Shadows to Light (Shadows of Justice 5) (2 page)

"To risk our order.
To expose what you are to the world at large."

Ah, that decision.
She cleared her throat. "After the guardian escaped, another patient turned critical."

"Were there not protocols? No others who could treat this prisoner?"

Mira barely resisted the urge to flex her hands. Any show of tension or frustration would only reduce her chances of surviving the inquiry.

"The prison was in lockdown due to an apparent escape attempt. A surgeon would not have been admitted in time. I chose to proceed within the primary directive of our order."

"The diagnosis was appendicitis. There was no harm in letting the prescribed medicines work. Even if they failed." This cold proclamation came from one of the two women assigned to Mira's inquiry. "The safe path was to stabilize and request assistance."

"We do not deal in miracles, child," The lead judge added with a look that could pierce armor.

Not anymore.

Of course that would be the crux of their problem with her. She was a throwback to an earlier era and she'd been warned to hide the depth of her talent or be held to an impossible standard.

Miracles were for an age of humanity the governing council of healers felt had long since passed.

"Why did you not simply stabilize your patient?"

She could never confess everything to the Five. She could hardly permit herself to think about it. Searching for the lesser of two evils, she silently begged for forgiveness and told the white lie.

"The patient had become a person." The Five gasped. "He showed kindness, despite his pain and circumstances. I'd thought the uproar caused by the guardian disturbed him, but when I checked I realized the truth. Prolonging his pain, risking his life felt unfair. I acted based on the emotional connection."

Their disdain for her hit a new high. The intensity rolling off them was as oppressing as a stack of bricks on her chest. "And the witness? How did you explain?"

Mira sneered to cover her true feelings. "The witness was merely a guard." The biggest lie of her life rolled too easily off her tongue.
Convicting her heart. Jameson had proved himself well beyond 'merely'. The betrayal felt dirty, not that he'd ever know. "I told him what he expected to hear."

"You played it off as feminine weakness."

"Yes."

On some silent cue, the Five rose as one. "We will deliberate."

They exited the inquiry chamber, leaving Mira to wait and wonder. In their absence she supposed she was allowed to pace or even sit on the floor, but she refused.

Inquiry boards weren't known for their compassion or sympathy.
Facts that seemed incongruous to Mira as they were all supposedly in the business of comfort and healing. Then again, her entire order had increasingly different opinions about their role in the world.

Her scalp ached from the pins holding her severe bun in place. She hadn't wrestled her hair into submission like this since her brief stint in the Army. Her elders hadn't liked that move either.

None of her adventures were intended as deliberate snubs to the authority of the society she'd been born to. She could no more ignore the drive of her spirit than they could ignore their myriad rules. It wasn't an argument that ever worked in her favor.

She could almost hear her mother now.
"They don't trust you, Miranda. You must be more circumspect."
Naturally her father had disagreed, encouraging her to go boldly into the world and help wherever and however she could. It didn't take a genius to know why he'd left their strict community.

A lifetime of such mixed messages taught Mira to hide her true nature and trust only herself.

Glancing at the closed door behind the raised bench, she wondered how long they'd keep her waiting before pronouncing her sentence. She didn't harbor any hope of leniency. Her case wasn't the first of its kind, her father had been a hellion and a headache to the elders of his day, but her situation was rare. They could make her an example or deny her existence.

With their combined power the Five had options, but she wasn't inclined to speculate on what she couldn't control. Looking back, she'd do it all again, even without the plea and subsequent support of the prison guard who'd been there.

Even now, with just the memory of his face, her lips tingled with longing. That kiss had done something to her. Something beautiful and powerful. It haunted her dreams at night and tempted her during the day. Here, in this terrible predicament, her mind betrayed her, urging her to the impractical and impossible: urging her to find Jameson.

The air in the chamber stirred as a door opened. She refused to peek, but she braced for whatever new misfortune had arrived.

"Miranda!" Even at a hiss, her mother's voice was unmistakable. She spun around, only to see Lydia Luther's delicate hand urging her closer to the shadows beyond the door.
"Hurry."

She obeyed, concern and curiosity overwhelming everything else. She paused at the door. "What is it?"

"Follow me."

Mira shook her head. Leaving an inquiry without permission was worse than offering the expected confession. "No."

