Of Shadow Born (The Icarus Unit)

by S. L. Gray

  She turned back to face him, the ghost of a smile breezing over her lips. Her shoulders rose another time and she asked, "Do we have to go through shadows again?"

  He nodded, smiling wryly. "Only way to get in."

  "At least the scenery's interesting." For a second, her smile looked genuine. "I'll get the tablet." She ducked the curtain and stepped out of the makeshift room again.

  Kade closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer of thanks. One less fight now meant the road to the next might be a little less rocky. Every little bit helped.

  If nothing else good could be said about this new life, it wasn't boring. As a matter of fact, Melanie thought while she stared up at the vaulted ceiling far overhead, she might not mind a little boredom for a change.

  Instead, she stood in the middle of a marble corridor that wound through a structure best qualified as "pyramid." "Temple," perhaps, she corrected herself. Or "ziggurat." Whatever the term, it clearly didn't belong in the middle of the San Francisco she knew.

  Then again, she didn't belong here at all. She'd been caught somewhere between reality and a dream. They'd stepped into shadow and walked between worlds to get here. They'd been met by Officer Garamendi, who looked more intimidating in a suit than in policeman blue. She'd been handed off to Sylvie, who'd escorted her through a whirlwind tour and now stood silent at her shoulder, waiting for a response.

  "I don't know what to say," Melanie admitted. "It's impressive, certainly. Like seeing history brought to life, which is a little strange." She let her gaze wander over the smooth walls and well-tended floor. Not at all like the ruins she'd wandered while traveling. "It's alien." She winced at her words. "Not that I mean to imply that any of you—"

  Sylvie cut her off with the graceful movement of one hand. "You never know, we might be. There are an awful lot of people who think the pyramids were ancient spaceships and Egyptian knowledge came direct from the stars."

  Melanie should have laughed. She felt the urge but a shred of uncertainty held it back. The smile she managed wobbled a bit.

  "That was a joke. I promise," Sylvie said, fingers a light pressure against Melanie's arm. "Sorry, my sense of humor's a little off. It's a self-defense mechanism when you work with people like Kade all day."

  "He's not that bad, is he?"

  Sylvie arched an eyebrow. "You guys haven't been together that long, I know, but when was the last time you heard him crack a joke? Does he laugh a lot around you? How about smiling?"

  Melanie racked her brain for a concrete example of the things Sylvie asked. "I know he smiles. I'm sure I've heard him laugh."

  "But you have to think about it," she said triumphantly. "My point is made. Someone's got to lighten things up from time to time." She spread her arms and shrugged. "That means me."

  Now Melanie laughed and it came as a relief. It felt genuine, not something forced or strained. She couldn't say that about any other moment that came to mind over the last week or so. Except a few seconds of silence in Kade's company. A wave of heat swept over her and she knew she blushed. "I can think of worse jobs."

  "Worse or better?" the other woman teased and nudged her shoulder.

  "Don't answer that question. She'll hold it against you and remind you of which one you picked six months from now." Kade invited himself into the conversation as though he'd been there all along. He stopped at Melanie's other shoulder. When she looked up at him, he asked, "What did I miss?"

  "Girl talk," Sylvie said before Melanie could answer. "No boys allowed in the club. You'll just have to suffer. You're back," she added, hardly pausing for breath. "Does that mean he's ready for her?"

  Melanie frowned and looked between them. "He who? Ready for me?"

  "Amrhic, our custodian. Keeper of the answers," she explained. "Not the guy who mops the floors. Kade, you didn't tell her who she'd be meeting?"

  "There wasn't exactly time," he answered. "Speaking of which, don't you have something to do?"

  Though he didn't touch her, Sylvie gave in and gave up space, holding both hands up as she backed away. "You're in for a treat," she told Melanie. "Amrhic's fun, when he's not being spooky." She waggled her fingers in a sort of wave and turned to walk away. "You can tell him I said that, if you want," she offered over her shoulder. "He's got a sense of humor, anyway."

