Shadow Blade

by Seressia Glass

  “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.

  There. A thrum along her extrasense, like a gently plucked guitar string. The power of bureaucracy was such that, even if Bernie had worked to conceal his reasoning for reaching out to her about the dagger, he couldn’t conceal the travel request and projected expense form for his trip to America.

  The original request had been made a month prior. Dimly she could feel Bernie’s excitement as he’d completed the forms. Of course, as her handler, meeting with her was par for the course, but documentation still had to be completed. He’d left the reason for his travel deliberately vague, something he apparently had done every time he’d come to visit her.

  The air shimmered before her eyes. The conference room faded, blended, re-emerged as a small paneled office. Comstock sat at an ornately carved Victorian desk, eyeglasses perched on the end of his nose as he peered at the computer screen.

  He looked up, and it seemed as if he looked directly at her. “Hello, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  This wasn’t like her normal visions. “Why?”

  He smiled. “To help you, of course. The answers are there, if you know where to look. Since we’re here, I’d say that you do.”

  “Bernie.” How had he been able to do this? How had he known that he’d need to? Again she was all too aware of how little she actually knew about her mentor.

  “I’m a composite of Bernie, your subconscious, and your magic, powered and manifested through your visions.”

  He tapped the monitor. “If you’re in Gilead East’s office, I would recommend that you not use your extrasense further, especially with my personal items.” A grin: pure Bernie. “Not that I want to throw you across the room, but there’s no need to let anyone who may be monitoring you know you’ve hit upon something, right?”

&n
bsp; No, I don’t think so, she thought. She didn’t think anyone monitoring her could pick up on her visions, since even people in the room with her usually couldn’t see them no matter how psychically skilled. They could pick up anything she said, though.

  She looked at the monitor as he tapped it again. He had a word processing program open. Four words in large block letters took up the entire screen: ENIG. KEPER. SAFE. NUBIA.

  She had no idea what Enig meant, but she guessed that Keper referred to the dagger. Safe was rather obvious. Nubia must have meant the Nubian. The dagger was safe with the Nubian, but not with Enig. Was Enig the name of the Avatar?

  “Nothing gives me more joy than to watch your brain work,” Bernie told her. “You always were my best student.”

  Not only was Bernie helping her from beyond, he could also read her mind. She nodded silently, hoping he’d know that she understood.

  His hands moved over the keyboard, deleting the letters onscreen. “I think that’s enough for now. Any longer and they’ll know you’re having a vision of some sort.”

  She nodded again, knowing he was right. Bernie was doing his part to help. She’d do hers.

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this. I swear.”

  “I know you will, Kira. I know you won’t rest until you find the Fallen responsible.” His face grew solemn. “Which is why I hope you realize you don’t have to do this alone. I told you before that there are those who can help you. Let them. Let him.”

  She froze, unsure which part of the construct was speaking now: Bernie, her subconscious, or her magic. Trust the Nubian? Sure, he had risked his life—and afterlife—taking on the seeker demon. The cynical part of her felt as if he’d interfered, not intervened. She would have finished the seeker if he hadn’t butted in. It just would have taken longer.

  Accepting Khefar’s help was one thing. Having someone who could wield the Dagger of Kheferatum could only benefit her side. Trusting him was another. Trusting people meant letting them in, giving them a piece of yourself. All that did was leave you open for hurt. Kira had had a world of hurt in the last couple of days; she didn’t really want to take on more.

  I don’t think I can do this.

  Sadness filled Bernie’s eyes. “You must try, Kira,” he said as the room around him began to fade into darkness. “Danger is coming and you don’t have a lot of time to prepare. Your life is at stake.”

  Slowly, so slowly, the darkness of the vision gave way to the flourescent lighting of the conference room, as if reluctant to let go. Kira blinked rapidly, then wiped at her eyes. Yep, definitely can’t do this.

  “Solomon?” Sanchez stood at the door, making Kira wonder if the section chief had been watching her the entire time on a video feed punched directly into her office. “Is everything all right?”

  “Not really.” She pulled on her gloves, then began gathering everything together. “Bernie’s death, it—it’s still too close and it’s hard to push through the Veil here. I’ll take everything home and conduct my review there.”

  Sanchez gave her an assessing gaze. “You’ll keep me apprised of any information you uncover?”

  Kira hesitated before picking up the box containing Bernie’s ashes. “If I find anything pertinent to the investigation, I’ll let you know.”

  “Very well.” Sanchez stood aside. Two men in blue coveralls and gloves wheeled a cart into the room, then began stacking the files onto it. “Your new phone and vehicle are ready. I’ll expect an email with your full report by the end of the day.”

  Kira nodded wordlessly, then headed for the door, clutching Bernie’s ashes close. Even in death, her mentor made her think. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to think the way he wanted her to.

  Chapter 16

  Khefar sat on the patio of a Greek restaurant with an unobstructed view of the Midtown building Kira had disappeared into. Just because he couldn’t follow her didn’t mean he couldn’t do reconnaissance.

