Shadow Fall (30 page)

“No.” Khefar’s voice cut like a whip through her thoughts. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to let that happen.”

“She will come,” Hammond said in his high, thin voice that sawed through Kira’s senses like a dull, rusty knife. “She will come and be judged, or the sleeping will die. The Devourer will be unchained by Set’s hand, and more souls will enter the great nothingness. Chaos will reign.”

He laughed, the sound degenerating into an insane cackle. “Go then, Kira Solomon. Go then to your destiny. The Lady of Shadows waits to take you into her embrace.”

Kira’s stomach began to roil. “I think … I need to get some air.”

She pushed her way out of the room and down the hall, searching for a ladies’ room. She found a unisex toilet and pushed her way in, standing over the bowl as her breath came fast and hard. The energy bars sat like a stone in her stomach, a boulder being tossed around by the earthquake of her emotions. “I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

Shadowlings she could handle. Seeker demons you fought or got killed. One of the Fallen you faced with everything you had, leaving no room for fear. But facing the Chaos god of your pantheon? Confronting Ammit, the Devourer of Souls? Knowing that they were acting as agents of the Lady of Shadows? She couldn’t do it.

Hammond’s voice pressed in on her brain, as insistent as a woodpecker digging for insects. She clamped her hands to her ears, spinning away from the commode. At the sink, she put her back against the wall then slid down it, her coat fanning out around her. Drawing her knees up, she locked her arms around them and rocked back and forth like a child fresh from a nightmare.

Except this wasn’t a dream. If Hammond were to be believed, both Set and the Lady of Shadows would be waiting for her in the exhibit. She had no reason to doubt him, especially when she considered the fact that he’d disclosed the information while being questioned by an Illuminator.

The Lady of Shadows had played everything perfectly. The Fallen sacrificed for a Shadowling’s errand, in order to inject her with Chaos to awaken her own Shadow magic. Her parents. The Shadowblade coming into her possession. Balm’s absence. The dreams of Set demanding that she join him.

Kira had believed she was safe, despite the nightmares. That, somehow, the dreams could be ignored or conquered. Now, knowing everything the Lady of Shadows had done to bring her to this moment, terror gripped her and wouldn’t let go. The idea of the dreams coming true, of having to actually face the Egyptian god of storms and chaos, of giving in to him, was almost too much. If she refused, they would destroy the souls they held. They would then kill her, and she’d become Shadow anyway.

A soft knock at the door almost had her reaching for her blades. She swallowed down the yelp, and cleared her throat. “Yeah?”

“It’s Khefar. I’m coming in.”

“You could at least ask,” she said as he pushed the door open.

“Would you have invited me in?”

“Probably not.”

“There you go, then.” He sat down beside her on the gray tiled floor, his booted feet stretching the length of the room. “That was pretty intense.”

“You think?” She loosened her grip on her knees.

“You were right about the scarabs being the key to saving those people. They can be purified with Light magic and the recitation of one of the prayers from the Book of the Dead. Sanchez has someone working up a translation right now.”

“The Illuminator really got Hammond talking, didn’t she?”

“Singing like the proverbial canary.” He grimaced. “An off-key, mentally unstable canary. Let me state for the record that I never want to be on the receiving end of that particular brand of confession.”

“You and me both.” She shifted, a move that put her slightly closer to him, their sleeves almost touching. Selfishly she wished that they could have had one more night together, but trouble never waited.

He reached over, taking hold of her hand, squeezing her fingers. She wanted to remove her glove, feel the warmth of his skin against hers, but she didn’t dare risk it. She needed to save her energy for whatever she needed to do next.

Khefar, attuned to her as always, gave her fingers another squeeze. “I guess this means your dreams weren’t random dreams.”

“No, they weren’t.”
Set’s waiting for me. Freakin’
Set.
He’s gonna ask me to join him, I’m going to refuse, and he’s going to kill me with a
was
scepter.

He pulled her hand into his lap. “You didn’t ask my opinion, but I’m going to give it anyway. It’s a trap. They know we know it’s a trap, and they don’t care. That means they think they’ve got the upper hand.”

