of the Special Response Team, then her kidnapping and imprisonment by Enig, the Shadow Avatar, and being injected with a psychotropic that left her permanently tainted with Shadow. She didn’t want field investigators digging into something that could be detrimental to their collective health, but an investigation needed to happen.

  She made a mental note to talk to Demoz and Bale, see what information they had. Neither would talk to a Gilead field agent—at least, they wouldn’t provide any useful information. Kira never bothered to ask why she was an exception. She’d assumed it was because she was a Shadowchaser and focused on keeping the peace with occasional bouts of kicking butt. Now she wasn’t so sure. Did they both already know about her dual nature, and kept it to themselves?

  She took a seat in one of the guest chairs. “I want to talk to you about someone.”

  A hint of softness brightened Sanchez’s eyes. “You’re finally going to tell me about your new partner?”

  “What? No.” Why in the world would Sanchez think Kira would want to talk about Khefar? “D’Aurius Amoye.”

  “Amoye.” Sanchez considered for a moment, as if trying to recall where she’d heard the name. “That’s the name of the were-hyena leader.”

  “Yes. He is her son.”

  “What about him?”

  Kira hesitated. Better to spit it out and get it over with. “He wants to become a Shadowchaser.”

  “You want to recommend a were-hyena to enter Shadowchaser training,” Sanchez said slowly, as if trying the words on for size. “One of a clan to which our newest detainee belonged to.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a hybrid fighting for Light,” Kira shot back, defensive. “Hybrids fall on both sides of the Universal Balance. If one wants to fight for Light, and has the strength and agility to take on other hybrids, I say let him.”

  “You think that highly of him?”

  “I think he’s out of options. I think he wants it badly. More than that, I think he has a healthy respect for female authority. So he’s got at least one thing going for him that I didn’t.”

  A ghost of a dimple formed in Sanchez’s right cheek. “A healthy respect for authority,” she murmured. “I like him already.”

  Of course you would, Kira thought to herself. Aloud she said, “Will you meet with him? A recommendation from you would go a long way, and he’s sure to be grateful you gave him a chance.”

  Sanchez eyed her, as if waiting for Kira to shout “Gotcha!” Finally she folded her arms across her chest. “You seem extremely interested in succession planning all of a sudden,” the section chief observed. “Any particular reason?”

  Kira shifted in her chair. “Let’s just say I’ve become keenly aware of my own mortality over the last couple of months. I’m not in any hurry to go into the Light, but I also want to make sure the city is protected. The hybrid community here is too large not to have a Shadowchaser. Given that I’m not exactly winning friends and influencing people, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a backup in the area, even one in training.”

  “Have you spoken to the Balm of Gilead about this?”

  “No.” She didn’t want to think about Balm, the days of silence, and what it all meant. “So will you see him?”

  Sanchez regarded her in the cool, measuring way the section chief had. Kira could almost see the gears turning, and wondered how many steps ahead Sanchez was in their particular dance.

  Finally, Sanchez unfolded her arms. “Give the young man’s number to my assistant. I’ll meet with him and see what I think.”

  “I will.” Kira rose. “Thanks.”

  Sanchez stopped her before Kira could pull open the door. “Solomon.”

  Kira turned. “Yes?”

  “Is everything all right with you?” the section chief asked. “You seem a little out of sorts.”

  “I’ll be fine. You know me. I tend to roll with the punches.”

  “There’s rolling with the punches and there’s becoming a human punching bag,” Sanchez told her. “You don’t have to take all the hits, you know.”

  Kira stared at the section chief. She thought she was in pretty good shape today. She’d had a full night’s dreamless sleep. How messed up did she have to be for Section Chief Sanchez to offer words of comfort? “Thank you for that,” Kira said, her gloved fingers digging into the smooth panel of the wood door. “I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

  “I hope you do, Kira Solomon,” Sanchez said. “I hope you do.”

  Chap†er 15

  After preparing and delivering her report on the bultungin incident, Kira made her way out of Gilead East’s headquarters and back home. Khefar was blessedly nowhere to be seen, so she made her way to the lower level and her private reinforced office. She lit a stick of incense as an offering of thanks to Ma’at and sat behind her desk.

  Her gaze roamed over the office. It had grown more cluttered in the weeks since her return from Cairo and London, stuffed with research books and dozens of mementos from Comstock’s offices at his home and the antiques shop. A collection of statuettes formed a semicircle on the
left side of her desk: Ma’at, Isis, Osiris, Thoth, and Horus. On the right side of her desk she’d placed Bernie’s pocket watch, a fruitwood puzzle box, and a photo of them taken during her field exam at university.

