The Sleeper and the Silverblood
The Lantern

Kitara didn’t leave her flat again for the better part of a week. She spent much of that time pacing the length of her small living room, a single thought spinning in her mind.

“…Cadfael couldn’t evade Ostragarn for eternity…”

How the hell did Baylen know his name?

If she were burned, she would be reassigned somewhere far away from headquarters. Cornelius would jump at any opportunity to send her elsewhere or worse: bench her permanently. The idea of her failure tasted bitter on her tongue. Leaving Devika again so soon after they’d reunited felt no better.

So now Kitara had to decide. Disclose that a Netherling knew her identity and be reassigned, risking her career while also leaving behind the family she’d made, or take a major leap of faith and let the situation play out. Baylen had chased Jamal off before blindsiding Kitara with what he knew.

Maybe he had shared his knowledge just to prove his trustworthiness.

The decision was easier than it should have been.

Snagging a leather jacket from her closet and ensuring her trigger sleeves were secure beneath it, Kitara left the apartment to head for the dark strip. Baylen wouldn’t find her this time. She would find him.

Just before leaving, she pulled out her phone.

I’ll be out tonight. Not sure where I’ll end up. But thought you should know.

She didn’t have to wait long for a response.

I won’t be able to leave before eleven. Can you wait until then?

Not tonight. I’ll be okay for a few hours.

Kitara could almost feel Storm’s frustration at his helplessness through his texts.

Where should I meet you?

The Queen is probably safest.

Just so you know, I’m not crazy about this plan.

I’ve got a superpower, remember? Try not to worry too much.

A shiver ran down her spine, unrelated to the chill lingering in the outdoor air. Storm did worry. About her.

Kitara’s thoughts flickered briefly to a moment in Sleeper training when Saoirse explained that handlers and Sleepers could—and often did—grow closer than even lovers. With life-and-death stakes, trust cemented a bond between them.

Who would have ever thought I’d learn to trust Storm Avensäel?

The scent of spring tinged the cool air. The coldest nights of winter had finally ended. Kitara couldn’t wait—the cold made her edgy—but it would make carrying weapons trickier. She spread her wings and leapt into the air.

She appeared earlier in the strip than usual, surprising Blake when she walked into The Sanguine Queen. She wasted no time, approaching the bar and crooking her finger at him.

The Valorn approached with a rueful smile. “Hello, Sabine. What can I do for you?”

“You’re friends with the white-haired guy, right? Baylen?”

Friendliness shifted to suspicion. “Yes, why?”

“You know how to find him?”

“Maybe.”

Kitara sighed in exasperation. “Well, if you see him, could you let him know I’m looking for him?”

The bartender gave her a onceover. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She patted the bar and turned to leave. “Thanks.”

“Try The Lantern,” Blake said.

Kitara faced him again. “The Lantern?”

He shrugged. “Quieter there. He prefers it.”

“Haven’t been there before.”

“It’s on the edge of town,” Blake said under his breath. “Tiny place. No sign. Just…a single light out front.”

Kitara fought the urge to laugh. “Thanks, Blake.”

“Don’t mention it.”

It wasn’t a platitude.

Kitara nodded and headed out of his bar. She took flight again, touching down at the end of the dark strip a few minutes later.

Straightening her jacket, she surveyed the area. Neon signs flickered outside a number of establishments while the scent of greasy food and stale cigarettes permeated the air. A burst of raucous laughter spilled from the open door of the nearest bar as conversation rose and fell in both Romanian and English. Shoving her hands in her pockets, Kitara shuffled down the sidewalk.

She almost missed it: a small door down a side alley with a vintage lamp flickering dimly out front. Glancing around, Kitara let herself inside.

The place wasn’t much larger than her flat. A bar spanned one wall; available seating took up the other. A handful of faces looked up, watching warily as she approached.

This bartender was a vampire, and a massive one. She scrutinized Kitara with hard red eyes. “Ce vrei?”

The Sleeper grimaced. “English, by chance?”

If possible, the vampire’s expression darkened further. “What do you want?

“Thanks. Whatever the closest whiskey is.”

“Don’t carry that shit here. You lost?”

Kitara realized too late that every bottle on the shelves contained dark, thick liquid.

“Ah…no. You got water?”

