Shadow Fall (12 page)

“Don’t thank me yet,” she cautioned. “I’m going to discuss this with the section chief. The final decision is hers.”

“If you get me an interview with her, I can prove to her that I’m Shadowchaser material.”

Kira suppressed a snort. She’d like to be a fly on the wall, if only to see Sanchez’s expression as she dealt with the young changeling. Telling the very human section chief a male were-hyena wanted to become a Shadowchaser would be entertaining enough.

“Like I said, I’ll put in a word with the section chief. After that, we’ll see what we see.”

“Cool. I owe you one!”

D’Aurius ran back to join his friends as the crowds began to disperse. Kira turned to Khefar, her hands raised. “Dude, what the hell?”

“What do you mean?”

“You stepped on my toes. I have to maintain order in the hybrid community here, which means I need to be able to talk to people. I don’t know what that attitude of yours was, but you and it can both stay home next time.”

“You need someone to watch your back.”

“I need someone who’s not going to get in my way while watching my back,” she retorted. “I’d rather come out alone than have you antagonizing hybrids for no reason. This city is my responsibility. I have to live with these people. You don’t.”

There was enough ambient light in the parking lot for her to see his jaw clench. “Sorry I stepped on your toes.”

Not even the thinnest thread of remorse lined his voice. Okay, so the encounter with the were-hyena was a big deal for some reason. “Mind telling me what the hell that was about?”

“What?”

“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Khefar.” She crowded him, their noses almost touching. “D’Aurius is still young by bultungin and human standards. You, however, are old enough and experienced enough to know better. What’s your deal?”

He glanced at the thinning crowd. “Not here. I’ll tell you when we get home.”

“Fine.” She turned and stalked toward the bike. “But if you think I’m going to let it go, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Every mile closer to home ratcheted up the tension in Khefar’s gut. The longer he was around Kira, the more opportunities there would be to expose his past. Thousands of years of action and reaction had happened since he’d ended his mourning and decided to follow through on the charge he’d accepted from Isis. A lot of it had been good, a lot of it had been bad. Some of it had even been tragic. Many things he had forgotten, and still more he wished to hell he could forget.

He didn’t blame Kira for getting pissed at him over his standoff with the young were-hyena. He was surprised by his own reaction too. He’d schooled himself to get his job done without the complication of emotions. It was easier that way. But the bultungin had gotten to him in ways he could neither ignore nor forgive. And now he had to tell Kira why.

It was still a few hours till daylight by the time they returned home. Khefar knew Kira should get more rest before heading back to the exhibit at the Congress Center. She had to run by the Carlos Museum as well. He also knew that she wouldn’t put off getting answers from him, no matter how tired she was.

She gave him time to take his jacket off before she pounced. “All right, we’re here. Talk.”

He hesitated. Words weren’t easy on the best of days. Dancing across hot coals would be easier than this conversation.

Kira settled one hand on her hip. “Khefar, if you weasel out of telling me this story, so help me, I will kill you and store your body in a deep freezer until I’m good and ready to resurrect you.”

“Would you really do that?”

“Would you really want to find out?”

He almost reached for his dagger, which would have been a stupid move. Kira was on edge, and it wouldn’t take much to push her over and have her draw her Lightblade against him. As interesting as it would be to see which one of them would win with their lives on the line, Khefar didn’t want to do anything to propel Kira further into Shadow, not when she had enough of it surging through her as it was. The only reason he was in her house—and her bed—was because she trusted him. He didn’t want to ruin that.

She folded her arms across her chest, her defenses at maximum. “Let me break this down for you. In two days I have to go into the den of the Westside were-hyena clan. It’s not the best of neighborhoods on a good day. If there’s an outside force stirring things up, it’s going to get a helluva lot worse when a Shadowchaser shows up. If you’re going to back me up, I need to know that you’re not going to screw things up six ways to Sunday and leave me in a shitstorm because you have a bug up your butt about the bultungin.”

“Holy hyperbole,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides.

