Dawnkeepers (27 page)

“Only because he’s worried about you.”

“Don’t start unless you want another beating.”

“Bring it on.” But Michael headed for his bedroom instead, pulling off his shirt as he went. He ducked into the bedroom and grabbed a clean button-down, then reappeared, waving a shirt in Nate’s direction. “You want?”

“Is it as girlie as the rest of the shit you wear most of the time, or are we going landscaper for a reason today?”

“Fuck you.” But Michael was grinning as he tossed the shirt, and as they headed out of the suite and down to the main mansion’s big, fully-stocked kitchen together, Nate was feeling about as relaxed as he had since Strike showed up at his office and hung him off the side of the building to get his attention.

They didn’t see anybody on the way through the mansion to the kitchen, which Nate figured was probably a good thing. But when, by the time they’d killed a gallon of OJ between them, they still hadn’t seen anybody, they shared a look.

“I don’t like this,” Michael said.

“Me neither.” Nate headed across the sunken main room for the sliders that led to the pool and the remainder of the compound out back. If the mansion was empty, then the courtyard or the training halls were their next best bets.

Sure enough, he could see in the distance that the Nightkeepers and
winikin
were gathered at the picnic tables underneath the ceiba tree.

“Nice of them to come get us,” Michael muttered.

Remembering the
winikin
head-pop he’d seen in the middle of the fight, Nate said, “I think someone tried. We scared them off.”

“Oops.”

Taking a couple of bagels to go, Nate and Michael headed out to join the group. When they got into range, Strike waved them to a couple of empty places. He didn’t mention anything about their bruises, just said, “Good. Now that we’re all here, we’ll get started. Anna?”

As the king’s sister stood and moved to the front of the tables, Nate glanced around, making sure he knew where Alexis was, checking that she looked okay.

She looked better than okay, sitting at the far end of the table in a soft sweater that made him want to touch her. The sight of her kicked his body from tune-down to overdrive, and it only got worse when he realized she wasn’t meeting his eyes, was looking everywhere but at him.

But although he might not like it, he couldn’t blame her for having decided she was better off done with him. More, he didn’t know what he was going to do about it. He had, however, just bought himself some time to think it through. Then again, it wasn’t as if he’d managed to rationalize their relationship in the months they’d been together or apart. Why did he think he’d have any better luck now? If anything, adding the Godkeeper issue into the mix just made things worse. Alexis was the sort who would want—and deserve—a commitment. She would want to be mated, want all the marks and ceremonies that went with it. All the promises . . . and the constraints. And Nate didn’t do constraints.

“Okay, people,” Anna said, interrupting his mental log-jam. “Here’s the deal. Last night my grad student, Lucius, showed up here, having followed starscript directions left by Ambrose Ledbetter in the haunted temple where I was attacked by the
nahwal
last year. Lucius had followed Ledbetter’s daughter—or possibly goddaughter—to the temple, where he found a great deal of blood, along with Ledbetter’s skull. He followed the directions, hoping to find her here, and found me instead. Based on his description of the tracks in the dust near where he found the skull, and our inability to track down Sasha, it seems reasonable to think that Iago and a female accomplice snatched her from the tunnel. Strike has been unable to lock onto her for a teleport, so we have to assume she’s either being held underground . . . or she’s dead.” Anna’s rapid-fire delivery was clipped and flat, but Nate could hear pain beneath it, and guilt.

Jade said, “Did he see any other starscript while he was there?”

But Anna held up a hand. “Let’s wait on the questions, please. There’s more.” She paused, grimacing. “Lucius’s search was being funded, unbeknownst to me, by a woman named Desiree Soo, who is also my immediate boss . . . and my husband’s ex-mistress.”

A collective wince went around the group at that one, and Alexis made a soft sound of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Anna said, but her eyes were dull when she continued, “Anyway, the upshot is that Lucius checked in with Desiree before he came here. He told her about the temple, about the signs of a struggle he’d found there, and about the starscript directions he was convinced had something to do with the Nightkeepers.” Anna looked from Strike to Jox and back. “I don’t know what, if anything, Desiree will do with the information, but she knows how to find Skywatch if she wants to.”

Surprisingly, because he sure as hell never said anything during group meetings under normal circumstances, Rabbit said, “Why does she care about the Nightkeepers?”

“Lucius is pretty sure he saw the quatrefoil mark on her wrist,” Anna answered. “She always wears a silver cuff, so I never noticed it. But he described the Xibalbans’ mark without knowing what he really saw.”

There was silence after that one, broken only by Rabbit’s low, “Oh, shit.”

Nate cursed under his breath as things suddenly got a whole lot more complicated.
Oh, shit, indeed.

