Free Shadow Blade by Seressia Glass Page A

should have done so many things.
    “Ma’at, vessel of justice, please look favorably upon the soul of Bernard Comstock. Help him complete his journey and find his way to the Light.”
    She raised her chin, her eyes on the dark ceiling. “Ma’at, guide me. Allow me to serve Your will, to bring justice to the one who needs it.”
    Her eyes closed as she held her prayers in her heart, waiting. She never doubted her patron deity; enforcing order and justice were her life, and she lived the principles of Ma’at every day. Soon enough, she felt a brush of warmth, the answering touch of the goddess.
    She opened her eyes in time to see the strip of cloth sinking into the slick surface of her mirror. A moment of grief and regret gripped her—she had to breathe it out slowly before it took root. It wouldn’t have done to keep the cloth as some morbid memento. Comstock wouldn’t have wanted her to remember him that way. Better to let the Universe take it.
    The mirror’s surface rippled, then stilled to an inky smoothness. A touch of her fingertip, and etheric scales would rise from the surface of the mirror, ready to weigh her soul. Instead, she drew back her extrasense, returning the mirror to normal. The ritual would have to wait for another night.
    Her entire body felt heavy as she resealed the chamber, then made her way to her bedroom on the uppermost level. Sleep, by the Light. A shower and sleep. She had to hope that sunrise would bring the leads she needed to bring justice to Bernie.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 6
    T he warrior pulled the Dodge Charger over to the curb a hundred yards down the street from Kira’s warehouse. The spires of downtown Atlanta rose up from the west, touched by the first fingers of dawn’s light. He stared at the concrete and metal edifice that housed his prize. It must have been an auto-repair or tire store in its former life, he guessed, noting the roll-up garage doors. He couldn’t tell if the second story was original or added on, but he could tell the bars covering the windows on the main door were sturdy, an effort to deter common thieves.
    Good thing he was neither thief nor common.
    “The dagger’s there, or at least it was,” he said to Nansee. The wraith was back to his usual guise of a white-haired elderly black man. “I can sense it, though barely. I suppose she’s protecting it somehow.”
    “She’s proving to be a very capable Shadowchaser, better than many you’ve met. She can certainly hold her own in a fight.”
    “The Commission interrupted her before things got interesting.”
    He had to admit, if only to himself, that he’d enjoyed watching her take out the hybrids. She had a lot of power packed into that lithe frame of hers, power he wouldn’t mind facing. “Does that mean you’re afraid to take her on, old man?”
    A grunt. “Fear and self-preservation are two different things.”
    “If anyone would know, you’d be the one. Can you get inside?”
    The old man faded from view. The warrior tapped out an ancient rhythm on the steering wheel as he waited, restless. Patience was something he’d learned the hard way. It had taken years, decades even.
    After a minute or two Nansee coalesced beside him. He shivered like a dog shaking water from its coat. “It’s well-protected. Multiple layers of encryption technology, metaphysical barriers, and good old-fashioned locks.”
    “Since when has technology stopped you, Traveler of Webs?”
    “Since it is augmented by Light shields, the Chaser’s own aura, and a couple of curses that could take out a demigod, I’ll consider myself stopped. I like the way I’ve arranged my parts.”
    Damn. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still angered him. To be so close to the dagger yet unable to reclaim it was frustrating. His own fault for dying and losing it in the first place.
    He had to get it back. It had been out of his possession, his control, for far too long. Now a ranking member of the Fallen had its sights set on the