  She stripped off her gloves, then picked up the watch. Her office walls shimmered, stilled. They were still covered with shelves of old books, except now they were stacked and ordered differently. Not her office at all, but Bernie’s.

  She sat opposite him in an overstuffed Queen Anne, watching as he poured tea. They had shared the ritual daily during her time at the university and whenever she’d passed through afterward, whether it was tea-time or not.

  “You know, no matter what kind of day I was having, this always made it better,” she said, using a pair of silver tongs to drop two cubes of sugar into her china cup. “It didn’t matter if I was stressing over exams or a Chase. Having tea with you was always the highlight of my day.”

  “As it was mine,” Comstock said, fussing with the tea service. “A visit from you was always a sure way to warm an old man’s heart.”

  “I bet you say that to all the Chasers you handled.” Kira looked up from her cup of tea. “Since when do you pour Darjeeling?”

  Bernie Comstock settled into the chair behind his ornate solicitor’s desk, a pale bone china cup balanced between his fingertips. “You were never a fan of Earl Grey, and since this construct is as much you as it is me, Darjeeling is what we’ll have for tea.”

  He smiled at her over the rim of his cup, his expression even more foxlike. “Unless of course you prefer to have the rooibos, now that you have the Nubian in your life?”

  Kira groaned. “I get enough teasing from Wynne. I thought here at least I’d have some peace of mind. It’s my dream, after all.”

  She looked about the office. Comstock’s antiques shop had been her home away from home when she wasn’t at university or trawling the museum. The deeper you ventured into the shop, crammed mostly with first-edition books on the most esoteric subjects, the better the treasure got. At least in Kira’s opinion. The holy of holies was Comstock’s office, brimming with stone carvings from Sumer, Mesopotamia, Egypt, and Babylon. Many people believed Bernie when he told them they were museum replicas, but Kira had known better. After Bernie’s memorial service, Kira had almost all of Bernie’s office packed up and shipped back to Atlanta.

  “You’re right, it is your dream. Do you have peace of mind?”

  “I’m trying, but it’s hard. Being able to be here like this, and talk to you like this, helps.”

  “Good.” Comstock leaned back. “Then I’m glad a part of me was able to stay behind to help you.”

  She stared at him. In this dream that wasn’t a dream, he looked much as he had when he was alive, a dapper Englishman in his sixties who liked few objects less than fifty years old.

  “How did you do this, Bernie? You say you’re a construct of yourself, me, and my magic. Your solicitor swears that you didn’t barter your soul. That leaves you as being some sort of spirit, but you don’t manifest like other ghosts.”

  “If you want me to manifest like a ghost, I surely can do that,” Comstock told her. “Though I don’t believe you really want me popping into your house unannounced, do you?”

  Her cheeks heated. Since she and Khefar had sexually tested almost every flat surface in her house, except for her altar room, she was even less inclined to have people dropping by, even ghostly ones.

  “You can do that?” she asked. “Manifest independently, I mean.”

  “Yes. Among other things.” He concentrated on placing his teacup back in its saucer, a gesture she knew meant he had something he wanted to say, but needed time to find the words to say it.

  “What’s on your mind, Bernie? I know it’s usually me reaching out to you to answer some burning question or to help me feel better, but today I feel like it’s the other way around.”

  “It is. I have a couple of things I want to share with you.”

  Answers, she hoped, but it didn’t seem like it. “Like what?”

  “Among my effects is a pair of spectacles. You should keep them with you from now on.”

  “Why?”

  “They will help how others see you.”

  “Kind of a Superman sort of thing, a secret identity?” She shook her head. “No, thanks, Bernie. If I suddenly start showing up with glasses on, I’ll get more questions, not fewer. I don’t really give a damn how other people see me anyway. It’s not like I’m trying to be Miss Congeniality.”

  “That’s my girl. Prickly as a porcupine.” His smile faded, seriousness pushing the mirth from his expression. “The problem is not your personality, Kira, but your eyes. Especially when you channel Shadow magic.”

  The teacup wobbled in her hands. “You’re saying I’m going to keep experiencing it—Shadow magic. I’m not going to be able to get rid of it.”

  “Do you plan to rid yourself of your arm, or your right eye?” Comstock asked. “Shadow magic is a part of you. Use it as you use your anger and your quest for truth.”

