Any Port in a Storm by Emmie Mears Read Free Book Online Page A

and direction, to show them that they can be our allies."
    "Not all the Mediators agree with you. Carson was awfully quick with his sword Saturday night."
    She doesn't deny it. "What do you suggest?"
    My, my, but she's full of surprises today. "Have you identified the Mediators who are trying to go around your edict not to hunt shades?"
    She nods, as usual taking a moment before she speaks again. "We are aware."
    I notice that she doesn't say it's under control. Either she knows me well enough now to know I wouldn't believe her, or she just doesn't plan to bullshit me. Interesting.
    I also notice she doesn't tell me what happened Saturday won't happen again. Then again, promises and promises you can't keep are synonymous in our business.
    "Why did you want to see me?" I ask. Her office is very quiet, except for the dull ticking of a clock on her bookshelf and the ever-so-slight whooshing of the wind outside.
    "How do you think it's going?"
    "The shades?"
    She nods.  
    "They work well together. They respect one another, and they don't want to die." I think of all things, their self-preservation is what motivates them at this point. Every shade I know touches my shoulder when he greets me because he needs to know he's safe with me. Well, every shade but one. They are strangers in a hostile world.
    "Do you think they will turn on us again?"  
    "To be candid, Alamea, I don't think they ever turned on us at all. They were born in blood and bone, spurred by instinct alone at first. They knew nothing, and why should they? We're fortunate their memories come soon after their birth."  
    A seed of irritation germinates, worming around in me like it's seeking light. Shades begin remembering their mothers when they are new to this world. That's where they all seem to find their names, seeking inward to understand themselves. We're the ones who called them monsters. Some of them were, to be sure, but most of them just want what we all do — life.
    "And when they fought us later, they saw us only as aggressors." Alamea's words come out in a soft sigh, and I look up from the floor, my forehead taut with tension.  
    Is she agreeing with me?
    Alamea's own face is creased and tight at once.  
    It's then I understand why she called me here, why she is asking me and not Gregor about the state of our plan. She knows he can convince them, but I understand them. And she has taken a huge, huge gamble.
    On me.  
    She's betting on me.

    I stay a while longer, talking to Alamea about tactics and letting her know about the grouping of hellkin we found at the Opry. I also tell her about the jeeling that fled, and with her peace medal hovering behind her chair, part of me wonders if fewer norms are dying because we're better about stopping the demons — or if the demons are somehow biding their time.
    The drive home takes too long — I hit the witch and morph traffic hours and end up stuck waiting for a railroad crossing a mile from home — and I run through a drive thru on the way home just because cooking is the last thing I want to do.
    I should go out and hunt some hellkin, but I'm almost overcome by the strange sensation of feeling exhaustion in my bones. I'm tired. I remember this old granny Mediator when I was a Mitten; she'd come down, daggers still on her belt and dirt from her garden under her fingernails, and she'd tell us that's how she knew it was time for her to retire. Not all Mediators get to a ripe old age, but this lady had just about fallen from the tree. She told me she felt the years in her bones at the end, and it bothers me that I'm feeling something like that now.
    The end is nowhere in sight for me.  
    My drive thru bag smells like grease and cholesterol, and I drop it on the kitchen counter, going to pour a cup of water.  
    Something moves on my balcony.  
    It's a testament to how used to shades I am that I don't spill my water everywhere from surprise. Instead, I put one hand on the hilt of my belt knife and peer out