The Sleeper and the Silverblood
The Father and the Mothers

Kitara’s blood ran cold. “What?”

Baylen side-eyed her, then turned to gaze across the bar. “You know, such proximity to your handler out here seems…unwise, since you’re trying to keep such a low profile and all.” He parroted her words back at her.

The color drained from her face, but she forced a laugh, nonetheless. “What are you talking about?”

Goddammit, of all nights, why didn’t I bring blades?

Baylen studied her for a brief moment. “I have a new hypothetical for you. Let’s pretend you know exactly what I’m talking about for the next five minutes.”

Kitara feigned a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “I’ll do my best, but honestly, you’ve lost me.”

The white-haired immortal shot her an exasperated look. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play it. Hypothetically, Ostragarn doesn’t authorize or contract random attacks on inconsequential individuals,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “Not even against Valëtyrians. The cost for every blood feud, every perceived offense, would be astronomical, and Ostragarn doesn’t have resources to spare as it is.”

Kitara tensed.

Baylen either didn’t notice or ignored it. “But a powerful enemy of the realm, a threat to the current hierarchy, a traitor? Hypothetically, Ostragarn would readily contract a mercenary coven to assassinate one such individual—and his family—without hesitation or concern for cost. Especially if that individual met the criteria of all three.”

The darkness in Kitara started to stir, like a caged beast trapped and desperate. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool air of the bar. A wisp of smoke escaped from between her fingers, and she dropped her hands into her lap to hide their shaking.

“I’m still confused, Baylen, sorry.” Kitara said, struggling to mask the stress in her voice. “Is any of that supposed to mean something to me?”

Baylen regarded her as if they discussed the weather, then dropped all pretenses. “Cadfael couldn’t evade Ostragarn for eternity, not with Shyamal leading them. It was only a matter of time before he was rediscovered after he vanished. Shyamal would not suffer him to live. He couldn’t—he was too much of a threat.”

Kitara’s pulse stuttered. Baylen mentioned her father’s name without hesitation.

How does he know his name?

Kitara fought to keep the shadowy smoke in her palms from transforming into something more dangerous, far beyond the ability to speak.

Baylen’s cool blue eyes bored into hers. “And replaceing Cadfael led to the discovery of his wife…and daughter.”

She was dead.

Storm was dead.

Neither of them would escape this place alive.

“What do you want?” Kitara’s voice broke under the strain.

“For you to know that I know…and that I have no intention of using that information against you,” Baylen replied mildly, taking another sip of his drink.

The answer startled her into asking, “Why not?”

“Because it would be wasteful. The price on your head existed from the moment Ostragarn knew you did, but it faded into obscurity after your family’s assassination.” He shrugged. “Given your initiation into the AIDO’s ranks, I saw an opportunity.”

A surge of fear rose in Kitara’s gut; bile soured the back of her throat. Her knuckles whitened at the effort of keeping the shadows in her palms under control. “A price on my head?”

That was news.

Baylen nodded, cradling his glass on the tabletop. “Cadfael’s daughter: the last of the Ninthëvels. In all fairness, no one can keep track of all the wanted persons in Ostragarn, and it’s been decades since the hit on you circulated. You’re one name in a very large stack of bounties.”

“Does the Maker know? Did he tell you?”

“I looked into you—though, as I said, I keep my intel to myself in the event things go sideways. But I always vet the immortals I work with. Are you really so surprised?”

She probably shouldn’t have been; after all, he’d watched her for some time before approaching her. And yet…

“Why are you telling me?” she rasped. “Why not just kill me?”

“You have access to resources I don’t,” Baylen said. “I didn’t lie about the Doruri. They are important to the General somehow, perhaps even pivotal to his scheming, and I want to know why. We both know you have more connections than you would readily admit, even under duress. But in this case, those connections would prove extremely useful.”

Kitara stifled the urge to glance in Storm’s direction. “How would you know what resources I have access to?”

He snorted. “The AIDO’s arrival after the assassinations was no secret. Shyamal had people watching to ensure nothing went awry. When an angel emerged from the house with you in his arms, that information spread in certain circles.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“The assumption isn’t a hard one to make. You’re masquerading as a Fallen when your pedigree probably makes you more powerful than almost anyone in this room, much less the bottom-feeders you’ve been associating with. Of course they trained you as a Sleeper.”