  "Ignore her," Kade said the second she stepped out of earshot. He turned and blocked Melanie's view of Sylvie's retreat. "She likes to stir things up for no reason. She calls it being funny."

  Melanie bit back another laugh. The panic that had threatened a moment before eased away and she imagined her racing pulse slowing down a beat or two. She'd been living in fear that all of this was a dream and she'd wake from it in a hospital with tubes and wires sprouting from every limb. That worry melted away with the brush of callused fingers against her palm as she took one of Kade's hands. His touch felt far too real to be imagined. He didn't pull away.

  "So who is this guy?" she asked on an exhalation, fitting her fingers between his hopefully. She knew she'd surprised him with the boyfriend label, but she couldn't go on not knowing what to call him. They were more than friends, closer than mentor and student, so she'd chosen boyfriend. Eventually he'd put his foot down. She'd live with the title until then. "Is the custodian at the top of the food chain around here or something?"

  Kade smiled a little and ducked his head. "He's pretty high up there. Sort of a living library. He remembers names and dates and bloodlines. Keeps our histories."

  They'd started moving again and Kade turned them down a corridor lined with ornate iron sconces. In true mummy-movie fashion, flickering torches lit the way. Melanie couldn't help herself. "Is the mood lighting necessary?"

  Kade chuckled. "Little bit over the top, huh? But Amrhic says light bulbs hurt his eyes, so we humor him. If he wants torch light, that's what he gets." He squeezed her hand. "You get used to it after a while. I don't even notice them anymore."

  "You're not exactly one of the average population, Kade." She said it with a smile. "And I don't know if I'll stick around long enough to make it to 'a while.'"

  Neither one of them spoke again until they'd reached the door at the end of the hall. It stood open without being propped, held there by its own weight. Judging by the thickness. Melanie thought it would take an army to get through, if they managed to get this far into the warren of hallways and twisting passages. Bolted from the inside, it would buy anyone in the room quite a bit of security.

  And there went a thought that, before the last few days, would never have occurred. She shook herself, trying to dislodge wariness. She was safe here, at Kade's side, in the heart of a hidden fortress. She was safe.

  "What's that saying about the journey of a thousand miles?" The voice came from somewhere beyond the door. It sounded rich and warm and as though the speaker hovered just on the edge of laughter.

  Melanie glanced up at Kade. "That it begins with a single step?"

  Kade shook his head, his smile as wry as it was amused. "He thinks we're eavesdropping. We didn't want to intrude," he offered to the faceless voice.

  "I don't leave the door open when I want to be alone. Come in, come in."

  They crossed the threshold in step. Melanie realized after the fact that she expected to walk into a library. After all, if the man she would meet was a collector and curator of all the knowledge of Kade's organization, it stood to reason there would be shelves and stacks of books to be referenced and recorded.

  Instead, the room opened into a perfectly ordinary-looking parlor. There were couches and end tables. More iron sconces decorated the walls and tablets hung between them. They displayed pictographs and hieroglyphics and directly to her right, a gorgeous example of an illuminated page, gold glittering in the flickering glow from the smokeless torches ringing the room.

  There was a display case full of curios and a carpet on the floor with an intricate border of bright colors that immediately suggested Persian influence if it wasn't authentic. There
were vases and sculptures and figurines on every surface. There were curtains along the back wall, left open just enough to reveal another doorway.

  And only one book, left open on the sofa with a length of ribbon in the crease of the page to mark the place.

  "You look disappointed," the man just rising from his seat said. He stepped forward and offered his hand in a firm but gentle shake. He covered Melanie's hand with his other and met her gaze evenly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes proving that he smiled often. Silver threaded through his dark hair liberally, a contrast to the dusky hue of his skin.

  Torchlight reflected from eyes that seemed nearly black and yet somehow still welcoming. He wore pinstriped slacks with a crease in the legs and a crisp white shirt with the cuffs rolled up, the first few buttons undone to reveal the undershirt beneath. Melanie found herself thinking of Omar Sharif and not librarians at all.

  "No." She forced her tongue to move. "No, not disappointed. Just surprised. Pleasantly."

