Shadow Blade (18 page)

“Pull up about half a block down and I’ll get out.”

He eased over,
then
stopped. “Are you sure?”

“It’s bureaucratic hell, but I’m sure I’ll survive a couple of hours inside.” She opened the car door. “You don’t have to hang around.”

He hesitated, clearly torn. He was being
so .
 . . protective. It made her wonder if she was one of the last two souls he had to save before he could die and rejoin his family.

The honk of a car horn solved the dilemma for them. He thrust a card at her.
“My cell number.
Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you.”

She took the card, thinking it strange that someone who was around when the Twelfth Dynasty pyramids were being constructed had a cell phone. “Thanks.”

“Be careful.”

“Don’t worry, cowboy,” she said, hopping out. “I make it a habit never to trust anyone farther than I can throw them.”

Chapter 15

K
ira walked down the block to Gilead’s headquarters, strengthening her mental shields as she went. Sanchez already knew she was coming to retrieve Bernie’s effects. Still, she never liked entering the cold glass-and-steel edifice if she could help it.
Too much bureaucracy, too many people—human and otherwise—just too much, period.

She felt the hum of the full body scanner as she pushed through the revolving doors. Part of the reason she hadn’t wanted the Nubian to accompany her was because Gilead had all manner of sensors raking the lobby. Even if the revolving door didn’t identify someone as friend or foe or
Other
before it completed its revolution, the other tracking devices would. She wasn’t sure what they’d identify Khefar as nor what sort of reaction the dagger would set off, but she doubted he’d get very far.

Heads turned her way as she walked across the lobby. Her tan cargo pants and brown bomber jacket didn’t fit in with the dark suits and black skirts of most of the people there, but then neither did the Lightblade strapped to her thigh. Most of the people walking across the marble expanse had handguns under their suit jackets. The man behind the welcome kiosk probably had something with a little more firepower.

He gave her a smile as she approached. “Welcome, Ms. Solomon. I’ve notified the chief of your arrival and called a car for you.
The second elevator to the right.”

“Thanks.”

She turned, catching a few staffers averting their eyes as she headed for the elevator. It made her wonder what Sanchez had spread about her. Maybe the clone brothers had talked about her bike stunt with the hybrids. Maybe they just hadn’t ever seen an actual Shadowchaser before. Maybe she really shouldn’t give a damn what they thought.

She steeled herself on the ride up the elevator. It chafed her to know that Balm had spoken to the section chief about her. True, Gilead had to send directives concerning access to Bernie’s files, but Kira doubted either Balm or Sanchez kept it to that. They’d probably been thick as thieves since she’d been assigned to the area. Why else would the section chief feel the need to criticize her at every turn?

The elevator slowed to a stop,
then
the doors slid open. A youngish suit took a step forward, got a good look at her, gulped,
then
immediately stepped back. The doors slid closed. Kira shook her head, disgusted. “Gods, people—we’re on the same side!”

If people were afraid of her, she figured that was their problem, not hers. Shadowchasers were badass for a reason. The Special Response Teams handled run of the mill hybrids and Shadowling disturbances. Anything involving higher Shadow magic—Adepts or those practitioners strong enough to become Avatars, hosts of the Fallen—those cases were left to Shadowchasers. The specialized teams were consummate tactical professionals, but you didn’t send mere humans up against someone who could make you turn on your teammates with just a whispered word.

The elevator slid open again, this time on the executive floor. She stepped out into another high-tech reception area, complete with circular desk and nattily dressed attendant. She was scanned again as she approached the gleaming chunk of metal.
Good thing I dissuaded Khefar and Anansi from tagging along.
She’d already considered the effect Khefar might have if he’d entered the building. Now just thinking about the response Anansi might receive strolling into the lobby almost made her break into a cold sweat.

“Welcome, Chaser Solomon. Section Chief Sanchez is waiting for you.”

The attendant waved her toward the imposing dark double doors, which swung open as she approached. It wasn’t quite akin to entering the lion’s den, but it wasn’t that far off from it either.

