Chapter 20: The Fallen Archives

Storm sat back hard and ran a hand through his hair. Devika noted the movement and looked up, brow furrowed. When Storm didn’t acknowledge her, she turned away again.

With renewed fervor, unsure of the credibility of the memory, Storm continued digging through the Emissary’s information. Even with Devika’s credentials, he didn’t see what he hoped to find. Nothing about children, nothing about the mission that supposedly killed her, nothing about how she died. Her file contained a note, however—a list of missions dating back several centuries. No details, just locations and dates, but the final entry caught his attention.

Retired from service.

Storm frowned at the tablet. “What the hell?”

“What is it now?” Devika grumbled.

Storm hesitated. “Well, it’s an entry type I’ve never seen before. I’ll have to research it further—”

Before he could object, Devika took the tablet from him and reviewed the open file. Her eyes scanned the page, darted up to Storm’s face, then down again. “What’s your question?” Tension echoed in her tone.

“Uh, well…have you ever seen an Emissary marked as…retired from service?”

“No,” Devika said after a beat. With pursed lips, she typed in a series of searches.

“What do you make of it?”

“Hard to say,” she mused as she swiped through documents.

“That profile seems…incomplete,” Storm offered. “There’s information missing. Maybe it’s related?”

She didn’t look up. “You and your friends seem awfully interested in Moriah lately. What prompted all this?”

“Trying to find the mission that got her killed.”

“Morbid curiosity?” Devika muttered under her breath.

Her sarcasm left Storm fully convinced she had deeper ties to Kitara than he could ever have imagined. “She’s so well-known…I’m surprised there’s not more about her—hell, Zayne’s about to give an entire seminar lecture about her…and yet there’s no details about how she died?”

“...You should know better than anyone, because whatever happened to your mom has been mysteriously covered up too!”

“There’s your answer,” Devika said, handing him the tablet again.

Storm reviewed the page, hoping for more, but instead encountered another restricted message. “Can you override this one too?”

“You’ll notice there’s not a place for me to do that,” Devika replied, pointing. “This is above Historian clearance.”

“I don’t understand,” Storm muttered. “This doesn’t add up.”

Devika snorted but didn’t comment.

He studied the security screen for a moment, then looked up at the Historian standing over him. “Do you know more about her? You’re the Historian, you probably—”

“Oh, for stars’ sake, Storm,” Devika snapped. “Just ask.”

“Ask what?” Storm feigned ignorance.

“The question eating you alive. Stop dancing around and just spit it out.”

Storm regarded her with narrowed eyes. “You’re in deeper than you let on.”

“As are you,” she countered. “So let’s pretend for a minute we’re on the same page and ask your damn question.”

“Did Moriah…have kids?”

“Yes. C’mon, Storm, I’m putting it right over the plate for you.”

“Is she Kitara’s mom?” he blurted.

“Yes,” Devika said without hesitation. “Was that so difficult?”

“Then why isn’t she…she’s not…”

“Listed as Fallen?” Devika finished. “I don’t know. We’ve never been able to figure that out. If you think the lack of information is driving you crazy, imagine being her daughter and having no explanation about your mother’s past. Having to deal with doubt and skepticism about her own origins from everyone, yet unable to correct anyone’s assumptions because of her mother’s fame. Can you blame her for not advertising it?”

“You knew her before, in Spokane,” he said without any doubt. “That’s why you were assigned as her Historian.”

“Yes again.”

He sat back. “I had no idea…even when you said you came from Spokane, I wasn’t sure…”

“That is the idea,” the Historian said. “The less anyone knows about her personal life, the better. We grew up together. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister, and I take that very seriously.”

Storm crossed his arms, defensive. “Kitara’s history is heavily redacted or missing entirely.”

“You ever think that was for a reason?” Devika asked darkly.

“Because of what she does?”

“Among other things.”

“Like?”

Devika shook her head. “Not my place to say.”

“Stars, you two are so fucking frustrating,” Storm snapped.

