Shadow Fall

by Glass, Seressia

Khefar tightened his grip on Kira. “Like hell you will.”

  The technician froze, surprised. “Sir. We were told that the Chaser was seriously injured. That she lost a lot of blood.”

  “She did. She was pierced below her collarbone by a was scepter.”

  “A what?”

  Khefar shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not touching her.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” He wasn’t letting Kira go. He certainly wasn’t going to turn her over to Gilead medics. Let them think he was irrational—he didn’t really give a damn. Despite his inclination, something told him that Kira wouldn’t want to go to Gilead for treatment, no matter how busted up she was.

  “I need you to step the hell back. I don’t care that you’re wearing gloves and a mask and a jacket. I don’t know where that gurney or that blanket have been or what’s still attached to it. Kira has been put through a metaphysical wringer. She’s not going to be able to control her extrasense right now, so I really don’t need you poking and prodding at her.”

  “Sir, we take every precaution. Our equipment is sterilized—”

  “Surely you’ve been given instruction on how to deal with the Shadowchaser in emergency medical situations?”

  The young man flushed. “Yes, sir, but she’s hurt—”

  “But nothing. Those protocols are in place for a reason.”

  “Sir. She needs medical attention.”

  Bale and the other banaranjans joined them, flanking Khefar. “So will you if you don’t back the hell up,” Bale said, his smile less than human.

  “Medic, stand down.” Sanchez’s voice cut through the EMT’s response. She walked up to him as if she weren’t surrounded by emergency crews. “Khefar, a moment, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The medic backed away.

  The section chief turned back to Khefar. “You do realize that she has a hole in her shoulder, yes?”

  “You do realize that asking stupid questions is delaying me from giving her the medical attention she needs?”

  Sanchez pursed her lips, not even looking at the banaranjans ranged around them. “She’s a member of Gilead. We take care of our own.”

  Kira stirred, blinked her eyes open. “The injured woman wants to go home. Now.”

  Khefar smiled. “Of course.” He turned to Sanchez. “You heard her. She wants to go home.”

  “Fine. But my report will clearly state that I disagreed.”

  “Thanks, Section Chief.” Kira subsided again.

  Sanchez put her hands on her hips. “Kira Solomon, thanking me? Now I know she isn’t all right.”

  “Just glad to be alive.”

  “No doubt. I don’t know anyone else brave enough—or insane enough—to face down an Egyptian demon and a god of Chaos by herself.”

  Kira hunched her shoulders, wincing with pain. “They separated us. I didn’t have much of a choice. I wanted to be sure your team would be safe.”

  “If that’s the reason you want to give, fine. Your bravery, foolish though it may have been, saved a lot of lives tonight. Well done.”

  “I … appreciate the vote of confidence, Chief,” Kira said, her voice muffled against Khefar’s coat. “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to work with since I came to your city. I’m glad we were able to work together today.”

  “I guess it is the season of miracles,” Sanchez said. “I’ve received word from the hospital. The recent coma patients have begun to wake up.”

  Kira stirred in Khefar’s arms. “What about Wynne? Did she wake up too?”

  Sanchez nodded. “I heard from Marlowe myself. They’re going to keep her and the others in observation for at least another twenty-four hours.”

  “Good.”

  Sanchez stared at Kira for a long, silent moment. Finally she looked at the Nubian. “Take her home and put her to bed,” the section chief ordered. “And make sure she stays there. I expect to be notified of her condition.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kira groaned as soon as Sanchez got out of earshot. “I hurt like hell,” she moaned. “We need to get Zoo and Wynne—”

  “Kira.” His heart squeezed. “They’re kinda busy right now.”

  “Oh.” She closed her eyes, her mouth opening in a silent grunt of pain. “I’m having some trouble right now.”

  “Nubian.”

  Khefar turned carefully as Bale approached. “Yessara might be of use to Kira. She can meet us at Kira’s place.”

