"You can't help them if you're dead," Rowan stated bluntly.
Tavi, miserable, looked down. "One night."
"Well," said Casey as he dismounted, put his hands against the small of his back, and groaned. "If we're staying the night, then I want to lay in some arcs of fire." He approached the pack horse that carried the two heavy machine guns and unstrapped the weapons, carrying each over one of his shoulders, whistling as he climbed to a high point overlooking the plain.
"Rest of you make camp, get some rest," Rowan said. "No fires. Not tonight."
Jay groaned. "Cold gruel again."
"Better than dead," Rowan said and then walked away.
Jay took Tavi's elbow and pulled her along with them. "You can help me hammer in the tent spikes. I can only do so much with one good arm."
Angie, who had watched Jay drag a thousand-pound generator with his one good arm, smiled to herself, but Tavi followed Jay. Angie helped the two elves with the horses. As she unloaded a heavy sack of horse feed, she felt eyes on her. Turning, she saw Tec standing less than twenty feet away, staring at her. Once again, a shiver of excitement coursed through her.
Then Tec turned and stalked away.
The sun was setting as Angie made her way down a steep, rocky path from the headlands to the narrow beach below. The sky was a storm of oranges running into the blues of the ocean, the sight mesmerizing. As she stepped off the trail and onto the beach, waves of frothy sea-green water washed across the sand, dissolving into foam. The cliffs of the headland extended in either direction, leaving only a narrow strip of sandy beach that was probably underwater for most of the day. Now, the tide had receded, revealing the bits of plastic that covered most of the beach, all draped in glittering seaweed and shells. Skittering crabs crawled among the residue. Angie stared out over the garbage.
There's so few of us left now, she thought, and when we're all gone, our garbage will be all that’s left of us.
But oh, God, this view.
Sand flies had bitten the back of her hands, her shirt was so crusty with sweat it rubbed her skin raw, and her nose was beginning to peel from a sunburn, but she forgot all her aches and pains as she watched the waves crash against the shoreline.
Kneeling, she untied her boots, pulling them and her socks off. She rolled up her pants to her calves and, picking up her filthy socks, approached the water, making her way through the garbage. When the cold water splashed over her feet, she gasped in excitement. It was indescribable, and she grinned in wonder.
She was about to rinse her socks in the ocean when a man spoke from behind her. "I wouldn't."
Angie spun to see Tec, not twenty feet away, sitting atop a barnacle-encrusted boulder. He had been here all along, but she hadn't seen him until now. "Were you watching me?"
"Been watching you for days, and you know it."
And he had been, just as she had been watching him. "Why not?" she asked.
"Why not what?" He frowned.
"Why not rinse my socks out? They're about to walk on their own."
"Ah." His emerald eyes smiled. "The salt. It'll rub your feet raw. Best to wait until we find another freshwater stream."
She picked her way over to him and then climbed up atop the boulder beside him, so close they were almost touching. He stiffened, and she felt heat between them. He feels it, too, this attraction. That’s why he’s been watching me. She stared out to sea, but her thoughts kept returning to him. Her heart throbbed too quickly, and she felt like a tongue-tied child.
"What the hell is going on between us?" she finally said.
"Was wondering when you'd ask."
She turned and considered his profile. With his large hooked nose, he reminded her more of a bird of prey than a feline. "Well?"
He swallowed. Is he nervous? Him? No way. She watched and waited. Finally, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "Short answer. I don't know. It's new to me too. My guess is we're drawn to one another because of the dragon-marks we bear."
"How can you not know?"
He sighed. "I've never met another who bore my master's gift."
"Never?"
"You don't understand how rare this gift you've been given is, Angie. I was born more than two hundred years ago, and you're the only other I've ever met."
She smiled. "You're pretty spry for an old dude."
"You laugh, but it's true. I was born January first, in 1843. My birth name was Diego Águila, and I was the son of a wealthy Mexican landowner."
She stared at him in shock. It seemed impossible, but somehow, she knew it was true. She changed the subject. "Okay. Why Teccizcoatl, then? Diego is much easier to pronounce."
