Shadow Fall (20 page)

“I’m here because of the were-hyena the SRT brought in last night,” she answered, easing her bike forward. “Don’t worry, I’ll get back to my hermit-like ways pretty soon.”

“I hope not. You’re the highlight of my day.”

“Then we need to get you out of that guard shack more. Are you staying warm?”

Rhino nodded. “I’m managing. The elders have gone to ground for the winter, except for the clan leader of course. Atlanta is warm most of the time, but it is not Hawai’i. By the way, I have a chipotle turkey chili recipe you have got to try.”

“Are you kidding? You have a molten lava core. I don’t, and I’m not planning to get one anytime soon. I felt the effects of that curry you gave me for an entire week!”

Rhino laughed. “You’re a gutsy lady, you can handle it.”

“I’ll think about it while I’m inside, and let you know. See you later.”

She rode her bike deeper into the underground parking deck, three levels down to a thick gate that required a pass code. She punched in her code, and then rolled forward as the wide steel barrier silently slid open. Tactical response vans not currently in use neatly lined the concrete, noses out, ready to roll. Opposite them was another massive metal door that led to the bowels of Gilead East’s headquarters. This was where the Special Response Teams delivered their high-priority packages for containment.

After parking her bike and punching in another pass code, Kira took the lift to Gilead East’s containment area. Outwardly, it looked like an indoor storage facility, long corridors with matching gray doors set at equal distances along the hallway. Colored markers outside each door designated the threat level of the occupant. Low-level hybrids sleeping off an intoxicant were flagged green. Shadow Adepts in the grip of chaos madness were flagged yellow. Shadowlings too dangerous to be let loose into the human population and who needed to be transported were flagged red. The Fallen and their Shadow Avatars were the most dangerous, of course, but no Shadowchaser or Light agent would be insane enough to let one live long enough to be brought in, if one could be brought in anyway.

A blond woman in a navy blue suit beneath a white lab coat walked along the far end of the corridor, a tablet computer in her hands. “Chaser Solomon,” she said. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Dr. Ingrid Rasmussen.”

“I do remember you, sort of.” The doctor had been part of Kira’s rehabilitation after her encounter with the Fallen. “A team brought in a were-hyena last night. Have you cleared her for questioning?”

Rasmussen tapped her screen. “Oh. That detainee hasn’t regained consciousness.”

“She hasn’t?” Kira frowned. “I know the fight with the bultungin matriarch was pretty intense, and we gave her a good rap to the back of the head, but it’s been almost eight hours.”

Rasmussen stared at her screen. “The subdural hematoma has improved, as to be expected with a shape-shifting hybrid’s rapid physiology,” she said, her voice cool. “We detected a high concentration of a Shadow-infused drug. The med sweepers were able to remove most of it, but not all. I expected her to regain consciousness a few hours ago. There’s no physical explanation for it, so I can only assume it’s something metaphysical.”

Crap. Kira reviewed her actions from the previous night. She’d touched the changeling specifically to incapacitate her, not to read her. Khefar had intervened because he’d noticed Roshonda’s condition deteriorating. What would have happened if he hadn’t? Would she have killed the bultungin so casually?

“Chaser?”

“Hmm. Yes?”

“Is there anything you can recall about the challenge that you can share?”

“No. Nothing about the fight seemed out of the ordinary to me, except that it was over fairly quickly.”

“All right.” The doctor made notations. “Thank you. The section chief would like to see you.”

“Thanks.”

Kira took the elevator up to the administrative levels, her mind whirling. Had she somehow incapacitated the were-hyena as a side effect of her blended nature? She wasn’t sure, simply because she hadn’t taken the time to think through the ramifications of having Light and Shadow inside her.

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.”

A
fter 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.