  Khefar looked down at Kira. She’d passed out again. “Kira’s place. She’s going to hate that.”

  Bale smiled. “Probably. But she can reset the wards once she’s well.”

  “True. I’m going to take her home. Can you bring Yessara immediately?”

  Bale inclined his head. “Of course. It’s the least we can do, since she’s restored our people to us.”

  He turned, paused, turned back. “You both are capable fighters. Even the Gilead humans were impressive in their courage. The banaranjans were honored to fight alongside you.”

  High praise coming from some of the fiercest fighters on the planet. “Today was a good day.”

  “We accomplish much when we work together,” Bale said. “Kira understands that, if her superiors do not. We must make sure she survives, so that we all can.”

  Chap†er 25

  Kira swam up through the quicksand of unconsciousness slowly. She was alive and grateful for it, and wanted to linger in the sensations of being connected and present again.

  Khefar filled her vision as she opened her eyes. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” He smiled down at her, sitting close beside her on the bed. “Want the highlights?”

  “Sure.” She sat up carefully, surprised that there was only a small twinge of ache beneath her collarbone. “How did I heal so fast? Or has it been a while?”

  “It’s only been two days. You’re at home and it’s about three in the afternoon. Bale called Yessara, who came over and healed you. Said it took her longer than it normally would, because your body has undergone some … changes.”

  Changes. She could guess at what those changes were. “Did we lose anyone?”

  “The guard who got covered by the beetles, he’s gone. We had several injuries, but the rest are expected to be all right in the next couple of days.”

  She nodded. One loss was a loss too many, but it was a reality of the job. “The people in comas?”

  “All of them, human and hybrid, have recovered.” He hesitated. “Wynne’s called a couple of times.”

  Her fingers curled around the blanket. “I don’t want to talk to her.”

  He nodded. “Okay. As long as you realize she probably won’t give up for a while.”

  “She’ll give up eventually.” Bitterness clogged her throat. “I’m sure Zoo will make sure of that.”

  He cleared his throat. “There’s a message on your phone from Lysander. He said that Balm is able to talk to you now. Or dreamwalk, if you prefer.”

  “Hmm.” Balm able to talk. She could interpret that a bunch of different ways. There were things she wanted to say to her foster mother. Her co-mother? All Kira knew of her birth mother was what she’d gleaned from the locket. Balm had raised her, prepared her for life. Balm was Kira’s mother in the ways that counted.

  “Khefar.”

  “Yeah?” He reached out, clasped her hands in his own, his thumbs lightly rubbing across the backs of her hands.

  “Thank you for not dying. Thank you for being here now.”

  He thumbs stopped the gentle caress. “I had the SRT and a pair of banaranjans helping me. You faced Set, Marit, and the Lady of Shadows on your own. I should be the one thanking you for not dying.”

  “It was close.” It was still close. She could feel it, hovering at the edge of her senses. The burden of the choice that she’d made pressed down on her. If she had died, she would have had to stand before Ma’at again, stand in the true Hall of Judgment again. Or ma
ybe the Shadow inside her would preclude her from that.

  He stared at her, and she wondered what he saw, and what he’d seen while she’d been recovering. She couldn’t remember any dreams, walking or otherwise, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t reenacted the events of the past few days.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “There’s still a lot to process, to talk out.”

  “How about some quality time in the bathroom? Then we can get something to eat. It won’t be up to Anansi’s celebratory breakfast standards, but I can make a mean omelet.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He helped her in the bathroom, much to her embarrassment. Despite Yessara’s expert touch, the peace angel wasn’t a miracle worker, at least not when it came to wounds from Shadow-infused ritual objects. Kira still experienced flashes of pain whenever she raised her left arm, but her ribs felt almost normal. A few more days, she was sure, and she’d be in fighting form again.

  If she had a few more days. She checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Haunted. That’s how she looked. Her eyes were overlarge and sporting a new greenish-hazel color. Her hands had a slight tremble to them that even a steaming hot shower couldn’t ease.