She should deny it—as he said, she was trained to never readily confess her profession, even under duress. And this most definitely counted as duress.

Rather than confirm or deny, she switched tactics. “What will you tell the Maker?”

His sapphire gaze met hers, and there was no hesitation in his response. “Nothing.”

Kitara caught her breath as the suffocating darkness within her began to ease. “So…are you really his friend or his enemy?”

“Both and neither, depending on the day. You may replace it hard to believe, but I’m a truly neutral party, which the Maker appreciates more often than not. I have no quarrel with either Valëtyria or Ostragarn and have run afoul of and provided assistance to both in my time.”

“The Maker is the AIDO’s enemy,” she whispered. “Which makes you an enemy, if you help him.”

He shook his head. “I merely want to survive, and I do what I must to ensure that survival. Conflict affects us all; neither side is completely blameless, just as neither side is completely to blame. Still, there are some situations I will take active, aggressive steps to prevent, such as the General’s recreation of Shyamal’s experiments. Alienating or endangering someone as well-placed as you could impact my ability to thwart that outcome. I told you what I know to gain a modicum of your trust, not to blackmail you. Should you choose to disappear from fâșia întunecată after tonight, I will simply seek out someone else to assist me. Do with that information what you will.”

Storm’s gaze found Kitara’s booth again. Was it the light, or did his eyes narrow? Could he sense the tension radiating off of her?

“That’s my cue,” Baylen said. “Be more careful when he’s around, lest anyone else catch on.”

Kitara gaped at him, too blindsided to speak.

“Don’t get yourself killed because of ignorance or carelessness,” he muttered, standing.

As Storm’s gaze left their booth, Baylen vanished.

Storm watched Kitara rise from her table. The other immortal had withdrawn so abruptly, it was like he disappeared into thin air. But Storm didn’t care about him—he tracked Kitara as she walked into the back hallway where a neon sign advertised restrooms. When she reemerged as nothing but shadow shortly after, Storm’s brows pinched in confusion. True, the whole place witnessed her spat with Scarlet’s coven mate, so perhaps she wanted to ensure a discreet exit. But Storm hadn’t missed the tension between her and the white-haired guy after, either.

None of it felt right.

Storm had more than enough questions about their own tangled past, and the mental image of Kitara sitting with the Netherling—heads bent, talking low, close together—it felt intimate with an undertone of violence. He would go to her flat, which seemed her logical destination, and learn what prompted her sudden disappearance.

He managed to wait out another hour in the bar while Scarlet pouted at his disinterest in her overt signals. When the vampiress flounced away declaring him a waste of her time, Storm paid his outrageous tab and headed outside. Previously, Kitara had waited for him, invisible. But now, he sensed no trace of her aura.

The shift only added to his unease.

Ducking into an alley, Storm spread his wings and took flight, weaving an indirectly convoluted route to flush out any possible shadows, followed by slipping into a human crowd outside a street of bars not far from Kitara’s place. After half an hour, confident that no identical shirt or shoes or hat or hair repeatedly skirted his periphery while he mingled, he headed for her flat.

Why am I doing this?

Storm pondered the question even as he climbed the stairs of her run-down building.

He knocked, then waited.

The resulting silence deafened him. He strained to hear but couldn’t detect any movement. He knocked again.

After several more minutes of silence, he risked talking through the door. “Kitara?”

The deadbolt flipped a second later. Kitara grabbed his jacket with one hand and hauled him inside. In the other hand, she held a blade.

Storm couldn’t even blame her.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, slamming the locks back into place as she kept her knife raised between them.

Storm lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Checking in. You left pretty fast. And invisible.”

Kitara side-eyed him, maintaining a wary grip on her knife despite his lack of open hostility. “Were you followed?”

He frowned, slowly returning his arms to his sides. “I’m not stupid. I know how to slip a tail.”

“So you were tailed?”

“No, but I know how to lose one…or replace one. I took countermeasures.”

She studied him another moment, both tense with her blade a bright slash between them.

Finally, she lowered it half an inch. “Should I expect another attempt on my life tonight?”

