Shadow Fall

by Glass, Seressia

  “Good answer. Now, if the concept of Universal Balance is the foundation of existence, how can there be Shadowchasers without Lightchasers?”

  Kira parted her lips to make a pithy retort, but no words came. Of course there were Lightchasers. It was so obvious, she felt foolish for not realizing it earlier, like during her training.

  “What do Lightchasers chase?”

  Myshael smiled. “Whatever I tell them to. Enig went after the Dagger of Kheferatum, and Marit convinced a Shadowchaser to steal the Vessel of Nun.”

  “Yeah.” Kira sighed in mock sympathy. “That didn’t work out too well for them, did it?”

  Myshael’s smile vanished, replaced with a terrible expression that kicked up a pang of fear in Kira’s chest. “Since you’ve managed to beat both of them, Set decided he would have his chance, though he slumbers still. And after I talked to Balm and Solis, I decided I would try my hand at bringing my recalcitrant daughter into the fold.”

  Her mood shifted again, this time to eagerness. “So are you going to join the family? Set would like you to, and I know Marit really wants to see you again.”

  “No.” Kira shuddered. “Not only no, but hell no. You and all your little minions are not my family. I belong to Ma’at, not Set. I’m not switching teams, not going to become a Lightchaser, and I’m sure as hell not going to take orders from you.”

  Childlike laughter pealed through the chamber as Myshael clapped her hands. “Oh, you do have the strength of will of your family. Then again, perhaps it is sheer bravado. Or blind stupidity. Regardless, you will follow the path to its inevitable end, and you will come to heel.”

  “You may have laid the path.” Kira’s voice seethed with anger and determination. “You and your sisters have definitely thrown obstacles onto it. But I choose whether or not I step onto it. I choose whether or not to sit down or keep moving forward. Do you understand what I’m telling you? Whatever machinations you and all the other gods have, you cannot trump Free Will. I will always have a choice, and that choice will be mine alone. Not yours, not Solis’s, not Balm’s. Mine.”

  The Lady of Shadows rose into the air, her body suffused with the glowing yellow of Shadow magic. An invisible wind lifted her dark hair, swirling the long strands about her head. She floated to a stop before Kira. Kira stood immobile as Myshael pressed her index finger to Kira’s shoulder. Pain buckled her knees, but Myshael continued to prod her, her eyes glowing with her power.

  With her free hand she cupped Kira’s cheek and leaned close. “You are a child of Chaos, my dearest one,” she whispered against Kira’s ear as she dug her fingers deeper into Kira’s shoulder. “That is why Set calls out to you in your dreams. You have already acted in my name and you will again, for it is your nature.”

  Kira grit her teeth, fighting the pain that radiated from her shoulder. “Get. The hell. Out of my head!”

  Myshael drew back. The immediate absence of pain had Kira gasping as she dropped to her hands and knees. “What makes you think we’re in your head?” Myshael asked.

  “What?”

  “Enjoy your trip down memory lane, my child. I’ll see you soon.”

  The Lady of Shadows vanished.

  At once the swirling nothingness returned, assaulting Kira’s senses. She tried to swim through it, tried to regain control of the vision, tried not to allow the meeting with the Lady of Shadows to throw her completely off-kilter.

  She landed in the middle of a fight. Rather, she landed in the consciousness of a person fighting. The opponent glowed with the bright yellow of Shadow magic, a male Shadowling six and a half feet tall and all sinewy muscle.

  The Shadowling threw a bolt of bright yellow light. She lifted her blade, blocking the blast. Her blade? No, not her dagger, but the pale blue glow denoted the weapon as a Lightblade.

  Realization shook her to her core. She was in the body of another Shadowchaser. Her mother.

  The Shadowling had a knife as well, a curving kukri suffused with a phosphorescent yellow glow. He was a Lightchaser.

  The fight was quick, brutal, damaging to both sides. A blast of Shadow magic hit her mother directly on the forehead, sending her reeling. The world tilted as she fell. A dark, hulking shape loomed over her. A hand reached down, wrapped around her neck. The Shadowling squeezed, and the world went black …

  She jerked up screaming. She should have been dead. Why wasn’t she dead?