  The Shadow magic had become part of her. She’d known that it would, she just hadn’t known how much.

  She turned her back on her reflection, then left the bathroom, making a beeline for the closet. “Thanks for not taking me to Gilead East for treatment,” she said, choosing a comfortable ankle-length knit dress of pale blue.

  “No problem. I kinda figured you wouldn’t want to go, though I can’t figure out why.”

  She smoothed the soft material down her arms. “I don’t trust Sanchez.”

  “But you guys were so civil to each other before and after storming the Congress Center,” Khefar pointed out. “I thought you guys were cool.”

  “Something’s up. I don’t know what it is, but my instincts are telling me it’s not good. Shadowchasers passing through town. An Illuminator inside Gilead East. Balm’s silence. It didn’t feel right. It still doesn’t.”

  She gestured to her side of the dresser. Both of her blades had been placed on the polished surface. Khefar, as usual, had the Dagger of Kheferatum strapped to his side. “Besides, I don’t know how I or that blade”—she gestured at the Shadow blade—“would have fared going back in there after the confrontation with the Lady of Shadow.”

  Khefar looked at the weapons and back to her. “That blade … it’s a Shadowblade, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Comstock had it hidden among his possessions.”

  That surprised him. “Your mentor Comstock? He intended to give you this? Why?”

  “Because it belonged to my father.”

  “Your father.” She could almost hear his thoughts come into being. “Comstock tracked down your father’s dagger. He knew? He knew your father was a Shadowling, a Lightchaser?”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Seems like it.”

  Khefar studied her, trying to come to grips with the stunning revelation. She’d obviously had some time to reconcile herself to what Comstock had known, what he’d done. “How long ago did you find out?”

  “The night before Wynne went into the hospital. “

  “I see. When were you going to tell me?”

  “There wasn’t time before,” she said, her voice calm. “I’m telling you now.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “Keep it.”

  “Keep it? Are you out of your mind? Why would you want to keep a Lightchaser’s blade?”

  Instead of answering, she sat on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside her. Anger pricked his pride. He wanted to refuse—why hadn’t she trusted him?—but the look in her eyes, a silent pleading, made him relent.

  He crossed to her, sitting on the bed but turning so that he faced her. “Why do you want to keep that blade?”

  “It belonged to my father—”

  “And you know what he did to your mother,” he retorted. “He was a Shadow Adept, a Lightchaser, and he hunted people like your mother, like you, at Myshael’s behest.”

  “I know. But that dagger saved my life while I was fighting Marit. It took some of the Shadow magic that poured into me from Set’s staff. Its former owner gave me half of my DNA, for better or worse. And Comstock went to a lot of trouble to get it to me. It’s obviously important that I have it. I’m keeping it.”

  “I think you’re playing a dangerous game,” he finally said. “I don’t have to like it, but it’s your call.”

  She gave him another smile, this one tinged with sadness. “Take out your dagger.”

  “What?”

  “Please. The Dagger of Kheferatum, take it out.”

  Without taking his eyes off her, he reached for the plain leather sheath at his right hip. He unsheathed the dagger with a reverse grip, the blade nestled along his forearm. “What now?”

  She shifted carefully on the bed, folding her legs beneath her. “Is it saying anything to you?”

  He held the dagger securely, waiting for it to speak to him. Obviously Kira wanted to prove something to him, show him something. He didn’t know what it was, but if she thought today would be the day that she’d die, after saving all those people, she was sadly mistaken.

  Sometimes he cursed his inability to sense and generate magic, especially since his entire existence since his first death resided among magical beings. Yet it was his insensitivity to magic and its influences that made him able to wield and control the Dagger of Kheferatum. The dagger could speak to him, but it could not make him do anything he did not wish to do.

  “The dagger is silent,” he finally said. “Probably because it was well-sated during the battle through the underworld.”