Anna nodded, expression grim. “She’s been at the university for five or six years now, having come over from a top Egyptology position at another school. It was a bit of a shocker, actually; she took a demotion to come to UT and head up our section of the art history department. In retrospect, and with no false modesty, I can only assume that the Xibalbans somehow learned that I wear the jaguar glyph, and Desiree put herself into a position where she could watch me closely and see if there were other survivors. She must’ve tapped into my e-mail. That would explain how Iago knew to start searching for the missing artifacts—Jade and I have exchanged a few messages. We kept the conversation general, but it could’ve tipped him off, told him what to look for and where to start.” She paused. “I’d apologize, but what would be the point? We didn’t even know we had an enemy besides the
Banol Kax
until a few days ago. All we can do is go forward from here.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and Nate found himself nodding along with the others. But at the same time his mind was racing, trying to use his gamer’s strategies to figure out what the Xibalbans’ next move would be. Iago now knew where to find them. Question was, what would he do with the information?

Yeah. That was fair.

Continuing the meeting, Strike moved up the plans to send Alexis and Michael to Belize, and fast-tracked the timetable for the group heading to Boston. “Leah and I are going to ’port to Germany. Carter thinks he has a lead on the artifact linked to the seventh demon prophecy, and we’re going to go check it out.”

On the other side of the picnic table, Nate frowned. “All due respect, but are you sure that’s a good idea? None of us is expandable, but we sure as shit can’t do without you two.” Nate looked like hell: His knuckles were scraped and swollen, and his face looked like it’d run into someone’s foot a few times. From the look of Michael, sitting next to him, Rabbit could guess whose foot. He could also guess what they’d been fighting over.

Strike’s glance at Alexis and Jox suggested that the royal council had already had a similar debate about the advisability of his going after the seventh prophecy.

After a moment, though, Strike answered, “The seventh demon prophecy involves Camazotz himself coming to earth, and there’s some suggestion that it trumps the other six. If we can get our hands on the altar stone that bears the prophecy, we might be able to figure out how to block all seven of the prophecies at once, rather than screwing around dealing with them for the next seven cardinal days in a row.” He paused, but held up a hand when Nate moved to speak. “And you’re right, that doesn’t mean it needs to be me and Leah going after the seventh prophecy. In fact, given that there’s a pretty good curse associated with possession of the altar stone, logic might suggest that someone else should go after it. Except for two things. One, I’m damn well not sending one of you on an assignment because I consider it too dangerous to do myself. If I’m not willing to take the risk, then we find another way, period. And two, the altar stone is dedicated to Kulkulkan.”

There was a beat of silence after that, before Nate said, “Okay. Even I’m willing to admit that the god connection trumps logic.”

“Glad you approve,” Strike said, his tone making it clear that he didn’t really give a shit whether Blackhawk liked the plan. “Moving on, I wanted to let you all know that we’ve decided to send the twins away for the next few months, until we have a better handle on Iago’s power and how much of a threat he poses to Skywatch.” The king nodded to a pair of
winikin
at the end of the table. “Hannah and Woody are going to take them someplace safe.”

Rabbit straightened at the news and sent a quick look over at Patience and Brandt. But they weren’t reacting, which meant they knew already. Hell, it might’ve been their idea. Brandt hadn’t wanted the kids raised in the compound in the first place. Acid gathered in Rabbit’s stomach, both because the rug rats were leaving and because nobody had told him to his face. Up until a month or so ago, Patience and Brandt had treated him like part of their family. The more the two of them had argued, though, the less they’d seemed to want him around. Now the twins were being sent away. What the hell was going on? Were Patience and Brandt breaking up for real?

“Don’t do it.” For a second, Rabbit thought the strangled words might’ve come from him. Then he realized it was Jox who’d spoken. The royal
winikin
stood and stared at his king, looking wrecked. “Don’t send them away.”

Strike grimaced. “It’s for the best. You know that.”

“Please,” Jox said, just
please
, as though having the twins leave were the worst thing he could think to have happen.

Rabbit didn’t know what that was all about, but felt sorry for Jox when Strike just shook his head, like the decision was already made. Gods knew Rabbit had been on the receiving end of that look about a zillion times before.
Welcome to powerlessness,
he thought.
How’s it feel?

But even though he hated the idea of the rugrats leaving, Rabbit had to admit that Strike had a point—if there were questions about the security of Skywatch, better to split the Nightkeepers up as much as possible than have them all bunched together. When you were down to your last dozen, it wasn’t always practical to stand and fight. The twins had purposely been held back from their bloodline ceremonies, which normally would’ve happened on the first cardinal day after their third birthdays. Without their bloodline marks and that connection to the barrier, they were essentially invisible to the
Banol Kax
. They’d be safer away than they were at Skywatch; that much was clear. What wasn’t clear was why Jox was so upset. He should be happy it was a couple of
winikin
taking them, not a pair of full-bloods taking off and diluting their fighting force. Besides, Hannah and Woody were a couple; they’d give the kids as close to a normal family setup as possible, under the circumstances. But when Rabbit looked, he saw that Jox was gone, like he hadn’t been able to sit there and listen to Strike after the king had made his call.

