Shadow Fall (36 page)

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 anguished. “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.

She drew in a steadying breath, wiping the moisture from her cheeks. “There’s more of you on this cuff than I think you realize,” she said, her voice shaky. She pulled the cuff off. “You probably shouldn’t have given it to me.”

“Do you know why I did?”

“Yes.” She licked her lips before speaking again. “The Kandake Amanirenas—gods, she was something—gave this to you to give to someone special.”

“Which I did.”

“Someone you love.”

He smiled. “I do.”

“You mean me?”

His grin widened. “Is there someone else here?”

“No.” She still looked shell-shocked. “But me? Really?”

“Why are you surprised?”

“I—I don’t know. I guess I stupidly assumed that I stood in the way of you joining your family. I mean, four thousand years is a long time to be single-mindedly focused on one thing. That’s always been your goal, you said. You said you wanted to be with them.”

He took her hand. “I
do
want to be with them. Eventually. They don’t need me where they are. Not like you do.”

She lowered her head. “So the only reason you’re hanging around is because you think I can’t make it without you?”

“Oh, you can make it. I don’t doubt that for a minute. The fact that you faced down Set and the Lady of Shadows after being stabbed with a
was
scepter full of Shadow magic tells me that.”

“But I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. I doubt you’ll find anyone who would call this outcome a failure.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “You know I’m not good at words. I fight. I fight for people, I fight for a cause. I have never fought for a bigger cause than you. Seeing you smiling, seeing you forget your burdens for a while—that is worth fighting for. That is worth staying here for. So I will.”

“Thank you for that.”

He hesitated. “Kira.”

“Yes?”

“Is the only reason you want me around is because I’m your fail-safe? Nothing else?”

Her chin rose, until she met his gaze. “I need you. Not because you’re my fail-safe. Not because you can touch me. I need you because you understand. Because you’ve seen my worst and stick around anyway. Because you know when to kick my ass. Mostly because when I’m with you, here, I get to be Kira. Not a Shadowchaser. Not the Hand of Ma’at. Not a wielder of a Shadowblade and a Lightblade. Simply a woman, simply Kira. And I crave that. I love that.” She paused. “I love you.”

He relaxed. “Good.”

“Does this mean that you’re not going to kill me?”

“You’ve been waiting to die for a long time,” Khefar said, his voice light. He took the cuff from her, then slipped it back onto her wrist. “Maybe it’s time to try living for a while.”

“Try living. I like the sound of that.”

S
ometime later, Kira awakened to find herself lying on a pale blanket cushioned by a thick padding of grass. Fluffy clouds skipped through the brilliant robin’s-egg-blue sky overhead, pushed by a warm wind laden with the pungent smell of the sea.

Santa Costa.

“This was a favorite spot of your mother’s,” Balm said. She sat beside Kira with her knees drawn up to her chin, dressed in a flowing ivory robe with her bare toes peeking from beneath the hem. “And it became a favorite place of mine too.”

“Balm! Where have you been? What happened to you? Why did you shut me out?”

“I know you have questions, daughter. I’m here to answer as many of them as I can.” She dug her toes into the grass. “As for what happened, my dear sister of Shadow gave me a nasty surprise that incapacitated me. I had to go the Southern Hemisphere, to southern Chile. There’s a large dryad community there, and they helped me recover. Not soon enough to help you, for which I’m sorry.”

Kira looked at the other woman. With her dark hair unbound and flowing to her waist, she looked younger than Kira did. “You and my mother were lovers.”

“It’s such a small word to describe what Ana was to me, what I felt for her,” Balm said, staring out toward the sea. “I was young, not more than a child, when I was elevated to Balm. So the ideas of love and desire in a human way were completely foreign to me. I knew intellectually what they were, of course, but experiencing them myself?” Balm shook her head. “I didn’t know them, so I didn’t miss them. Then I met your mother.”