  “Probably.” She smiled, a small sad smile. Then her eyes flashed green. “How about now?”

  He didn’t answer her. The Dagger of Kheferatum throbbed in his hand. He tightened his grip on it. The cool half-sentience of the dagger stirred, sensing the power that had erupted inside Kira.

  Kira wrapped her good hand around his. “It’s never going away,” she told him, a tear sliding down her cheek. “The Eternal Ladies saw to that. Set called to me because I’m part of his line, through my father and my mother. Balm and Myshael did their parts to ensure that a child of both Light and Shadow would come into the world.”

  She lifted their hands, lifted the dagger between them, until the tip pointed at her chest, centered on her heart. “I didn’t win, Khefar. I didn’t beat Shadow. I deliberately chose Chaos magic, and used the Shadowblade. My father’s blade. I did exactly what Myshael wanted me to do.”

  “You saved a lot of people’s lives,” he reminded her, pulling the dagger back. “Did she want you to do that?”

  “She didn’t care about those souls. She didn’t care about Ammit, or Marit. I don’t even know if she cared about Set. What she cared about was me acknowledging the other side of my nature. She wanted me to use Shadow magic. I did. And it felt … it felt good.”

  “Why do you tell me this?” He thought he knew, but he wanted her to say it.

  She licked her lips, more tears brightening her eyes. “Because if ever there’s a time for you to keep your vow to me, now is that time. We got the right outcome at the convention center, but it was close. So close. I don’t know how long I can keep holding on, keep fighting. Please, Khefar. I’m tired and injured and scared. I’m too weak to fight you. Please do this.”

  He tightened his grip on the dagger of creation and destruction, making and unmaking. The tip touched her flesh, at the swell of her breast. If it pricked her, if he drew blood, the dagger would fully awaken, clamor for her blood despite having drank its fill two days ago. Kira stared at him, her eyes overly large, overly trusting. Believing that he’d do the right thing.

  “No.”

  Pain filled her eyes. “No because you can’t?’ she asked, her voice an
guished. “Or because you won’t?”

  “Won’t. Not until you do something for me first.”

  “Do what?”

  He climbed off the bed and headed to the dresser, taking the dagger with him. No one knew the spells of making and unmaking except for him, and he intended to keep it that way. That didn’t mean that the dagger wasn’t a threat in Kira’s hands.

  He sheathed the dagger, quieting it down. Then he reached into the topmost drawer and pulled out a faux leather box. “I want you to put on Amanirenas’s cuff,” he said, returning to the bed. “I want you to wear it and experience it. Then, if you are still determined that today is the day that I fulfill my vow, I will do so.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. Without a word she held up her right hand. He wasted no time, joining her on the bed, twining her fingers with his own. Then, without a word, he pushed the cuff onto her wrist.

  Her eyes went from hazel to peridot green as her innate magic welled up in response to the ancient golden circlet. He maintained his grip on her hand as she fell back against the pillows, hoping to ameliorate some of the shock of reading the centuries of history the cuff contained. Her eyes, mere slits now, flickered as she received impressions embedded in the bracelet. It was as if she were having a seizure without the violent convulsions.

  He knew what Amanirenas’s gift would show her. She would see a proud and noble queen faced with loss and overwhelming odds, marshalling her courage and her army to protect those she loved. She would see what it was like to face a supposedly all-powerful foe, to be on the brink of complete defeat, only to rally and wrestle victory away from the enemy.

  She would see him taking the queen’s cherished gift, all the while believing he would never be able to do what the kandake wanted, would never be able to find someone in his future that he would want to give this treasure to. Until he’d met Kira.

  He held her hand, hoping to keep her connected, hoping to keep her here. Dammit, he did not want to kill Kira.

  He had no idea how much time had passed. Moments, minutes, as she absorbed two thousand years of memories. Then she gasped, her eyes flying open. She immediately closed them again, covering her eyes with a trembling hand, deep shudders wracking her body.