The Conclave of Shadow Read Online Free PDF Page A

vertebrae, ribs, baleen – set out to dry on the grass. In the street below, streams of sedans – and the occasional Uber – continued to drop off passengers. On the other side of the concourse, ground lighting illuminated the de Young Museum’s strange, inverted pyramid.
    I cleared my throat, as discomfited by the young Ace’s admiration as by the story of my exploits as rendered by another. “Hardly my most graceful entry, I’ll admit. And you,” I nodded at Skyrocket, “were rather spry for a man recently emerged from his deathbed.”
    â€œDon’t recall much in the way of spryness.”
    â€œJiu Wei?”
    Tom smiled in happy memory. “Ah, yeah. She was quite a lady. Kissing her’d give any fellow a kick in the seat.”
    â€œWho is Jiu Wei?” asked a pretty young woman with the sort of soft curves and features that marked her as one of the hordes of support staff that made the Aces possible in a modern world.
    I suspected she had a bit of a crush on Skyrocket. “His nurse–”
    â€œOh, but she’s far more than that.” The interruption came from behind us. I turned. David Tsung stood at the top of the stairs. Handsome, urbane, and far too like his grandfather for my comfort.
    And at his side, wearing an exceedingly short crimson cocktail dress that made me want to wrap her in my coat and drag her home, was Mei Shen.
    We hadn’t spoken since her dramatic departure on the bridge, and we could hardly speak now, not with an audience. Not when I wasn’t… myself.
    â€œYes, far more than that.” I cleared my throat of the frog that had set up residence. “But for the purposes of this story, nurse is enough. One doesn’t wish to weigh down with unnecessary details.”
    â€œAh, but the details are where the devil lives, isn’t that the saying?” Tsung glanced at Mei Shen, as though she’d know more about English colloquialisms than he did. “Paying attention to details can save one from much grief.”
    â€œMr Tsung. It’s good to see you again,” Tom said, interrupting the extended silence that followed Tsung’s pointed observation.
    Tsung eyed the hand Tom thrust out in greeting before taking it. “It is?”
    â€œWell, yeah. I know things got complicated at the end, but I still owe you my life.” Tom pulled Tsung – and by proxy, Mei Shen – into our little circle of gaping Argent employees. “Mr Tsung is the fellow who pulled me from the wreckage of the Kestrel and got me out of the Shadow Realms. Wouldn’t be here today if not for him.”
    Saving the poster boy for the Argent Corporation won Tsung enough approbation that attention shifted to him with demands for details. I slipped out of the group, took Mei Shen’s arm, and firmly escorted her down the stairs and back into the Academy proper.
    The bridge above the atrium was shadowed and empty of people. Good enough. We settled at the railing, the model of the Kestrel at eye level. Below it, the pool of pins rose and fell in time with the chatter of the crowd.
    â€œI hope this time you have no plans of jumping over?” I murmured, gripping the rail and pretending to watch the crowd from above. I kept Mitchell’s voice, his accent, his posture, but the irritation was one hundred percent my own.
    â€œThat might upset the guests.”
    â€œHow did you get in here?”
    â€œDavid secured us invitations through a back channel. I suppose Mian Zi doesn’t entirely have his claws in Sylvia Dunbarton.”
    So it seemed. This wasn’t a Beyoncé concert. Even back channel tickets wouldn’t be available unless someone in charge had authorized it. I rubbed my face. “Mei Shen, just… promise me you won’t do anything rash. I don’t think anyone at Argent knows of your involvement in this. Tom never knew, and I’m not telling. I don’t think Mian Zi is,