The vampire narrowed her eyes and filled a suspicious-looking glass in the sink. “Ninety lei.”

Kitara didn’t argue, handing over a bill and venturing further into the grimy establishment. She found an open booth at the back, while red eyes continued to scrutinize her throughout the room.

She began to wonder why Blake sent her here when an aura brushed over her skin and a head of white hair sat across from her. This satisfied the other patrons, who returned to their own conversations.

“Heard you were looking for me,” Baylen said quietly. He flashed a hand sign at the bartender, who nodded and busied herself with pouring a lowball of some of the sticky stuff behind the bar.

“Yeah,” Kitara muttered. “This the best place to talk?”

“No, but Sophie will help us out.”

The bartender came around the counter, handed Baylen the glass she’d poured, and slipped him a tiny silver key.

“What—”

Baylen stood. “Come on.”

Out of curiosity, Kitara followed him down a shallow flight of stairs at the back of the establishment.

He unlocked the door at the end of the corridor and pushed it open, pocketing the key. “After you.”

Kitara eyed him warily but stepped inside, taking in the space as Baylen twisted the deadbolt behind her. This room was considerably larger and more crowded, and she noted uneasily that the door they entered through was the only way in or out. “What is this place?”

“Best-kept secret in the strip,” Baylen replied. “Follow me.”

He led her to the back of the room and found a table, gesturing for her to join him.

“The Maker comes here sometimes,” he said as he sat down. “It’s private, and we won’t be bothered.”

Kitara faltered but recovered quickly. “Any chance we’ll run into him?”

He snorted. “Not tonight, I suspect.”

“Could you have introduced me?” she asked. “You must have known we were interested from the beginning—you’re not stupid.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, deadpan. “What would you have done if I had? Challenged him on his territory? Brought an AIDO regiment down on his head?”

“We’re trying to pinpoint who he is, keep an eye on him.”

“What has you so convinced he’s involved?”

“Considering he single-handedly seized control of an AIDO facility in Japan? Let’s say he’s on our shortlist.”

Baylen’s gaze didn’t waver. “An alleged necessity.”

“Sure,” Kitara muttered. “He’s done a lot of damage to the AIDO.”

“And the AIDO has done nearly as much damage to his organization,” Baylen countered. “He doesn’t regret the actions he takes: past, present, or future. Not as long-lived as he is.”

“There isn’t exactly a statute of limitations on something like that.”

“Perhaps not,” Baylen replied, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. “But the Maker is not the reason you’re sitting here with me now, is he?”

The Sleeper’s brow furrowed as she hesitated. “I guess not. You mentioned my dad. You…you knew him, somehow.”

“Of him. Never met him personally,” he replied. “Does the AIDO know who he was?”

“The High Councilors know he was a Ninthëvel, but I’ve never given them his name. So how did you know it?”

“I told you—Shyamal would not suffer him to live, and your father couldn’t outrun him for eternity. My proximity to…well-informed individuals made his name a common occurrence for a time.”

“The Maker?” Kitara asked.

“Among others.”

“How did you know why I was in the dark strip at all?”

He snorted. “When you appeared so soon after Erik’s death, I put the pieces together.”

Kitara did her best to remain impassive. “What does Erik have to do with any of this?”

Baylen rolled his eyes. “And here I thought we were past this. Erik’s death barely caused a ripple in the dark strip until you showed up: a Dor with plans to avenge a Valorn no one cared about. Your backstory fools Ostragonians because most of them don’t have my experience or lifespan, but I’m old enough to remember the Ninthëvels, including the black and gold wings that set them apart from the rest of their people. I recognized you on sight.”

That would make him… a thousand years old, at least.

“You look good for your age,” Kitara said dryly. “But I still don’t know what that has to do with Erik.”

“It wasn’t hard to make the leap—very few people knew or cared about Erik’s death. A Ninthëvel knowing the exact details was too coincidental.”

“But how did you know I was AIDO? I could have been in hiding all this time.”

“I had a Valëtyrian contact who, at one time, had access to their…more confidential files. He mentioned a Ninthëvel daughter admitted into the AIDO following an incident in Seattle some years before. Again, too convenient to be coincidence.”

Kitara’s eyes widened. “He could have been executed for telling you that.”

“He nearly was,” Baylen replied darkly, then sighed. “It wasn’t his fault really. People tend to speak more freely following mind-blowing sex.”

