Shadow Fall (7 page)

Khefar pulled out of the parking deck, revving the engine more than needed. “It was the way we saw it,” he said, his voice clipped. “The Hall of Judgment. The gods, the scales, and Ammit, all there. Exactly the way we saw it.”

“I know.” Kira shimmied out of her pantyhose, wishing she’d thought to put a pair of sweats in the car. She might freeze her butt off getting into the house, but at least she’d be able to move quickly.

“And you knew nothing about it?”

The tone of his voice stopped her, had her turning to face him. “What are you trying to say? That I decided to re-create the most harrowing and beautiful spiritual experience of my life to become a sideshow amusement for complete strangers? I know you don’t know me that well, but you should know me better than that.”

“You’re right.” Khefar sighed in exasperation. “I apologize. It’s just that—”

“Ma’at wasn’t there,” she cut in irritably. “In the version at the Congress Center, Ma’at wasn’t personified as she was in our vision. The scale had a baboon figurine atop it, not a statuette of Ma’at.”

“And Isis stood behind Osiris, not in front of us near the scales,” Khefar added. “It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s a good representation based on the Book of the Dead buried with the scribe Ani.” Kira rubbed her arms. “But there was something about it. I can’t really explain it, but it was off somehow.”

“Shadow?”

“I don’t know. Since we were all closed in together, I was shielding at maximum. Once I got over my shock of seeing the Hall of Judgment in 3-D, I got the sense of something sleeping, waiting.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No.” She rubbed her arms again, thinking about the dreams she’d been having since Cairo. Dreams of Chaos, of growing Shadow, of making choices that would change everything.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Shielding like that wipes me out.”

“Liar.”

She glanced at him again. “You didn’t even have to think about that, did you?”

He shrugged. “As you say, I don’t know you as well as I will, but I am a good observer.”

“That you are.” She settled back into the seat, her arms folded across her chest. Being in his car no longer bothered her since she’d tried to read it shortly after they’d returned from overseas. She didn’t feel guilty about doing it behind his back either—she had to have some way of learning more about the man she’d let into her home and her bed. Unfortunately all she’d gotten was the impression of miles and miles of asphalt. Boring. “At least now I know why you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

“I like looking at you. You’re good to look at.”

She shook her head, not that he could see it. “It’s not that kind of look.”

“What kind of look do you think it is?”

“The kind that makes you wonder if I’m dangerous. If I’ve gone over to Shadow. The kind where you’re wondering how long it’s going to be before you have to pull your dagger against me.”

“Oh.” He paused. “That look.”

“Yeah. That look.” She fisted her hands. “I’m not in danger of slipping.”

“If you were, would you know?”

“I’d know.” She hoped liked hell that she would, if only so she could choose the way she’d be taken out.

“Would you? You’ve changed, Kira. You can’t deny that. We spent nearly three days behind the Veil. You had to channel Light and Shadow to get us out of Set’s temple alive. It was hard for you to let that power go. I’ve got to believe it was just as hard for the power to let you go too.”

It was. Channeling both Light and Shadow felt the way being thrown into a blender must feel. She’d felt the power, beautiful, delicious power, and was instantly addicted. She wanted more of it. If she allowed herself, she’d go searching for it, taking it wherever she could get it. Reason enough not to think about it.

“You don’t know me well enough to know if I’ve changed. Maybe I’ve always been this bitchy.”

“I didn’t say anything about you being bitchy,” he said in his reasonable tone that was beginning to get on her nerves. Maybe she was PMS-ing. “What I am saying is that power affects people. Everyone, no matter who it is. Gods, hybrids, humans—they’re either scared of it and try to shut it down, or they crave it and want more of it.”

He paused at a stop sign. “You don’t seem afraid.”

The man was too observant for her peace of mind. Not that she’d had a lot of peace in, like, ever, but still … “I can handle it.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” he said, so sincerely it made her wince. “Doesn’t mean that I’m not going to be concerned about you. It’s the least I can do for someone who’s trusting me with their life.”