"You cannot stay." Lydia's hand manacled her wrist, dragging her out of the chamber.

The hallway was warm, but Mira shivered. Her mother never bucked the system, had even this morning urged her to confess and remain home through the Holidays.

"What changed?"

Lydia only shook her head, picking up the brisk pace. A rosy glow at the end of the hall confirmed their direction. That light only emanated from the combination of sunlight bouncing off the unique marble
of the building's three story circular foyer. Her mother couldn't possibly expect to walk her right out the front door.

"Mom!"

"Shh."

Still holding Mira's wrist, her mother opened the last door before the stairwell. Miranda didn't have time to read the name etched on the glass as she was pushed forward, past the counter and into the back room.

There, after a pause to confirm they were alone, Lydia cradled her face. "Oh, I love you. No matter what happens, know that."

Mira tried to nod as worry clutched her heart. "What is going on?"

"You'll be found guilty. Trapped here as impotent as a newborn. It was decided before the hearing began."

"How can you know that?"

"Never mind how I know. You have to leave. You are the only hope for your father."

"What does that
-"

Lydia shushed her and pushed her on, toward the service closet.

"They will scour this building for you." She opened the door, reached inside and grabbed a paper bag. "A disguise. I know nothing about it, but use it well. Once you're clear, you must find your father."

Mira went through the motions, taking the bag and hugging her mother, feeling as if she was acting out a drama rather than living it. The whole thing was surreal. "Where do I start?"

"I cannot say. I'm not sure. But you must not get caught. They won't bother with the inquiry process again. Please," she cupped Mira's cheek, "don't make me stand vigil at your funeral pyre."

Mira didn't know how to process any of this. Questions tumbled through her mind but the words clogged her throat.
"Mama."

"You
will
succeed. I know it." She pulled Mira's face close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Go down the back steps, you'll find a black bag with a monogram that matches the clothing tags. Be careful, darling."

Mira stared after her mother for only a moment,
then forced herself to act. If the Five had already decided her fate, it was likely they wouldn't deliberate much longer. Only long enough to make it look good.

Caught up in the bizarre moment, Mira couldn't rely on how much time she thought had passed. She knew the shock of events distorted perception. Almost like going blindly into a coma patient.

Digging into the paper bag, she found a small box atop a janitor's uniform, including the headscarf and protective mask. The order of healers she'd been born to was nothing if not germ phobic.

She changed quickly, between worried glances toward the door. A closer look at the box revealed a pair of colored contact lenses and a key. With the lenses in place, she pocketed the box and key. Stuffing her inquiry scrubs into the bag, she buried the bag under the other trash bin in the closet. She snapped on the protective gloves to complete the uniform and made her way to the service corridor.

She found it more challenging to keep from tugging at the head scarf than she did to continue at a sedate pace as she worked her way closer to freedom.

As she neared the first intersection, something flickered at the edge of her vision. Blinking only made it brighter until a green box hovered just in front of her. Automatically she reached for it, but her hand passed right through the odd image.

Two small dots, in red, jarred her from the confusion as Mira recognized the purpose of the device. She blinked and shifted her eyes, the display moved with her, lighting up a path that kept her away from the red dots.

If her mother was up to speed on technology, things were dire indeed. Mira didn't have the luxury of assessing who turned her world upside down or why. Right now she simply had to get away with her gift for healing
in tact.

She'd groaned as much as the next novice during training, but she couldn't imagine life without her power, no matter the often overwhelming side effects.

The path illuminated on the display was pulsing now, and she picked up her pace. It wasn't audible, but somehow she felt the cadence and her body was drawn to match it. Entering the next stairwell as directed, she rushed down, past the ground floor and into the first sublevel.

The black bag her mother described was right there. She picked it up, fighting the urge to look inside.

According to her display, the area was free of red dots and she needed to exit the stairwell. Still, she hesitated.

The display pulsed twice and she watched her arm lift toward the door handle. If she survived, she'd definitely track down the biomedical engineer behind this little miracle.

Following the cues promptly now, she moved toward the exit with the determination of an employee in search of fresh air.

Just one last guard desk.
And now, one small red light on the display. She bit back a curse, and tried to think utterly boring thoughts to calm her racing heart.