"Because the man who was Diego Águila died two hundred years ago. Died after I changed into a were-jaguar for the first time."
"I don't understand. How could you have changed two hundred years ago? The Fey Sleep had suppressed the werewolf gene in humans since the Spanish Inquisition, way more than five hundred years ago. There have only been werewolves since A-Day, eighteen years ago."
"I'm not a werewolf, Angie. My curse is different, and the Fey and their magic can't touch it. Their spell had no effect on me. My condition runs through my bloodline. I'm a blood descendant of a Teotihuacan warrior who lived more than a thousand years ago. The original Teccizcoatl was the first of my line to carry the blood curse, the first were-jaguar. I think ... I think maybe I’m a reincarnation of this man. I used to dream of him, of being him, of walking ancient cities long before Europeans came to this land. I took his name to honor the Teotihuacan people, to strengthen my bond with the past. It was my master's idea, a way to help me focus on my humanity."
"Weeks ago. When you first rescued Erin and I from the Tzitzime, you mentioned losing yourself in the beast. What does that mean exactly?"
"It means I sometimes forget I'm a man. It's dangerous for me to change. Not all the time, but sometimes, I ... I prefer being a were-jaguar and forget about turning back."
"That's what happened after you saved us, when Char used her talisman to force you to change back to a man."
He nodded. "Likely in another day or two, I'd have changed back anyhow." He made a fist of his left hand and then opened it, exposing the dragon-mark on his palm. "My master's mark helps me remember. But two hundred years ago, when I first changed, I lost myself completely, lost my humanity. I spent eight years in the jungle living as a jaguar."
"Eight years?" she repeated in wonder.
He nodded, rubbing his eyes. "The dragon saved me. Quetzalcoatl called to me in my dreams. You can't imagine what that was like, to feel him in your head." He paused and then took her left hand, turning it over and tracing his fingers over the dragon-mark tattoo, barely visible on her palm. As his fingers trailed over her skin, she suppressed a shiver. "Maybe you can. But Quetzalcoatl helped me find my way back to becoming a man again. When I awakened, I was a man—naked and alone in the jungle—but a man once more. I knew I had to find the dragon or risk losing myself again, maybe for good this time."
"What did you do?"
"Do? I walked to him. I heard him most clearly in my dreams, but even awake, I could feel him, sense his lair far to the north. I walked out of the jungle, walked for thousands of kilometers. It took me months, and when I finally came to Mount Laguna and found my way through a vast crevice in the mountain’s side, I found the Black Pool and my new master, the feathered serpent Quetzalcoatl.
"I stayed with him, stayed at the edge of his pool for what seemed weeks. Maybe it was. He told me of his battle against the Twin Deaths, his need to protect the world from Itzpapalotl and Tezcatlipoca. He told me of their servants the Tzitzime, described their atrocities, their blood sacrifices. When the feathered serpent offered me a chance to serve him, I took it. He bound me to him, just as he did with you. In his service, I regained my humanity."
"And the waters...?"
"Healed me from everything, including aging. Just as the waters healed you when Rayan drove her sword throu
gh your chest. We're the only two people on the planet so gifted."
They sat there in silence for a time, Angie's thoughts racing. It was different talking to him. She felt as though she could trust him, tell him everything ... so she did. "You're not the only one with a darkness within you. I have my own beast."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm a source mage. Do you know what that is?"
He shook his head.
"Neither did I until a few weeks ago. We’re so rare, it’s been hundreds of years since the last, or so I’ve been told. It’s all new to me. I've always been different, I could kind of tell, but I never really understood just how different. Since the day of the Awakening, I've been able to close my eyes and sense the life forces of others. No other mage could do that but me. Char called it a form of divination magic, and I used it when I was in the Home Guard to help find enemies during operations. I never served as a combat mage because I was always too weak with spells."
"You're not weak. I've seen what you can do. I’ve never seen anyone that strong."
