by Ken Lange
In an exercise in insanity, I’ve spent the time trying to figure out how it’s possible that I missed the events that led to this crisis. After charging her phone, I found several texts between her and Samantha. Sam was very cryptic and asked for a meeting in person a few days ago, which Kira agreed to. There was an entire day of no communication, but Mir and I are guessing that’s because they were together. Kira left for a few hours before I called only to return to the building with a single text to Sam that said, Okay.
Mir is focusing on figuring out how and when Kira went offline. To his knowledge, it shouldn’t be possible. And the bad news doesn’t stop there. All the Idunn in her body have gone dormant. Every last one of them, and none of us have a clue why.
Justine steps into the room and places her hand on my shoulder. “You need to eat.”
Unclenching my jaw, I say, “Actually, I don’t.”
She gives me a sad look. “Yeah, I know, but you should step away for a bit.”
Irritated, I turn to her. “I’m sorry?”
Her expression is somber, and her voice is low. “I realize that you’re angry, upset, and feeling helpless right now, but there’s nothing to be done here. Besides, you’re scaring the shit out of the doctors trying to help her.” Tears well in the corners of her eyes. “We’re all scared for her. You know damn well that I love her and wouldn’t do anything to hurt her chances of getting better. But you standing here won’t fix anything. You’ve got a job that needs doing.” She gestures at the chair next to Kira’s bed. “I’ll stay with her and if there’s any change, I’ll call.”
I want to yell at her and explain how wrong she is…but she isn’t. “I really don’t care about my job right now, to be honest.”
She doesn’t move. “Didn’t figure you did. But this Ethan situation, among others, isn’t going to handle itself. And you’ve made it perfectly clear to all of us that he’s out of our league…which leaves you. I know it sucks, but there’s literally nothing you can do here that isn’t already being done.” She gestures behind me. “An entire city of unsuspecting people are depending on you.”
The urge to throw something through a wall is nearly overwhelming. But, once again, she’s right, and I hate her for it. “So, to be clear, because I’m me, I’m not given the same consideration as other parents whose children are sick.” I point at the chair next to the bed. “I’m not allowed to hold her hand and wait for her to wake up?”
Tears fall down her cheeks as she leans forward to hug me. “There’s nothing about this situation that’s fair or right or kind, but this is your lot in life. This is something you chose to do long before most of us were born—and while the price is high, you’ve still got to pay it.” Justine steps back and looks up at me. “Otherwise, you could sit here, and others will be forced to go in your stead, but they’ll fare no better than Geanann. Eventually, there’ll be no one else to stand in your place, and you’ll still have to go.”
My shoulders slump forward as I hang my head in defeat. “Okay, I get it. Work now, deal with the worry and guilt later.” I gesture at Kira. “At least she won’t notice my absence this time.”
Confusion sweeps through Justine’s eyes. “Huh?”
My voice comes out small. “Given how distracted I’ve been with work, Sleipnir, and everything else in my life, I haven’t exactly been here for her. I missed all the signs that led us to this point…and now she’s lying there unconscious.”
Her tone turns somber. “As you’ve told me time and time again, you cannot fix the past, all you can do is move forward and try to do the right thing.”
Isn’t that some shit? She’s actually using my own words against me. Since when did I start making sense?
Leaning in, I kiss her cheek. “Keep me updated.”
She wraps her arms around me. “I will.”
Reluctantly, I let her go and make my way out of the medical bay. The lobby is deathly silent when I step in. No one says anything, but their worry is written on their faces. Most of these people have known Kira her entire life, and they love and care for her.
It’s both a good and a bad thing that Samantha’s dead because I haven’t got a clue what they’d do to her if she were still amongst the living, but I’d like to know what she did to my daughter. Several creative ways to get the information from her if she were still alive float through my mind as I climb the stairs to the third floor.
While auras aren’t as distinguishable as faces, they appear to be unique to that person, or such is my hope. If I’m right, Nora is in my office sitting in the chair in front of my desk. If not, someone else is.