“When you put it like that, you make it hard to be mad at you.”

He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

“And there it is.”

He slowed the car, his amusement instantly changing to tension. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, nodding to the windshield.

They’d pulled into her neighborhood, a collection of storefronts converted into mixed-use developments on the eastern edge of downtown. She saw the figure, swathed in a light-gray all-weather coat, pacing in front of her home, and recognized him as Balm’s assistant.

Something had happened to Balm.

She forced herself to think logically past the sudden tightening in her chest. No, surely she’d know something was wrong with Balm long before anyone showed up to tell her. Section Chief Sanchez had stayed at the gala after Kira and Khefar left, and she wouldn’t have done that if something had happened to the commander in chief of the Gilead Commission.

“Is it trouble?”

“Probably, but nothing that requires knives and guns.”

Khefar pulled to a stop. “You know him?”

“Yeah. That’s Balm’s assistant, Lysander. Since I’ve never seen him without her, and they’re both supposed to be back on Santa Costa, he’s probably not the bearer of good news.”

She retrieved her shoes from the backseat. Reluctantly she shoved her protesting feet back into them before grabbing her Lightblade from the glove compartment and getting out of the car. The biometric scanner mounted on the wall beside the front door read her vitals, raising the garage door in response. Khefar drove through, leaving her in the cold with Balm’s assistant.

With his pale hair and fair skin, Lysander looked to be about her age, mid-twenties. She knew he wasn’t simply because he’d looked much the same when she’d first seen him more than a decade ago. “Lysander.”

“Greetings, Kira Solomon.”

“What are you doing here?”

The man gestured to a small crate sitting on her doorstep. “The Balm of Gilead bade me bring this to you.”

Kira stared at the box, wondering if it contained what she thought it did, hoped and dreaded it did. Finally. “She didn’t tell me you were coming.” Figures. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Our Lady of Light remains on Santa Costa,” the young man said, his breath steaming in the night. The chill air didn’t seem to bother him, which was good, since Kira had no plans to invite him in. Vampires weren’t the only creatures one shouldn’t invite into their homes. “It was decided but a few hours ago to deliver this to you.”

She glanced at the crate again, wary.
A few hours ago
meant Lysander had to already have been somewhere in North America in Balm’s Gulfstream, or he’d used alternative methods of travel. Either way, it meant that whatever was in the crate was important enough that it required a special delivery, and that didn’t mean UPS.

“What is it?”

“The answers you seek,” Lysander said, surprising her. “And hopefully understanding on your part on why your life is as it is, and why Balm is as she is.”

“Wow. That’s, like, the most you’ve said to me at one time ever. And you’re so nice about it that I don’t even mind that you’re verbally rapping me on my knuckles.”

Lysander gave a graceful incline of his head, adding a ghost of a smile. “I speak when it’s important enough.”

Balm?
Kira called out mentally.
Lysander’s here. I’ve got the box. Why did you send this to me now?

A wall of silence answered her. Kira tried again, got the same result. She knew Balm was there, but for some reason the head of Gilead wasn’t answering. Yet it felt different from being shut out or ignored.

Kira frowned at Lysander. “Balm’s not answering me. I can barely sense her. What’s going on?”

Lysander’s expression closed. “Balm is indisposed at the moment.”

“Indisposed?” she echoed as Khefar came out of the garage to join them. “Balm’s never indisposed. At least not to me. So I’ll ask you again: What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, he picked up the crate, held it out to her. “Everything that the Balm of Gilead wants you to know is in here,” he said.

“Meaning there are things she doesn’t want me to know,” Kira shot back.

“Believe me when I say that she went through great pains to get this information to you,” Lysander said, reproach in his voice. “There is a pendant in here that is precious to my mistress. For the first time I can remember, my mistress took it off and urged me to bring this to you. If you want answers, you should start there.”

Khefar took the crate from Lysander when Kira made no move to reach for it. “Is Balm going to be all right?”