What was up with that?

“The rest of us will stay here and shore up the defenses,” Strike continued, and Rabbit returned his attention to the meeting.

“Why not go after Iago?” Sven demanded. “We’ve got two gods on our side now. We should be able to kick his ass, especially if we do it on the next ceremony day, the Seville at Opposition or whatever.”

“Saturn at Opposition,” Strike gritted, glaring at Sven. “And you seem to be forgetting that we don’t have a clue how Iago’s powers work. So far we’ve seen him teleport and mind-bend, and his mind-bending worked effectively on a Nightkeeper, which is highly unusual.” He glanced at Rabbit. He didn’t say,
Rabbit’s just a half-blood, though, which might explain his susceptibility.
But he thought it. Rabbit knew that for sure. The king continued, “Besides, we don’t have a clue about the Xibalbans’ strength yet. There could be just the two of them; there could be hundreds. We don’t know nearly enough about them yet to think about going after them.”

“So we’re just going to sit here and wait for him to come after us?” Sven asked, sounding annoyed. “What happened to the best defense being a good offense?”

“Offense doesn’t always mean going after the other side,” Strike said evenly. “Sometimes it means making the enemy do what you want, thinking it’s their idea.”

Nate narrowed his eyes, one of which was nearly swollen shut already and rapidly darkening to a bruise. “You want Iago to come here. Why?”

“Because we don’t have a clue what we’re up against,” Strike answered. “We need to know what the Order of Xibalba intends to do between now and the end-time; we need to get an idea of their numbers and their magic; and quite frankly, I’d like to convince them that they don’t have to like us, but that we’re all better off if we live through to New Year’s Day, 2013.”

“And if their idea of a workable negotiation rests on our absence from the earth?” Nate pushed.

“Then at least we’ll learn something about the enemy.” Strike glanced at Anna. “Given that our location has almost certainly been compromised, I say we plan to use the potential security breach rather than whining about it.”

“And Lucius?” Anna asked quietly.

“He stays locked up for now.” Which wasn’t really an answer. It was only a delay.

The meeting broke up soon after that. It was about time, as far as Rabbit was concerned, because everything they’d spent the past forty minutes going over seemed like it could be pretty much summed up as, “The king’s going to do what he wants.” Hello, history repeating itself. Strike’s father had ignored his advisers and led the Nightkeepers to their deaths. What if Strike was in the process of doing the same? Was loyalty defined as going along with the flow, or, if it didn’t seem like the flow was heading the right way, doing something to change it?

Rabbit wasn’t sure, but he knew he didn’t like the way things were headed, and he had an idea that might help shed some light. Waiting until he saw that Jade was deep in convo with Strike and Anna, he made tracks for the archive.

On the first floor, tucked around a corner and down a short hall, the three-room library held the collected knowledge of generations of Nightkeepers, as well as just about everything that’d ever been written by outsiders regarding the Mayan end-time prophecy and the Great Conjunction. Jade was almost finished organizing and computerizing all of it, but the system wasn’t online yet. That was too bad, because Rabbit was pretty sure he could’ve hacked past the basic passwords she was using to protect the spells Strike had decreed off-limits without special authorization, namely his. Since the database wasn’t finished yet, if Rabbit wanted one of those spells he was going to have to get his hands on the actual books, which were locked in the second of the three rooms. Lucky for him, locks weren’t much of a challenge these days. His powers were growing faster even than he was letting on to the others, making it no strain when he slapped a palm on the door and concentrated and felt the tumblers fall into place.

As he pushed through the door into the second room of the archive, where the older books and a handful of nonperishable artifacts were kept, he told himself this was the right thing to do. It was his fault Iago had gotten the knife in New Orleans, so he owed it to Strike and the others to figure out how to get it back. And he owed it to Myrinne to make sure she was safe, because he knew what it was like when nobody gave a shit.

“Okay,” he said to the rows of neatly shelved books in the librarylike room. “Will the three-question spell please step forward?”

He found the book he was looking for almost right away, recognizing the binding from last fall, when Strike and Leah had used the spell to figure out why she, a human, had sporadic power. Technically the spell was supposed to work only on the cardinal days, the equinoxes and solstices, but Rabbit was betting he could make it work for Saturn at Opposition. He was positive he could call the three-question
nahwal
, the spirit guide who would answer three questions per person per lifetime. Granted, the
nahwal
wasn’t strictly bound to answer the questions in a way that made immediate sense, but it’d be better than nothing, right?

Strike and Leah had already burned their questions, and the theory was that the rest of the Nightkeepers were supposed to save their questions for stuff that would be important to all of them, mostly dealing with the end-time. But Rabbit was so not into socialism. As far as he was concerned, it was his life, his questions.

He was a half-blood, after all. He might as well live down to expectations.