Before he thought better of it, Storm smirked. “Trust me: if I wanted you dead, you would be.”

“That’s not comforting,” she retorted with a scowl. “And don’t be so sure.”

He lifted his hands again. “No violence tonight, promise.”

“Then I’ll ask again. Why are you here? And for clarity, I don’t mean here in my flat: why are you in the dark strip at all after the other night?”

Storm shifted his weight uneasily. “To get more information. To…ask follow-up questions.”

Kitara snorted. “Figured out things weren’t as clear-cut as you assumed?”

He looked away. “Something like that.”

Another tense moment of their stand-off passed, uncertainty and suspicion pinging between them.

Kitara exhaled slowly and slipped her blade back into its sheath on her arm: a sheath Storm didn’t recall her wearing in the bar. “You didn’t think much of my explanation before.”

“You were right,” Storm admitted after a beat. “Some things don’t fit. I couldn’t replace any official record of Moriah Falling, and the details of her death are inconsistent. Well, non-existent, actually. I don’t think I’ll get honesty from anyone else, and I want the truth.”

Kitara raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Because I’m not interested in arguing with you about everything I say, or worse: being accosted if you hear something you don’t like.”

Storm had the decency to look embarrassed, shifting his weight awkwardly as his ears reddened. “That won’t happen again. I’ll listen this time.”

She sized him up, searching for insincerity. When he didn’t speak again, she exhaled a long, resigned breath. “Fine. What do you want to know?” She gestured for him to sit on her couch.

He obliged, folding his tall, imposing frame onto the secondhand sofa while Kitara braced a hip against her tiny desk.

Storm laced his fingers between his knees. “On one bad night after my mom slipped into the coma…my dad told me what happened. Said she was ambushed.”

Kitara raised a skeptical eyebrow, clearly not expecting an explanation. “Ambushed?”

Storm nodded. “By Netherlings, which is how she got hurt.”

“Which Netherlings?”

“My dad said it was your family. That they were involved.”

Kitara fixed him with a knowing expression and crossed her arms. “Did he specifically say my family set that trap?”

“He—” Storm broke off, frowning. “Maybe he never said those words exactly but…that’s how I interpreted it.”

She rolled her eyes. “And I’m sure he never felt the need to correct you.”

The silverblood raised an eyebrow. “Does something need correcting?” He tried to keep the question civil.

Kitara snorted. “A few things.”

“Would you tell me?” Storm asked carefully.

Her expression hardened. “If I do, you’re going to have to put aside whatever preconceived notions you have about what happened.”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” His tone was sharper than he intended.

Kitara sighed. “Right. First, though, you should know—my family didn’t ambush your mom. Or whatever your dad said. I didn’t even know she was there. But there was an ambush: for my dad. Vampire mercenaries hired to assassinate him.”

“Mercenaries?”

“Yes.”

“But…why?”

Tortured screams echoed in Kitara’s mind, and she steeled herself against them. “Power and status,” she replied flatly. “We had almost no warning—he ordered me to hide. I didn’t know what I could do—not before that day…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “It was the first time.”

“...Kitty, I need you to listen to me. I need you to hide, and I’m going to show you how…”

Memory swamped her with a ferocity that made her chest ache. Her father’s bright green eyes appearing in her vision—Kitara couldn’t recall his face with much clarity now, but she saw his eyes every time she looked in the mirror.

“Cad, if they replace her—”

“I’ll never let him. I’ll die first before I let him use her…”

Storm studied her with quiet intensity. “The first time you did the…disappearing trick?”

She nodded. “I hid in the hall closet. My dad…he took out a few of them. But there were too many of them, and they dragged him outside. There was more fighting and then—then the screaming started. My mother screamed until her voice gave out. She didn’t die for hours. And the whole time, I was trapped in that tiny closet, listening to them slowly killing her.”

Storm inhaled sharply. “Stars, that must have been terrifying.”

“I thought I would die in that house,” Kitara continued. “Then…I heard a noise outside—a sound like thunder. For a minute, I thought—” She broke off to steady her breathing. “I didn’t understand the thunder before the AIDO arrived. But…if it was your mother, a Myragnar…” Kitara’s widening eyes met Storm’s. “I’ve only heard that sound once since. When you were fighting the demon pack. Your power. It didn’t even occur to me.”