"Hold on a minute," the guard came around the counter.
"Cuff." With a security wand in one hand, he motioned for her to raise her left wrist.

The display overrode her natural resistance. The wand beeped what she hoped was the correct sound. The guard didn't appear bothered or surprised by the readout. He set the wand on his counter and pulled a display from his pocket, turning it so she could see. "
You seen this woman anywhere?"

She studied the image of herself, surprised no one had drawn in fangs and a mustache on her graduation picture. Of course, the Five didn't have a sense of humor. Mira managed not to cringe at the straight fall of black hair and happy expression in her blue eyes. So much had changed inside her since that day, but not much had changed on the outside.

"No, sir. She hasn't been anywhere on my route."

The guard picked up his wand, studied it and huffed a little. "Inquiry was even on your floor. Wonder how she got by '
em. And they call me incompetent." He waved her on. "Enjoy your break. Take a few extra minutes. I'll fix the log for ya."

She gave him a small smile,
then remembered he couldn't really see it behind her mask. "Thanks."

The small display at the edge of her vision changed color when she stepped outside so she could see it in the bright afternoon sunlight. She couldn't believe it. Her hearing had started early, but her body felt like it had been standing for days rather than a few hours. Medically, she understood the phenomenon. There wasn't much she didn't understand in the human body, but that didn't make feeling it any easier.

She paused at the picnic area with its shaded tables and ruthlessly groomed privet hedge. It seemed not even a leaf was allowed to grow out of place in her order's headquarters.

No wonder she wasn't welcome. She'd grown well beyond anyone's expectations or knowledge. A dark sedan pulled up at the wrought iron gate and the rear door swung open.

Trap or salvation?

Her display beeped, though she was sure she only heard it in her head. No red dots in front of her. But two red dots in the building were gaining on her position. She waved the cuff over the gate lock and strolled through as if every janitor got a ride home from work in a private car. Sliding into the darkness of the back seat, she felt butter-soft leather under her palms just before the unmistakable hiss of a
hypospray met her neck and her world went dark.

Chapter 2

Mira eased out from under the sedative, but kept her eyes closed, listening for clues to her location. The air smelled too clean, not specifically antiseptic, but no trace of the leather of the car she'd climbed into.

She recognized the feel of a hospital bed supporting her, and a light sheet pulled up to her chin, but she knew she wasn't in a typical medical facility. Not hearing anyone in the room with her, she opened her eyes, blinking several times at the blank white ceiling. The display in her contacts had either shut off, or the contacts had been removed. There was no sense playing coy, if they had monitors, they already knew she was awake.

Mira didn't sit up right away, instead she flexed her toes, feet, fingers and hands, testing for restraints as well as perking up her blood flow. The lack of restraints gave her a little hope. Sitting up, she glanced around, taking in the window, a door opposite and another door across from the bed. In a hospital that would most likely lead to the bathroom. Appearances to the contrary, her instincts said she wasn't in any sort of real facility.
Weird.

Other than a little twinge at the
hypospray site, she felt completely normal and was relieved to see she was still dressed in the janitor's uniform.

A chime sounded and the door swung open. A woman entered with a confident stride, carrying a tray in one hand and a shopping bag in the other.

The honey blond hair and intense green eyes proved unforgettable. Mira had treated this woman several months ago. In a Chicago hospital. Even now, she remembered the intense energy of this particular patient, could practically feel the woman's strong heart beat as she walked closer.

"Hi there.
I'm Jaden."

It seemed the recognition was one-sided, just the way Mira preferred.

"Sorry for the theatrics earlier, but security matters. No bad side effects, I hope?"

"None," Mira replied. "What's going on?"

"Right now?" Jaden smiled. "Breakfast. Go ahead and eat. They tell me you'll be hungry."

On cue, Mira's stomach rumbled. "How long was I out?" She adjusted the bed and accepted the aromatic tray.

"Long enough," Jaden evaded. "I was only told to pick you up and bring you here."

Mira poked at the scrambled eggs, wondering if she could trust the food. "And here is?"

"Chicago." Jaden leaned forward and took a bite of the eggs in question. "The food's safe. You're safe, I promise."