She gave a weak laugh. “I think they do too. Facing the Lady of Shadows, Set, and Ammit the Devourer in the Hall of Judgment is scary. It was bad enough the last time, when Ma’at elevated me. I don’t think I can go back there.”

“All right.”

“All right?” she echoed. “Just like that, you’re okay with me not going in there?”

“My vow is to protect your soul,” Khefar reminded her. “Doing as Hammond says is a sure way of endangering your life. We’ll find some other way.”

“The only other way that wouldn’t endanger those souls is to bomb the place,” Kira said. “We can’t destroy those artifacts, and we definitely can’t sacrifice those souls because I have cold feet.”

She leaned forward, catching his expression. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Sanchez is going to attack with or without you,” he said, his expression bleak. “Hammond told us that everyone who went through the Hall of Judgment—men, women, children—all of them are in danger of losing their souls and falling into comas.”

A chill crept along Kira’s nerves. “That could be hundreds of people. Maybe thousands.”

“I know.” Khefar nodded. “Sanchez realizes it too. Hundreds of people abruptly falling into comas for no apparent reason will incite a citywide panic.”

“One way or another, the reason behind the spontaneous unconsciousness would get out,” Kira said. “Gilead can’t risk that type of exposure. I can’t even begin to imagine what sort of containment that would require.”

“Which is why Sanchez is assembling a volunteer strike force to launch a Level One assault on the Congress Center.”

“Mother of Light,” Kira breathed. “If she does that, the Lady of Shadows could start destroying scarabs. People would think there’s some sort of pandemic. Chaos would erupt.”

“Giving them exactly what they want.” Khefar cursed. “Either way, they win.”

“The only way we have a chance is if I go in. I can at least buy some time for you and the SRT to find the scarabs and get them to someone who can purify them. I can call the DMZ, see if Yessara will help us.”

“Good idea.” Khefar climbed to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. “I’m not happy about you being the sacrificial lamb in all of this.”

“Me either, but is there really another choice? I can’t walk away. I don’t want any more deaths on my hands. Not when I know there’s something I can do to prevent it.”

“I know.” He brushed the back of his hand down her cheek, his gaze lingering on her eyes. “You ready to go back?”

“Yeah.” She scrubbed her gloved hands over her face, the smell of the synthetic material comforting. “You knew I’d decide to face Set, didn’t you?”

“I know that you haven’t run from a challenge since I’ve known you, and you’ve faced some pretty intense challenges,” he said. “I also figured that at the very least you’d want to face the Lady of Shadows so you can tell her to screw off to her face.”

Kira grinned. “That does have a certain allure.”

“I didn’t exactly think you were paranoid before, but now I’m beginning to wonder.”

“Wonder about me being paranoid?”

“No. I can’t reach Anansi and you can’t reach Balm. To say those two are interested in what we do is a gross understatement.”

“So you’re finally on board with my paranoia, huh?”

“It’s not paranoia when there’s someone actually after you.”

That brought her up short. “You think someone’s after me?”

He nodded. “I’ve tried reaching out to Anansi since we went to the hospital. Granted, when he’s visiting his wife he tends to get distracted, but he told me to contact him if there’s a need.”

“I say this qualifies.” Kira settled her coat into place. “I still can’t reach Balm, I haven’t had any direct responses from Ma’at, there’s an Illuminator in town, and we’re about to walk into a trap set by the Lady of Shadows herself. And everybody seems to be fine with it. Why?”

Khefar’s expression grew grim. “Maybe you shouldn’t go.”

“You know I have to. There are literally souls at stake. I don’t know why everyone has bailed on us, but if they want us to handle this on our own, fine.”

“Whatever this is,” Khefar said darkly.

“We won’t know until we get there.”

“True.” Khefar settled his gear.

“Let’s go find Sanchez.”

“Wait.”

She turned to him. “What now?”

“This.” He pulled her close, kissed her. She hesitated for a moment. Then her eyes slid shut as she wrapped her arms around his waist, kissing him back with equal intensity.

“You need to make it through too,” he told her. “Don’t go dying on me in there.”

“I’m going to try not to,” she promised. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you?”

“No.”

She smiled, pushed open the door. “Remind me to get around to it sometime.”