She sighed. "No. I'm not weak. I just didn't understand what I was, what I was capable of. And there’s the problem."
"I'm not following you."
"All other mages draw their mana from the air, from the mana exuded by all living creatures, a form of life energy that bleeds into the atmosphere. But I can only draw trace amounts of that mana, hardly any at all. For years, everyone—myself included—thought I was barely a mage. But we were all wrong. I wasn't drawing the mana correctly." She bit her lip, staring out at the waves.
"Correctly?"
"I can draw mana directly from living creatures, from the source. It's much more potent that way, infinitely more powerful."
"How?"
She sighed. "I'm not sure. It's not me doing it."
He stared at her, a half smile on his handsome features, as if she were making a joke. "What do you mean it's not you?"
"You understand what a shade is, yes?"
"Of course. A supernatural entity that shares a mage's body, feeding off the mage's mana and protecting them."
"My shade is different."
"Different how?"
"Like significantly more powerful than other shades, like the difference between a kitten and a lion. It even calls itself the Shade King."
Now his eyes narrowed, and his smile faltered. "Calls itself?"
"It talks. At least it can talk or communicate telepathically. I'm not sure what the difference is, but when it wants to, it can communicate with me." She shrugged. "It doesn't always want to. Nor does it always make sense when it does."
"And this ... Shade King, it shares your body?"
"Just like a normal shade." She laughed, a near hysterical chuckle. "As if there's anything normal about supernatural possession."
He reached out and placed his hand atop hers. An undercurrent of electrical energy coursed through her, and she wanted him to touch her everywhere. She forced her mind out of the gutter.
"I never understood what it was," she continued. "It bonded with me by accident, or on purpose—I’m not really sure which—but it happened when I was thirteen. It's been a part of me ever since, but it never really ... spoke or manifested its ability until about a year ago, following a ... an incident."
"The helicopter crash? The one where you earned that nickname, the Angel of Death?"
"Yes—I hate that fucking nickname—but yes. The Shade King isn't just more powerful than other shades, and not just because it can communicate with me. It uses me, takes the life force of others through skin contact, killing them and filling me with mana, mana that it can use."
He snatched his hand from hers. "Skin contact?"
She made a face. "Relax. Not all skin contact. God only knows I've had few lovers, but I haven't killed them. The Shade King only acts when my life is in danger, sort of a natural survival reaction. If I die, maybe it dies with me. I don't know, but when my life is in danger, and I touch others—enemies, only ever enemies—the Shade King takes their life force, gives it to me. Sometimes it can cast magic through me, spells I shouldn't know, spells no one should know."
"That's ... impressive."
"It's awful. I've burned men and women alive."
"I'm sorry. So where is this Shade King now?"
"Here." She touched her chest. "And here." She touched her forehead. "Everywhere. Sleeping maybe. Listening. I don't know. It's been with me for so long, I just don't think about it anymore. I'd probably go crazy if I did. I asked Char to exorcise it after the crash—I wasn't handling it all very well—and she told me she had, but she lied. She couldn’t exorcise it, and she didn’t want me to kill myself. I think … I think it'll always be a part of me."
"Can you feel it now, inside you?"
"I can't ever feel it. It doesn’t work that way, but it's there. It's always there."
"I'm so sorry. I had no idea." He reached out and draped his arm around her neck, pulling her head against his shoulder. She let him, and they stayed like that for some time, watching the waves, lost in thought.
She finally broke the silence. "This ... attraction between us. If it's because of the dragon, is it real?"
He sniffed. "Feels pretty real to me."
"So, does that mean I'm immortal as well?"
"I was never immortal, just very old. But with my master dead ... I don't think the Black Pool holds any more power. Now if we get hurt, we'll have to heal slowly like everyone else. Maybe we'll both grow old now." He laughed when he said it, but there was pain in his voice.
"What are you afraid of?" she asked, reaching out and trailing her fingers over his cheek.
"That with my master dead, I'll lose myself to the beast forever. I don't think I can risk shifting again. I might not come back."