  Clothes torn, body bruised and aching. She tried to stand, but pain blossomed in her midsection instead. Gods, no.

  The Shadowling was still there, on his back, her Lightblade protruding from his chest. At least she’d killed him before he—before he—

  Shrieking, she pulled her blade from the still carcass. Raising it high, she plunged it, again and again and again, into the Shadowling’s body. Screaming until her voice gave out, she stabbed him until her arms shook with the effort, until she couldn’t raise the dagger further. She fell onto her back as a cold rain began to fall, throat sore, body hurting, soul bruised. Staring up at the rain, she gathered her mental energy, sent out one call. Balm!

  The scene shifted. Now she was on a boat. Brilliant sapphire sky arched overhead, but she didn’t care. She was too busy being sick over the side as the ship steamed toward the familiar rocky coast, the stone citadel that stood in sharp relief against the sky. Not the way she expected to return to Santa Costa, but she was glad to be home, glad to be returning to Balm.

  The boat glided to a stop at the dock. A woman waited at the end of the pier, beautiful, forever young. Balm, the head of the Gilead Commission, the one person she could always count on.

  Balm ran to the boat as she disembarked, caught her as she stumbled. “Ana, are you all right?”

  She leaned into Balm’s warm embrace and immediately felt better. She’d missed the sun-drenched smell of Balm’s hair. “Serena,” she whispered, “I’ve gotten myself into a spot of trouble.”

  Balm reached out a hand, gently placed it on Ana’s protruding belly. “You should have come home earlier,” Balm said, her voice thick with emotion. “You shouldn’t have left in the first place!”

  “You needed Chasers out in the world,” she reminded Balm. “It was selfish to stay here as long as I did, when I was needed out there.”

  Balm pulled her close. “You were needed here too,” she whispered. She drew back, gathering herself into the picture of serene command. “But you are here now, and that is all that matters. Everything will be all right.”

  The scene reset again. She sat in a canvas pavilion overlooking the sea, a teacup before her. Balm sat beside her, their hands loosely tangled together.

  Ana turned to Balm. “I made a mistake, didn’t I?” she asked, tears streaking down her face. “I shouldn’t bring this child into the world.”

  “She’s your daughter, Ana,” Balm said, caressing the other woman’s face. “It doesn’t matter who her father is, she’s your daughter. Because of that, she has the best possible chance there is.”

  Ana caressed her belly. Fatigue dragged at her. She’d spent hours every day since her arrival bathing her womb in Light magic, boosted by Balm and the innate power of Santa Costa. She’d given everything she could, everything to ensure that her daughter would have the best chance possible. “Nurture over nature. That’s what we have to hope for.”

  “That’s what we believe.” Balm squeezed the other woman’s hand. “She will have your nature, Ana. Your sweet and loving heart will belong to her. She will be your daughter.”

  “Our daughter,” Ana corrected. “I’ll give birth to her, but you will raise her.”

  Panic swept across Balm’s features. “Ana, please, don’t talk like that. You’re going to make it through—”

  “Promise me. Promise me that you’ll raise our daughter.”

  Balm lifted their entwined hands, pressed her lips against their knuckles. “Of course I will.”

  Ana sighed in relief. “Thank you. It gives me peace to know that Kira is in s
uch good hands.”

  Another shift. She screamed as pain ripped through her. Bearing down, pressure increasing, grunting with the effort, holding on to Serena’s hand with all her might, she pushed her daughter out into the Light, the world.

  Balm lifted the baby, placed her onto Ana’s chest. Kira/Ana felt the weight of the baby on her heart, herself brand-new. “She’s beautiful,” she heard herself say.

  “She’s perfect,” Balm said, tears in her eyes.

  “Sweet little Kira,” her mother whispered. “Grow up brave and strong. Have faith in yourself, in your heart, and you’ll never go wrong.”

  Soft blue light filled her vision. One last breath and she reached out, joined the Light.

  “Kira. Kira, can you hear me?”