T
hey returned to the viewing room. To Kira’s relief, the interrogation side was empty, Hammond and the Illuminator nowhere to be seen. “What happened to him?”

“Dr. Rasmussen has taken him into her care,” Duncan answered, her professionalism firmly back in place. “It’s doubtful that he’ll be a functioning member of society again—not without a lot of work.”

Which meant that people at the Carlos Museum and elsewhere in the museum exhibition and academic world—people who knew and worked with Kira as an antiquities expert—would wonder about their colleague’s disappearance. “He can’t disappear without a reasonable explanation. I need to be able to tell people something when they ask. And they will ask.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to provide a plausible cover story for you to disseminate,” Sanchez said. “The Nubian bring you up to speed?”

“Yeah.”

“And?” Sanchez prompted.

“And it sounds like there’s going to be a heckuva party at the Congress Center.” Kira tried for a careless shrug. “Since I’m on the guest list, I’d better show up.”

Sanchez continued her basilisk-like gaze. “Seems to me that you’re the guest of honor.” She nodded toward the two-way window. “Know what he was talking about?”

Kira hesitated. “Which part?”

“The part about the Lady of Shadows waiting for you.”

“Oh, that.”

Sanchez cocked an eyebrow. “Well?

“I’ve sent a lot of her children back to Shadow,” Kira said with a shrug. “Makes sense that she’d hold it against me.”

The section chief gave Kira a stare that rivaled the most intense of Balm’s formidable glares. “So we’re potentially confronting the Mother of Shadow, and this creature called Ammit the Devourer who is somehow holding people’s souls hostage.”

“Yeah. We’re not going to have an easy time getting those souls back.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Sanchez actually looked … discomfited. “This is a trap. It’s almost certain suicide for anyone who goes into the exhibit—that is, if the whole Center isn’t booby-trapped.”

“I know.” The thought of more Gilead agents—or anyone else for that matter—dying on her watch made Kira feel more than a little ill herself. “Maybe we should leave your men out of this.”

“Like hell.”

The retort came to her in stereo. She looked between Khefar and Sanchez. Both wore equal expressions of stubborn determination. “Fine,” Kira said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I was mostly joking anyway.”

“Uh-huh.” Sanchez didn’t look or sound convinced. “Let’s head to Control. You can give us a full debrief there.”

Gilead East’s Control Room was the equivalent of Mission Control at NASA. TacRoom One was the largest in Gilead East, boasting one wall of monitors cued to various locations around Atlanta, and another containing an interactive electronic map. More than a dozen analysts were bent over keyboards and headsets at tiered workstations placed in pods of four about the cavernous room. A stream of runners continuously made their way to the analysts via a set of double doors. Those doors, Kira knew, led to a set of windowless rooms holding the ergonomic loungers for the cadre of psychics Gilead called “sweepers.” The sweepers detected every minuscule flare of Shadow magic in the Greater Metropolitan Atlanta area while the analyst crunched the data to detect potential threats.

Sanchez took her place on a bridge of sorts looking down onto the bustling activity below. Beside Sanchez stood the two commanders from the interrogation room. Rows of black-clad guards stood in formation, waiting expectantly. Several of them had been on standby when Kira and Khefar had taken the fake Dagger of Kheferatum into Demoz’s club. Kira knew they’d leap at the chance to avenge their comrades lost at Enig’s hands.

Sanchez took an earbud and a handheld from her assistant, her version of battle gear. “Chaser Solomon, you already met Commander Charlie Jenkins and Commander Siri Sonoranvan. They’ll lead the Gilead strike teams.”

Kira nodded, not bothering to extend her hand. The commanders didn’t either. Gilead associates had learned early on not to touch her.

Sonoranvan nodded at Khefar. “I saw him in the interrogation room. Who’s he? Another Chaser or a civilian?”

“Neither.” Kira turned to Khefar. “Khefar backs me up. Once we engage in the field, he’s second to me.”

That surprised both captains. They knew to take orders from a Shadowchaser when hunting Shadow Adepts or Avatars, but if Khefar wasn’t a Chaser … “Ma’am?”

“You both have been through Gilead tactical training so you know your military history,” Sanchez said, barely glancing up from her handheld. “You remember Hannibal of Carthage?”