  The Shadowchaser was, as they say, a piece of work. So much power packed onto her frame. So much anger and sadness. Frustration and impotence. He recognized it, recognized it all. He’d been much the same way four thousand years ago, after losing his family and village. There were times when he still felt that rage, the bleak misery, the inability to find the action that would make everything all right.

  Anansi slid into the seat opposite his. “You really blew that, you know.”

  Khefar stifled a groan. “Thought you were out riding the rails?”

  “How do you know I’m not?”

  The waitress hurried up to him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Nansee?”

  The demigod waggled his eyebrows. “So many things, my dear. Right now, I’ll settle for lunch.” He placed his order, a substantial amount given the feast he’d laid out at breakfast.

  The waitress left, giggling. Anansi watched her retreating form, whistled in admiration, then leaned toward Khefar again. “Now, let’s get back to the task at hand.”

  “And that task is?”

  “Trying to determine how you can stay in Kira’s life long enough to save it. You need to change tactics, son of Nubia. That opening salvo over breakfast was disgracefully lacking in subtlety.”

  “I offered to assist her—”

  “No, you didn’t. You simply attempted to take over, convinced by your logic and reason that she’d instantly give in because you’re right. Then, when she refused your counsel, you proceeded to point out her shortcomings.” Anansi sat back. “Not your finest hour, my friend. Since when did returning from the dead make you so grumpy?”

  “I am not grumpy. I’m concerned with her safety. And I did apologize.”

  “Oh, I see. It was all part of some sort of psychological maneuvering, was it? Have you forgotten when you served under Kandake Amanirenas?”

  Khefar rubbed his forehead. “Yes and no.”

  “Did you learn nothing from dealing with powerful women? Kira may not be a queen, but she has the spirit of the best warrior queens. How many people have you met who would take on a seeker demon without hesitation?”

  “Not many. I know she can handle herself, Nansee. I’m sure she can handle just about any situation that the Universe throws at her and take care of it. But no one’s taking care of her, and that’s what concerns me.”

  The spider god looked at him for a long moment. It was a look, part speculation, part discernment, that always made Khefar uncomfortable and served to remind him that Nansee was Anansi, and definitely not human.

  “You did not ask me,” said the demigod, “but if you did, I would say that offering friendship is the tack you need to take. She’s a Shadowchaser and more than capable of facing down her enemies. What she is probably not capable of is making friends. Sound familiar?”

  “Should it?”

  Anansi snorted. “You have more in common with her than you think. She even has Ma’at as her patroness, you worshipper of Isis.”

  “I did not realize Kira was dedicated to Ma’at.” Khefar had seen Ma’at’s statue in Kira’s bedroom but hadn’t realized it represented anything other than her knowledge and love of ancient Egypt. “The Goddess of Truth speaks to her?”

  Anansi solemnly nodded the affirmative, but his eyes twinkled. “It is understandable, great warrior. Between demanding your blade back, getting into a fight with a seeker, and coming back from the dead, you have been somewhat . . . distracted.”

  “All right, spider.” Khefar slapped the tabletop lightly with his palm. “I will approach her in friendship. It’s the least I can do for the return of my dagger.”

  “Good man, good man.” The waitress brought Anansi’s meal, three platters’ worth. “You might want to go ahead and check out of the hotel, then. You can probably be back at her house by the time she leaves Gilead.”

  Khefar stared at the demigod. “I noticed you didn’t include yourself. Do I even want to know your plans?”

  Anansi grinned. “What human can dare to know the ways of the gods?” He leaned
to the side to get a better view of the retreating waitress. “I think I’m going to continue to savor the local flavor.”

  “Don’t call me to bail you out of trouble, old man,” Khefar said, standing. “In fact, if you do get into trouble, I think I’ll call your father instead.” He grinned. “Or I could call your wife.”

  The demigod paled slightly but perceptively. “You don’t know how to reach her.”

  “Believe that if you want. I’ve read the stories too, you know. Have fun.”

  An hour later Khefar watched as Kira pulled up in front of her converted warehouse in one of those American sport utility vehicles that were supposed to blend in but instead stood out, especially in her emerging neighborhood.

  He got out of the curb-parked Charger and followed her as she pulled into the garage, waiting until she killed the engine and opened the SUV’s door. “You upgraded?”

  “I hate this ugly thing,” she said, getting out. “But I need transportation until I get my bike looked at.”

  “I would be happy to take you wherever you need to go.”

  “I don’t need a chauffeur.” She popped the hatch.

  He decided to avoid what he realized was bound to be an argument he was sure to lose. “How did it go?”

  “Better than I expected, probably because I suppressed my reckless demeanor.” She reached into the cargo area and took out a small sealed cardboard box. “I’ve still got a bunch of stuff to go through.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  She stopped, looked at him. He kept what he hoped was an open and friendly expression. Finally she shrugged. “Sure. If you could grab that storage box and bring it in, I’d appreciate it.”

  After she’d deactivated the protections to allow them through the door into the living area, he helped her carry everything in, following her through the living room area to a scarred and pitted wood table most people would have used as a dining surface.

  “Anansi told me that you follow Ma’at.”

  Again she paused to stare at him. “I thought you knew that. You saw my statue.”