“I’m an archaeologist, not an English major.” She made a show of unbuckling her Lightblade, placing it carefully on the kitchen counter. “I think it’s pretty obvious that you’ve encountered the bultungin before.”

His sudden humor fled. “I have.”

She cut her eyes at him. “And it wasn’t all hearts and flowers, I’m assuming?”

“Not a bit.” Khefar answered. Ghost images danced behind his eyes, half-formed specters of a time he’d rather forget. “I spent some time in Nigeria, in the northern part of the country. There were a couple of villages there that were completely populated by were-hyenas. May still be, for all that I know. Some say they were hyenas who learned to become human, rather than humans who learned to become hyenas. Regardless, they acted like their natural cousins. I learned the hard way that they’re best to be avoided, especially when you are a lone male.”

“Did someone try to turn you into a were-hyena?” she asked carefully, as if feeling her way across a minefield. Except that he was the one in danger of being hit by shrapnel, not her.

“A man doesn’t have to be turned to give to the gene pool,” he said, his voice tight. “Though I’m not sure
give
is the right word to use. If the matriarch considered a male a viable stud, he was captured, kept, and encouraged to … perform.”

Kira stared at him. “‘Encouraged’? You mean against your will?”

He nodded curtly. Funny how he couldn’t remember images, but he could remember sounds: the eerie crying laughter-howl of the full pack, the panting breath of the dominant female, men making light of their “sentence” until they realized they had to mate both were-hyena forms, the pleas and cries of captive men pushed beyond their mental and physical limits. “Raped, tortured, they didn’t care what it took as long as they got what they wanted. The matriarchs aren’t called
lipwereri
for nothing.”

“Lipwereri?”

“Man-eater.”

“Oh.” Horror flowed across her face, then was quickly suppressed. “How did you end up there?”

A safer question. “Isis sent me to retrieve a young woman. I managed to spirit her away, but I was caught during our escape.”

“You mean you sacrificed yourself so she could get out.”

He grunted. “You know me that well, huh?”

“You did it for me,” she reminded him, her voice soft. “I find it hard to believe that in four thousand years I’m the only one you’ve truly risked your life for.”

No, she wasn’t the first, but if he managed to protect Kira and see her through whatever plan Ma’at and Isis had for them, she would be the last.

Kira felt her way toward another question. “So the bultungin captured you, and I can guess that they weren’t too happy that you helped the female. How long were you with them?”

His jaw worked. “Three seasons.”

“Three quarters of a year?”

“No.” He stomped down every bit of emotion.
Tell it and get it done. Satisfy her curiosity and she’ll never ask you any of this personal crap again.
“Three years. Once they found out I was a quick healer, I was also used to teach the young ones how to hunt.”

She made a sound, something between a curse and a half-caught cry. The Dagger of Kheferatum throbbed in its holster beneath his arm, reacting to Kira’s unseen flare of power.

He spread his hands, hoping to end the conversation. “As you can see, I escaped. That’s my history with the were-hyenas.”

“Dammit, Khefar.” Anger and power flared in her eyes. “Three friggin’ years? Where the hell was Anansi, and why didn’t he help you?”

“Politics from on high. The local god had more power and more clout with the were-hyena than a West African trickster, so Anansi couldn’t directly interfere.”

“So he helped indirectly?” Anger still thrummed through her voice. “Tell me he did something.”

“He is a spider, remember? Escaping took three years. Anansi sent a venomous spider, one that had never been seen in Nigeria before or since. Four young bultungin died and several more fell violently ill. In the panic I made a break for it, got chased, and ended up falling off a cliff and drowning in a river with a spear in my gut.”

“Oh.” She was silent for a long moment after that, her hands fisted at her sides. Finally, she looked up at him. Neither Light nor Shadow filled her eyes but something human, something just as powerful. “I want to hug you,” she said, her voice crumbling. “Is that stupid?”

The tension inside him eased. He held out his arms. “No, it’s not stupid.”

She pressed against him, throwing her arms around his neck and hanging on as if her life depended on it. He ran his hands up and down her spine. The sound of rustling cloth, the sound of
her
, pushed back those remembered noises, drove them back into the dark and distant past where they belonged.