Pulling the door open, I find Nora just where I thought she’d be.
She stands and offers me a weak smile. “You all right?”
Running my hand over my face, I blow out a long breath. “What do you think?”
Her tone softens. “Sorry.”
I gesture at the bar. “How about you?”
She shakes her head. “About the same.” When she speaks again, her voice trembles. “I’ve spoken to Xiwangmu. She wants me to focus on Kira and help her in any way I can. As such, a new emissary will arrive soon to take my place. They will make the final arrangements for her visit.”
Xiwangmu must want to see me pretty badly to be sending a second envoy. “Sit.” She does, and I continue, “Are you planning on doing what I think you are?”
Nora pauses then nods. “I am.”
One of her abilities can be used to heal, but it comes at a terrible cost. While I’m tempted to let her try, it might kill them both.
Fury wells inside me at the thought of wasting her life needlessly before we have a clue what’s really going on. Doing my best to keep my tone neutral, I say, “You might want to give us a chance to help her first. It would destroy her if she woke up only to find you’d sacrificed yourself.”
Her expression hardens. “And just how long would you have me wait?”
Shrugging, I say, “I’ve got no idea.” Running my hand over the top of my head, I sigh. “Look, whatever’s happening with Kira is way more complicated than anything you’ve ever encountered—”
She cuts in. “I’ve brought people back from the brink of death before and lived to tell the tale.”
I resist the urge to yell, but just barely. “I know, I was there on a few of those occasions. Thing is, Kira is like me. The Idunn…do you know what those are?”
Nora blinks. “I’ve heard her talk about them, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
Oh, hell…I hate teaching this class. Maybe I should get Mir to create a pamphlet or something. “Okay, the Idunn are biomechanical nanites. Meaning they’re both machine and organic. They’re incredibly powerful and have the ability to heal, repair, and otherwise enhance their host.”
She chews her bottom lip. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m getting there. Kira also has the Idunn in her system, but at the moment, they’re all going dormant and we don’t know why. So, whatever’s wrong with her isn’t just affecting her body but the Idunn as well. As powerful as you are, I’m not entirely sure there’s anything you can do until we get that under control. There’s a good chance you’d just kill yourself and, if things go too far off-track, Kira as well. Is that what you want?”
Blood rushes to her cheeks. “You know it’s not.”
I nod. “Then let us do what we can first. If things continue to go poorly, you can try things your way.”
Nora doesn’t respond right away, but when she does, her voice is cold and hard. “Fine, but there’s a price for my patience.”
Of course there is. “And what’s that?”
She growls. “You’re going to allow me to pass my position to another by discussing the last of the Queen Mother’s wishes before her new representative arrives.”
Are you fucking kidding me? Really? I’ve got to deal with this traditional bullshit before I can get on with my goddamn day? “You know what, let’s do it. But can you be q
uick about it? I have other shit to attend to.”
Nora glares at me. “Then we’re in agreement?”
“I guess we are.”
She shakes her head. “You know better than that.”
I was hoping she’d missed that, but she hadn’t. “Yes, we’re in agreement.”
The next half hour is a mind-numbing account of a tedious tradition that has long since outlived its usefulness. While it’s unclear exactly when Xiwangmu will arrive, it will be soon, and she will not be ignored. This is the first time in several millennia that she’ll be leaving her sanctuary. As such, there’s a great deal of preparation that must be done. Thanks to Nora, my building will be able to accommodate her arrival—something about the design being able to channel and focus her chi, or some such nonsense.
Most importantly, she’ll be bringing a gift and as such, traditional customs demand that I have a gift of equal value to give in return. Nora informs me that due to the nature of the offering it won’t be necessary for me to do so. Even so, I think I’ll err on the side of caution and have something on hand just in case Nora’s wrong. The more I learn about this trip, the less I like it.
The second she’s finished, she’s out the door.
I pick up my phone and dial William Decker’s number.
If anyone’s going to know where to find Ethan, it’ll be him.
