The Sleeper and the Silverblood
The Maker's Hand

Kitara struggled for air as the ramifications of his confirmation crashed around her head.

“As soon as I learned what Landon actually was, I took him out of play, for everyone’s sake. Now, will you please listen for—”

“Fuck you,” Kitara snarled and hung up.

Her phone rang again immediately. She ignored it.

“Kitara?” Devika’s voice was small. “What’s going on?”

«Kit, what is it?» Storm had sensed her fear.

Kitara’s hands shook. “It’s him,” she rasped, answering them both. “Baylen. Baylen’s the Maker.”

“What?”

«I’ll be right there,» Storm said. «Don’t move.»

With a crash and a curse, somebody materialized in the office, barely avoiding toppling a bookshelf. Kitara grabbed Devika’s arm and jerked the Historian behind her, triggering a blade into her hand.

A white-haired figure appeared, sidling between them and the doorway. Devika’s breath escaped with a squeak. Kitara didn’t hesitate, hurling a knife at him. Baylen blipped out of view for a nanosecond, reappearing a few feet away. Kitara’s knife embedded into a book’s spine.

“Christ, Kitara, just—”

Kitara grabbed the nearest object and flung it at him, unwilling to part with her remaining blade. Baylen dodged the book she threw.

Why wasn’t every alarm in the facility going off? How did he get in here?

“Kitara, I don’t want to use your friend as a shield, but I will if necessary.” Baylen appeared behind them.

Kitara spun, putting herself between Devika and the Maker. She triggered her second blade into her hand, pointing it at him. “I’ll kill you,” she snarled.

“If you want, but if you’d let me explain—”

“Explain what?” she shouted, hoping the commotion would draw attention.

“That for the last time, I am not your enemy!” Baylen bellowed back. Clearly, the possibility didn’t concern him.

“You killed Landon, you killed my family—”

“I didn’t,” Baylen snapped, frustrated. “Landon, yes. Your family, no.”

“You may as well have!” Kitara subtly edged Devika toward the door. “And now you’re here to try to finish what Scarlet and Jamal started—”

“It’s like arguing with a child,” Baylen muttered, watching her with wary eyes. “You have not listened to anything I’ve told you these last months.”

“I did listen, and shouldn’t have.” Kitara shoved Devika toward the door, and the Historian made a break for it.

With an exasperated sigh, Baylen lifted a hand. The glass partition dividing the office from the library darkened, obscuring their view of anything beyond. The doorway disappeared, and Devika skidded to a stop. Kitara gaped at him.

“Like I’ve said before,” Baylen emphasized, “if I wanted to harm you, I would have done so months ago.”

«Kit?» Storm sounded panicked. «I’m in the library. Where are you?»

«I—I don’t know…»

Somehow, the Netherling had isolated them from everything outside the room.

«What do we do?» Storm asked. She glimpsed him in the library and through his eyes, the office stood empty. The juxtaposition dizzied her.

“How…?” Kitara whispered.

“You’re not the only one with unique abilities,” Baylen muttered. “I can’t maintain the bend for long, so I’ll talk fast. Yes, I am the Maker. Yes, the AIDO and I have been adversaries historically. Yes, I have committed deeds your commanders would classify heinous. And yes, I was involved in your family’s discovery, but I didn’t know who they were then. If I had…”

“But…Jamal…Scarlet…” Kitara tried to wrap her head around what was happening.

Baylen snorted. “Jamal’s only interest was in how much power he could accrue, and I never let him anywhere near my organization. Scarlet…I’m not sure where her loyalties lie, but I never recruited her either. Now, can we have a civil conversation, or shall we continue this merry dance of violence?”

“Let Devika leave, and we can talk,” Kitara countered.

Baylen shook his head. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I mean no harm to either of you…but right now, your defense of your friend keeps me alive.”

“What do you want?” Devika asked from behind her.

Baylen inclined his head. “My apologies. I wouldn’t have come if I thought I had another choice.” He returned his attention to Kitara. “But I had to explain. At the very least, I had to try to give you all the information.”

A ripple of energy shuddered through the room. Kitara glanced toward the wall where the door should have stood. A tremor shook Baylen’s hand.

«I think he’s weakening.»

«Good, he’ll be easier to kill,» Storm snarled.

“You said the Maker didn’t know about me,” Kitara accused. “You said you weren’t involved in my family’s assassination. Everything you told me was a lie.”

“One, I said your secrets were safe with me, that I kept that information to myself,” Baylen corrected. “And two, I said ’once I learned the details, I vehemently opposed the entire enterprise.’ Which was the truth.”

“Semantics,” Kitara snapped. “Wordplay to trick me into believing a lie…”

“So when we inevitably had this confrontation, I could say in all honesty I did not lie to you,” Baylen retorted. “But until I thought I could convince you, I couldn’t explicitly share everything.”

“How the hell will you convince me?” Kitara spat. “You told me you were a neutral party, but you’ve been an enemy of the AIDO for centuries. Some of the things you’ve done…you’ve committed mass murder for fuck’s sake.”

“Yes, I’ve orchestrated events that were, in fact, necessary at the time,” Baylen admitted. “Not to intentionally make an enemy of the AIDO, but to achieve goals they unfortunately impeded. More recently, however, I’ve given them a wide berth when I could.”