  “It’s wrong,” she protested, shocked that Comstock would suggest she actually use Shadow magic. “It’s evil.”

  “It’s evil if there’s no rhyme or reason, if it is indiscriminately used,” Comstock corrected. “You have guns. You have your Lightblade. You’ve used both. Does that make you evil?”

  She didn’t want to answer the question because any answer she gave would be wrong.

  Comstock sighed. “All right, then, how about this example? A thief with a gun breaks into a person’s home. The homeowner also has a gun. Who’s evil?”

  “The thief, of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s trying to take something that doesn’t belong to him, and he’ll use the gun to do it,” she answered. “The homeowner is defending what is his.”

  Comstock nodded. “So it’s not the weapon that’s evil, it’s the intent behind its use.”

  Kira stared at her mentor, finding it hard not to mistrust him. Considering his construct, she’d also be distrusting herself. “I feel like you’re trying to trick me, Bernie, and I don’t know why.”

  “Kira.” Now he sounded like himself, lecturing and admonishing simultaneously. “I’m not trying to trick you, dear girl. I’m trying to educate and advise you. That is my duty as a mentor, and that is why you come talk to me. Ask yourself honestly, have I ever made you do something that you did not want to do?”

  “No.”

  He leaned forward. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

  “Besides not telling me that you knew about my Shadowchasing, since you were my handler?”

  He smiled, sad at the edges. “Besides that.”

  “No.”

  He waved his hand about the room. Vision and reality slid across each other before fading back to the confines of her office. “Old men often have regrets. You already know how much I regret not sharing my association with the Gilead Commission with you. There is a reason for that, which is the same reason why I joined the Commission in the first place.”

  “What reason is that? Access to their extensive database?”

  Comstock went glassy-eyed. “The Gilead archives are a wonder to behold, especially for someone who loves knowledge as much as I do. However, there were two things I loved more: my dearest wife, and you.”

  “You joined Gilead because you loved me. And you kept that knowledge from me for the same reason.” Kira snorted. “You realize that doesn’t make a lick of sense, right?”

  “Whether you believe me or not, I took my role as your handler very seriously. More than that, I felt as if I had become your guardian. As such, your best interests were always my focus, whether that meant making you the best archaeologist, the best Chaser, or the best person you could be. Or all three. Ensuring that you are the best means that you don’t get an easy path.”

  She laughed. “You’re right about that. Nothing about my life has ever been easy. I don’t think I
’d trust it if it were.”

  “Of course not,” he agreed, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Then he sobered. “Becoming your handler gave me more means to protect you than a lowly professor had at his disposal,” Comstock told her. “Joining Gilead gave me access to thousands of years of history, but also, I’d hoped, clues to who your parents were.”

  Kira stared at Comstock, shocked. “You were looking for my parents?”

  He nodded. “I knew that was important to you. I also knew that your own search had yielded limited results. What I didn’t know was whether that was by design or if the information simply wasn’t there. So I had to use other means to gather the information I sought.”

  His hands flanked the puzzle box on her desk.” Part of the reason that the Dagger of Kheferatum came to me is because I was doing research into who your parents possibly were.”

  Kira recoiled in her seat. “You are not going to tell me that Khefar is somehow connected to my parents!”

  “No, no, I wouldn’t have kept that from you. However, before the Dagger of Kheferatum came into my possession, I received another.”

  His fingers danced atop the lid of a fruitwood box, tapping out a rhythm along the carved pattern, pushing parts of it flat into the surface. The lid opened with an almost inaudible snick. After opening the lid, he turned the box toward her.

  A first glance, it was simply a knife, its design obviously influenced by the Indo-Persian fighting blade styles. The longer she looked at it, the more she realized it was anything but a simple weapon. The blade was a dark charcoal gray, almost black, the metal swirling with sheens of silvery-copper etching. Brass studs secured the grip, which looked to be made of some type of bone.

  “I know this blade,” she said, her voice slow.

  “Yes, you do,” Bernie said. “Now.”

  Then it hit her. “I saw this, when I touched my mother’s locket. This is the dagger the Shadowling had, the Lightchaser who attacked my mother.”

  “When it first came into my possession I didn’t know its significance, not for sure,” Comstock told her. “All I knew was that it had belonged to a Shadowling who was killed while fighting a female Shadowchaser, and had been confiscated by the Gilead team that came to retrieve her. My intention was to bring this one to you, but then the Dagger of Kheferatum fell into my hands and I thought it the more significant discovery.”