be concerned about you. It’s the least I can do for someone who’s trusting me with their life.”
“When you put it like that, you make it hard to be mad at you.”
He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
“And there it is.”
He slowed the car, his amusement instantly changing to tension. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, nodding to the windshield.
They’d pulled into her neighborhood, a collection of storefronts converted into mixed-use developments on the eastern edge of downtown. She saw the figure, swathed in a light-gray all-weather coat, pacing in front of her home, and recognized him as Balm’s assistant.
Something had happened to Balm.
She forced herself to think logically past the sudden tightening in her chest. No, surely she’d know something was wrong with Balm long before anyone showed up to tell her. Section Chief Sanchez had stayed at the gala after Kira and Khefar left, and she wouldn’t have done that if something had happened to the commander in chief of the Gilead Commission.
“Is it trouble?”
“Probably, but nothing that requires knives and guns.”
Khefar pulled to a stop. “You know him?”
“Yeah. That’s Balm’s assistant, Lysander. Since I’ve never seen him without her, and they’re both supposed to be back on Santa Costa, he’s probably not the bearer of good news.”
She retrieved her shoes from the backseat. Reluctantly she shoved her protesting feet back into them before grabbing her Lightblade from the glove compartment and getting out of the car. The biometric scanner mounted on the wall beside the front door read her vitals, raising the garage door in response. Khefar drove through, leaving her in the cold with Balm’s assistant.
With his pale hair and fair skin, Lysander looked to be about her age, mid-twenties. She knew he wasn’t simply because he’d looked much the same when she’d first seen him more than a decade ago. “Lysander.”
“Greetings, Kira Solomon.”
“What are you doing here?”
The man gestured to a small crate sitting on her doorstep. “The Balm of Gilead bade me bring this to you.”
Kira stared at the box, wondering if it contained what she thought it did, hoped and dreaded it did. Finally. “She didn’t tell me you were coming.” Figures. “Where is she, anyway?”
“Our Lady of Light remains on Santa Costa,” the young man said, his breath steaming in the night. The chill air didn’t seem to bother him, which was good, since Kira had no plans to invite him in. Vampires weren’t the only creatures one shouldn’t invite into their homes. “It was decided but a few hours ago to deliver this to you.”
She glanced at the crate again, wary. A few hours ago meant Lysander had to already have been somewhere in North America in Balm’s Gulfstream, or he’d used alternative methods of travel. Either way, it meant that whatever was in the crate was important enough that it required a special delivery, and that didn’t mean UPS.
“What is it?”
“The answers you seek,” Lysander said, surprising her. “And hopefully understanding on your part on why your life is as it is, and why Balm is as she is.”
“Wow. That’s, like, the most you’ve said to me at one time ever. And you’re so nice about it that I don’t even mind that you’re verbally rapping me on my knuckles.”
Lysander gave a graceful incline of his head, adding a ghost of a smile. “I speak when it’s important enough.”
Balm? Kira called out mentally. Lysander’s here. I’ve got the box. Why did you send this to me now?
A wall of silence answered her. Kira tried again, got the same result. She knew Balm was there, but for some reason the head of Gilead wasn’t answering. Yet it felt different from being shut out or ignored.
Kira frowned at Lysander. “Balm’s not answering me. I can barely sense her. What’s going on?”
Lysander’s expression closed. “Balm is indisposed at the
“When you put it like that, you make it hard to be mad at you.”
He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
“And there it is.”
He slowed the car, his amusement instantly changing to tension. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, nodding to the windshield.
They’d pulled into her neighborhood, a collection of storefronts converted into mixed-use developments on the eastern edge of downtown. She saw the figure, swathed in a light-gray all-weather coat, pacing in front of her home, and recognized him as Balm’s assistant.
Something had happened to Balm.
She forced herself to think logically past the sudden tightening in her chest. No, surely she’d know something was wrong with Balm long before anyone showed up to tell her. Section Chief Sanchez had stayed at the gala after Kira and Khefar left, and she wouldn’t have done that if something had happened to the commander in chief of the Gilead Commission.
“Is it trouble?”
“Probably, but nothing that requires knives and guns.”
Khefar pulled to a stop. “You know him?”
“Yeah. That’s Balm’s assistant, Lysander. Since I’ve never seen him without her, and they’re both supposed to be back on Santa Costa, he’s probably not the bearer of good news.”
She retrieved her shoes from the backseat. Reluctantly she shoved her protesting feet back into them before grabbing her Lightblade from the glove compartment and getting out of the car. The biometric scanner mounted on the wall beside the front door read her vitals, raising the garage door in response. Khefar drove through, leaving her in the cold with Balm’s assistant.
With his pale hair and fair skin, Lysander looked to be about her age, mid-twenties. She knew he wasn’t simply because he’d looked much the same when she’d first seen him more than a decade ago. “Lysander.”
“Greetings, Kira Solomon.”
“What are you doing here?”
The man gestured to a small crate sitting on her doorstep. “The Balm of Gilead bade me bring this to you.”
Kira stared at the box, wondering if it contained what she thought it did, hoped and dreaded it did. Finally. “She didn’t tell me you were coming.” Figures. “Where is she, anyway?”
“Our Lady of Light remains on Santa Costa,” the young man said, his breath steaming in the night. The chill air didn’t seem to bother him, which was good, since Kira had no plans to invite him in. Vampires weren’t the only creatures one shouldn’t invite into their homes. “It was decided but a few hours ago to deliver this to you.”
She glanced at the crate again, wary. A few hours ago meant Lysander had to already have been somewhere in North America in Balm’s Gulfstream, or he’d used alternative methods of travel. Either way, it meant that whatever was in the crate was important enough that it required a special delivery, and that didn’t mean UPS.
“What is it?”
“The answers you seek,” Lysander said, surprising her. “And hopefully understanding on your part on why your life is as it is, and why Balm is as she is.”
“Wow. That’s, like, the most you’ve said to me at one time ever. And you’re so nice about it that I don’t even mind that you’re verbally rapping me on my knuckles.”
Lysander gave a graceful incline of his head, adding a ghost of a smile. “I speak when it’s important enough.”
Balm? Kira called out mentally. Lysander’s here. I’ve got the box. Why did you send this to me now?
A wall of silence answered her. Kira tried again, got the same result. She knew Balm was there, but for some reason the head of Gilead wasn’t answering. Yet it felt different from being shut out or ignored.
Kira frowned at Lysander. “Balm’s not answering me. I can barely sense her. What’s going on?”
Lysander’s expression closed. “Balm is indisposed at the
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