Shadow Blade

by Seressia Glass

  “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

  After 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.”

  “Fail-safe?”

  “Yeah.” She unfolded from the couch, then placed her mug on the table before beginning to pace. Movement helped her think, to decide what to say. “Sometimes, when I’m fighting or pulling Shadow out of artifacts, sometimes a little of it sticks. Most of the time, my work with the Gi
lead Commission balances that out, balances me out. Keeps me from sliding too far into Shadow.”

  She turned to face him. “There are people out there who are waiting for me to lose the Balance, waiting to capitalize on that opportunity. I can’t let them. So I’d like to make a pact with you, that if I become Unbalanced, you’ll make sure that Shadow doesn’t get its hands on me.”

  He rose, then folded his arms across his chest. “You want me to kill you.”

  “No.” She lifted her chin. “I want you to uncreate me.”

  “Uncreate you?” His eyes widened. “You mean, use the power of the Dagger of Kheferatum to erase your existence?”

  She winced, then nodded. “Basically, yes. I can’t ask Wynne or Zoo to help. I don’t think they’d be able to do what needed doing when the time came. I can’t let anyone in Gilead know, and if they were sent after me, I’d probably fight them and . . . and hurt them. I’ve had enough of hurting innocent people to last me a lifetime.”

  She dragged air into her lungs. It felt like inhaling shards of ice. “It has to be you. You’re the only one strong enough. You’re the only one I’d let get close enough.”

  “And you believe that you deserve this?”

  “It’s not a question of what I deserve. It’s a question of what’s going to keep people safe. I might wait too long, think I could fight it, or think I’m not too far over the edge. My judgment would be impaired and I wouldn’t be able to make the right call.”

  “How do you know your judgment isn’t impaired right now?” he demanded.

  “I don’t. That’s why I need you to be the one who decides.”

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me for this—this thing that goes against the very vow I made to Isis.” He made a cutting gesture with his hand. “I am here to protect you, not bring you to harm!”

  “You’re here to save my life,” she corrected, willing him to understand what she wanted and why. “But I’d rather that you save my soul. What if . . . what if instead of keeping me alive, you save my eternity by preventing me from hurting other innocents? What if by taking my life you save it, and dozens of others in the process?”

  His frown deepened. “What if I refuse?”

  She hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d refuse, that she couldn’t persuade him. Desperation plucked at her nerves. “Please don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m close.” The admission shot from her mouth like a projectile. But here, with him, she could say it. “I’m closer than I’ve ever been. When I was captured, he . . . Enig did something to me. He damaged me. There’s Shadow living inside me now.”

  “You don’t know that. Zoo and Anansi, they healed you, they got it all out.”

  “Look at me.” She stepped close to him, wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and brought his hand up to her face. “Look at my eyes.”

  He glared at her, even as his fingers moved gently along her cheek. His hand spasmed a moment before his eyes widened. “Gods, Kira.”

  “Told you so.” She tried for a smile but couldn’t make her lips curve. “They didn’t get all of the Shadow out. You can see it in my eyes. The color’s changed and not because of the magic they worked to heal me. I-I think there’s a permanent taint on my soul.”

  He shook his head in denial. “You don’t know that. The Balance is in constant motion. You still have a chance to swing your soul back to Light.”

  “Khefar, I don’t have that kind of time.” She gripped his hand that was cupping her cheek, then confessed, “When I went downstairs, I weighed my soul. My soul . . . it was heavier than Ma’at’s feather. You know what that means.”

  His expression dimmed. “I do. Your soul would be fed to the Devourer.”

  “Ma’at has blessed me with a little time, but I can’t trust that I’ll be able to do the right thing when the point comes to choose. I can’t trust that I won’t flip out and murder more innocents. I can’t trust that I’d die and go straight to judgment. Shadow would find a way to prevent my soul from being given to the Devourer. So I need to know that I have an option, a trustworthy option. I need to know that there’s an out. I need that bit of hope to hold on to. I can’t let Shadow take me. I just can’t.”

  She was shaking. She didn’t realize she was shaking until he knelt in front of her, then wrapped his hands around her fists.

  “I will do this for you, Kira Solomon. I failed you once. I will not fail you again. If unmaking you will save your soul, then by my hand you will die. Know also that if letting you live will save your soul, then by my hand you will live. This I swear.”

  The calm returned. Staring down into his strong features, she knew she could count on him. He’d spent four millennia saving lives and souls in a variety of ways. He would do this for her. She’d be able to take on Enig without fear, secure in the knowledge that if she lost, if Enig infected her again, Khefar would stop her.

  As long as he was there, she’d never hurt innocents again.

