Spellfire (23 page)

His stomach dive-bombed at the sight of Myr standing in the doorway. Not just because his control was seriously shaky, but because her expression left no doubt that she had heard him and his old man.

She stepped into the kitchen and slammed the door. “Give me one reason not to tell the king what I just saw. And make it good.”

Fuck me
. “Dez already knows.”

“He . . .” She leaned back against the door, expression going from confrontational to hurt, confused. “Did he order you to keep your mouth shut?”

“The two of us were the only ones who knew. And now you.” Which they both knew wasn’t the same thing. He could’ve told her, but he hadn’t.

“And he approved of you breaking the Boar Oath?
Why?
”

“I needed to trick Red-Boar into burning the last of the three orders before we got to Coatepec Mountain, or else I knew he would use it to make me defy Dez, or worse.” He paused. “He can’t let go of his gods, and I think it’s making him crazier than he started.”

“But you swore you’d stick with the sky gods. How is that not going against Dez?”

“I swore that I would refuse the false gods. As far as I’m concerned, the sky gods are the false ones, not Bastet, Osiris and the others.”

“You . . . damn. You’re right. Okay. Okay, yeah. I get it. But . . . shit, that was risky.”

“The wording was Dez’s idea.” But Rabbit was the one who’d pulled it off, using his old man’s fanaticism against him. If it hadn’t been for the sharp hurt in her eyes, he would’ve been feeling pretty damn proud of himself. As it was, he wished to hell he’d just told her. So much for him getting everything right this time.

He just hoped this wasn’t as bad as it felt. Not when just a half hour ago they’d been in bed together, almost talking about love, about the future.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Because he’s already threatened you. Because I was afraid you would get involved, get in trouble
.
Because I didn’t want you looking at him in full-on crazy mode and thinking that I have the same potential.
“He’s a mind-bender. I didn’t want him picking up anything from you.” He paused. “I still don’t. Promise me you’ll stay away from him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I swear I’ll watch out for him.”

Which just went to show that he wasn’t the only one who could twist a vow to suit himself. Frustration sparked, though he wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or the magic that hung thick in the air between them. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Myr. If anything happens to you—” He broke off, not wanting to imagine his world without her in it . . . or there being no world at all.

“I feel the same way,” she said softly. “But, Rabbit, you’re not giving me enough credit.”

“It’s not you who I don’t trust, Myr. It’s him.” And that was the gods’ honest truth.

After a moment, she nodded. “Okay. Given the history between the two of you, I guess I can accept that. I don’t like it, but I can accept it.” She paused, then fixed him with a look. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me? Anything else that Dez knows that I don’t?”

Yes. No. Shit. He hesitated, then said, “I’ve had a couple of dreams. They’re like the vision we shared, with me in the old king’s head, you as the queen, and the two of us ready to open the intersection beneath Chichén Itzá.” When she drew back, stung, he added, “There wasn’t anything new in them, really.”

“Dez knows? Of course he knows,” she said, more to herself than to him. “That was why he asked me about my dreams.” Twin spots of color rode high on her cheekbones. “Damn it, Rabbit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t intentional. It was just that what little time we’ve had together this past week, I’ve wanted it to be just us. Not the war, not even the magic. Just us.” That, and he hadn’t wanted her worrying that he was hearing voices again, and thinking back to what had happened before. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to think about it himself. She didn’t look worried, though. More like she wanted to drop him in the nearest cenote. “You’re mad.”

“I’m . . .” She blew out a soft breath. “I don’t know what I am. Part of me says that I’m the one who said we shouldn’t go back to the way things were between us, which means I don’t get to get pissed that you didn’t tell me everything that’s going on in your life. We’re just sleeping together, right?”

“Ah, baby—”

She held up a hand. “I’m not finished. Because here’s the thing—there’s another part of me that says the last time you hid things from me, it was a really, really bad sign. I’m trying not to worry that the same sort of thing is going on here.” Her eyes filled suddenly; her voice broke. “Tell me it’s not happening again.”

“Gods, no!” He pulled her into his arms and held on to her while she gave a token protest. “I promise. Any oath you want, any sacrifice. Phee is gone. Anntah’s gone. It’s just me, I swear.” Which was true. And it would be good enough, as long as he kept his shit together.

