Chapter 43: The Hidden Child

Declan’s hand on her arm sent pain screaming through Kitara’s brain, and she reeled back.

“Declan, stop it!” Devika cried, rising from her seat.

Storm leapt to his feet before Devika finished her sentence, an arc of electricity crackling around his hand. “Back off, Dec.”

“Don’t,” Kitara managed through gritted teeth. “It’s fine.”

Declan released her and the agony subsided, leaving only a dull echo thudding in Kitara’s skull. He raised his hands in surrender, the lack of apology plain in his icy expression as he met Storm’s furious silver eyes.

“Show us,” Alasdair demanded, retrieving his tablet and pulling up a schematic of the AIDO facility. “I won’t believe it until I see it.”

Kitara tried to catch her breath, willing herself to remain calm despite the darkness raging just beneath the surface of her control. Blinking spots from her vision, she inhaled deeply and snuffed out her aura.

The others started backwards in their chairs at her disappearance.

“Stars, you’re telling the truth,” Alasdair noted, reviewing his screen. “Your aura just…blinked out of existence in my system.”

Kitara reappeared. “I don’t like to lie,” she said as Storm sat beside her again, his brow furrowed with worry. “Not if I can help it.”

“Only about being a liar.” Declan made as if to grab her again.

Zayne snagged the Guardian’s wrist before he could incapacitate the Sleeper a second time. “Wait a sec, Declan.”

“Keep your hands to yourself, Seanste,” Storm snapped, half out of his seat again. “Give her a chance to explain.”

Declan turned on him. “You knew about this?”

Storm nodded tightly. “I found out in Myragos.”

Zayne’s gaze flickered uncertainly between the Guardian, the Warrior and finally, the Sleeper. “Does my mom know?”

Kitara nodded. “The whole Council does. And” —she glanced at Storm— “I think Storm’s mom did too. What I am…it’s beyond classified. The High Council threatened me with treason if I ever revealed it.”

“Convenient,” Declan scoffed.

“Sit down, Dec,” Storm ordered with a scowl. “She’s only humoring your torture—she could take you out without a second thought and is doing you a favor by refraining. But I won’t. Touch her again, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

A moment of tension lingered as Declan debated whether to comply. But he finally returned to his seat. Kitara slid her chair out of his reach with a grateful smile in Storm’s direction.

“So why tell us now, if it’s so treasonous?” Declan asked, like he was searching for a reason to arrest her.

“I wouldn’t have, since I never counted on you putting it together.”

“I’m smarter than you all give me credit for. I may act like a brainless meathead sometimes” —the Guardian shot a look at Devika— “but I do have to be smart to do this job.”

Kitara met his gaze evenly. “I didn’t want any of you in the High Council’s crosshairs. This is the kind of treason that usually ends with a black bag and everyone mysteriously forgetting you existed.”

“Way to go, Declan,” Zayne snarked.

“I’m just relieved I’m not crazy,” the Guardian grumbled in response.

“Just so I’m clear, that makes you…half-Ninthëvel then, right?” Alasdair asked mildly. “Moriah was your mom, and she was Fallen, but your father…?”

Kitara’s mouth was dry as she replied. “Yes. My father was a Ninthëvel.”

“Stars, Kitara,” Devika finally whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Despite a heroic effort, hurt flashed through the Historian’s eyes.

Kitara grimaced. “I wanted to. Really. It’s nearly killed me keeping it from you.”

“You tell me everything.”

“Dev.” Kitara grasped her friend’s hand across the table, making Declan flinch. “It would have been dangerous. For both of us.”

“But…being a Ninthëvel, Kitara?” Devika withdrew her hand. “That’s…a fundamental part of you.”

“Who was he?” Zayne directed the question to Kitara. “Your dad, I mean.”

She bit her lip, hesitating.

“I swear if you say ‘Shyamal,’ I will lay you out right here,” Declan grumbled.

The Sleeper scowled. “No. But…” She sighed. “You’re not far off. Just remember arresting me will probably get you executed, so…”

“What do you mean, ‘not far off?’” Alasdair cut in.

Kitara jerked her chin in Devika’s direction. “Devika just read about him.”

“His brother?” Zayne exclaimed. “Cadfael? That’s your dad?”

“For the record, the High Council doesn’t know that,” Kitara said harshly. “They don’t even know his name. I’m only telling you to…even the playing field, so to speak.”

“The High Council doesn’t know your dad was Shyamal’s twin?” Alasdair blurted. “What the hell, Kitara?”

“I didn’t know definitively until now. Baylen said they were brothers, but I couldn’t be sure—”

“How could you not have known?” Declan snapped.

Kitara finally dropped her neutral expression and glowered at him. Despite himself, he sat back a little. “He wasn’t ‘Shyamal’s brother’ to me. He was my dad. And it doesn’t matter because he’s dead. Ostragarn’s assassins killed him. So believe what you want, Captain Seanste, but I am not the enemy here.”

Storm interjected. “Kit saved our lives that night. If she were a traitor, we’d never have escaped the dark strip alive. Even if she tried to maintain some kind of cover, she could have turned us in to keep us out of her way. She could have let the demons kill us or left you to die. But she didn’t. She saved your life. That means something, Dec. Hell, she could end you right now, but because she cares, she hasn’t despite you torturing her.”

