Shadow Fall (25 page)

Had the scarab been be-spelled in some way, programmed to be devoured by Ammit? Was that why Wynne was in a coma?

Had someone reanimated the demoness? Ammit didn’t put people into comas. She devoured their souls until nothing was left. Did that mean that Wynne—and all the other victims—were still in danger?

Kira tamped down her emotions again, concentrating instead on fighting her way free of the amulet much the way she would break through jungle undergrowth. It took a long time, as she had to be careful not to trigger the amulet’s protective magic. Luckily it seemed to realize she wasn’t a threat. She made her way back to herself, allowing her extrasense to slowly seep back into her subconscious.

Khefar stared at her from the other side of the desk, his features tight. “You okay?”

She nodded, wishing she’d thought to bring a bottle of water with her. “Better than the last round.”

“What did you see?”

“Disturbing things.” She pulled her glove back, feeling better immediately. Anger still simmered below the surface, though, waiting for an outlet. “I think I know what happened to Wynne and the others. And they’re not out of danger yet.”

K
ira pushed to her feet. “Come on. I need to see if Sanchez is here. If not, I’ll have to call the Travel Department.”

“Ah. ‘Travel.’ The Retrievers you called for the were-hyena?” Khefar asked.

“Yup.” She dropped the pendant into her coat pocket. “‘Travel’ is what field agents call the Special Retrieval Team. They respond when an agent is down. We also call them when we need to have a suspect brought in for questioning. ‘Coach’ means a human or a low-level hybrid. ‘Business class’ means a pretty strong hybrid and a show of force.”

“What’s ‘first class’?”

“Shadow Adepts. If the agent thinks there’s a serious threat, they’ll call for a Chaser as backup.”

“What about the Fallen?”

“That’s ‘express,’ and that means I go in. We don’t send SRTs for that. There’s no such thing as backup for a Shadowchaser. Not as far as Gilead is concerned, anyway.”

They returned to the coma wing’s main corridor. Section Chief Estrella Sanchez, Zoo, and two Gilead agents took up most of the space in the hallway. Zoo and the section chief conferred quietly, heads close together. Kira’s gut roiled at the thought of her friend and Sanchez being so chummy, but squashed it, blanking her expression instead. She and the section chief were getting along, but Kira knew it wouldn’t take much to get on Sanchez’s bad side. Zoo spilling his guts about the incident in the cemetery or his unfounded suspicions would be enough to put Kira and Sanchez at odds again. She had to remember that when they agreed to Gilead training, the Marlowes had essentially stopped working with her and begun working for Gilead, and Sanchez.

Telling herself she had done nothing wrong, Kira steeled herself to approach the Gilead contingent. Sanchez turned away from Zoo, who looked decidedly guilty. The section chief looked much the way she usually did, somewhat suspicious that Kira would somehow soon be making life more difficult or at least breaking several protocols any minute. After their conversation at the office, Kira figured Sanchez would be even more suspicious than usual.

“Marlowe tells me that you were going to attempt to find the assailant through a pendant he gave his wife. Were you able to recover anything useful?”

“Yes.” Kira pulled the pendant out of her pocket, intending to return it to Zoo. One of the agents took it instead, slipping it into a small clear-plastic evidence bag.

“We’ll have one of our psychometrists corroborate and create an official record,” Sanchez explained. “What did you find?”

Don’t be defensive,
Kira silently cautioned herself.
Corroborating psychic evidence is standard operating procedure.
“The problem is the exhibit.”

“The exhibit?” Sanchez echoed. “You mean the one you organized down at the Congress Center?”

Kira ground her teeth. “If you recall, I’m not the organizer. I coordinated the artifacts for the exhibit. Mr. Hammond—you remember him, don’t you? The one you were so chummy with before you gave him that big check? He’s the organizer, and it’s his part of the production that’s the problem.”

Even in the muted light of the corridor, Kira could see a flush staining Sanchez’s olive cheeks. “How so?”

“At the end, at the Weighing of the Heart ceremony. Wynne tossed one of those heart gemstones onto the measuring plate. It shifted to being unbalanced, which triggered the Ammit statue. Somehow Ammit is siphoning off the victim’s consciousness as a prelude to devouring his or her soul.”