She held herself stiff against him for a moment, then softened on a sigh. “I know. Damn it, I know.” Her arms came around him. “I know you’re not that guy anymore, and it’s not fair for me to keep going back there when we’re supposed to be moving forward.”

“Shh.” He wrapped himself around her. “I don’t blame you. I should’ve said something.” When her body shook with a sob, he stroked her nape, her back, any part of her he could reach.

She burrowed into him, her breath hot on his throat. “I just . . . gods, I’m a mess. I’m scared, and I don’t want to be scared.”

“It’s all going to be okay,” he said into her hair, though they both knew those were empty words. He tightened his grip on her, suddenly all too aware that the next time they saw each other, it would be time to ’port to Coatepec Mountain, signaling the beginning of the end. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” She wouldn’t be beside him, but she would still be on the frontlines. He hated knowing that, even though he respected it. But, gods, he needed to believe she was going to be okay.

It terrified him how much he needed that, needed her.

She pulled away to look up at him. “Only if you’ll promise me the same thing.”

“You’ve got it,” he said, and kissed her before she could make him swear it in blood. The kiss was deep, warm and wet, with a sharp edge that he didn’t let himself think was good-bye. And after a moment, they drew apart, knowing there wasn’t enough time for more.

She glanced at her wristband. “We’re down to a half hour.”

“Better hurry if you want that shower.” And he needed all the time he could get to lock his head down tight.

“Yeah, I . . . yeah.” Reaching up on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek, and slipped through the door without looking back.

He moved to the window and watched her go, trying to memorize all of it: her curves, the swing of her hair, the natural swagger that had gotten more pronounced as she had gained confidence with the magic, and with herself. And, watching her, he knew the sad truth. She said she wasn’t brave, but of the two of them, he was the coward. Because only a coward would keep secrets from the woman he loved.

It was just that he’d fucked up so many things in his life, he didn’t want to fuck up the doomsday, too.

*    *    *

Myr cut through the rock garden behind the mansion, hoping to slip into the mage’s wing unseen. She didn’t notice Anna sitting there with her eyes closed and her amulet cradled in her palm until she had tromped halfway across the stonescape, totally disrupting the peace and quiet.

She crunched to a stop. “Shit. Sorry.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“Rabbit,” she said, figuring that was explanation enough. “But it’s stupid to be upset over him today of all days.”

“Maybe not. Maybe this is exactly when we need to be thinking about ourselves.”

“Hello, blasphemy.” But part of Myr thought she was right. At the same time, though, she was afraid that thinking about her own problems would only confuse her more right now. She wasn’t sure which was worse—how hard it had hit her to realize Rabbit was keeping secrets from her, or the fact that she’d gone from “what the hell” to “okay, I understand” in two minutes flat, and wasn’t sure if it was fear or logic talking.

Anna let her amulet fall to hang from its chain. “Look, I know I’ve told you to use your head and be careful you don’t confuse leftover emotions with the real thing. But I’ve seen you and Rabbit together, and it doesn’t look like leftover anything to me. And as for using your head? I’m starting to think there’s a lot to be said for following your heart, too.”

“Are you talking about me and Rabbit or you and the outbreak doctor?”

“I don’t have a clue. And you know what? I’m okay with it.”

“You’re not worried about being distracted today?”

“No. I’m giving myself something to fight for. The potential for things. Maybe nothing will happen between me and David. Maybe we’ll ride off into the sunset together, maybe we’ll fizzle out. Who knows?” She made a face. “I’m sorry. You’ve had a fight with Rabbit, and I’m going on about my new crush. That’s not cool.”

“It’s okay. And we didn’t fight. We just . . . I don’t know. Things don’t feel right.”

“Nothing’s going to feel right today. Not until it’s all over.”

“Good point. And thanks.” Myr was suddenly reminded that Rabbit wasn’t the only one she might not see again after today. “I mean it. Not just for this, but for being there for me the past few months. I’ve liked . . . well, I haven’t had many friends. It’s been nice.”