“You saw the file?” Alasdair asked, eyes narrowed at his friend.

Storm nodded. “A classification I’m not sure even you would have heard of, ’Dair. The High Council knows who—and what—she is; I’m sure of it. Here.” He fumbled for his phone. “I sent it to myself…just in case.”

Kitara stared at him, aghast. “That’s exactly the kind of thing that could get you ‘disappeared,’” she chastised.

He offered her a chagrined shrug as he extended his phone to the Engineer. “I’ll take my chances.”

Instead of accepting the proffered device, Alasdair glanced down at his tablet, keying in a sequence of commands. He raised an eyebrow. “Interdimensionally classified indeed,” he noted. “I can’t even see what the classification is.”

“Told you,” Storm muttered, sliding his phone across the table.

Alasdair picked it up and scrolled, his eyes growing wider by the second as he skimmed the file’s contents. “Fucking hell.” He looked up at Kitara with a stunned expression. “You weren’t joking about the treason.”

“Do I strike you as the type to joke about this kind of thing?” she asked, deadpan.

He snorted. “I suppose not.”

“So…that means she’s telling the truth?” Declan’s gaze shifted furtively between the Engineer and the Sleeper.

“Yes,” Alasdair replied staunchly, turning to him. “This kind of file” —he glanced down at Storm’s phone screen again before sliding it back across the table like it might bite him— “it’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. I’d suggest the rest of you take my word for it,” he cautioned as the others leaned forward curiously. “That’s a file you want to be able to say you’ve never seen or heard of before.”

Declan, Devika, and Zayne glanced at each other uneasily before sitting back in their chairs again.

“Storm, seriously, nuke that thing from your phone,” Alasdair muttered. “Then give it to me so I can scrub it completely.”

Kitara snorted in agreement as Storm sheepishly obliged.

Declan’s eyes darted between Alasdair and Kitara, who tensed again. But after a beat, his expression relaxed and he leaned back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head. “Honestly, I’m relieved,” he said with a long exhale, his tone lighter now. “I like you, Kitara. I would’ve hated to have to arrest you.”

The unexpected absurdity of his statement startled laughter around the table.

“That’s it?” Kitara asked the Guardian. “You’re okay with all this…no questions asked?”

He shrugged. “I trust Alasdair implicitly. He wouldn’t give the ‘all clear’ if he weren’t sure. As long as you’re on our side, I don’t give a damn who your dad was.”

“Great,” Kitara replied sourly. “I’d appreciate you not turning on me again though; I’m gonna have a migraine the rest of the day—” Even as she spoke, Storm’s touch flooded her with healing energy, and her headache eased. “Never mind.”

Declan snorted with a knowing glance in Storm’s direction.

“Were you really ambushed for being Fallen?” Zayne asked.

“Not exactly,” she said. “After my parents were killed, Ostragarn put a price on my head. Scarlet and Jamal—the vampires—found out, and Itzal sent them after me.”

“I don’t like this,” Zayne muttered. “I don’t like any of this. Itzal, the Ostragonian General, knows you’re alive? Knows you’re half-Ninthëvel?”

“Baylen is keeping an ear to the ground about that,” Kitara said, glancing at Storm. “So far, he hasn’t heard anything.”

Alasdair’s phone chimed and he reviewed the notification. His face went ashen under his dark skin, and he jumped to his feet. “They’re back,” he said, leading the others to follow suit. “Let’s table this for now.”

Kitara put a hand to Devika’s arm as they hurried from the room. “Are you okay?”

The Historian studied the floor. “I will be. Just…give me a little time to process, okay?”

The Sleeper nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, Dev.”

“Let’s make sure Kenric’s okay. We’ll worry about the rest after that.”

They ran from the library into the lobby, stumbling to a halt at the sight of the chaos in the foyer. A handful of bedraggled Warriors loitered with weary postures as Healers flitted between them. Declan headed straight for the on-duty commanding officer while Zayne disappeared into the admin wing.

Searching the faces of the survivors, a growing sense of panic filled Kitara when she didn’t find Kenric’s face in the crowd. She spun. “Alasdair!”

The head Engineer turned from across the room, tablet in hand.

“Where’s Kenric?”

With a grim expression, he beckoned for her to approach, Devika and Storm close behind. “Medical building,” he said in a low voice. “That’s where…most of them are.”

“Most of them?”

Storm snagged Kitara’s hand. “We’ll take the train. Come on.”

Alasdair stayed behind while Kitara and Devika followed Storm through the main building. He led them to a platform at the back of the facility where the sleek, silver train just pulled up. Kitara clutched Storm’s hand tightly as the train shot forward, racing towards the medical center, adrenaline and fear stretching each moment into an eternity.

As the train stopped at several other buildings, Kitara wanted to scream each time the automatic doors opened and shut.

They finally spilled out a few moments later onto a platform inside another large white building. A pair of glass doors slid open to admit them to the building’s lobby, introducing them to a sea of chaos. People shouted and sobbed—an overwhelming sense of confusion and panic in the air, as if everyone had suddenly gone mad.