Sleek tinted glass and gleaming chrome dominated the section chief’s office, along with a bank of monitors and a kick-ass view of Atlanta’s skyline. It was an impressive display of power, if you were into that sort of thing. Kira personally preferred power that was a bit more organic.

The section chief rose and tugged on her smart navy blue jacket to straighten it to perfection. The severe bun of night before last had been somewhat relaxed into a tight ponytail. Obviously Sanchez felt comfortable here. The desk bore the usual accessories of an executive’s office: monitor, multiline phone, high-end pen angled from a black onyx base all precisely placed. A digital picture frame was the only incongruous detail.

Kira gestured to the photo of a smiling girl, no more than seven, sitting on the steps of a cabin. “Is this your daughter?”

“My niece.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s dead.
Killed twelve years ago by a hybrid during summer camp.”

“Gods, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The section chief reached out a hand, fingers stroking the edge of the frame. “Every day her beautiful face reminds me of my purpose, my duty.”

She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her trousers. “I received your email that the seeker demon was eliminated last night. Good work.”

“Thanks.” It was far easier to be civil than not, and sending the preliminary report via email last night had kept her from focusing too much on the demigod or the dead Nubian. “Luckily it didn’t do too much damage before I managed to send it back to Shadow.”

Sanchez nodded, came around her desk. “Any
ideas yet on what it was
seeking?”

Kira shrugged, not ready to be completely buddy-buddy with the section chief despite what she’d just learned about her. “I figured it tagged Comstock for some reason, something he had, which is why it came to my door. The good news is
,
it picked the wrong door to come to. The bad news is
,
its controller is still out there. I’ll make sure to file my complete report before I leave.”

“What do you need Gilead to do to help you find the controller?”

Kira blinked in surprise. This was a completely different tack from the conversation two days ago. What the hell had Balm told her?

Sanchez smiled. “Comstock was one of us, Kira, and we always do for one of our own. He was a good man and I have no doubt that even if you weren’t a Shadowchaser, you’d stop at nothing to find the person responsible.”

“You’re right. It’s the least I owe him.” Because she owed him, she’d dip into the bureaucracy that was Gilead. She didn’t like the Commission’s style, but that didn’t mean that she was unfamiliar with it—or unable to work it to her benefit. Balm had taught her more than how to fight.

“Section Chief, my bike took some damage during the altercation with the seeker demon. I need to requisition temporary transport. I also need a new DataPhone.”

“Of course.”
Sanchez pressed a button on her phone. “Get me Requisitions.”

A beep, then, “Requisitions.”

“I need an encrypted mobile DataPhone for Chaser Solomon, authorization Sanchez nine-one-four-alpha.”

“Yes, ma’am.
Right away, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I also need one of our loaner vehicles prepped and standing by at the loading dock.”

“They’ll both be ready in half an hour.”

“Good. Send the forms to my office.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Sanchez smiled as she disconnected. “Being the section chief has its perks.”

“I can see that. Thanks.” It was becoming easier to say. Voicing gratitude to Sanchez didn’t exactly bother her; it was just an uncomfortable sensation, like an itch between the shoulder blades.

“The tech department can make any repairs to your motorcycle that you need.”

Okay, that was too much. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

“All right.
Is there anything else you can think of?”

Since Sanchez was in such a giving
mood .
 . . “I’d like Logistics to do a search on any fluctuations in known Shadow activity. I need the sweepers to report back on any unfamiliar power blips, no matter how minute. Something as powerful as an Avatar has to leave a trace.”

Almost all of the people working in Logistics had at least low-level psychic ability of one type or another if not innate magic. They were tested as rigorously as applicants for the Central Intelligence Agency. If anyone outside of a Shadowchaser could find traces of an Avatar, the sweepers could.