Khefar looked stunned. “Are you serious?”

“A statue is the problem?” Sanchez asked, dubious.

“Ammit is more than a statue,” Khefar explained. “She is the Devourer of Souls, a demoness who prevents people from crossing into the afterlife by eating them.”

“And the electronic ‘edutainment’ representation of her at the museum seems to be doing Ammit’s job. We have to find Hammond and discover what the hell’s going on,” Kira told them. “I mean, think about it: someone or something is using the Book of the Dead exhibit, or more specifically, the Weighing of the Heart interactive ritual, to actually steal souls.”

“Not Ammit.” Khefar made the sign of the evil eye. “All of the victims are comatose. The Devourer consumes souls. And the divine rules are that she has to be given the souls, fed them by Anubis. She doesn’t have the ability to take them herself.”

“That we know of,” Kira said, pushing her braids back over her shoulder. “What do we really know about Ammit, except that she’s a demoness from the left hand of Shadow?”

“That’s enough for me, but this isn’t how she works,” Khefar said. “So I guess we’re looking for something or someone masquerading as Ammit and using the exhibit to harvest souls for some unknown purpose. Do you know any hybrids who specialize in soul stealing?”

“Every culture has some sort of story about soul stealers,” Kira replied. “Like the old belief that allowing yourself to be photographed meant your soul was stolen. Seeing one’s reflection captured the soul. The Qing dynasty of China believed a person’s soul resided in their hair; soul stealers were those who went around cutting off queues—the long, braided ponytails the men wore.”

“Wait, wait.” Sanchez held up a hand. “You said
souls
, plural.”

Kira nodded. “Wynne isn’t the only victim.”

The news was literally a bombshell. Zoo groaned, covering his face with his hands. The agents looked ready to swing into action. Sanchez looked poleaxed.

“I think you’ll find other patients in this wing and in hospitals elsewhere went through that exhibit,” Kira added, “all brought in comatose like Wynne was.”

“The exhibit’s been open for a week,” Sanchez said. “Hundreds of people have gone through since it opened. How can you be sure the exhibit is responsible?”

“There have been hybrid victims too,” Kira answered. “I have a list of names. We can have sweepers cross-check their activities see if any of them visited the Journey Through the Underworld exhibit. Counting up the victims, there seems to have been two a day—one, human, and one hybrid.”

“Before I shut down the exhibit and cost the city an assload of money,” Sanchez said, “we need to be sure. After all, we have a were-hyena still inexplicably in a coma.”

Kira ground her teeth. “There’s a possibility I might have held on too long to Roshonda to keep her down, but I can promise you I don’t know any of the people in this wing. I didn’t hurt these people or Wynne.”

“I believe you,” Sanchez said.

Kira’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Sanchez nodded. “I may have my doubts about your methods or your willingness to follow orders, but even I don’t believe you would harm your closest friend.”

The unexpected support caused Kira’s throat to tighten. “Thank you.” Sanchez believed her innocent, but Zoo didn’t. Proof positive that her world had turned completely upside down.

“So I suppose you’re going to suggest that I bring in Hammond, the organizer?” Sanchez asked. “I need a good reason.”

“I’ve got one,” Kira answered. “Wynne met with him, before she went into the tomb reproduction.”

“How did she know who he was?”

“She saw a picture of him on my phone,” Khefar said. “Pictures from the gala.”

“Hammond gave Wynne a citrine scarab and told her to drop it on the scale. The scale swung out of balance and the Ammit statue moved forward to gobble the stone.” Kira shivered at the thought of the Devourer being alive, of having to face down the demoness to get her friend’s life back. “Hammond is the last person Wynne had any significant interaction with. That’s the only suspicious activity I saw when I replayed her day.”

Sanchez considered the information. “I thought Hammond was human.”

“So did I, but the other night was the first time I’d been around him for more than a few minutes. And in a crowd like that I shield pretty tightly. He could have willingly agreed to become an Avatar for a Fallen, or agreed to become a Shadow Adept, and gained magical power in exchange for providing souls to someone. It’s even possible that the agreement happened after he came to Atlanta. Either way, it doesn’t mean he’s blameless. If he’s not behind it, he damn well knows who is.”