The phone rings three times before he picks up. “Hello, Viktor. How are you today?”
Music plays in the background. “Not great. I need a favor.”
He clears his throat. “If it requires my presence, that’ll be tough. I’m in Brasilia for a few weeks yet.”
I blink. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your vacation.”
He snorts. “I’m down here trying to source a new product for one of my customers back home.”
“I’m not even going to ask… Maybe you’ll be able to help me anyway. I’m looking for Ethan. Any chance you know where he’s holed up?”
William’s silent for several seconds. “You mean Ethan Marcello?”
Running my hand over the top of my head, I sigh. “Yeah.”
He sniffs. “Isn’t he supposed to be dead?”
I rub the spot on my chest where Mjolnir hit me. “Key phrase there is supposed to be.”
His voice drops to a near whisper. “I’ll make some calls. Be in touch in a few hours one way or another.”
“Thanks.”
A bunch of kids yell in the background. “Christ. Got to go.”
I glance down at the screen as it turns dark.
Okay, so while not a total loss, that call wasn’t the solution I was hoping it’d be. As much I hate the idea, it’s time for plan B. After grabbing my keys off the desk, I make my way out to the car. While no one at the Hounfour will welcome me with open arms after what happened to Sylvia, I’ve still got to figure out why Ethan was there.
Considering the time of day, traffic is light and I’m able to bypass most of the snags I’d normally run into. When I pull onto Moss, the tension that’s been building between my shoulder blades dissipates. Thankfully, the street is empty, because I really don’t want to interfere with her family and friends laying her to rest. If her brood were here, their vehicles would be lined up to the stop sign and back. On top of that, Zadock’s Jeep is nowhere in sight, so he won’t be objecting when I rifle through his mother’s stuff.
I follow the trail around to the back and stop several feet from the entrance. Apparently, someone’s been busy, since a new door’s already in place. I’m betting they’ve got a way to go yet inside, but in a few days’ time, you’ll never know that someone smacked me around like a rag doll.
I suppose that’s…good. I’d left specific instructions not to send our repair crews out unless Zadock asked for our help. If it were up to me, the plantation home would be burned to the ground and we’d build a community center on its ashes.
The energy surrounding the place is gray, gold, and stained with blood. Shivering, I push the door open and slowly make my way inside. On the other side of the wall, where I found Sylvia, there’s a blue and gold aura belonging to a very large person. Well, crap. It seems someone’s here after all.
When I step around the corner, Omar, Sylvia’s youngest son, is sitting in a wingchair, sipping a cold beer. Needless to say, he’s changed a lot since we first met. He’s around six foot and built like a linebacker, with close-cropped black hair and a matching beard that hides the scar along his jaw where his father cut him when he was a boy. With the massive amount of leather he’s wearing, he’s got a distinct biker feel.
Not knowing what else to do, I wave. “Afternoon, Omar.”
He finishes his beer. “Viktor.” The chair squeaks as he gets to his feet. “Been expecting you.”
That doesn’t sound ominous at all. Omar is a powerful sorcerer, incredibly strong, and tough as hell. But I’m in no mood for anyone’s shit today. While Omar’s never come out and said anything to me, I’ve always gotten the impression that he isn’t a fan. Of course, he and his mom had their issues as well. From what I understand, he ran away a few years after his father tried to kill him.
Keeping my tone even, I allow my shields to slip into place. “I’m sorry for your loss. If there was anything I could’ve done to help your mother, I would’ve.”
Omar sniffs and walks over to a travel cooler sitting on the floor. He sets his empty bottle aside and pulls out two unmarked bottles. “Care for a drink?”
Okay… Most folks don’t offer me a beverage before trying to kill me. “Normally, I don’t touch the stuff. But if it means having a civil conversation with you, sure, I’ll have one.”
When I pop the top, the aroma of hay, apples, and something else wafts across the room. This is the first drink I’ve ever seen that has an energy signature this strong, shining a brilliant deep honey and wheat color. I sit and raise the bottle in a toast to him. “To those who’ve gone before us.”