She might have laughed if that revelation didn’t have such grave implications. “He spilled government secrets…during pillow talk?”

“I can be very persuasive, and I’ll admit, I took advantage of a time when he was weak. He made me swear not to tell anyone, and I agreed. I take my promises seriously.”

Kitara raised an eyebrow. “You told me.”

“You’re the daughter in question—you don’t count.”

“What happened to him?”

“We fell out of touch. It’s been years since I’ve seen or spoken to him.” Baylen sipped his drink.

Kitara decided to leave the subject of Erik alone. “Who else knows about me?”

“An educated guess? No one. Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re oblivious to your handler being Valëtyrian,” he warned. “If he continues to visit the dark strip, you’ll need to be cautious…and discreet.”

“So I keep telling him.” Kitara studied him for a long moment as her thoughts spun. “What do you want then? You know some pretty…damning information.”

“You are more valuable to me alive than dead,” he said smoothly.

“Reassuring,” Kitara muttered.

“You’re someone with the right connections to find answers—it should be reassuring.”

“Not that I’ve found much. Your…revelation the other night put me in a rather awkward position.”

“Mm. I suppose it should have occurred to me that your protocols would normally dictate an immediate change in locale.” His sharp blue eyes studied her. “Yet, you are still here.”

“I have my reasons,” she muttered.

“Not the least of which is likely the handler in question.”

She sat back with a frown. “Now you’re reaching, Baylen.”

“Am I?” he murmured more to himself than to her, draining the remnants of his glass.

“Since you know so much, tell me this. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did Shyamal target my father?”

“Outside of being a dangerous rival, you mean?” Baylen asked. “Do you think there’s a more poignant reason than that?”

“I think you know more than you’re letting on,” she countered.

Baylen leaned back, stretching one arm along the top of the booth seat. “I knew you were clever. Observant.” He held his breath for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “Yes, there is more.”

“I’ll ask again then: why?”

After another moment of indecision, he relented. “Shyamal was your father’s twin brother.”

Kitara choked on her drink, eyes watering as she coughed. “What? Shyamal was a Ninthëvel?”

“Yes. From what I’ve gathered, they had some kind of falling out. I don’t know why Shyamal wanted Cadfael dead, but…”

Kitara’s mind spun. Her father, the twin brother of a cruel and powerful ruler who terrorized Ostragarn for so many years?

Power and status.

“Stars,” she whispered. “How did Shyamal find him?”

Baylen’s expression remained impassive. “I’m sure you have your suspicions. Yet you’d rather not voice them for fear they’re true.”

“The Maker,” Kitara said flatly. “The Maker found him.”

“Yes.”

“You said he doesn’t know about me.”

“No one knew you existed then, because the target was Cadfael. The hit on you came after the mercenaries carried out their attack, which was when I became aware of your existence.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And you? Were you his ally or his enemy on that day?”

“When I learned the details, I vehemently opposed the entire enterprise.” Something like grief flitted through his expression and disappeared. “I am sorry. Truly. No child deserves to be subjected to such a thing. I understand more than you know.”

“I imagine most Netherlings don’t have happy families.” She swiped her suspiciously damp eyes with her knuckles.

Baylen pretended not to notice. “Not usually, no.” He gave her another moment to collect herself, then sighed. “Come, I’ll escort you back.”

Kitara rose without a word. Baylen walked her out of the immortal strip club back into the front of The Lantern. He returned the key to Sophie before they exited into the alley.

“I wouldn’t recommend revisiting The Lantern unless we plan to meet. Here.” Baylen pressed a black business card into her hand, blank except for a phone number embossed in silver on the front. “I hope I don’t have to tell you it would be unwise to use this unless absolutely necessary.”

“You don’t.”

“Good. I have my sources. I’ll look you up next time you’re around.”

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I’ll take what I can get. As always, it’s been an…experience talking to you.”

He snorted. “Take care, Kitara.”

He vanished with the near-silent popping sound she’d come to associate with his departures.

Kitara couldn’t even pretend surprise at his inexplicable knowledge of her name. With a sigh, she rolled her neck, spread her wings, and soared into the black sky above. Her heartbeat quickened at the prospect of meeting Storm not as strangers, enemies, or colleagues, but allies…maybe even friends.

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