Shadow Fall (11 page)

The groups of bikers and spectators were a disparate crowd, drawn together by their love of fast machines. One mixed clutch of bikers stood apart from the others, either by their own choice or because the others subconsciously recognized them as different. Other.

Kira eased her bike in among a large pack of other motorcycles while spectators watched as a guy on a red and yellow Ducati did a combo wheelie down the open swath of asphalt. A line of stunt bikers waiting their turn snaked to the left. She stopped the bike, then dropped the kickstand. Khefar hopped off the back as she pulled off her helmet and shook out her braids.

Conversation ebbed. A wave of recognition passed over the hybrids gathered nearby, a ripple of uneasy curiosity. Kira realized she hadn’t been out to the gathering since before Bernie’s death. Or, more importantly to the hybrids, since she’d brought down the Fallen at Demoz’s club.

The arrival of any Chaser would grab the interest of hybrids; Kira showing up demanded even more attention.

Gilead grouped the denizens of Shadow and Light along the same scale. Hybrids were the mixed-blood offspring of humans and the lesser children of Light and Shadow who came through the Veil when the first battle between Light and Shadow nearly ripped existence apart. Most had a human form that enabled them to blend into society undetected.

By association, determination, and dedication, humans could eventually become Adepts, wielders of magic, or Avatars, hosts for the non-corporeal beings known as the Fallen. The Fallen were the offspring of Chaos, as old as the first battle between Light and Shadow when the balance of the universe was at stake. They got their name from being on the losing end of that first battle: they “fell” through the various dimensions to this plane of existence. The only way they could assume physical form was by taking over willing or corrupted humans as their Avatars. Though they promised the human power and riches in return, humans simply weren’t able to contain that much power. Human hosts eventually rejected the Fallen, but lost their lives in the process.

Fallen, as the top of the Shadow food chain, were extremely tough to kill. They also tended to bully the other hybrids in their area, coercing them through threat to join the Fallen’s cause. The only problem was, any hybrids who chose to back a losing Fallen also lost their lives when that Fallen was sent back to Shadow. And the only one who could take out a Fallen was a Shadowchaser. Their existence necessitated the Shadowchasers’ existence. In head-to-head combat, Chasers lost as many times as they won, if not more. It was part of the reason why Chasers didn’t have a long life expectancy, and why they needed to be extra tough.

That Kira had brought down one of the Fallen and lived to tell about it had elevated her status in the hybrid community. It meant that the city had stayed relatively quiet while she’d handled her business in London. That quiet wouldn’t last, however. It never did.

“Look what the cat dragged in!”

Kira watched as one of the young men separated himself from the rest of the pack. She recognized D’Aurius Amoye, one of two sons of the matriarch of the Westside were-hyena pack. “Don’t you mean dog?”

Were-hyena, who called themselves
bultungin
from their ancestral home in northeast Nigeria, were matriarchal like their natural counterparts. D’Aurius, whom Kira had seen at various bike events around town, had left the pack early on, though he still kept in contact. He looked to be about nineteen in human years with his close-cropped tight curls fading into the dark chocolate of his skin, though Kira knew were-hyenas aged differently.

“What’s up, Chaser?” he asked, after a quick glance at his friends for support. “Ain’t seen you around here in a hot minute.”

“I know, but I’m here now.” She tapped his gloved fist with her own. “How’s it been so far tonight?”

“Oh, you know how it goes,” he said. Even with the black and red Atlanta Falcons leather jacket covering him, one could see he had the medium build of most male were-hyenas, and an open, kind-hearted nature that would set him at odds with almost every type of were-family. He would have been an omega in his mother’s clan, but males were ranked even lower than the lowest female.

“Most of the good riders have already packed up and headed out,” he told her. “Are you gonna get out there and show us some stuff? I heard you pulled a rolling stoppie on North Avenue.”

“I’m only hanging out tonight,” Kira told him. “And you can’t believe everything you hear. But if I had done it, you can bet it was epic.”

“Sweet.” D’Aurius gave Khefar a once-over glance. “You gonna introduce me?”