“Same goes. Seriously.” Anna stood and came over to hug her, squeezing tight enough that Myr felt the hard bump of the crystal amulet between them. Then Anna drew back and tipped her head toward the side door. “Now, go. You’ve got twenty-five minutes before we meet for the ’port.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Four hours to the Great Conjunction

Skywatch

Dez had been afraid to hope for a full army, but that was what he got. And as more and more of his fighters showed up at the ball court meet-up point, striding in wearing their full combat gear and holding their heads high, his chest tightened with emotion.

“They’re all here,” he rasped as the crowd grew, eddying among the piles of equipment.

Reese nodded, but since she was the one who’d been keeping tabs, she said, “Carlos, Shandi and Sebastian left. That’s it as far as I know.”

“Three out of almost eighty. That’s good.” And two of the three were older, more tradition-bound
winikin
who hadn’t been granted their magical shadow-familiars, and likely wouldn’t have been much use in the actual fighting. As for Sebastian . . . well, he’d always been on the borderline. He’d had a tougher life than most, even among the survivors of the massacre. Apparently he’d decided to go it on his own.

To Dez’s mild surprise, he wished them luck.

“Red-Boar stayed,” Reese said, making a face.

“No surprise there. I didn’t expect him to go quietly.” When she raised an eyebrow, he added, “Don’t worry. I’ve got him covered.” At least he hoped he did, just like he hoped he wasn’t about to trigger a second, even more devastating Solstice Massacre. Scarred-Jaguar had followed a message from the gods and led his teammates to their deaths. What if he was doing the same damn thing, just dressed up to look different?

Problem was, there wasn’t really a plan B. This was it. This was the war.

Taking another look around, he said, “Looks like they’re all here.” And they were burning daylight.

She squeezed his hand. “We’re behind you one hundred percent, and this is the right thing to do.”

“Gods, I hope so.”

“I know so.”

He looked down at her—tiny, compact, kickass, and armed to the teeth, his mate and his beloved wife, ’til death did them part—and he felt his
I’m in charge
face falter. “Reese—”

“Don’t.” Eyes flashing, she caught his collar and hauled his face down to hers. “Don’t even try to leave me behind.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, taking strength from her fierceness. “I wish I could.” It killed him that he couldn’t protect her the way he wanted to, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. All throughout the gathering throng, the mated pairs were huddled together, eking out the last few minutes here on home ground.

She gave him a shake. “I wouldn’t let you. We’re a team, Mendez. You and me, always and forever.” She eased back and held up her left hand, so the light glinted off the coiled serpent ring, with its gleaming ruby. “See? I’ve got proof.” And, bless her, she cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

Warmth washed through him like sunlight finding its way into the shadows. Gods, he loved her. He kissed her softly, and then again deeper, with more heat than finesse, until she made that sexy noise in the back of her throat and stopped holding him down by his collar and started using it to hold herself up. Then, he drew back. “You really don’t think I’m repeating history here?”

“No,” she said, and he didn’t see a shadow of a doubt in her eyes. “I think we’re breaking new ground. We’re all here voluntarily; we’re undoing five millennia of corruption by the
kohan
and the
kax;
and we’re putting things back the way they were supposed to be, back the way your long, long ago ancestors meant for them to be.”

“Then why am I afraid?” He hadn’t meant to say that, not even to her.

She didn’t bat an eyelash. “Because you’re not a fucking moron.”

He snorted. “Thanks, I think.”

“No problem. Oh, and for the record? If you try to say good-bye, now or at any point today, I will kick you in your royal jewels. We’re going to make it through today, we’re going to get back here in one piece, and when we do, we’re going to lock ourselves in the bedroom and fuck like minks on crack.”

He laughed in spite of himself. “It’s a date.” He leaned in and kissed her one last time, then turned away. He was still chuckling—and on the borderline of squeezing out a tear—as he moved away from her to hop up on top of a stack of equipment crates, putting himself above the crowd, and pitched his voice to project. “Okay, gang, listen up!”

The crowd quieted instantly, leaving behind an eerie hear-a-bullet-drop silence.