Angie pulled herself free from his arm. His touch was making her too uncomfortable, not because she didn't like it but because she wanted so much more. "Rayan Zar Davi," she said softly to change the subject. "The woman who leads the Tzitzime. You said she was a champion for the Twin Deaths. Is she dragon-marked as well? Is that how she's so old?"
He shook his head. "The bond is a gift from the dragon, but it leaves a part of its magic within you. The Twin Deaths would never share their power with humans. No. Rayan has used blood magic to prolong her life, sacrificial magic. Rayan believes Itzpapalotl will free the dragon-god Memnog and raise her above all other humans, but Memnog and Itzpapalotl have only contempt for humanity."
"In the cavern, when I first heard the dragon roar, I felt the connection between myself and ... Quetzalcoatl, I guess."
"My master used you to find his enemy, Tezcatlipoca. I suspect that was the moment he decided to leave his lair and strike. When we drew the dragon out into the open, he became vulnerable to my master. But in killing Tezcatlipoca, he left himself vulnerable to Itzpapalotl."
"Yet if he hadn't, we'd have all died. You'd have died. He saved us."
"At the cost of his own long life," Tec whispered.
This time Angie wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head in against her chest. He didn't pull back. Instead, he melted into her, burying his face in her neck and wrapping his arms around her. He was weeping, she realized, huge gasping sobs ripping through his powerful frame, and she tightened her grip, all too aware of her own rising need, like a fire burning within her. He felt ... perfect, as if his body was made for her. It was all far too distracting.
"He made his choice," she whispered into his hair. "Honor his sacrifice. Don't throw your life away."
A shudder coursed through him. "We're alone now," he said, his breath hot and wet on her neck. "I weep for a world where Itzpapalotl is the last dragon. There's no hope for any of us, not humanity, not the Fey. No one can fight a dragon."
She drew back and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "There's always hope, but you can't stop fighting. You can't give up."
"I ... I can't do it without my master. I'm just a man."
He looked down, his features consumed by misery. "Look at me," she said, still holding his face. When his eyes finally met hers, she felt another shiver of need. Her lips parted, her breathing rushed. "If we live, we fight. If we fight, there's hope."
"I ... I don't know if I—"
"We fight," she insisted.
He nodded. "We fight."
Then, without even realizing what she was doing, she kissed him. She pressed her lips against his and kissed him with more passion than she had ever kissed another man, even Nathan. A shiver coursed through her, and she felt dizzy with need. And he kissed her back, crushing her against his hard body. Her mouth opened, and his breath melted her. Her need was a raging wildfire.
But then he pushed her away so forcefully she almost fell. He jumped off the boulder, backing away from her. "No."
"Wait," she said, reaching for him. "It’s okay. I want it. I want you—"
"Don't," he said in a breathless voice and then turned and stalked away, almost running, leaving her alone on the beach, confused, red-faced, and more frustrated and aroused than she had ever been in her life.
"What's wrong with me?" she asked herself breathlessly, her heart pounding.
The only answer was the crashing of the waves, the mocking cries of the gulls.
Chapter 6
Two large men dragged Rayan Zar Davi naked from her cell, shoving her ahead of them. She stumbled, her legs not working properly. Rayan had no idea how long she had been a prisoner in that cold, dark cell, but she’d walk on her own, her head held high, her pride intact despite the abuse and beatings she had endured, and she’d treat her jailers like an honor guard. I will die with courage, she promised herself. I will not beg for mercy, not after denying it to so many others. Yet despite her promises, her heart pounded painfully, her breath heaved. It was hard to be brave at the end of one’s life, especially when hers had been so long.
But this was the fate she had earned.
She had failed the Twin Deaths and allowed the enemy to raid the temple of Zolin, stealing away the Haanal X'ib, whose blood held the key to the rebirth of the god-dragon Memnog and a new world order. But what was even more galling was that the attackers had also rescued her hated foe Teccizcoatl, the Jaguar Knight. She could accept death, but to be forced to go to the afterlife before Teccizcoatl was unbearably unfair.
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