  “Thank you.” Relief liquefied her knees, forcing her to sit on the coffee table, the nearest surface. Her voice quavered beyond her ability to control it. “Oh, thank the gods you agreed. Just knowing that, I can breathe, I can do what I have to—gods, what is wrong with me?”

  He leaned over her, hands outstretched. She immediately shrank away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want it too much. Because I don’t deserve it, not after I—I don’t deserve—” she broke off, groaning as a tremble shook her body.

  “Kira.” Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around her, drew her closer.

  She wanted to resist. Wanted to pull away, wanted to be stronger, more capable. Wanted to at least wait until she was in the privacy of her own room before she gave in to tears that had become all too frequent. But he was warm and he smelled of leather and cardamom and maleness, and he just tucked her head against his shoulder and waited.

  Another shudder spasmed her body, causing her to gasp for air. Then another, and another, until the gasps became sobs, tearing out of her like rapid-fire torpedoes. She cried for Nico, for Bernie, for the unnamed innocents, for her friends. And she cried for herself, for fear that her goddess would turn away from her and leave her to Shadow.

  Her hand knotted on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to balance this. They might think I’m too far gone to make it.”

  His thumbs brushed at the tears running down her face. “As long as I am here, I’ll help you.”

  She turned back to face him, reading the resolution in the darkness of his eyes: he meant it. He would do whatever it took to protect her, to protect others. Thank the Light he’d been sent her way!

  She shocked herself by reaching up, pressing her lips to his. His body froze for a moment, no doubt he was as shocked as she was. Then his fingers slid into her braids, pulling her closer as he began to return her kiss with hungry, ferocious kisses that fired every synapse in her body.

  With a whimper of need, she threw her arms around his neck, pressing closer to him. He felt incredible, like the perfect summer day, his kisses better than any wine.

  “You’re glowing,” he whispered against her lips. “Should I be worried?”

  Her eyes popped open. Sure enough, her exposed skin emanated a turquoise sheen. “Ah, I don’t know. This hasn’t happened before.”

  “Reason enough to stop, then.” He kissed her once more, then stepped back. “Other than the fact that Nansee will return soon and we need to come up with a plan.”

  “Plan, right. The plan.” She took a couple of steps away from him, and it became much easier to think. “Yes, we need to plan, you and I. And if the trickster can give some advice, I’d appreciate it.” She gave him a watery smile. “You wanted me to try this whole teamwork thing. I think I’m ready to give it a shot.”

  Chapter 26

  Okay, I’m ready to talk about the dagger now.”

  Both Khefar and Nansee looke
d up from their third bowls of harvest soup, matching chunks of bread in their hands. Nansee had returned within moments of their kiss, providing a much-needed distraction as they helped him prepare the meal. If the spider god noticed the new, different sort of tension between them, he didn’t ask about it, for which Kira was extremely grateful. She had a feeling Nansee’s amusement would be more than she could handle.

  Kira’s body fairly hummed. Khefar had given her his promise, and the relief she’d felt had ramped up her appetite. So had the kiss. The meal had been delicious, the spider god an excellent cook. She’d matched them for two bowls, wolfing down chunks of chicken and root vegetables with relish.

  “What dagger?” Nansee asked, perching on his stool. Somehow, along with groceries, he’d managed to procure four cane stools. Thanks to the spider god her worktable had been returned to its original purpose as a dining table. Next he’d probably want to remodel her kitchen.

  Khefar focused on the remnants of his soup, using his bread to sop up the broth. “Apparently Kira asked Wynne Marlowe to forge an imitation of my blade, a blade she now plans to use to trick the Fallen.”

  The demigod’s gaze swung back to her. “You asked the metalworker to forge another Dagger of Kheferatum?”

  “Something like that but not exactly,” she said, noting the shock and worry on Nansee’s face. “I asked her to create a fake dagger to thwart whomever was coming for the blade. It’s taken just about three days, but she said it’s ready now.”

  “Three days.” Khefar’s tone was even, but only a fool would think he was unruffled. “That means you asked her the day you and I met.”

  He was back to angry or being offended, and she didn’t understand why. “Yes,” she replied. “I figured it was the easiest way to get Bernie’s killer while making sure the original dagger was safe.”

  Khefar gathered their bowls and the now-empty soup pot, then rose. “Were you going to try to give me this impostor blade?”

  She watched him take the dishes to the kitchen. “You have your real blade back, so that’s a moot point. But the Fallen wants the Dagger of Kheferatum, and he’s expecting me to bring it to him. How else do you propose I get close enough to kill him and still protect the true dagger? A fake dagger is the best option.”