Omar lifts his drink and takes a long draft. He’s quiet for several seconds. “Do you know that we’ve never actually had a conversation? We’ve lived in the same vicinity for hundreds of years and yet, we’ve never spoken to one another.”
I haven’t a clue where he’s going with this. “Yeah, I just didn’t think you had much to say to me after the night your father died.”
He sets his bottle against the arm of the chair. “His name was Luca, and my brother was Louis. Did you know that?”
“The people in the town nearby knew your father’s name. They weren’t thrilled about his death, but they got over it quickly enough after the details came out. As for your brother…no, I never knew. Your mother only referred to him as the child I murdered, and your older brother never mentioned him.”
He shrugs. “It doesn’t surprise me. They both dealt with his passing in their own way.”
That’s an odd way to put it. “If it helps, I’m sorry about what happened to Louis.”
Omar grimaces. “You shouldn’t be. It’s probably the best thing that could’ve happened to him, all things considered. It’s my father you owe me an apology for.”
I sip the thick, honey-like drink and let it slide down my throat. “In case you’ve forgotten, Luca tied you three to stakes and threatened to burn you all.”
He shakes his head. “Actually, he didn’t. My mother did that.”
At a loss for words, I sit there for several seconds. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
There’s a hardness in his eyes I hadn’t noticed before. “With the way things looked when you got there, I can’t blame you for how things turned out. Especially after Luca shot Louis.”
“No, I mean…Sylvia did that?”
He nods and takes another long draft of mead. “Yeah. My mother was a special kind of bitch. Louis was human, and sickly. For about a week before it happened, he’d been bedridden with a fever. My mother contacted one of the spirits, the loa, to lend a hand. It was their suggestion to turn him into a kappa and allow Z
adock and me to be possessed by their brethren.” His expression turns hard. “Zadock didn’t have a clue, didn’t realize why I was fighting so hard to escape that night. He was always so blindly faithful to our mother…until I told him what really happened. After that, he sought you out to spite her.”
I blink. “Ah…what did happen?”
He sips from his bottle. “She drugged Luca, but obviously not well enough. My father figured out what she was going to do and completely lost his mind. I don’t know how long it went on, but then you showed up and things sort of escalated.”
My mind and body are numb. All these years, I’d blamed Luca for the way things had gone, and all he’d been guilty of was trying to save his kids from the loa—even if his methods were a bit extreme. The real villain of the story had always been Sylvia and she’d used that to her advantage over the centuries. If she weren’t already dead, I would kill the bitch.
“I’m sorry. I really had no idea.”
A bitter smile crosses his lips. “Didn’t figure you did. I’m surprised Zadock never said anything. Guess he had his reasons.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a thumb drive. “Mom gave me this a few months ago. Given the state of our relationship, I’m guessing she believed it’d be safe with me. Her instructions were to give it to you should anything happen to her.”
I hear the words coming out of his mouth—hell, I actually understand what they mean—but I can’t quite wrap my head around them. “I’m sorry? She wanted you to give me something? Are you sure you’ve got that right?”
An old hurt dances in his eyes. “I couldn’t believe it either. Took me a while to come to grips with it…her trusting me and wanting you involved in something concerning her. It was weird.” He flips the drive in his fingers, and his gaze hits the floor. “But after I went through some of the files, I began to understand.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Okay, what is it?”
Tossing it to me, he shrugs. “It’s a bunch of information about the loa.” He shakes his head in disgust. “It’s some really bad shit…stuff I wish I didn’t know. But now that I do, well, I’ve made some decisions. You and me, we’ll be talking again soon. In the meantime, you should keep doing what you do and put people in the ground.” He tilts the bottle up and drains it. “There’s probably a good two centuries of intel on that drive. You should know that while she always hated your guts, she began to see the world through different eyes. She never asked me for forgiveness, but if those records are any indication, she’s spent most of her life trying to make up for what happened that night.”
