Daughter of Gods and Shadows (5 page)

“What's not over, Khale?” he asked irritably.

She seemed impervious to his impatience. “I have just come from seeing Larcerta,” she began to explain.

Larcerta was a Troll Seer, one of six sisters from Theia who had the gift of sight. Larcerta had the gift of being able to see the future, which was why she made herself so scarce. An Ancient could search for Larcerta but would not find her unless she wanted to be found, because she would see into the future and know exactly when to leave.

“The Demon will return, Tukufu.”

Khale's turban must have been wrapped too tightly on her head, because he had seen Sakarabru die with his own eyes.

“The Demon is no more, Khale. We both saw him die.”

“Larcerta is never wrong, and she is not a liar.”

He studied the Shifter to see if she were the one lying. He had learned long ago that Khale was selective in what she chose to share of the truth she knew. Rumor among Ancients was that she had known what the bond with the Omens would ultimately do to Mkombozi and she had warned no one. So what was she keeping to herself now, he wondered?

“How can he return?” he probed.

She shrugged. “A spell will bring him back.”

“Whose?” he challenged.

“Does it matter? The Demon will return and he will try to do to this world what he tried to do on Theia.”

“And he'll succeed,” Tukufu offered. “After all, there is no one to stop him.”

His words were cutting on purpose.

“I have found a way to bring her back, Guardian,” she murmured, almost shamefully.

What did she mean? “What are you saying, Khale? Bring who back?”

“You know who. When the Demon returns, she is the only one who will be able to stop him.”

All of a sudden he was livid and bolted to his feet. “You have had the power to bring her back all this time and you haven't?”

“Watch your tone with me, Guardian!” Khale stood up, too, and the two of them faced off in the center of the tent. “I am still your leader!”

He turned his back to her. “You have not been my leader since our world fell from the sky.”

Turning your back on Khale was always a mistake. The Shifter suddenly became a cobra wrapped around his neck, and she squeezed and fanned her hood as she stared into his eyes.

“Do not get so full of yourself, Tukufu, that you forget. Do not fool yourself into thinking that I am weak. I will bring her back, and you will wait for her!” She hissed. “You will be the Guardian to her that you swore yourself to be because she will need you, Tukufu.”

And just like that, the snake dropped to the ground and slithered out of his tent.

Waiting was an art form that he had mastered long ago. And finally it had paid off. Feelings that had been dormant for four thousand years had been awakened. Prophet had tried ignoring them, believing that that old sense of duty had risen up in him again because of guilt or regret, which happened sometimes. But those feelings were more persistent than ever and as strong as the day he'd first made his oath to her. His Beloved was somewhere in this city, and he wouldn't rest until he found her.

 

ANDROMEDA

She could walk freely here. No one noticed an old woman in rags. No one cared who she was or that her face was constantly changing, taking one form and then another, because no one noticed an old woman in rags.

New York City. Was that where she was? Had she been here already, or was she just thinking about going there? It was hard to say. Andromeda tried not to think about such things. That girl would be in New York City. The girl who cried all the time. The one pretending that she wasn't who she really was. The Shifter had called her Eden.

Andromeda cringed at the memory of the Shifter. She didn't like that one. Didn't trust her as far as she could … could … could what? That one was full of deception and lies and half-truths. Khale n
é
e Khale, she called herself. The Forever and Ever, but she wasn't forever. Andromeda had seen and walked in a time when she wasn't, and so even her name was a lie.

“Tell me of the Omens, Andromeda. Tell me where they are?” Khale had asked long ago after Theia had been destroyed by the first Redeemer.

That Shifter was a sneaky one, and she had asked Andromeda to reveal the secrets of the Omens time and time again, but the Seer was just as great as Khale was great, and she had refused to tell her.

Khale knew that the Omens were never meant for her. She knew and yet she still demanded to know where they were.

“I cannot tell you about such things, Khale,” Andromeda had told her. “It is not for you to know.”

