Shadow Blade

by Seressia Glass

  The momentum carried them through the now-glassless window overlooking the club floor. She reacted on pure instinct, swinging her Lightblade up, her blade gleaming blue-white as she gathered her force. Screaming with effort, she swung, slicing diagonally through the Avatar’s throat and collarbone just before they crashed into the Pit.

  Chapter 28

  Kira!”

  Khefar vaulted over the railing, landing in the Pit beside her. The remnants of the Avatar were already beginning to disintegrate, but enough of it had been beneath her to break her fall. Unfortunately, breakage was the least of his worries.

  Carefully, carefully, he turned her onto her back, ignoring the people rushing around them. A large welt had been carved into her vest, but the thick leather seemed to have deflected most of the brunt of the blow. A portion of the imitation dagger stuck out of her right shoulder. The blade glowed a sickly yellow color.

  Khefar muttered a curse. The Fallen, before complete separation, had charged the knife with Chaos magic before the Avatar stabbed her.

  He decided against warning her, pulling the blade free before she could tense up or he could change his mind. It didn’t matter that the blade had missed vital organs or veins. The purpose had been to infect her again with Shadow magic, to poison her already compromised system.

  “Gods, it burns.” She clutched at him, her skin burning blue as her body tried to fight the toxins invading her system.

  “I know, but you have to fight. You’ve got to be strong for a little while longer.”

  She grimaced on a wave of pain. “Did I slow him down?”

  “Yeah.” He held her close, but not close enough, never close enough. He pressed his hand against her wound in a futile effort to halt the inevitable. “You killed the Avatar, but there’s no sign of the Fallen controlling it.”

  “It . . . will have to be enough. The Fallen is at least weakened if not annihilated. The crystal . . . all the pieces need to be gathered up. Take them to Gilead so they can be stored away in a barrel of purified salt, just in case.”

  “I will.”

  “Khefar.” She coughed, sweat beading on her forehead. “You have to do it, Khefar. You have to unmake me.”

  Holy Mother Isis, had she intended to die all along? “Why did you do it? Why?”

  “Scales . . . had to balance my scales. Maybe now the Light will take me, Ma’at willing. But if the poison is too much . . . you need to use your dagger on me.”

  “No! You’re not going to die today. Do you hear me?”

  She smiled up at him. “It’s okay, Khefar. This is a good way to go. If you unmake me, the Fallen won’t get me. Just sorry you couldn’t take me off your total.”

  The rattle. He heard it, the sound of death filling her body. “No!”

  She couldn’t die. Not this one. Not this one, most of all. Khefar slashed his dagger across his wrist, opening the large vein. He pressed the wound against the puncture in her shoulder, mingling his blood with hers.

  “Live for me,” he whispered, drawing her close to him once again. “By the Light, you must live.”

  He did not know if this crude transfusion would work or not. His blood had been circulating in his body for four millennia; surely it was part of the key to him surviving his most grievous wounds. If it could fight the poison, if it could keep her here, he would gladly give every drop of blood he had.

  Anansi materialized beside him. “My boy, what have you done?”

  “Help her,” he demanded. “We may not worship you but we believe in you. Do something!”

  Lethargy settled into his limbs as he slumped against the stone column. He could feel his soul struggling against the bonds of his body, wanting to break free. He longed to do just that, if only to find Kira’s soul and return it to her shell.

  The darkness brightened, a pearlescent gleam piercing the Veil of Death. The light began to take shape and form, flowing locks from the top of it, then a face, then the hint of limbs. A representative of the Powers of Light, sent in the form of a crone.

  “Kira,” the being said without moving its lips. “Come, child. It is time to take you home.”

  As near to the dying as he was, Khefar could see Kira’s spirit hovering just above her ravaged body, trying to join with it again. “No,” he protested, a feeble sound of voice and soul. “Do not take her. Please don’t take her.”

  “Why not?” the being asked. “You would deny her the rest she deserves?”

  “Never. But I would keep her here for now.”