“I’ll assign a team to it immediately.” Sanchez gestured to the door. “I have a copy of the forensics report for you, and the London office delivered Comstock’s files. I had them placed in the conference room next door. We also have all of his electronic files and his personal effects recovered from his hotel room.”

Kira followed Sanchez out into the hall. “Did they visit Comstock’s flat, find anything useful there? What about the shop?”

“Unfortunately his solicitor denied us entry and since there weren’t any Gilead markers of any type sensed in his home or the antiques shop, we had to comply. Apparently Comstock didn’t take his work home with him, as least as far as being your handler is concerned.”

A wave of admiration swept Kira. She knew the tech heads of Gilead wouldn’t find any electronic markers, not with Comstock. Her mentor was too much of an antiques lover for that. If he kept any personal notes, they’d more than likely be in a hidebound journal and written in a dead language using quill and ink.

“The solicitor said that as Comstock’s sole heir, you were welcome to review the contents of the flat once Comstock’s assets are officially and legally transferred to you. You can probably expect a communication today or tomorrow.”

“That’s going to have to wait, then,” Kira said, more than willing to postpone that task. “There’s no way I’m leaving town while there’s an Avatar still running loose.”

Sanchez stopped outside another set of dark-paneled double doors. “It seems Comstock conveyed full knowledge of his duties and responsibilities to his solicitor, including the full nature of your relationship with him.”

Ah, there was the old Sanchez.
The one who continued to look for a way to cause her to bite her tongue.
“The full nature of our relationship was that of mentor and
student .
 . . and, as I only now know, Chaser and handler.”

“Well in that case, perhaps there is one final bit of knowledge that your mentor can impart, something that will help in apprehending or eliminating the Avatar,” Sanchez said as she swiped a card to unlock the door. “When you’re done, just pick up the phone. I’ll have everything transferred to the vehicle that will be waiting for you.”

Sanchez left, leaving Kira alone with Bernie’s possessions spread across the conference table. His suitcase and other items recovered from the hotel.
A flash drive and several discs.
A laptop.
A pocketwatch.
Three storage boxes, and one small, rectangular white cardboard box, completely nondescript except for the label identifying it as containing cremated remains.

Kira sank into a chair, knees suddenly weak. Bernie was really gone. It had been easy to set aside the dreamwalk as just a dream, to discount the Nubian, the demigod, and the seeker demon as quirks of her Shadowchaser life. Sitting here, seeing parts and pieces of her mentor’s life so precisely arranged on the conference table, brought the loss home keenly.

Acutely aware of Gilead’s monitoring capabilities, Kira took her time removing her gloves to use her extrasense. She had no idea what, if any, hits she’d get, but she certainly didn’t want Sanchez recording her if she went sprawling. If it seemed like she’d received any sort of vision, no matter how fleeting, Sanchez would want to know about it, every detail. So, in Gilead’s high-tech halls, she’d use her extrasense sparingly but with a liberal dose of pure deductive reasoning.

Kira allowed her normal vision to unfocus, concentrating her awareness on her hands. She powered on the laptop to start with the data files first, knowing they’d be more muted by the chill nature of technology. If she knew Sanchez, the section chief had already been through everything on the computer and the disks and no doubt had ordered a low-level psychic to review Bernie’s personal effects. To do so would have gone against Balm’s order and Kira would find traces of residual extrasense no matter how slight, but she knew Sanchez would take that risk. The section chief didn’t appreciate being the last to know anything.

She hoped Bernie had left some sort of notation regarding when he had come into possession of the Dagger of Kheferatum, and how. The Nubian might tell her how he’d been separated from his blade. Then again, he might not. Not if the dagger had conspired to kill him so it could pass to someone else.

Kira wondered if Bernie had known about the dagger’s true nature. He’d obviously known it wasn’t a fake, but to travel across an ocean to personally put it into her hands? Bernie must have strongly felt it was better to give it to her himself and to keep knowledge of its whereabouts from Gilead. As an antiquities dealer, it would have been easy for him to catalog it as one of many magical artifacts in his possession.