  She slowly blinked the blue light away. Khefar leaned over her, his expression pinched with worry. “Am I on the floor?”

  Her voice sounded strange, far away. Not surprising considering how many years of history she’d just witnessed.

  “Yeah,” Khefar told her, his voice like gravel. “You had the pendant in your hand. All of a sudden you stiffened and fell flat to the floor. That was about ten minutes ago, and I’ve been trying to rouse you ever since.”

  “I traveled a long way.” The locket slipped from her fingers and to the carpet. “And thus ends my role as Pandora, unleashing the evils of the harshest form of truth to wreak havoc upon my world.”

  Khefar took her hands. “You’re ice cold. I think you’re in shock.”

  “No.” She shook her head slowly. “What I am is so far beyond shock. I don’t think there’s a word for what I am right now.”

  Khefar helped her roll to a sitting position, then he grabbed an afghan from the back of the couch to wrap around her. “Was it bad?”

  “Yeah.” She couldn’t say anything else. She willed her muscles to move. Slowly they complied, her knees up drawing against her chest. She propped her elbows atop her knees, then covered her face with her hands. “I need to talk to Bernie.”

  “I am here now.” Khefar sat beside her, rubbing her back. “I don’t think you’re ready for another vision right now anyway.”

  “You’re right.” Her muscles obeyed her only with effort. Her body, brain, and magic all felt sluggish. She’d crash hard once the horror faded enough.

  “What did you see?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. “Ana, my mother was a hybrid.”

  “I know. You told me that in Cairo. It makes sense, considering your touch ability.”

  She gave him a slow nod. “Balm was pretty tight with my mother. I mean, really tight, as in Sappho tight. I didn’t know that. Ana was a Shadowchaser too. I didn’t know that either. Have you ever come across Lightchasers?”

  His hand paused. “I’m assuming that’s the opposite of a Shadowchaser, someone who goes after those aligned with the Light.”

  “Or whatever Myshael, the Lady of Shadows, wants them to.” She pushed her hair back from her face, a feat made more difficult by her trembling hands. “My father was one apparently, and a Shadowling to boot. He attacked my mother. She killed him, but not before he impregnated her. With me.”

  She huffed. The trembling rolled up her arms to the rest of her body. “That explains why I’ll never be able to get rid of the taint of Shadow. It’s half of my genetic makeup.”

  “Hair of Isis,” Khefar breathed. “You saw this?”

  “Seeing it would have been bad enough.” She drew the afghan closer about her, but the chill wouldn’t go away. “Remember, I have the perspective of the person whose object I touch. It was my mother’s locket.”

  “Gods, Kira.” He dragged her into his lap. “I’m sorry.”

  “I wanted to know. Now I do.” She didn’t lean into him, didn’t take the comfort he offered. If she did, the numbness holding the anguish back would surely break, and she’d drown in the flood.

  “I saw her.”

  “Saw who? Your mother?”

  “No. The Lady of Shadows, Myshael.”

  “Gods, Kira, don’t say her name!” Khefar gripped her shoulders. “You’ll call her to you!”

  “Too late for that. She was the first thing I saw when I touched the locket. Apparently Balm wore it all the time, even to her meetings with her sisters.”

  “What do they do in these meetings?” Khefar demanded. “Scheme and plan against us poor mortals?”

  “Something like that, if the Lady of Shadows is to be believed. She said that since Balm has had her time with me, it’s now her turn.”

  “What does she want?”

  “For me to join the family.” Kira huffed again. “I said no, that I wasn’t of Shadow and would never join her. All she did was laugh.”

  A stirring of anger. Oh yeah, anger would work. “She laughed at me, because she knew what I would find out. She knew I’d discover that dear old Dad was a Shadowling who hunted Shadowchasers. Because she sent that Shadowling after my mother.”

  Khefar’s fingers dug into her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Kira.”

  “Me too. I should have found a way to kill that bitch when I had the chance.”

  “Which one?”

  “Good point.” She moved away from him. “The Sisters seem to have a habit of meddling in people’s lives. I wouldn’t put it past them to have deliberately schemed to create a hybrid of hybrids in order to see which one of them would win. I have no idea what Solis’s stake is in this, but I can guess what the ladies of Light and Shadow want. Well, I have no intention of being their pawn, no matter what game they’re playing.”