“But I am the leader of my people, Andromeda. What's left of us. And I have to know where they are so that when she is reborn, I will know where to send her to get them and to bond with them.”

Andromeda laughed. How arrogant that one was. How full of shit she is. “As if you ever had to tell the Redeemer how to find what belongs to her. You are so in love with yourself.”

“The reborn will not be like Mkombozi.” Khale was angry, but then she was always angry when she could not get her way. “She will be afraid and she will be uncertain. She will not be a warrior, Andromeda. She will be human.”

Andromeda nodded. “She will be. Yes. Khale. She is human.”

“Then she will need my help more than Mkombozi ever did.”

“What about the Guardian?” Andromeda was asking. “I thought that he was her help?”

Khale lied. Andromeda had already seen her do it.

“He is not receptive to this reborn.”

Andromeda laughed. “You are a fool again and again, Ancient, if you think that you can tell me such things. I may look and act crazy, Shifter, but I ain't nobody's fool.”

Khale didn't need to know where the Omens were, because when it was time the reborn would know, and like Mkombozi, she'd find them. She'd found them all because they had been made for the Redeemer and no one else.

*   *   *

Andromeda lived here, there, and everywhere all at once. In her mind at this very moment, she was at Coors Field in Denver watching a baseball game, breaking bread with Jesus at the Last Supper, flying in a spaceship past one of Jupiter's moons, and was about to kill a fellow in the Roman Colosseum. But she had presence of mind enough to be here now. New York City. Eden was here, and her Guardian was here, and Khale was here. That girl would be crying again soon. Her Omens were growing impatient as the Demon was growing stronger.

These good people rushing past her in New York City, dropping coins into the box on her shopping cart and shoving half-eaten sandwiches into her hand, would be dead soon, or wishing that they were. Their world would change quickly; for some, it had already begun. She glanced at a man sitting on a bench, coughing into his hand. He'd be dead in a few days, but then he'd be back—changed—forever. New York City was about to go to war.

In other places, in other times, the Omens spoke and were speaking to Andromeda now as if they were alive and they were.

Does she look like me?

“Of course she does,” Andromeda responded, smiling. The person passing looked at her as if she were crazy.

Does she miss me?

“No. I don't think so. I think she's afraid of you. Doubly so.”

She should fear me. I am frightening.

“Yes, you are. You all are.”

It had taken a Demon and a Great Shifter to come together in a moment of passion to make the first Redeemer, Mkombozi. It was the only way that the Redeemer could be made. And it had taken a magic spell from a healer to bring this Redeemer into the world, and it had taken her love to keep her here. Rose was her name. And she was like a mother to the Redeemer of this world.

“I knew he wasn't dead,” Andromeda said out loud, talking about Sakarabru. “And I knew he'd be back. And I knew when too.”

People crossed the street quickly as she spoke.

“This bitch is crazy,” someone said to the person they were talking to over the phone.

Eden had been born to bond with the Omens, and she would. And she would spend a lot of time crying and learning and becoming who she was meant to be. Andromeda's heart broke for her, but it was necessary—all of it was.

The Omens were made only for the Redeemer because Andromeda had seen to it. She had traveled through space and time and lives and dimensions, gathering all of the attributes specific to the one who would bond with them, the only one who could. The Omens were more of the attributes of what the Redeemer already possessed, but amplified. They had been created by and of Mkombozi's DNA, her life experiences, all of them. They were everything that was exceptional about her and everything that was terrifying about her. Traits inherently inbred in her by her father, the Demon. They were what was right with her and what was wrong. Eden was chosen for the same reasons Mkombozi had been chosen. She was exceptional and was so much more than what she knew. The Omens would show her that, but Andromeda had made them too powerful. After they empowered Eden, they would ultimately destroy her. And if Khale failed to do her part at the exact time necessary, Eden would devastate this world as Mkombozi had done to Theia.