  The man, the custodian, grinned and gave her a somewhat playful bow. "As pleasantly for me," he promised and straightened again, then offered Kade his hand as well. "It's been too long," he told the other man. "I've thought of you often."

  Kade, to Melanie's new surprise, looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Nice to see you again," he allowed, "but the visit's not about me."

  They stared at one another for a few heartbeats, then Amrhic nodded and smiled again. "Of course not." He turned back to Melanie and gestured her toward the couch he'd left. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'm not one to stand on ceremony."

  "Go on," Kade prompted when she looked over her shoulder at him. "Right behind you."

  Melanie had never been good at taking over someone else's space or getting comfortable in a stranger's home. She sat beside the still-open book and let her gaze drift over the page on display as she settled. What she expected, she couldn't have said, but realizing the man had been reading Clear and Present Danger by Tom Clancy caught her completely off guard.

  Amrhic chuckled as he settled into an armchair that faced them both. "Have you read it?" he wondered, as though Melanie had spoken aloud. When she shook her head, he did as well. "I have, seven times. It's a favorite. I'm a Jack Ryan fan."

  "About the meeting," Kade interrupted.

  "There's no harm in being pleasant, is there, Mr. Kade?" The words hung between them as Amrhic crossed his legs and Kade clenched his jaw. "Very well then, down to business. What do you want to know?"

  Kade didn't say a word. Amrhic studied Melanie expectantly. Melanie glanced between both men and knew that her eyes had gone very wide.

  "Me? I don't know what to ask. I don't know anything." She gripped her legs, curling her fingers against the little folds of denim at her knees. "I didn't know I was going to be in the hot seat." She frowned and thought and dared a brief sidelong glare in Kade's direction. "I guess I want to know what's happening to me."

  "Happening." Amrhic's smile went a long way toward soothing the sudden flight of butterflies beneath Melanie's ribs. "Explain it to me."

  "When this is over, I'm never going to say the word 'impossible' again," Melanie vowed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, held it, then opened them and soldiered on. Hiding from the rancor hadn't saved her and it wasn't likely to help her now.

  "I understand walking through shadows. I mean, theoretically. I can do that because Kade's with me. But this thing with Noura..." She shook her head. "We were in his apartment and she came through the wall. She moved like nothing I've ever seen and then she attacked me. She would have stabbed me, I think, but something happened and time slowed down. She slowed down, at least. And Kade," she glanced his way and saw him nodding in agreement, though he didn't chime in. "He says he didn't do it, so it had to be me, but I've never been able to do anything like that."

  "Never been taught," Amrhic corrected gently. "But capable, yes. We are all filled with potential." He paused and considered, then favored her with another warm smile. "Your parents, maybe grandparents, chose to forget the power hidden in their blood." He stood, slipping his hands into his pockets as he rose.

  Melanie stared at his back. "Chose to forget what? My parents? You know my family?"

  "It's my job to know," he said over his shoulder. He stopped before the curio cabinet, attention on one of the figurines within, though Melanie felt certain he'd memorized every detail of the collection long ago. "That's what I do," he went on without looking at her again. "Remember. Names, places, bloodlines. Yours is particularly impressive. It's a pity the choice was made, but not much of a surprise."

  A chill swept over her, making her skin tingle. She tried to ignore it as the feeling crawled up the back of her neck. Deep, even breaths. Amrhic would explain.

  He turned to face her as though he'd heard the mental reassurance. He smiled again, but this time it didn't settle her nerves. "Your great-grandfather was a Warden. One of those tasked with keeping our secrets safe. After all you've seen and the attacks you've endured, I'm sure you understand the need."

  She nodded roughly. "I understand. I think I do, at least, but my great-grandfather? One of you?" She looked to Kade, brow wrinkling. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

  Kade opened his mouth but Amrhic interrupted. "He didn't know." He held up a hand and came toward them again. "We are, perhaps, unduly concerned with our security. We trust very few in the grand scheme of things. We surround ourselves with layers of protection and we parcel out our duties very carefully.