He continued. “I know that right now I’d usually go over the op, battle plans, contingencies and that sort of thing. I’m not going to, though, because we all know the plan.” He paused. “This is it, folks. It’s the day we’ve been training for, the one we were bred for, down through generations going back way farther than I can really comprehend. All leading up to this.”

He took a long look around, trying not to think that he was memorizing faces. “What I
am
going to say is this: Thank you. Thank you all for being here, for choosing to do this. Some of you may be here because I’m your king, some because you believe Bastet’s message, some because you couldn’t turn away from your teammates. But you’re here, and that’s what matters.” He paused. “I don’t know what’s going to happen out there today. I wish I did. But I do know that if you look to your left and right, if you look in front of you and behind, those people are going to be there for you, no matter what. Human,
winikin
, mage, the distinctions don’t matter worth a godsdamn. We’re all going to have each other’s backs, and we’re going to fight until we can’t fight anymore. And then we’re going to keep fighting, because there isn’t anybody else to do it. We’re it, gang. We’re going out there to save the fucking world.”

He tried not to see how pitifully small the group really was, tried not to think of how many more of them there should’ve been. Tried not to think that there might be far fewer of them in four or so hours . . . if hours even existed by then.

Lifting a hand, he pointed at the mansion in the distance. “And after we’re done fighting . . . after we’ve defeated the
kohan
and the
kax
and sealed the barrier for good, we’re going to meet back here, up at the mansion. And we’re going to have the biggest fucking party this place has ever seen!”

There was a moment of silence, like an indrawn breath. But then somebody gave a whoop; someone else started clapping. Then things got rolling with a cheer that started out ragged, but then gained and grew, until it was loud and raucous, with lots of waving hands and promises of mayhem. Maybe there was an edge of desperation to the war cry, but he would take it. He would fucking take it.

“Okay,” he said, “everybody ready to synch up?” Lifting his wrist, he programmed the countdown that would be sent to their comm devices. It read 3:45:30. Three hours and forty-some minutes until the hard threshold, when they would really feel the magic of the Great Conjunction and the barrier would start coming apart. Ten minutes after that, according to legend, the barrier would fall, beginning at the intersection.

Which meant that in four hours, one way or the other, the world would be a very different place.

He waited until it read 3:45:00, then hit “send.” Seventy-some units beeped and seventy-some readouts lit, then flickered as the seconds counted down.

Shit. This was really happening.

Gesturing for Strike and Anna to take their positions on opposite sides of the group, Dez said, “Everybody link up. It’s time to go.”

*    *    *

Coatepec Mountain

The temple atop Coatepec Mountain was open to the air, with jaguar pillars at the corners symbolizing that Strike, Anna and Sasha were its guardians. But where before the site had thrummed with the deep, sustained magic of a hotspot, now there was only the background hum of solstice power. The Nightkeepers had looked long and hard to find another intersection after Iago destroyed the tunnel system beneath Chichén Itzá, knowing that when the Great Conjunction hit its zenith, the barrier would fall at the intersection and the Nightkeepers would go to war. But this sure as shit didn’t feel like a battlefield.

“Something’s not right,” Rabbit muttered. “There should be way more juice than this. It doesn’t even feel like an intersection.” Which put a nasty churn in his gut, matching the one that came from knowing he hadn’t had nearly enough time to work on his mental vault. His head buzzed with a faint rattle of dark magic and his emotions were way too close to the surface, leaving him feeling snarly and reactive, and way too ready to blow something up.

And now this . . . they had been expecting to ’port into the middle of a magical hotspot like he’d never felt before, maybe even into an ambush. But the mountaintop temple was throwing off less power than the average Denny’s, and there was no sign of the
kax
or
kohan
. Not even a
xombi
guard or a couple of ’
zotz
to use for target practice.

He glanced at his wristband. The conjunction was just over three hours away. Maybe they were massing behind the barrier, waiting to attack all at once.

It didn’t feel right, though.

“Do you think they’re going to come through the barrier somewhere else?” Myr asked. Wearing combat black and bristling with weapons, she looked every inch the sexy, kickass warrior he’d fought beside so many times before. Now, though, there was an added sheen of magic surrounding her, a subtle sparkle of power that stroked along his own. But there was also a hint of shadows in her expression, an unusual reserve.