  “There will be another life for you to save, Khefar,” the crone said with compassion. “Even now it can be revealed to you. Your journey will soon be at an end.”

  “My journey could last another millennia,” Khefar declared, “if it would keep her here with those who love her. I have never asked the Powers of Light for anything in the last four millennia. I would ask this of them.”

  The being drew closer, hovering between him and Kira. “Why this life?” she asked. “Of the thousands you have saved and the dozens you have lost, why does this life matter so greatly?”

  “Because she’s special. I know it and you know it.”

  The being remained silent for a long moment, eyes closed. Khefar waited, staying conscious with effort of will until the dark spheres opened once again. “Would you sacrifice your quest for this one, my child? Would you turn from your existence to grant this wish?”

  Kira’s spirit opened its mouth, but no sound came out. Khefar knew she would not want him to sacrifice himself for her, but he knew he would do it anyway, anytime, anywhere. He dropped a kiss to her cold forehead. “I would,” he whispered. “She wants to stay. She wants to return to her body. I give of myself gladly so that it may be so.”

  The crone bowed her head once. “Then let it be done.”

  She stretched out a hand, engulfing Khefar in a blanket of light. He felt his spirit draining from his body and smiled. Even if he would know only darkness, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make to give Kira her life back.

  Chapter 29

  Kira knew this place.

  The Hall of Souls, lined with thrones gleaming gold in torchlight upon which sat the gods and goddesses of the Two Lands. She saw the jackal-headed Anubis, the Great Mother Isis, Her Consort Osiris . . . and so many more. Before her were the gilded scales, standing as tall as she, with her patron goddess, Ma’at, beside them.

  Kira’s legs could not hold her. She hit the ground, hard. Of its own accord, her body pitched forward until her forehead pressed the ground as if to hold it in place. Ma’at, protect me.

  “Lord of the Dead, Great Osiris,” a voice intoned. “Two souls—a new soul and an old soul—are come before us.”

  The import of the words struck her. Two souls? Who else would be here at this time, with these gods, with her? She became aware of another presence, muted by the majesty of the gods, kneeling beside her.

  Khefar. He stretched out beside her, as still and silent as she. They were both to have their souls weighed.

  Fear drove out every ritual spell and prayer she’d memorized for this day. Her Book of the Dead was nowhere to be seen, still safely ensconced in her altar room. She could hear the growling hunger of Ammit the Devourer. She could not let Khefar’s heart be lost.

  “The old soul has endured much,” the god—she realized it must be Anubis, guide and friend of the dead, speaking—continued. “Is there one here who will speak for him?”

  “I will speak for him,” a feminine all-voice intoned. “He is My child and he has done what I have asked of him, willingly and without complaint, and at great personal cost.”

  Though Kira didn’t dare look up, she saw the beautiful golden light brighten, felt the presence of the goddess move closer. She trembled and felt Khefar do the same.

  “Speak, child of Mine. What is it that you wish of Me?”

  Khefar spoke. “Nutjert en Ankh, sat Nut, sat Geb, merit Auser . . . ” The words pressed against her, then into her, tra
nslating through her soul. “Goddess of Life, daughter of Nut, daughter of Geb, Beloved of Osiris, hear one unworthy of your blessing. If it be Your will to grant the wish of one such as I, I would wish that Kira, faithful servant of the Light, handmaid of Ma’at, be returned to her life.”

  Shock locked her muscles. No, Khefar. Don’t ask this. Not this. Ask for yourself.

  “What of the vow you made, My child? If she is sent back, your vow to fail-safe still holds. You will remain, denied entry to the Field of Reeds until she leaves the world. Is that your choice, My son?”

  Move, she begged her frozen muscles. He can’t give that for me. I can’t ask him to sacrifice his afterlife for mine!

  “I follow Your will in all things, Goddess of Life,” he said then. “I will hold to my vows.”

  “It is not just My will that determines this day. What say you, Mistress of Justice?”