Mira couldn't argue without information and denying herself would only weaken her. Besides, if her mother was right, she'd be dead by now, or worse, stripped of her gift. She ate, only mildly uncomfortable as Jaden watched in silence.

"I brought you some better clothes and supplies," she said, patting the shopping bag.

"Thanks."

"I don't know what kind of trouble you're in specifically. We were just the pick up team. But if you need something while you're here, just tell someone."

"How long am I expected to stay?" Although the food was so good, if her Dad wasn't in trouble she might be convinced to stick around.

Jaden raised her hands, palms out. "Again, I don't have the details. You'll have to ask the boss."

"Does the boss have a name?"

Jaden's grin was fast and full of light. "Slick Micky."

The name had Mira choking on her coffee.
A terrible thing to do to such an excellent brew. Everyone who spent more than five minutes in Chicago would've felt the same. Micky had a ruthless reputation on the street for delivering anything, anytime, anywhere. Last she'd heard, he'd been declared dead, not that she believed it. "I've been smuggled?" Good grief, who would've arranged that? Her mother was in on it with who else? And what did they tell him she could offer in trade?

"Looks like." Jaden rose to leave. "Don't worry about it. Take your time with breakfast. The door's unlocked and his office is two floors down whenever you feel up to it."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. And good luck."

Mira figured she'd need some luck on her side for the task her mother had given her. She savored the rest of her breakfast, refilled her coffee mug from the small carafe, then set the tray aside and poked through the shopping bag.

Jaden, or whoever had done the shopping, had thought of everything.

As she climbed out of bed, she wasn't surprised her pockets were empty. Someone had found the key and contact lens box. Maybe the person who had the items now would know what to do with them. So far, she had no idea.

With her limited options, Mira took her time getting around and indulged in a real water shower to dust off the last of the mental cobwebs. No wonder
Micky's mules were notoriously loyal.

She stared at her reflection as she brushed her teeth, her mind drifting over that last cryptic encounter with her mother.

She had to assume the black bag was with the same person who took the key. A study of the tidy white room as she absently worked the toothbrush over her teeth, proved there was nothing of any color save the food tray.

Slick
Micky must have confiscated the bag along with the key and contacts. A smart girl would've looked into the bag when she picked it up, but she was just a healer, not a spy. Whatever she was mixed up with, whatever the Five were trying to avoid, it was going to take skills beyond her extensive ability to disguise her appearance and falsify employment records.

Donning a wig and manipulating a few computer records might have been enough as she moved around to avoid detection as a healer, but she was pretty sure it wouldn't be enough to find her dad.

Realizing she was gnawing on the bristles of the toothbrush, she returned to the bathroom and finished the job properly.

She glanced out the window, but didn't see much beyond a field of urban decay. No helpful landmarks. It was second nature to straighten up the room. She didn't consider herself obsessive and she refused to beat herself up for momentarily delaying the inevitable meeting 'two floors down'.

But the coffee was clearly full-caff quality and she was getting twitchy. Better to get on with it, because the answers weren't going to magically appear on the white walls. Unfortunately.

With the shopping bag in hand, she stepped into the hallway and followed the signs to the nearest stairwell, passing an elevator along the way.

If she didn't know better, she'd swear she was in a hospital. Had Slick Micky commandeered an abandoned hospital after the health care reformation? She tried to recall the location of closed facilities, but there were several that would qualify. Without any landmarks or street signs she didn't know what part of Chicago she was in.

She left the stairwell and looked both ways. After a moment, she turned left.
That's where the offices would be if this had been a working medical facility.

She reached an open door and peeked in. The man behind the desk didn't fit the stereotype that came to mind when she thought of a receptionist. Barrel-chested and sporting a skeptical expression he looked better suited to bouncing rowdy patrons out of a bar. "He's expecting you."

Too bad
she
didn't know what to expect. The smuggler she was about to meet had the worst reputation in Chicago, but no one knew what he looked like. Even she had occasionally wondered if he was just a rumor.

"Come on in, Mira." The voice was friendly enough, but she took a calming breath anyway. Mustering her confidence, she pushed open the door.

"Welcome." The man stood and motioned her inside. "Close the door, please."

She did. Tall and lean, with a flawlessly handsome face, he didn't look all that intimidating at first glance, but Mira suspected there was plenty beneath the surface.