“You took over our facility in Tokyo!”

“And relinquished it again,” Baylen reminded her. “That was an unavoidable circumstance, and I left the facility as I found it.”

Kitara scoffed. “It would never be the same after that, and you know it.”

“As I said, an unavoidable circumstance.”

“How did you get in here?” Devika asked from behind Kitara. “And how did you know where we were? The AIDO is massive.”

“You must be a Historian. Only a Historian would risk their safety to sate their curiosity.” Baylen gestured at the Sleeper. “I heard her ask about the library. I took a calculated risk.”

“How did you get in?” Kitara repeated Devika’s question.

Baylen waved a hand toward the absent door. “I’m a bit…different from the average immortal.”

“Helpful,” Kitara muttered.

“You’ve failed to ask the most obvious question of all, Kitara.”

“Why haven’t I killed you yet?” she snarked.

“No, why haven’t I killed you?”

She tensed, opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Finally, she admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Why would I care what happened to Cadfael’s child? Why would I go to such lengths to gain your trust? Why, after Shyamal ordered me to hunt down your family, would I ensure your safety, especially with a price still on your head?”

“Guilt?” She didn’t try to hide her sarcasm.

But to her surprise, Baylen nodded. “More than you can imagine. Because I understand,” he emphasized. “More than you know.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“What happened that day was a betrayal of you, of me, of your family…and mine.”

Kitara’s gaze was blank, uncomprehending.

“Oh, stars,” Devika gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth.

Baylen winced and took a step back. Whatever he did to hide the doorway had run its course. He let out a sharp breath, and the door appeared again.

Devika still struggled for words. “You—you’re—”

Storm charged inside with Declan hot on his heels, electricity crackling in one fist, and pointed his blade at the Netherling. “You motherf—”

“Wait,” Kitara said, holding out a hand.

Storm’s eyes flickered between her and the white-haired immortal, his expression one of frozen steel as sparks jumped off his clenched fingers. Declan trained his gun on the Netherling.

Baylen inclined his head, but his eyes never left the silverblood’s face. “Storm Avensäel, at last we meet.”

“Funny, I don’t remember extending you an invitation.”

“Someone want to tell me why this guy isn’t dead or arrested yet?” Declan snapped.

“Explain,” Kitara rasped. “Explain what Devika put together, but I didn’t.”

Baylen glanced at the Historian.

Devika’s eyes were wide with horror and…sympathy. “You were one of the experiments,” she whispered. “That’s why you know so much. Right?”

Baylen nodded once.

“Experiments?” Storm’s eyes narrowed as he looked from Devika to Baylen and back again.

“You’re like her—like Kitara,” Devika said. “That would make you her…cousin?”

Kitara half-turned to her in shock. “What?”

“I didn’t know.” Baylen addressed only the Historian now. “If I’d known…I could have warned them.”

“But once you knew…”

Baylen’s lips twisted in a grim smile. “Who do you think orchestrated his assassination?”

“Could somebody please explain what the fuck is going on?” Declan snapped.

“Depends,” Baylen said easily. “I’d rather not have a gun pointed at me while I do.”

“Put it away, Declan,” Devika ordered with an uncharacteristic edge to her normally soft-spoken voice.

“Like hell,” he retorted.

“Stand the fuck down, Declan Seanste, or I will throw you out of this library!”

Declan—possibly shocked by the Historian’s unexpected swearing or baffled by her choice to let Baylen explain himself—lowered his gun but didn’t holster it.

“You’re Shyamal’s son,” Devika said without an iota of doubt.

Baylen inclined his head. “I am.”

“Stars and hellfire,” Storm breathed.

Kitara stared at Baylen, still too bewildered to speak.

He gestured between them. “Can’t you see the family resemblance?” he joked weakly.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“I was born just after the rebellion started,” he began, “but before Shyamal Fell. After, he stole me from my mother and raised me in Ostragarn, isolated from anything remotely Myragonian. You asked why I drink blood if I’m not Valorn. Because your friend is right.” He shrugged. “I was his son…but I wasn’t family. I was his test subject. And he spent an excessive amount of time studying me.”

Something like pain crossed his face. “I never suspected I had family beyond him. Once I found out who, exactly, he’d sent me to hunt, and what he’d done…it broke me. I witnessed the aftermath.” He glanced at Storm. “What happened to your mother…”

Storm’s sword dropped a fraction of an inch.

Baylen’s attention returned to Kitara. “…and when a child emerged from the carnage.”

The Sleeper paled.

“Seventeen years after searching for any indication of what happened to her, I finally learned Cadfael’s child was admitted into the AIDO. I spent the next twenty-five tracking down the location of AIDO’s headquarters—that’s why I was in Tokyo last year, by the way—never thinking I’d meet her. Just that I might see her, even once.”

A noise outside the office drew Baylen’s attention for a second before he continued. “Then, to my astonishment, she walked into a random bar in Bucharest after I dispatched an AIDO mole. And I’ll forever be grateful to the Valëtyrian who confirmed her existence.” His attention shifted to the newcomer in the doorway.

“Hello, Robert.”