The section chief pressed her earpiece. “I need an immediate first-class retrieval on one Bruce Hammond, organizer of the Journey Through the Underworld exhibit at the Georgia World Congress Center. He’s probably at the hotel closest to the exhibit hall, in the best suite. Keep it clean and quiet, and let me know as soon as you have him in custody.”

She disconnected, looked at Kira. “We need to head back to the office. If Hammond warrants first-class retrieval, we’ll have to make use of the underground interrogation facility. I’m assuming you want to be present for the interrogation?”

“You bet your ass I do.”

Sanchez pursed her lips in disapproval, but Kira didn’t care. “If he’s unwilling to talk, you’ll need me there.”

Sanchez nodded briefly. “I know you feel some distress at your friend’s condition and I know you want to act quickly to find those responsible. But if you’re right—”

“I
am
right.”

“—if you’re right, we potentially have hundreds more victims waiting to be claimed. At the very least, their consciousnesses could be held hostage. We need to find out what Hammond knows, without alerting anyone that we’re on the trail. We go by the book on this one. Understood?”

Kira bit the inside of her cheek. Her muscles ached with the need for some ass-kicking action. “Understood.”

“Marlowe, you’ll stay here. Send word when there’s any change.”

“But—”

“Understood?”

Zoo snapped to. “Yes, ma’am. Understood, ma’am.”

Sanchez gave them all a smile. “See how easy that is, Solomon?”

Kira gave the section chief a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Understood, ma’am.”

With a final disapproving look, Sanchez and the two agents made their way to the exit, leaving Kira, Khefar, and Zoo standing in the hallway. Kira glanced at Zoo. “Has there been any change in Wynne’s condition?”

“No.” The male witch blew out a breath. “Kira?”

She turned to face him, taking care to keep her expression and posture neutral. “Yes?”

Zoo grew uncomfortable. “I wanted to let you know that I—I didn’t tell Sanchez about … well, you know.”

“About what?” Khefar demanded. “Your unfounded accusations?”

The witch flushed. “Are they unfounded? Ask yourself honestly, and I think you’ll understand why I thought the way I did.”

“I have asked myself, and I have yet to understand how someone could think so ill of someone they claim as a friend,” Khefar said, his words like acid. “It is a shame that the value of friendship is meaningless in this day and age.”

“Zoo, I think you need to get back to Wynne,” Kira cut in, amazed at how calm she sounded. “And we’re going to head to Gilead.”

“Wait. What did you see?”

“You already know what I saw,” she told him. “Hammond gave the stone to Wynne.”

“But that’s not all that you saw, is it?” Zoo asked. “Then, tell me what else came through.”

Kira looked at Zoo for a long moment. She hoped to see something on his face that would erase the last hour and take them back to a place where they weren’t at odds with each other. Nothing presented itself.

“Your wife is worried about you,” she finally said. “Wynne wanted to talk to me about your faith and mine, to gain a better understanding of what we believe and how it affects us. So if you want to blame me for what happened to Wynne, go ahead. I told her about my experience with Ma’at, and that’s why she went down to the exhibit. But know this: you may think that I’ve changed and become more dangerous, but your wife thinks you have too. I suggest you take some time off and talk with her when she wakes up.”

Zoo started to say something, probably an attempt to deny her words. Instead, she let him read her face—allowed all of the anger, hurt, and resentment to rise to the surface, unfettered. Zoo’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, dropping his gaze.

Serves you right,
Kira thought to herself, biting her lip to keep further words from erupting. It would be easy, all too easy, to hurt Zoo as he’d hurt her. Only the thought of Wynne’s worried face and the need to find her attacker kept Kira from doing so.

“Let’s go,” she finally said to Khefar, turning her back on the witch.

They left the stroke center, heading for the main entrance. “A warrior never gives his enemy ammunition.”

“So says the guy who blew his top twice in one night.” Kira snorted. “Besides, I don’t really consider Sanchez my enemy. Or Zoo, for that matter.”

“Yeah.” Khefar’s turn to snort. “With friends like that, who needs enemies?”

True enough. “Thanks, by the way,” she said off-handedly, though she certainly didn’t feel casual about it. “For defending me back there, I mean.”

“I did what was right,” Khefar told her, the danger back in his voice. “And what was right was also the truth.”