"You're Slick Micky?"

"God, I hope so," he answered with a wry grin. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Have a seat, please."
Micky motioned to the chair facing his desk and once more Mira obeyed. "Coffee?"

"No, I think I've had enough."

He grinned. "That happens when you drink the good stuff. You're wondering why you ended up here."

"Yes." Mira perched at the edge of her seat, her posture perfect, hands folded in her lap, the shopping bag on the floor at her feet. She got the sense that this meeting was just as important to her future as the judgment of the Five.

"I was asked to get you out of harm's way. This is the safest place I control."

There had to be more to it.
"At what price?"

"Negotiations have been made, of course."

"Isn't it a lot to expect I'll just fall in line with whatever someone else promised you?"

"What I expect is that we'll come to terms."
Micky leaned back in his seat as if he could care less about the outcome of their discussion. "Do you have any idea who arranged for you to be under my protection?"

She shook her head. The only person from her community who would care was her mother, but she couldn't imagine how Chicago's top smuggler fit in with steady, never-buck-the-system Lydia.

"I won't ask you to do anything you aren't comfortable with. I really just need you to do what you've been doing."

She didn't bother protesting what he did or didn't know about her professional activities. "How long am I indebted to you?"

"'Indebted' isn't a term I'd use in this case. Bringing you here was a separate negotiation, services were implied but not promised. I'd like to discuss your options. I believe we can come to terms."

Mira didn't believe the terms would be favorable.
For her.

"You're suspicious. I understand, but you're not alone. There are people willing to assist you. This is my offer. There's a little bistro in the financial district. I think you could be helpful there."

Mira waited, but Micky didn't seem inclined to say more. "Helpful how?"

"I'm not asking you to wait tables, Mira. Think of it as a place people could visit you if they were in need of medical assistance."

"Customers at this bistro have frequent health problems?"

Micky
chuckled. "You'd be surprised what goes on in the financial district." He reached down and pulled up her black bag from the floor. "Honestly, I'd like to keep you right here. A supernatural healer would be a real bonus."

"I'm sure." Irritation sparked. "You could use it in all your recruiting brochures."

"Mira, you're a cynical woman, but I'll blame it on the difficulty you're facing."

She wanted to rail, to release all the fury and frustration bubbling inside, but
she couldn't, wouldn't expose herself that way. She wasn't cynical, not really, but she wasn't about to explain her innermost philosophy to a smuggler.

"I know you have other things on your mind. I'm offering you a safe place at the bistro until you move on."

"Move on?"

He didn't respond or give her a chance to ask more questions. He just pushed the black bag, key and the contact lens box across the desk to her. "Take your things. Jim will arrange for transport to the bistro if that's where you decide to go."

She twisted around, following Micky's gaze to the doorway behind her where the bouncer-receptionist loomed. Turning back, she reached for the bag and key. "And if I decide otherwise?"

Micky
spread his hands wide, palms open. "I wish you all the best, wherever you land."

Mira studied him a long moment. He seemed sincere. She had to fight the urge to judge him according to rumor. There was a knowing glint in his eye, and while she didn't doubt he could be a lethal enemy, her gut instinct was to trust him.

"Who negotiated my release?"

"That's a conversation for another day," he said with a cryptic smile.

"Is it true you deal in chocolate?"

"Possibly.
Do you have a craving?"

Mira shook her head. She didn't want to like him. "My mother loves truffles. If a box fell off a truck..."

"A surprisingly frequent occurrence." His charming smile was nearly as blinding as a surgical lamp. "Give me the address."

She keyed it into the electronic notepad he offered but when she tried to give the device back, he stopped her, his expression serious.

"If I do this, you will owe me."

"I understand."

"Let's hope that's true." He stared at her long enough to have doubts creeping into her head.

Owing Chicago's top smuggler wasn't something to take lightly and yet... "She needs to know I'm safe." And she was looking for confirmation that her mother had been the one to arrange her escape, but
Micky wasn't letting anything show.

He'd be hell at a poker table.

She stuffed the shopping bag into the black tote, along with the contacts and key. Walking out of the office without another word, she followed a stoic and silent Jim through the building and down to a garage of sorts.

A big yellow car, reminiscent of an outdated taxi cab, idled with the back door open.