Shadow Blade (30 page)

“Well, here I am.” She spread her
arms,
sure her smile was as crooked as her stance.
Just fake it for a few minutes more.
“More or less in one piece.
Hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”

“Surprisingly, it doesn’t. It does disturb me, however. I have a reputation to maintain, you know.”

“Far be it from me to do anything to damage your reputation,” she retorted, actually enjoying the back and forth with Demoz. “I would think venturing out in daylight might do damage to your brain.”

“That’s entirely possible. You have obviously recovered quite well, which means I can go ahead and give you this.”

He gestured. The young woman opened the car’s front passenger door and retrieved a case from the seat. Curious but cautious, Kira watched the woman lift the lid,
then
turn the open case to face her.

Kira couldn’t control the surprised gasp or the shimmer of joy that immediately filled her eyes. Her Lightblade lay on pale raw silk, as beautiful as the day she’d first received it. Before she realized it, she’d raised her hand, her gloved fingers hovering above the hilt.

“It’s all right,” the young woman said in a musical voice. “It’s been purified.”

The girl was nearly Light-pure. Kira knew the woman couldn’t have touched her blade otherwise and certainly couldn’t have purified it. It made her wonder briefly who the woman was and why she was working for Demoz.

Before she could question anything further, she stripped off her glove and wrapped bare fingers around the handle.
The familiar weight of it, the balance, the crispness of it, the absence of memories.
She was nearly whole again.

A test to be sure.
She called the blade, pushing with all her will through the Veil. Her extrasense responded with a pop of energy, flowing through her hand into the hilt. Her knees almost gave way. Until she’d tried, she’d doubted that she’d be able to call her power, but she couldn’t take the blade into her house without testing it.

She refrained from clutching the hilt to her chest like a child who had grabbed the last piece of candy, sliding it into the new sheath instead. “Thank you. I suppose I owe you now.” What the hell would she have to do to square up with him?

“You don’t owe me, Kira.” He paused. “What happened to you sent a shock wave through the psychic plane on par with the eruption of Krakatau.”

Figures.
He probably wouldn’t have to feed for months
. “I suppose you got your rocks off with that one, didn’t you?”

“No.” Something close to horror wrinkled his features. “It was a type of rape, of both you and of me. If I could undo what was done, I would. Since I can’t, all I can do is
ask
that you never let anything like that happen to you again.”

Demoz’s apparently sincere concern nearly undid her. She bit her lip, needing the physical pain to push emotion back. Finally she gave him a jerky nod. “Can you put the word out that a certain Egyptian dagger will make an appearance at your club, to be auctioned off to the highest bidder?”

He stared at her. “Does this mean that I should make sure that my club’s insurance policy is up to date?”

“You’re always careful, Demoz. I’m sure your insurance is better than most.”

“All right, Kira. Give me two days to get the information out to everyone who needs to know. I’ll even make sure there are a few humans around.”

“Not everyone needs to know. Make it tomorrow night.”

“The club is closed then, so I suppose it could be done.”

“I appreciate that.” She paused. “I’m going to stop him, Demoz.”

“I hope so, Kira. I hope so.” He rolled up his window.

The young woman went around the car, opened the driver’s door,
then
paused. A pale hand lifted, glowed. “The Light
hold
you, Kira Solomon.”

“And you as well.” She retreated to the sidewalk as the other woman got in the car, fastened her seat belt,
then
shifted the car into gear. She wondered again just what the woman was. A woman who could remain Light-pure working in the DMZ—obviously as Demoz’s personal assistant—and who could purify a Lightblade. The mystery would have to wait for another day.

Khefar and Anansi, who had remained in the car during the encounter, joined her. “The psychic vampire recovered your Lightblade?”

“Yeah.”
Kira disarmed the biometric locks. “Forgive me for ever thinking it was right to keep your blade from you.”

“No apologies are necessary, Kira. I’m glad you have reunited with your blade.”

“Me too.
You know the world’s going to hell when Demoz shows concern for a Shadowchaser.” Kira set about physically and magically unlocking the living quarters’ door.