Devika scowled at him. “You went to see her in the field, more than once,” she said, not quite an accusation. “Don’t try to deny it. I know you know because she told me. She checked on you. You put her at risk, treated her like shit, attacked her, and she still went out of her way to make sure you returned alive.”

Storm blinked. “She did?”

“I don’t know what you think you know,” Devika snapped, jabbing a finger at him, “but you should take a minute to think for yourself, rather than regurgitating whatever you’ve been told—without context or even proof. For whatever reason, she wants to help you. She told me to give you the information you needed, to tell you what I know so you know I can help you. If it were me, I’d have reported your ass weeks ago.”

“Are we interrupting…?”

The two of them turned. Alasdair and Declan stood in the doorway, observing them with wary expressions.

“No,” Devika said quickly. “Storm was just finishing up—”

“Actually, ’Dair, you might be able to help with something,” Storm contradicted her, retrieving the tablet and standing. “Can you get past this?”

The Engineer eyed him for a moment, then sighed. “Maybe. Let me see.”

Storm handed the device to him.

Declan glanced between the silverblood and the Historian. “You two aren’t hacking a portal or something again, are you?”

Storm snorted, while Devika looked confused. “No.”

“So what exactly am I unlocking here?” Alasdair asked.

“Reports about Moriah Orinokë,” Storm explained.

“Odd,” Alasdair said as he worked. “Wouldn’t think anything about her would be that classified.”

“Apparently,” Storm muttered.

“You trying to help Zayne with his thing?” Declan asked.

“Sorta.”

“Here.” Alasdair extended the tablet.

“Thanks,” Storm replied as he accepted it.

Devika read over Storm’s shoulder as the silverblood skimmed the document. “There isn’t much additional detail here,” he muttered. “Nothing about what she was supposed to be—” He broke off, the color draining from his face. “This date, here…” He pointed. “This is the date of the report?”

Devika craned her neck to read what he referred to. “Uh, no. Date of the incident.”

“Storm, you okay?” Declan took a concerned step toward him.

“My dad was telling the truth,” Storm whispered hoarsely.

“What?” Devika reclaimed the tablet again and scrolled down the page with a frown.

“The reason my mom is…well, part of it…but how could Moriah…” Storm was babbling but he couldn’t stop the disjointed flow of words. “I think—maybe I’m imagining things…but…”

“What is going on?” Alasdair asked, his gaze darting between the two of them. “What is this about?”

“Moriah Orinokë,” Devika said carefully. “Storm has a theory she was involved in his mom’s…accident.”

Declan’s brows hit his hairline. “Oh, shit.”

“What led to that?” Alasdair pressed.

“I think Moriah and my mom were…friends. This report doesn’t mention my mom…but my dad said she was involved—”

“I thought he refuses to talk about it?” Alasdair said. “And how did you reach the conclusion that Moriah was involved, of all people? She’s a legend.”

“Zayne’s research, like you said,” Devika cut in smoothly, saving Storm from floundering for an acceptable response. “The end of Moriah’s life is a bit…murky to say the least.”

Storm took over. “I had this…memory,” he hedged. “Kinda came out of nowhere, but she was with my mom. We know Phoebe was her friend; hell, it’s why Zayne was asked to talk about her. So why didn’t I know my mom was too?”

“Maybe it was a one-time thing?” Alasdair suggested. “And you just…happened to remember it?”

Storm shook his head. “No, I—I didn’t get that impression.”

Declan leaned against the nearest bookshelf. “And you think your dad will suddenly be forthcoming about all of it?”

“Probably not,” Storm muttered.

“Then what?” Alasdair’s tone held more curiosity than skepticism now.

Storm’s tone hardened. “Then I find out on my own.”

“It’s a start,” Devika conceded. “And it’s more than you had before. It’s something. Maybe even to more people than you, too.”

Storm side-eyed her with a narrowed gaze.