  Kira shuddered as another presence, a familiar one, joined Isis. “I will speak for the new soul, for she is My child, My fierce and zealous daughter who has served Justice faithfully. Speak now, beloved one, the truth of your heart.”

  Gratitude trembled through her pores, the gentle presence bringing words to the surface. “Ma’at the Great, Goddess of Justice, Mistress of the Sentences, She of Order and Rule. May I shine each day in Your presence, doing Your will in all things. I would not ask another to sacrifice for me. He has served faithfully. If it is his time to rest, please allow him to join his family in paradise. I would not deny him his reward, not for my sake. I live and die by Your will.”

  Silence, during which she could feel Khefar’s soul vibrate in outraged reaction: You have done so much for me, Khefar, so much in such a short time. I’m grateful I met you, and you have touched me in more ways than you know. Have your peace now. I’ll be content with that.

  Ma’at’s presence washed over her. “My will is this: you will return to the living land to be My instrument in this world. You will serve Me as you have always done, secure in My blessing as you stand against Chaos.”

  She was more than goddess, She was a Universal Truth, Mother of Order and Function, the foundation of everything. “You honor me; I will abide by Your will.”

  “As Justice has spoken, so shall I,” Isis said then, her voice nowhere and everywhere. “I am Isis. Mother of All. Do I not have power over life and death?”

  Khefar stirred. “Yes, Great Mother.”

  “She is Ma’at’s child, but you are Mine. You are needed in this world a while longer, Khefar, son of Jeru, son of Natek.”

  “You honor me, Lady of the Words of Power.”

  “Will you return?”

  “I will, Great Goddess.”

  “As We speak, so let it be done.”

  The light around Kira intensified. “You may stand now, child.”

  At the gentle urging of the goddess, Kira’s body unfolded, pushing to her feet. The Hall of Thrones had vanished, as did Khefar, Isis, and the other gods. The embodiment of Truth and Order stood in her shining glory, beautiful and pure and golden. By contrast, Kira felt dirty in body and mind and soul.

  Ma’at smiled and Kira’s heart leaped in response, giddy. “You are My daughter, the Hand of Justice.”

  She removed the white plume feather from her headdress. It balanced in the palm of her hand, gleaming blue-white and golden with power. Then it began to dance, as if caught on a current of air, lifting away from the goddess and toward Kira.

  She instinctively raised her hands. The feather settled against her cupped palms, humming and nearly insubstantial. Light and heat emanated from it, brighter and warmer until it consumed her vision and seared her soul.

  The goddess spoke one final time. “Go forth into the day, My child. Your friends await.”

  The golden light faded.

  Kira opened her eyes to find Wynne’s worried face leaning over her. “Oh, thank God!”

  “Goddess.” Kira trembled. “I saw Her. Them. I saw it all. It was so beautiful . . . ”

  “I’m sure it was beautiful for you, but it was scary as hell for us. Think you can space out these superhero action sequences a little more?”

  “I’ll work on it.” She looked around the room. An espresso-colored lowboy sat against the far wall, a plum-colored orchid sitting atop it. It was the minimalist Zen-like style she preferred, but it wasn’t her house or her safe room at Wynne’s. It didn’t feel like a hotel room and she didn’t think her friends would take her to a bed and breakfast to recuperate. “Where are we? Where’s Khefar?”

  Wynne bit her lip. “Well, see, that’s the thing—”

  “I’ll answer her.”

  Kira blinked in surprise. “Balm? You’re here?”

  The head of Gilead took the chair Wynne vacated. She wore a beige cowl-necked sweater, tweed slacks, and dark brown boots, a far cry from her usual turn-of-the-century garb. “This is my safe house in Atlanta. You didn’t really expect me to go home, did you? Abandon my daughter when she faces the greatest challenge of her life?”

  “No, I suppose not.” She sat up, appreciating the soft cotton gown and bed sheets, the simple impression of blue sky and warm sun she felt from them. She had no idea Balm had a house in Atlanta, but she found it didn’t bother her. At that moment, little could. “I feel like I should apologize to you.”