  “That’s a relief.” He climbed to his feet.

  She watched him, tension gathering in her shoulders. He stood between her and her Lightblade. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m never going to get rid of the Shadow magic inside me,” she reminded him, staring at his back. “It’s part of me now. Actually, it’s always been a part of me. My mother and Balm were hoping to keep it suppressed. I am of the Light and I am of Shadow. Your mission is to fight Shadow. So I’ll ask you again: what are you going to do?”

  She could see the muscles of his shoulders bunch, his fingers curl, but he kept his back to her. “My mission has never been to fight Shadow. My mission is to do as my Lady Isis bids, and protect my charges. That hasn’t changed.”

  “But your promise—”

  He turned to face her. “You are still you, still the Kira Solomon you were when you went to bed, before you found this out. Are you telling me that the Hand of Truth is unable to bear the burden that the goddess saw fit to give her?”

  “That wouldn’t make for an interesting story, now, would it?” She climbed to her feet. “The ‘Labors of Hercules’ wouldn’t be nearly as exciting or memorable if it were called the ‘Cakewalk of Hercules.’”

  “Exactly.”

  She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Still haven’t heard from Balm. I guess that’s not a bad thing right now. She’ll contact me when she’s good and ready, and I need time to figure out what I’m going to say to her. Tomorrow’s the were-hyena challenge, and I need to do some groundwork before we head out there.”

  “You need rest.”

  She nodded. “I know. One good thing about going through a vision like that is I’m too tired to do anything other than sleep a dreamless sleep. Tomorrow’s soon enough to lose my mind.”

  She let him lead her back upstairs, let him undress her. Let the warmth of his chest seep into her back as he pulled her close against him, spooning her protectively. Let herself revel in the contact, all the while knowing that moments like this were numbered.

  Chap†er 13

  Last time: are you sure about this?”

  “You’ve asked me that every five minutes since we left the house,” Khefar said, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel. “And since I willingly dressed head to toe in leather like some BDSM version of Shaft, I think it’s safe to say that I’m sure about th
is.”

  “You look badass,” Kira said, managing to keep a straight face with effort. Good to know his sense of humor was still intact. “The were-hyenas will appreciate that.”

  “I am badass,” Khefar corrected her. “And if any of the were-hyenas want proof, I’ll be more than happy to provide it to them.”

  The sun had already dropped below the horizon by the time they made their way to the challenge. The Westside were-hyena pack lived in a housing project on the southwest side of downtown Atlanta. It was the perfect cover for the matriarchal hybrids originally from Africa. Ghettos and projects were largely ignored by polite society. No one questioned the lack of adult males, since most assumed there wouldn’t be any around in the first place.

  A chain-link fence marked the entrance to the complex’s main parking lot, near the red and orange brick edifice that housed mailboxes. A few cars took up the allotted spaces, no model close to new. A handful of girls in fur-lined hoodies leaned against one of the cars, bobbing their heads as a hip-hop beat vibrated the windows. Their laughter faded as Khefar backed the Charger into an available parking spot away from the other vehicles. Two of the girls ran off before Kira and Khefar could exit the car.

  “They know we’re here,” he said, tension tightening his voice.

  “Good, since we weren’t trying to be sneaky about it.” She made her way around to the trunk, Khefar joining her.

  “How heavily armed do we want to be?” he asked, popping the trunk. “The bultungin appreciate a show of force.”

  “I want you armed to the teeth.”

  “Excellent.” He lifted a sawed-off shotgun from the compartment.

  “Not that. We want them to recognize that we can hold our own, not think that we’re looking for trouble.”

  “But you are looking for trouble.” He put the shotgun back.

  “I’m looking to prevent trouble,” she clarified, strapping another dagger to her left thigh. Like Khefar, she’d donned all leather, soft enough to move in but thick enough that she wouldn’t need extra layers. It protected against the cold and most shape-shifting hybrids looking for a fight.