He didn’t know if she was still upset about what happened earlier, or if this was her war face, didn’t know if he dared ask when he was feeling so twitchy. So he said, “It’s the only intersection that’s left. Where else would things go
boom
?”

“Maybe this is just the calm before the storm,” Brandt said, speaking up as the others muttered the same questions, the same concerns.

“Or maybe the
kohan
are already here, waiting to see if we’re going to renounce them or not,” Dez added grimly. An uncomfortable silence followed that statement, but no lightning bolts came down to blast the temple, no tornadoes dropped down to do a
Wizard of Oz
on them. And after a moment, the king said, “Okay. It’s time.”

“Let’s go.” Rabbit caught Myr’s hand, and together they moved into the shadows of the temple, where he would summon the sacrificial fire.

The others formed a big, loose circle—Nightkeepers,
winikin
, and humans all mixed together, all of them ready to renounce their gods.

All except one.

“Where’s Red-Boar?” Myr asked, like she had read his mind.

“Gone,” Rabbit said flatly. “He slipped away right after we ’ported in.” He paused. “Dez saw. He’s got our backs.”

She stared toward the scrubby tree line. “Maybe he’s running.”

“I wish.” Rabbit shook his head. “He’s still here. I can feel the blood-link.” Along with Red-Boar’s rage against the king, and his mad glee at the thought that Rabbit was going to back out of the ceremony at the last minute, screwing over his teammates and throwing the crossover’s power onto the other side.

After all these years, his old man finally thought he was about to do something right.

Well, fuck him.

“Ready?” Dez asked, taking his position next to him in the circle.

“To set a fire? Definitely.” Rabbit shot a last “it’s okay” glance at Myr, hoped he wasn’t lying to both of them, and then faced forward, blocked off the darkness and summoned his Nightkeeper magic. Spreading his fingers, he said, “
Kaak
.”

Brilliant red fire speared from his fingertips and filled the middle of the circle. There was no rattle, no dark magic, thank Christ.

The others backed off a little, expressions frozen in dread, horror and resignation as the heat flared.

Dez, though, stepped closer, palmed his ceremonial knife, cut a deep furrow through his bloodline mark, and grated,
“Pasaj och.”
The magic amped as he jacked in to the barrier flux. Then, stone-faced, he held his arm out over the fire, so the blood sacrifice rained down into the flames. Sparks erupted when the droplets hit, then sizzled as the blood burned off to acrid smoke. Sounding as if the words were being ripped out of him, the king recited the renunciation spell:
“Ma’ tu kahool tikeni.”
I no longer recognize you
.

Boom!
A shock wave of red-tinged energy flared away from Dez, leaving golden sparks behind. The wave rolled through Rabbit like a tsunami in deep water—it rocked him but kept going without doing too much damage to his equilibrium. He was aware, though, that if something like that hit him in the shallows, he’d be fucked. They all would.

This was big magic, a big move. And he hoped to hell they were doing the right thing.

The king steadied himself against Reese and straightened, expression smoothing to relief. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m okay . . . and it’s done.” He showed the others his forearm. “It’s over.”

There was a collective gasp—his bloodline mark had healed over and gone from black to gold.

“It fits,” Lucius muttered. “The Egyptians mined gold, but not the Mayans. I bet that was another way the
kax
and the
kohan
steered our ancestors away from the true gods.”

Dez wiped his knife and returned it to his belt. Then he looked around the circle. “Okay. Your turn.” And he didn’t just mean one at a time.

Rabbit kept the fire going, holding himself apart as the others pulled their knives and blooded their palms. Some of them hesitated; others moved quickly, slashing and getting it done. Beside him, Myr stared at her knife and whispered, “Please.”

She wasn’t talking to him, but he said, “I’ve got you. And tomorrow it’s pancakes for breakfast. Be there.”

She shot him a sidelong look, but didn’t say anything. Then, pressing her lips together, she drew shallow slices through each of her talent marks, because she didn’t have a bloodline. Moving forward with the others, she let her sacrifice fall into the fire, which sparked and smoked in answer.

“Pasaj och
,
”
they all said in a ragged chorus, and then,
“Ma’ tu kahool tikeni.”