“I doubt he’d show concern for just any Shadowchaser,” Khefar said as he followed her inside.
“Just you.”

“Yeah, well, part of it was an apology for feeding off me. I got the feeling that he hadn’t wanted to, but didn’t have a choice.”

Anansi shut the door behind them and she immediately sagged. Khefar made a grab for her, but she waved him off and sat on the sofa.

“I’m okay, I just—it took a lot of energy to act normal out there.”

“You should have stayed with Wynne. I knew it was too early to move you.”

“I couldn’t stay there.” Seeing Wynne’s haunted expression had been a constant reminder of her failures, her crimes. She needed to be able to put the reminders aside for a little while, at least until Enig was stopped.

“Wynne and Zoo are good, but they can only do so much. I have stuff here that will help me heal faster. Besides, we both know I needed to send a message that I’m still functional. Enig needs to know that he didn’t destroy me—and that I’m coming for him.”

“We’re coming for him,” Khefar corrected.

“Right.
We’ll hunt him down together.” She headed for the stairway. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Are you hungry?” Anansi called. “I can make lunch. I can also start the kettle for the tea.”

“Sounds good.
Give me about an hour or so, all right?”

She needed to go visit Ma’at, to ask for forgiveness. The only problem was
,
she didn’t know if it would be granted.

Chapter 25

A
fter steeping upstairs in a bath filled with rejuvenating herbs, Kira made her way to the lower level and her altar room. Dread filled her as she stepped through the door and fired up the spirit lantern. She had to work to find
a calm
-enough center to begin the ritual, pushing through her fear and uncertainty. She wouldn’t stand a chance if she didn’t start in a clear state and she needed every advantage she could get.

She folded herself onto the large black silk cushion in the center of the tiled floor. Her sistrum and the gilded mirror waited to be used, the statue of Ma’at surveying all. What was going to happen? What would be the outcome of the ritual? Speculating wouldn’t bring answers; only action would. She had to begin while she had the courage.

With her personal copy of the Book of the Dead balanced on her lap, she picked up the sistrum beside the mirror, gave the instrument a shake to start the ritual. As the sound of the instrument filled the room, the slick surface of the mirror wavered. She focused her extrasense, pushing through the Veil. Ma’at’s scales rose up from the surface of the mirror, gleaming and golden, in perfect empty balance.

Kira centered her being, preparing for the most important ritual she could perform, the weighing of her soul.

My heart, my mother; my heart, my mother! My heart whereby I came into being!

A single etheric feather appeared, poised on the bowl on the right side of the scale.

May naught stand up to oppose me at my judgment,
may
there be no opposition to me in the presence of the Chiefs.

A ball of pale light emerged from the center of her chest. The decidedly teal-colored cast of it worried her, and she almost called it back. It floated toward the left side of the scale, opposite Ma’at’s feather.

For a moment both sides swayed. Then the scales
tilted,
the left side lowering.

Gods, no.

She fought a tremble as she scrambled to prostrate herself.
Do not reject me,
she prayed.
Sweet Mother of Justice, do not turn away from
Your
daughter. Not yet. Allow me time to balance my scales. Please, Lady of Truth,
hear
my plea.

With her forehead pressed against the cool golden tile, she waited for a sign. Would the goddess acknowledge her? Would her prayer be answered? Was she too late, too full of Shadow to be worthy of
Her
favor?

A soft touch, the merest whisper of sensation at her cheek.
She lifted her head. The scale rocked slightly, up and down, not balancing. The final judgment was yet to be rendered.

Relief flooded her system, bringing tears. She still had Ma’at’s blessing, still had time to make things right. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice quavering.
“Thank you, goddess.”

With a quiet word and wave of her hand, Kira cut the flow of extrasense to the scales. The feather dissipated and the ball of light floated toward her, settling into her chest. The glow dimmed around the scales as they slipped back into the satiny surface of the mirror.

