“Easy . . .” Talia warned as she directed Shadow to mask the barrow behind them.
The barrow was an ancient construct redesigned for modern times. The outside was the characteristic faery mound of grass. Inside, a large steel capsule, monitored for breaches, took the wight deep into the earth.
“Now!” Khan shouted as he cast the orb into the barrow.
The wight shrieked after it into darkness. A sheet of steel enclosed the wight within but could never hold the thing. Only earth. Dark, rich soil was dumped onto the silver entrance by a waiting truck. Khan took himself out of the way so that another vehicle could pack the earth hard.
The wight was buried, though it would never rest.
The barrow keeper, a man named Chuck, hopped down from one of the vehicles. His job was to ensure that the soil did not erode.
Talia joined them, wrapping her arms around herself and stamping her feet. “Did it work?”
Khan was cold, too, but he liked the smoky shapes his breath made against the night sky. “Can you sense death in the air?”
He watched as his daughter inclined her head, turning thoughtful. After a moment she said, “No. All I feel is the cold.”
“Then it worked,” he concluded. “Let’s get you out of this weather.” He lifted a hand in farewell to Chuck. They’d gotten to know each other well in the past weeks and would know each other better in the future.
Khan was becoming accustomed to the Hummer. Liked it much better when he was driving and relished the heat the vehicle offered on frigid nights. He took it through the field set aside for the barrows. Climbed onto the mountain road that led to the security gate.
Talia had settled back into her seat. She pulled her woolen cap off her head, and her hair frizzed. “Umm . . .” she began, tucking stray locks behind her ears. “I feel like I should warn you . . . Adam wants to get you under contract for special services to Segue.”
Khan slid his gaze to his daughter. Contract. He didn’t think so.
“Not that he wants any kind of obligation from you or anything,” she said. “He just wants to make sure you are compensated for your work.”
“He wants to give me money,” Khan clarified. Adam had already hired Layla as Segue’s new director of public relations, ostensibly to deal with the “mess” (Adam’s word) she created when she sent her article to her former editor. Khan didn’t know for sure, but he suspected that Layla’s salary was well above the standard. But then, she was worth every penny.
Talia huffed a sigh. “No. In the real world people get paid for their work.”
“My work is pro bono.” He smiled over at her.
She shrugged. “Okay, but eventually you might want a house of your own.”
He laughed aloud. Had to. “Have we overstayed our welcome, then?”
“No. Of course not. Stay as long as you like.” Now she was flustered. “And never mind. I’ll tell Adam that you said no.”
She went quiet, but another quick glance and he could see the small line of worry between her brows.
“Have no fear,” Khan said. “I’ll find my own way in this world, as the work with the wraiths and wights permit.” He smiled to himself, hope for the future glowing bright and warm within him. “In fact, I relish the opportunity.”
Layla was staring at her ringing phone when Khan got back from the barrow field. Her new supertechy mobile was ringing, but she couldn’t reach it. The thing was probably lost forever, even though she could see it right in front of her.
She knew Khan threw his keys on the table, his coat over the arm of the couch, but kept her eyes glued on the phone. His arms came around her waist as he, too, regarded Kathleen’s wall-high painting. In the foreground, in front of Twilight’s magnificent trees, was her mobile. And the number on screen? Her conference call with the Japanese Minister of Defense. Wraith attacks were rising in Tokyo, but the Japanese were slow to accept Segue’s counsel as to how to deal with them. That call was a major breakthrough.
“Took a week to set up this meeting,” she said. If she looked away, she knew it would disappear altogether.
“Which one of the boys did it?” Khan gathered her close. She rested her head against his chest.
Of Talia’s children, everyone thought that Michael was the most troublesome, with his black eyes and his obvious delight in Shadow, but Cole, quiet Cole, could be just as mischievous. And they were still infants.
“I have no idea,” Layla answered. She couldn’t turn her back on them for a minute. They’d gone from rolling over to scooting within weeks. Exactly how one of them managed to get her phone off the table, she couldn’t imagine.
“The call is important?” Khan’s voice lowered, and she felt the vibration in her blood. Khan. He’d chosen the name for day-to-day use, but he’d always be her Shadowman.