  “For what? For doing your job and sending one of the Fallen back to Shadow? No. If, however, you mean dying and scaring me half to death, then yes—you damn well need to apologize.”

  Kira gazed at the woman who’d shaped her life, noting the strain about the eternal woman’s eyes and lips. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to cause you worry.”

  “You never do, and yet I worry.” Balm reached out a gloved hand toward Kira, then drew it back. “You’ve never had to face anything like this before.”

  “No. This was the worst. It was almost too much, what the Fallen did. He got into my head, dangled the promise of information about my past, my family. He promised to tell me who I am and why I am.”

  Balm sighed. “You didn’t believe him, did you?”

  “Of course not. You should know me better than that.” She looked away. “He’s the reason Nico is dead. He supplied Nico with the serum that blocked my powers. He used the special team to dart me with it, to trap me.”

  “Oh, Kira.” In a surprising move, Balm slid onto the bed beside her. “I’m sorry you had to endure that, daughter. I know it doesn’t ease the pain, but perhaps you can take some comfort in knowing that this Fallen can no longer hurt you and yours.”

  It was cold comfort, but it was all she had. “I’ll take what I can get at this point. And we did win one for the Light.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Balm gave her a smile as soothing as her name. “I’ve worried every day since you left Santa Costa, knowing that the day would come when I’d have to let you go, let you walk your path without me.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “There are places even I cannot go, paths I cannot take. You, my dearest daughter, walked with the gods, the Guardians of Light, and have now been taken into direct service.” Balm adjusted her sleeves. “You’ve always chafed under my authority, and now you’ll answer to a higher one.”

  “So it wasn’t a dream?”

  “No. You were claimed by Ma’at Herself.”

  Kira leaned back against the pillows, trying to absorb Balm’s news. “Are . . . are you saying that I’m no longer a Shadowchaser?”

  “You will always be a Shadowchaser,” the head of Gilead retorted. The harshness eased from her voice and features as she returned to the chair. “You remain a weapon of Light to push back Shadow. You’re just more now. Can you not sense it?”

  Kira closed her eyes, trying to find confirmation of what Balm had told her. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, how many days had passed since she’d fallen out of Demoz’s office window with a poisoned dagger in her shoulder. Lying prostrate in the Hall of Gods, feeling Ma’at’s blessing and I
sis’s grace? It felt as if it had just happened.

  An image took shape in her mind’s eye, the glowing form of Ma’at’s feather. Its light warmed her, spreading through her like heated brandy, making her feel almost giddy. Yet she felt something slide along the edge of her senses, a hint of Shadow just beyond the brilliance of Ma’at’s truth.

  She was still tainted. Her burdens hadn’t disappeared just because she’d been called by her goddess—not that she’d expected them to. Now she knew why the Mother Goddess had told Khefar that he’d have to come back. He might still have to keep his promise to use the Dagger of Kheferatum to unmake her. And surely he still had one more life to save?

  Her eyes popped open. “What about Khefar? Uh, the man who fought the Fallen with me?”

  “Ah yes, the immortal Nubian.” Balm arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been holding out on me, daughter.”

  Kira dipped her head. “I know. It was just—it got real complicated real fast.”

  Balm smiled. “Men can do that.”

  Heat crept up Kira’s cheeks, but she studiously ignored it. “Is everyone else okay? Was Sanchez able to retrieve the first Special Response Team? We didn’t lose anyone else, did we?”

  Balm handed her a pair of thin gloves. “Why don’t you get out of bed and come see for yourself?”

  Kira pulled on the gloves, then levered up off the bed. “Where is this place?” she asked, changing into the dark gray trousers and lighter gray sweater waiting for her at the foot of the platform bed. She wondered how Balm had known that she liked Zen decor for her sleeping quarters. Her rooms on Santa Costa had been austere out of necessity, not choice.

  “Ansley Park, not far from the Atlanta Botanical Gardens.”

  She followed Balm out into the hall. “You’re so old-school, Balm. I’m surprised you’re not in one of the mansions near the governor’s place.”