His brow furrowed. “How did you miss her though? I can pass as human if I need to…but she has silver hair and the Myragnar…well, they glow.”

“She never came inside. Kenric burst into the house a little while later searching for me. Somehow, he knew I existed, knew to look for me. When I saw his wings…I came out. Somehow I knew he wasn’t one of the bad ones.” Kitara’s throat tightened. “Once he found me, he kept me occupied and got me straight in the car. He didn’t want me to see the…carnage. That’s how I ended up at the AIDO.”

Storm gave her a long, scrutinizing look. “You knew each other, before? You and the Commander?”

Kitara nodded. “He was stationed in Spokane for a while.”

“With you and Devika.”

“Yes. When we were younger, he watched out for us. He and I…we drifted apart after a while, and then he transferred here, but he’s still like our older brother.”

“Okay.” Storm stared at the floor.

Kitara studied him for a long moment. “What changed your mind?”

He glanced up, surprised. “What?”

“The omissions in my mom’s file aren’t enough to convince you like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Which means you found something else.”

“The date,” he replied simply. “The date of the incident that killed your parents…it was the same day my mom got hurt. There’s coincidence and then there’s…that.”

Kitara frowned. “How do you know the date was the same?”

“I saw the incident report.”

“How?”

Storm rubbed the back of his neck, chagrined. “Okay, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I…”

“Yes, yes, you requested access to the Fallen archives to look into me.” Kitara waved her hand impatiently. “I don’t care about that. How did you get into that file? Even with my clearance, I can’t access it.”

His ears reddened. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. The file…?”

“Alasdair and Declan came into the library, wanting to get lunch with Devika. We’d just hit the firewall, and Alasdair agreed to bypass the authentication page.”

“Alasdair can circumvent High Council security?”

“Yeah, he’s a technopath, and most of them are hackers before they become Engineers.” Amusement lit his gaze. “Like, this one time, Declan dared us to hack this portal, saying he didn’t believe ’Dair could do it, but—” Storm broke off with a conflicted expression, his eyes flickering to her in uncertainty.

Kitara hid a smile. “You hacked a portal?”

Storm flushed again. “Back in the Academy. Declan dared Alasdair to hack it, then dared me and Zayne to travel to Earth and replace…stars, I don’t remember what. Something to prove we were there.”

“Did you make it?”

“I didn’t set the parameters correctly. They caught us.”

She snorted. “Figures.”

“Anyway, Alasdair’s handy to have around,” Storm said. “He’s not as reckless as he used to be, given his role now, but thank the stars he still doesn’t share my dad’s enthusiasm for keeping me in the dark. He’ll get me access to reports sometimes when I need it.”

“Don’t you have military clearance?”

“Yes, but my dad’s…overprotective.”

Kitara raised an eyebrow. “He interferes with your clearance?”

“He tries to,” Storm replied grimly. “Anyway…I recognized Moriah’s picture. I never paid much attention to her before—that’s more Zayne’s area, not mine. But when I looked, I mean really looked at her picture…I had this flashback, kinda. It didn’t make much sense, at least not with what I know now. But my mom was with me…and so was your mom.”

Kitara blinked. “With Moriah?”

Storm nodded, past arguing about the identity of her mother. “I swear I didn’t make it up. I saw your mom’s picture and it just…came back to me.”

Kitara chewed the inside of her lip, her brow furrowed. “Do you remember why they were there together?”

“No. But…I got the feeling they were friends. So when Alasdair opened the report, and I saw the date…it was too much of a coincidence.”

“So if they were friends, and my parents were in trouble…”

“Your mom might have reached out to mine.” He looked up again, frustration flashing in his eyes. “But why keep it a secret? If my mom was only trying to protect her friend, especially someone like Moriah Orinokë, why would my dad spin such an elaborate story about it all to me?”

Kitara had her suspicions but didn’t voice them aloud. “Maybe he wanted you to stay away from me.”

“Okay, then why assign me as your handler? Why go through any of this charade?”

The Sleeper sat down hard in her desk chair, offering the most honest reply she could manage. “That…I can’t answer.”