After a long moment she spoke, her voice warm against his neck. “The Westside were-hyenas haven’t had a challenge for leadership in more than twenty years, and this one is from an unexpected and questionable source. Someone has to oversee it.”

His hands stilled. “And that someone is you.”

“Yes. They don’t like Gilead field agents all that much—they think their need to follow regulations makes them weak. A Shadowchaser, especially a female one, should be seen as strong. There isn’t anyone else.”

“Hey.” He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “Don’t apologize for doing your job. Especially not to me. Of course you have to go. And I’m going with you.”

She searched his face. He hoped liked hell it projected calm acceptance instead of gut-wrenching anxiety. “You know you don’t have to go with me if you think it will be too intense.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been through worse.” At the moment, he couldn’t think of anything that was worse than being a sexual prisoner and prey of the bultungin, and he didn’t want to try. No sense bringing more horrifying memories to the surface.

She reached up to touch him then, her hand hesitating before cupping his cheek. “I know you have. That doesn’t mean the time with the bultungin didn’t leave a lasting impression. It’s okay to take a breather.”

“I won’t let you go alone. Besides, these are Americanized were-hyenas, right? They must have changed greatly to prosper and blend into American society.” He hoped like hell they had.

“I don’t know about that,” Kira said, concerned. “Atlanta does have a large black population so it’s easier to blend in. Also, this particular clan took over a housing project over on the west side. People have a certain perception of places like that, which suits the were-hyenas well. They’ve been sort of isolated.”

He fought rising apprehension. “So this could be good, or this could be all kinds of bad.”

She covered his hand, making him realize he’d gripped the hilt of his dagger. “Yeah, but we’ve got a couple of days before we have to worry about that. Take that time to decide if you really want to go or not. I certainly won’t think any less of you if you decide not to. I don’t know if I could do it, if I had gone through everything you have.”

“You would, because no one else can do your job like you can. It’s the same reason why I’m going with you.”

She drew back with surprise. “Does that mean you’re going to take Balm up on her offer to become a Shadowchaser?”

“No. My job is to protect your back. And no one can do that job like I can.”

Her lips curved. “Wynne might have a thing or two to say about that when we meet up with her and Zoo for lunch tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I mean, later today. Wynne wants the complete rundown of the exhibit. I thought I told you.”

“Must have put it out of my mind.” Khefar grunted. “I’d rather deal with the were-hyenas.”

She stilled, caution filling her eyes. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. No reason.”

Stubbornness mixing in with the caution. “You’re being evasive.”

“I’m being guarded,” he clarified. “It’s only a feeling. I don’t have anything other than my gut to go on.”

Kira stepped back from him, wrapping her arms about her abdomen. He wondered if she realized that she made the gesture when something stressed her and she wanted comfort. “What is your gut telling you?” she asked, as if dreading the answer.

He decided to be blunt. “Something’s going on with the Marlowes. I don’t know if it’s the Gilead training they’ve been through or if it’s the work in Egypt finally catching up to them. If Wynne thinks no one is looking, she seems troubled, like she’s thinking hard about something. As for Zoo—my dagger reacted to him differently the last time we were all together.”

“What?” Kira dropped her hands, her gaze automatically going to the Dagger of Kheferatum tucked beneath his arm. “Are you serious? How did it react to him?”

“Zoo’s magic is mostly healing magic, with some defensive spells thrown in. The dagger didn’t see him as a threat before. Lately, though, the dagger has been reacting to Zoo as if he’s a threat.”

Tension blanketed Kira’s shoulders. “You think he’s dabbling in Shadow magic?”

“I don’t know. I do know something’s changed, and it hasn’t been a good change.”

He watched as Kira worked through the news. A lot had happened to Kira and her friends in the last couple of months. He doubted that any of them had had time or opportunity to come to grips with all of it. Hell, if he still carried the scars of his time with the bultungin, he couldn’t imagine what was going on in Wynne’s or Zoo’s mind.