“Sure.” Kira turned to Khefar, standing silently behind her. He seemed even more tense than usual, and she wondered if he wasn’t used to riding on the back of a motorcycle. Surely the opportunity had come up once or twice in the last century. “Khefar, D’Aurius Amoye. D’Aurius, Khefar.”

“That’s all I get?” D’Aurius asked, eyes wide. “You reach back to the motherland and claim a guy for the back of your bike, and all we get is a name? He don’t even smell all the way human.”

“‘He’ can speak for himself,
bultungin
,” Khefar said, making the word sound like an epithet. The permanent scowl deepened to antagonistic. “Ask me what you want to know, pup, if you dare.”

D’Aurius bared his teeth. It was an instinctive move, but instinctive didn’t equal smart. “Yo, man, who you calling pup?”

Crap. Khefar had to have spent a couple hundred centuries traveling around Africa during his four millennia. Aside from spending time with Kandake Amanirenas in Meroë, it made sense that he’d journeyed all over the continent and encountered were-hyenas during that time. Apparently, that encounter hadn’t been all hearts and flowers. Whatever Khefar did or didn’t know about were-hyenas, he had to know that males weren’t intimidated by other males.

She’d noticed at least one banaranjan in the cluster of hybrids. Of course they’d be drawn to all the human adrenaline soaking the air. That didn’t mean she wanted them drawn to her little group, which was certain to happen if the two men kept up their intimidation attempts.

“Guys. We’re in a public place, the hybrids are staring and no doubt hearing everything you’re saying. I’d rather not have the police shut down this gathering because two guys who should know better decided to show their asses. Stand the fuck down.”

D’Aurius, used to taking orders from women, immediately dropped his gaze. Khefar took a few seconds longer to comply. Kira pushed between them, shoving Khefar back as she grabbed the were-hyena by the elbow. “What the hell, D’Aurius?”

“Escort me away for a private talk,” he whispered. “I’m going to resist, at least a little.”

Kira, recognizing a face-saving move when she saw one, tightened her grip on the young man’s jacket, then spun on her heel, dragging him along behind her.

“Hey, I didn’t do nothin’!” D’Aurius exclaimed, sounding every bit the harassed put-upon victim and not the perpetrator.

“That’s for me to decide,” Kira retorted, conscious of the gaggle of hybrids watching their every move. She led the young hybrid a distance away so that neither the other hybrids nor the humans could hear them over the bikers running stunts.

She let him go as Khefar joined them. “All right, we’ve got as much privacy as we’re bound to get out here. What’s with the show?”

D’Aurius straightened his jacket, glancing sidelong at Khefar. “Do you trust him?”

“More than most,” Kira said, which was true. After that dominance display with Bale earlier in the evening and now the were-hyena, however, Khefar was almost like a stranger.

They watched a rider blow by them doing a no-handed wheelie. “Does this have something to do with your clan?” she asked when the noise had died down. Clan business was the only reason D’Aurius would want to talk to her privately. Pack issues weren’t shared with anyone and everyone.

“I heard that there’s a challenge,” D’Aurius said, his features pinched.

“Are you sure? You haven’t been mixed up in the pack since you were what? Sixteen?”

“I’m sure.”

“Is your mother not healthy? And what about your sisters?”

“Kandake Amoye is healthy—or at least she was the last time I saw her. DeVonne isn’t the one making the challenge, and neither is DeRhonda.”

That made sense. Dolores Amoye had led her clan for more than thirty years, Kira knew. The matriarch’s daughters were both strong and smart, and more than capable of fulfilling their hereditary duty of leading the were-hyenas. They were also completely devoted to their mother. Neither would seek to take Kandake Amoye’s place until the kandake was ready to hand over power and move to Great Mother status. “Who’s the challenge from, then?”

“Roshonda Biers.”

Kira had heard the name before, and searched her memory to put details to name. Roshonda couldn’t be much older than D’Aurius. What the young woman lacked in years she made up for in deviousness, though. Still, she was nowhere near experienced enough to head up the Westside were-hyena clan.

“Why are you telling me this, D’Aurius?” she asked. “You know I don’t get involved in internal power struggles.”

“I know you don’t, but this don’t feel right.”

“How would you know?” Khefar interjected. “You haven’t been part of the day-to-day pack activities for a while.”