They surveyed the scene, looking for Kenric.

“I’ll find a Healer,” Storm muttered, leaving Kitara and Devika alone for a moment.

As Kitara contemplated the many injured angels, a wave of nausea rose when she realized what they all had in common.

Devika saw it at the same time. “Are they all—” She didn’t finish, dashing across the room to vomit into a trash can.

Kitara stood rooted to the spot, staring in horror at the bloodied stumps where wings once grew, ripped from the backs of every angel with brutal force.

Storm returned, pale-faced. “He’s somewhere in Hall C.” He gestured at a set of doorways, above each of which hung signs with individual letters from A-F.

Kitara glanced from Storm to the pale and shaky Devika, who kept her eyes on the floor. “Did you notice—”

“Yes.”

“Dev? Do you need to go back?”

The Historian shook her head, wiping her mouth with a determined expression.

“Let’s go,” Storm said, taking Kitara’s hand again and wrapping a protective arm around Devika’s shoulders.

Most of the doors in the hall stood open as the understaffed Healers flitted between them. Kitara peered into each one and kept moving, finally sagging against a doorframe with her free hand to her mouth.

Kenric lay on his side on a medical table, shirtless. Blood pooled on the table and beneath his body, dripping to the ground below. Kitara watched in silent horror as three Healers bent over her friend, working quickly to ascertain the damage. And yet no amount of speed could rectify the atrocity inflicted upon him.

His snowy-white wings were gone; the remaining ragged stumps wept blood onto the table.

He’s alive, Kitara told herself. His breathing came as ragged and shallow gasps, but he was alive.

“Why isn’t he moving?” Devika whispered, tears streaming down her face. “He’s too quiet…”

“We’ve had to keep him sedated,” one of the Healers answered. “For the sake of his mental state.”

“Stars.” The word ripped out of Kitara’s throat. “Is he…will he be okay?”

The Healer’s mouth set in a grim line. “I don’t know yet.”

“I can’t—” Devika whimpered.

Exchanging a glance and a nod with Kitara, Storm steered the now-sobbing Historian away from the door.

“Where is he?” someone bellowed in the corridor.

Kitara turned toward the voice, recognizing his silver hair, the numerous metal piercings glinting in his ears and brown wings. “Robert!”

“Kitara,” he gasped as he joined her. “Is he…”

“He’s alive,” Kitara hurried to reassure him. “But he’s…”

“Like the rest.”

“What the hell happened?”

The Fallen ran a hand through short metallic hair almost as bold as Storm’s blood. “What the hell didn’t happen?”

Movement in the hall made Kitara shift, surprised to see Declan appearing behind the Fallen. He looked a little green, but his expression displayed only stoic determination. He took custody of Devika from Storm, removing her from the trauma site with a silent nod at the High Engineer.

Storm rejoined them, and Kitara looked up at him. “Dec…?”

“I reached out to him to come get her,” he explained quietly. “She’s not…”

“She’s not used to this,” she finished for him.

Storm nodded, peering through the doorway where Kenric lay unmoving.

Kitara clasped her hands together and pressed them tightly to her mouth as they watched the Healers work. “Is there anything they can do?” she whispered.

“Healers can fix what’s broken, but they can’t…make something new,” Storm said in a low voice. “Not even comprehensive Healers. If they’d been able to…find the severed limbs, maybe they could have done something but…I didn’t see them.”

“They destroyed them,” Robert said bitterly. “They destroyed all of them.”

“What?” Storm gasped, horrified.

“Ostragarn. They ripped the militia apart then…burned the wings while the angels lay dying.”

That knowledge nearly shattered Kitara’s iron control over her nausea. Landon’s state had been bad, but this…

“Why?” Kitara asked.

“It was a message, just like…” Robert glanced up and down the hall to ensure no one overheard. “Like the last Sleeper.”

“I should help,” Storm said, turning to find the nearest available Healer.

Robert stopped him. “They’re bringing down the comprehensive Healers from Valëtyria,” he said. “And the Council is meeting shortly. You’ll want to be there.”

“The rest of them, in the main building…” Kitara began.

“Fortunate enough to not be flying,” Robert replied. “With the number of demons and Valorn at the raid sites…most of them had to be aerial.”

“Intentionally, I imagine,” Storm said bitterly.

Robert’s gaze returned to the horror of Kenric’s mutilated back. “Yes.” An almost inaudible chime sounded from somewhere on his person, and he touched one of the studs in his ears. The Fallen listened for a moment, then sighed. “Come. They’re gathering now.”

“If you want to stay—”

The Councilor shook his head at Kitara. “There’s nothing we can do for him right now. He’s in the most capable hands and standing here does nothing to help.”

With that, he turned and strode down the hall, leaving Storm and Kitara to follow.

“Why wouldn’t he stay?” Storm murmured so the Fallen ahead of them wouldn’t overhear.

“The same reason it hurts you to visit your mom,” Kitara replied just as softly. “Helplessness is a paralytic in and of itself.”

Storm grimaced but nodded, taking her hand as they navigated the sea of battered, wingless angels to return to the main building of the AIDO’s compound.