“When have you known her not to be?” Lysander asked. He instantly grew serious again. “My duty here is done. If you will excuse me, I have been apart from my mistress longer than I feel comfortable with.” He bowed low. “May the Light shine on you both.”

The wind picked up, causing Kira to shiver deep in her lightweight dress coat. As she watched, Lysander’s solid image became like static across a television screen. Her skin prickled as his form elongated, faded, transmuted into crackling energy. The wind blew harder, catching the particles that Lysander had become before sending them spiraling up into the darkness of the night.

Kira looked after him until there was nothing left to see. Even then, she continued staring into the stars and the half-moon. Why wasn’t Balm talking to her? Why send the crate now?

“That’s one way to travel,” Khefar remarked, the crate balanced against his chest. “What’s in here?”

“Lysander said answers. The only thing I’ve been questioning with Balm is who I am, who my parents were. I’m guessing I’ll find out when I open it.”

“Then, let’s go inside,” Khefar said. “At the very least, we won’t be standing outside, cold and vulnerable.”

“True.” It took effort to make her feet move, to head inside. Each step, it seemed, took her closer to a cliff’s edge, and she felt powerless to stop it. She could simply not open the box, of course. Keep on in ignorant bliss. Yet her whole life, from the moment she realized she was different, that she was an orphan, had been building to this moment, uncovering truth. Now that the moment was at hand, she felt curiously let down and reluctant.

Once inside, she automatically went through the motions of setting the perimeter defenses as Khefar set the chest on her high-top table. Her movements were slow, almost clumsy, and she wondered if she was in some sort of shock. Not hearing from Balm shook her.

She’d always been able to talk mind-to-mind with Balm. She hadn’t given it much thought, not even when she’d pestered the head of the Gilead Commission with thousands of
why
questions as a teen. Kira had simply assumed that Balm, as head of Gilead and its Shadowchaser organization, could talk to whomever she wanted. Balm had more power than she revealed; only a fool would think otherwise.

There had been plenty of times over the years when Kira hadn’t wanted to talk mind-to-mind with Balm, and vice versa. But it had never felt this … final.

“You’re worried,” Khefar said, pulling his tie loose.

“Yeah.” She kicked her shoes off, curling her toes against the soothing smoothness of the wood floor. “Balm and I have always talked through a mental link or through dream walks, unless one of us was mad at the other. Or she wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“Maybe this is another one of her lessons.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“This has completely thrown you off, hasn’t it?”

Kira nodded, staring at the chest, trying to ease the wild thumping of her heart. “Years.”

“What?”

“It’s been years. I’ve been pestering Balm for answers since I first met her and realized there was more to her than met the eye. For more than a decade I’ve been trying to find out who I am and why I have this ability. Balm’s left me fumbling in the dark all this time. But now that I’ve gone to that in-Between place and spoken with Solis, the lady of Between, Balm suddenly wants to share information.” Kira shook her head. “Something’s not right.”

Khefar pulled off his jacket, carefully folded it, and draped it neatly over the back of the couch. The tux would have to go back in the morning. She was glad they wouldn’t have to explain seeker demon acid or hybrid bloodstains on the material. “You think Balm has other motives?”

“Balm always has other motives. My problem is trying to figure out what they are.”

“Do you need to know the why of Balm’s actions right now, when your other long-held questions are so close to being answered?”

“I suppose not.” She sighed, ready to get out of the dress and into something more comfortable, like bike leathers. “But I have to tell you, I’m feeling a little bit like Pandora, about to unleash a world of hurt.”

Which was why she stood completely across the room from the box, her dress gloves still securely in place. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she was afraid. It was just that experience had taught her she had plenty of reason to be cautious.

Yes, she wanted—needed—the truth. But she also wanted to be ready to deal with the fallout of learning that truth.

Kira crossed to the high table, then stared down at the chest, trying to view it as she would any other artifact that had come into her possession. For artifact it was, clearly, decades—perhaps centuries—old, and handcrafted. The lower portion of the chest appeared to be formed from a single piece of wood gone gray with age, the lid from another.