  "Gabriel Clairmont, from whom you are descended, only needed to know how to read old signs. Wards, runes and other sorts of record-keeping. He needed to know how to solve the riddles presented to him and keep the answers close to his chest. He was exceptionally good at both," he added with a faint smile.

  Melanie narrowed her eyes. "You couldn't have known him. You're too young."

  Amrhic chuckled. "I never met him personally, it's true. But in my role as custodian, I am given remembrances of all who've gone before. Your great-grandfather was much respected and greatly admired."

  Melanie pressed the heel of one hand to her temple. She could feel her pulse kick against the pressure and closed her eyes, willing it to slow down again. Impossible. Impossible! So much for her vow. "If my grandparents and parents knew about this, why wouldn't they tell me? How could they choose to forget?"

  "We all make choices," Amrhic answered reasonably. "What to eat, which shirt to wear, and those, I'm sure you agree, have much less consequence than a battle between the supernatural forces of dark and light, evil and good. Forgetting exempts and protects them. It takes them out of harm's way."

  Melanie opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Then why bring me back in?"

  She wanted an apology. She wanted him to say they'd made a mistake. What she saw in his expression instead was compassion. Not perfect, but a salve at least, to her whirling mind.

  "That talent, the ability to uncover answers when no one else can, is vital to our survival. There's been no one like your great-grandfather. Others have a gift, but nothing that could match his level of skill." He smiled and nodded, confirming what she guessed before he said the words. "No one until you."

  Chapter Seventeen

  She had to move. She shoved to her feet and brushed past Amrhic, leaving Kade where he sat. She walked halfway down the length of the room, past the glass cases and displays of ancient things. She turned on her heel and faced the men again but didn't retrace her steps. She gripped her arms, digging her fingers into the skin until nerves throbbed in protest. Awake, real, this was really happening.

  She felt like laughing. She wanted to cry. She did a little of both as she asked, "Don't I get a choice?"

  To his credit, Amrhic didn't follow her. Neither, for that matter, did Kade. He watched her from the sofa, gaze intent and fingers curled on the arm, but he didn't move. She could only guess how much it cost him not to grab and shake her. They were talking about his way of life, protectin
g things he'd been taught to fight for growing up. Things that had killed his father and brother. This was his world and his way of living. She'd allowed him into her life, so why couldn't she embrace his?

  Why not cling to hers? There was nothing wrong with moving on. Choosing not to be part of a war she hadn't volunteered to fight. Her grandparents made the decision to protect the family. Her parents hadn't taught her anything. She had no good reason to throw herself back into the ring.

  Except knowing what she did now, having seen incredible things, she'd never be able to put them out of her mind. Even if she walked away, she'd remember for the rest of her life and she'd wonder how the battle went and whether Kade survived. If she walked away from this crazy past, she'd have to walk away from him.

  Which meant she really didn't have a choice at all.

  She might as well have reasoned through the thoughts out loud. The moment she heaved a sigh and gave in, nodded and felt her shoulders settle, Amrhic went to a table at one side of the room and tugged the draped cloth away.

  The table proved to be a rolling cart and the hidden object the tablet from the museum. She knew it even from a distance. Her breath hitched as the urge to step closer tugged beneath her ribs again. She wet her lips and swallowed. No more hesitating. No more holding back. She'd made her decision. She went to join Amrhic.

  The custodian brushed his fingers across the tablet with the kind of touch Melanie had only seen used on a treasured object. A relative's old bomber jacket. The portrait of an ancestor. A grandparent's hand-sewn quilt. His expression mirrored the gesture, warmed by a fond smile. When he lifted his gaze to hers, it surprised her to see a glint that might herald tears.

  Amrhic cleared his throat and drew back his hand. "Forgive me," he said, smile widening. "We've been afraid we might never find this. To see it here and in one piece is something of a miracle. I confess that it overwhelms."

  "Nothing to forgive." Melanie smiled in return. "I get choked up at work sometimes, too. It's nice to be around people who appreciate what they've got." And, she confessed to herself, that was indeed pride humming through her. She'd restored something important, accidentally or not.