 

KATIE SMITH

“White chocolate mocha, double white chocolate, low fat, with whip.” Katie Smith rang the small bell on the counter. “Up! Upside-down caramel frapp
é
blanco, double shot vanilla, skinny—up!” The place was packed, but she moved like a well-oiled machine, fueled by three triple-shot espressos all before sunrise and her morning donut. “Peppermint white chocolate nonfat, no whip and no foam, half shot, lukewarm mocha—up!”

She was a coffee-shop barista, and Katie Smith loved her job. She loved it so much that there was nothing else that she wanted to do. And she loved her boss, Chad, who told her time and time again how much of an asset she was and that her enthusiasm and drive was infectious and that he wished he had more employees just like her. If it weren't for Chad, Katie Smith would miss taking her breaks, and she'd work every night until closing because she loved what she did.

“You sure you don't need me to close tonight, Chad?” she asked again, and Chad shook his head.

“Not tonight, Katie. Luke is closing tonight.”

“Luke, do you need me to stay and help out?” she called out to him over her shoulder as Chad was ushering her out the door.

“No thanks,” he said unemotionally.

“Good night, Katie.” Chad sort of shoved her and then quickly shut the door behind her.

Katie stood there for a few minutes, wondering what there was for her to do now. Fries. Her stomach growled, and she realized that she hadn't eaten anything all day except for the glazed donut and coffee.

*   *   *

“I'll take three large orders of fries, please,” she told the clerk at the fast-food restaurant. “And coffee.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“No, thanks. And ketchup. Lots of ketchup.”

She sat at the window shoving French fries into her mouth, watching Manhattan pass by. Every now and then, another Shifter, Were, or even a rare sighting of a Guardian would pass by her. The once-great alliances were all but shattered now, and the races—what was left of them—had dispersed into lives overshadowed by humans. She believed in her heart, though, that they would all join together again to fight against the Demon. The truth was that all she could do was hope.

The Fall had changed everything for Ancients. When her beloved Theia was destroyed, some Ancients fell to this world; others had jumped, believing that they were leaping to their deaths. She, like so many of them, came here believing that she'd meet her end as well, but that didn't happen. Nothing was the same for any of them, though.

Humankind didn't know it, but much of their history and many of their legends had been born of Ancients. Egyptian hieroglyphics, Native American symbols, even their democratic systems were based on practices that Ancients brought with them from Theia. Metalsmithing was an Ancient art form, mastered by the Valkyrie races and introduced to human culture, as was mining.

Human legends of werewolves and phantoms were born from early human interaction with Ancients before the few mystics who were left created the spell of glamour to hide the Ancients true form from human eyes.

The dominant race on Theia was that of Shifters. There were many different types of Shifters, some limited by size or shape, others capable of shifting into one form of creature. Weres were Shifters, though they hated being called by that name. Khale was the Great Shifter because she was the only one without limits.

Humans were easily frightened by the things that couldn't be explained. They panicked when coming into contact with someone different from them, sometimes, even panicking over differences in their own human race: gender, race, sexual orientation. And they judged harshly, which proved to be dangerous for lesser Ancients like the Pixies and Vampyrs. Humans killed when they judged, when they panicked. Katie, of course, was never in any danger, but she understood why the lesser Theians chose to remain closeted.

She finished up the last of her fries and decided that it was time to go back to her apartment on the Upper East Side.

*   *   *

“Miss Smith,” Ron, the doorman, said pleasantly, tipping his hat and holding the door open for her.

Katie smiled back. “Thank you, Ron. You look very handsome today.”

He blushed. “And you look lovely yourself.”

Of course she did. She was twenty-five. Katie Smith had determined some time ago that twenty-five was the age she wanted to be for now. Humans had a thing about age. Telling people she was twenty-five garnered plenty of appreciative nods and smiles and remarkes of “Oh, I remember when,” so she made up her mind that she'd stay twenty-five until she discovered some other age-driven experience she was interested in trying.