Pulling her gloves back on, she shut the Book of the Dead,
then
placed it and the sistrum back into the ornate wooden chest. It was only after she’d extinguished the light and secured the door that she allowed herself to ponder the ramifications.

She’d felt the change, the way one could feel an approaching thunderstorm. Her insides tightened with the knowledge she’d gained.

The scales didn’t lie.

Her soul had been weighed and found wanting. Enig had accomplished what he’d set out to do.
You belong to me, to Shadow, already. You just haven’t realized it yet.

Shadow had wanted her for a long time. Soldiers deserted from both sides, though never with any frequency. Usually Chasers were sacrificed before Shadow could use them, taken out by highly trained units of the Gilead Commission that Chasers weren’t supposed to know about. Shadow, of course, didn’t let anyone go willingly.

The ones who lived in the gray area, the ones who slipped so subtly into Light or Shadow no one detected it, those were the ones most coveted by Shadow. It was one of the reasons why the Fallen were so powerful and so dangerous. They knew exactly what it was like to be on either side of the Eternal Struggle.

There was still time, of course, time to do good deeds before Final Judgment. Time to do the right thing, to push her soul back to
Balance .
 . .

Except there was no time.
She had to stop Enig. Facing down the Shadow Avatar, stopping him before he caused more destruction, would have to suffice. If it wasn’t
enough .
 . . she’d have to hope that Ammit the Devourer claimed her before Shadow did.

Unless she had a fail-safe.
A fail-safe she trusted, not one sent by Balm or controlled by Sanchez.

She sealed the corridor and the office,
then
made her way back upstairs. Khefar sat in the sling chair, leafing through a book on Mesopotamian societies. A panda-shaped teapot and two mugs waited on the coffee table and she wondered if it had been a deliberate choice on Anansi’s part. The panda was her favorite teapot, so he might have chosen it for her. But she couldn’t imagine Khefar using it, so Anansi might have chosen it for him, simply the whimsy of a trickster demigod. The spider god, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

Khefar balanced the opened book upside-down on the chair’s arm. “I thought maybe you’d fallen asleep.”

“No, I had other things to do.” She poured herself a mug of tea before sliding back onto the couch. The fragrant aroma wafted up with the steam and she inhaled it gratefully, wishing the simple pleasure of tea would be enough to soothe her. “I got sidetracked. Besides, I think I’ve had plenty of downtime to last me a while. Where’s the spider?”

“He went to market about half an hour ago,” he said, leaning forward to lift the panda-shaped teapot. “I don’t suppose he ever really
needs
to go shopping for food, but he often does so anyway. The process fascinates him. Knowing him, he’ll get distracted and it will be another hour or so before he returns.”

She looked at him, the silly panda teapot in his hands but no distaste on his face, and had a moment of realization. He could do it. So many things he did and had done without complaint, completely unflappable. He had honor and integrity. How many people would be able to shoulder the burden he had, and work tirelessly to see it through? She could ask him to be her fail-safe and he would do it. He was the only one who could.

She pulled her feet up on the couch, balancing her mug on her knees. She told herself she was trying to find the right words to make the request, but really she just wanted to prolong the moment. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to her idea and this quiet camaraderie was like an oasis in the middle of the chaos that her life had become. She had an immortal warrior in her living room and a spider god out shopping for lunch, but it
felt .
 . . nice.

“I have a favor I need to ask you.”

He looked up from adding honey to his tea. “What sort of favor?”

Smart man.
Most people would have said ‘sure,’ then asked what the favor was about. “Actually, it’s more of a promise, like a pact, I guess.”

He returned his mug to the coffee table,
then
settled back into the chair, his posture open and relaxed. He was back to a white T-shirt again, and his feet were bare beneath the frayed hem of his well-worn jeans. “What sort of promise do you wish me to make to you, Kira Solomon?”

She had to look away from him for a moment. He was just too damn touchable. “I don’t know what your plans are after we deal with Enig and I know you have more lives to save before you get to move on, but if you’re still around when it happens—if it happens—I’d like for you to be my fail-safe.”