D’Aurius rolled his eyes. “I might not live with the clan anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on with my own family.”

“Khefar.” She held up a hand. With his type of help, she wouldn’t be able to get any information out of the young hybrid. She turned back to D’Aurius. “Is your mother seriously entertaining this challenge?”

“She has no choice.”

He fell silent as another bike blasted by. “Roshonda’s been on the fringe of the clan since her mother died, almost as long as I have. She likes the protection of being associated with the clan without having to do any of the heavy lifting of actually making a meaningful contribution, you know what I’m saying?”

“So why is she suddenly making a power play?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s out of the blue. She suddenly started making noise about how there needs to be a change, that the clan is limiting itself because Kandake Amoye has grown complacent.”

“Complacent? Hardly.” Antagonizing a were-hyena matriarch in her prime was a suicidal move. “From what I know of Roshonda, she has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Criticizing the current clan matriarch isn’t like her.”

“I know. That’s why I think she’s got some outside help.”

That would be trouble. “Who?”

“I don’t know, and neither do my sisters. I got a feeling that Roshonda’s going to try to pull something. She’s never done anything the right way if the wrong way is easier.”

“She’s still got to work within the traditions,” Kira pointed out. “There are enough old-school members of the pack who won’t take kindly to Roshonda pulling anything. They should be able to keep her in line.”

“Why don’t you go?” D’Aurius suggested. “If you go oversee the challenge, that may keep Roshonda from trying anything against my mother.”

Kira considered it. She didn’t get involved in the day-to-day activities of the hybrids who called Atlanta home. That was good business. Then again, she needed to make sure none of the hybrid communities imploded or caught the attention of mundane law enforcement. That was also good business.

“When is the challenge?”

“Two days from now, in the center courtyard at sunset,” D’Aurius said, relief smoothing his features. “So you’ll go?”

“It won’t hurt to patrol over near that area around sunset,” Kira said. “I can stop in and pay a visit to your mother while I’m at it.”

“Thank you, Chaser, I appreciate it.” He turned to head back to his friends, taking a few steps before pausing. “There’s one more thing.”

“What?” Kira asked, painfully aware of Khefar’s disapproval.

“Have you recommended me yet?”

Damn. She was hoping the hybrid had forgotten. “I thought you’d change your mind.”

“Yeah, right. And do what? Boost cars or sell drugs?”

“You could join the human military,” she pointed out. “Your kind can pass the human physical. You’re not tied to lunar or solar phases for your shape-shifting, so you could fit in anywhere. Take some time to explore the world, experience everything—anything.”

“The military is full of changelings in the closet,” D’Aurius retorted, waving his hand in dismissal. “And if I could fit in anywhere, why can’t I fit in with Gilead?”

He had her there. She could feel Khefar’s eyes on her as she tried to come up with a suitable answer.

“You don’t think I can handle it, do you?” D’Aurius guessed, his shoulders slumping. “That’s why you don’t want to recommend me.”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Kira said hastily. “Chaser training is nothing like growing up in a were-hyena clan. It’s four years of willingly and unwillingly putting your mind, body, and spirit on the line between Light and Shadow. It makes human boot camp look like preschool. The final exam is called the Crucible for a reason, and claiming your dagger if you make it through training can be even more dangerous. There are easier paths to walk in life, D’Aurius. I really want you to be sure before you step onto this one.”

The young were-hyena squared his shoulders, his gaze unwavering on hers. He nodded. “I am sure.”

She studied him for a long moment. In all her years on Santa Costa, she had seen plenty of novices who’d looked like him, eager, burning with the conviction of being called to serve the Light. Then there had been those for whom Shadowchasing was the only way to survive, those who danced a fine edge between madness and sanity, like she had.

Most Shadowchasers began their training between sixteen and seventeen years of age. She’d been an anomaly, entering training at twelve. She was still an anomaly, but that didn’t mean she’d been the only one.

“All right, D’Aurius.”

A grin split the were-hyena’s face, giving Kira a good indication of what he’d look like in his alternate form. “Thank you, Chaser Solomon,” he said. “You won’t regret the faith you placed in me.”