“…imagine being her daughter and having no explanation about your mother’s past…”

Devika’s meaning could not have been clearer.

He needed to talk to Kitara.

“We came to see if you wanted to grab some lunch,” Alasdair said to Devika. “Before all…this.” He waved a hand in a vague gesture.

“You two go on ahead,” Declan said, focusing on Storm as a frown tugged at his mouth. “I’ve got some stuff I need to chat with Storm about real quick.”

The Engineer and the Historian shot them quizzical glances, but Alasdair finally nodded. “Want me to get you something, or will you be a while?”

“Nah, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t wait.”

“We’ll save you a seat,” Devika offered, her eyes narrowing as she met Storm’s gaze.

“Thanks.”

Alasdair and Devika left Storm and Declan in the library office alone.

“You want to talk about it?” the Guardian finally ventured when Storm didn’t immediately say anything. “Because I don’t buy for a second you’re doing this for Zayne.”

Storm sighed, then proceeded to explain the truth behind his investigation into Moriah’s background. He mentioned his conversations with Kitara but didn’t reveal his repeated excursions into the dark strip to have them. Somehow, he had a feeling Declan wouldn’t take too kindly to that particular revelation.

Declan crossed his arms. “Damn, dude. Partially responsible for incapacitating one of the Myragnar? That’s pretty extreme, even for your dad.”

“That’s what I thought. So…there has to be something to that story, right? Maybe I just misunderstood?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know. Letting you believe it all these years…and nobody likes to question you or your dad about it. You’d think he would have told you something different once you became her handler.”

Storm hesitated. “What if I’ve been wrong all this time, Dec?”

“Wrong about what?”

“Her,” Storm confessed. “What if everything I know…what if it’s all out of context, like Devika said? If this is true, if all of this is true…she’s a victim of that day same as me. Except she lost both her parents and I…shit, I’ve been such an ass about it.”

Declan eyed him for another minute. “She really got under your skin, huh? I’ve never seen you so…agitated over someone before.”

“When I was younger, her family was a vague nightmare. Then, once I was older, I found out who she was, and I had a face for the nightmares. She’s been this villain in my life, except…she’s not, actually. And her aura…stars, Dec, I can’t explain it. I’m desperate to be near her again even when I’ve been just as desperate to avoid her for the rest of eternity.”

The Guardian’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You know that feeling you get when someone is watching you, before you see them, maybe just before you realize someone’s there?”

Declan grimaced. “That sixth sense…awareness? Anxiety? Yeah, I do.”

“It’s like that. Constantly. Even after I see her, after I know she’s there. And it increases the closer I get.”

His friend grimaced. “Geez, that sounds…uncomfortable? Tense?”

“When you and I went out there,” Storm said, “and we walked into that bar, I knew she was inside already. Her aura nearly knocked me over.”

“Her…aura?” Declan asked slowly.

Storm nodded. “I know I sound insane.”

“I mean, some immortals specialize in reading and identification, if they study it enough—”

Storm shook his head. “It’s not about what she is. It’s her presence in general. She could be on the other side of that wall” —he gestured to emphasize his point— “and I’d know. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Declan scratched his chin. “I’ll admit, you’ve been…different since you took this job. I thought maybe you were just shit at keeping it from us or resented your dad for giving you a gig with…strings attached, but I dunno, Storm. I’ve never seen you this unsettled before.”

“Unsettled,” Storm murmured. “That’s a good word for it.”

“What are you going to do?” the Guardian asked.

“I don’t know yet. My dad won’t talk about it, that much I know…but I have to know, Dec. He doesn’t want me to know the details of that day—I want to find out why.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” his friend warned. “I don’t need you getting stabbed next time. Come on, go get lunch with ’Dair and Dev and me. If I wait any longer, she’ll probably order me a salad or something in the name of ‘eating healthy.’”

Storm snorted as he straightened to follow his friend out of the office. “I think you like her more than you let on.”

Declan shot him a wolfish grin. “Maybe so, but I like my burgers more.”