Storm Kissed

by Jessica Andersen

  He was trying, though—or he seemed to be. In the days since their post-sex showdown he hadn’t given her any new reason to distrust him. He was still stubborn and prone to shortcuts, but he listened to her, argued patterns with her, and had even won a few of those arguments, reminding her what it was like to debate someone who thought so far outside the box. But through it all she had been aware that a part of her was standing back and watching him, trying to figure out whether it was real or part of an act, even one he wasn’t aware of putting on. He’d always had a knack for talking himself into doing what he wanted, after all.

  “Look,” he said, pausing to point through a spot where the dark tree branches gave way to the horizon. A streak of light crossed the night sky. Then another. The meteor shower had begun.

  She suddenly was very aware of being alone with him in the darkness, attuned to his breathing and the soft click of his weapons as he shifted his weight and glanced over at her. But all she said was, “We should go.”

  “Yeah.” But he looked at her for another long moment before he moved off toward the covered wooden staircase that led down to the cave. She followed him down, nearly piling into him when he stopped on the first landing and turned back to her. “Listen. If this turns into a firefight . . .”

  “I’ll stay close to you so you can shield me.”

  “But if you can’t get to me, or if things get really bad, I want you to call in the cavalry.”

  She raised an eyebrow, trusting that he would see the move with his augmented vision. “What happened to ‘I need to do this on my own. We can’t involve the others’?”

  “You happened,” he said. And suddenly, the air between them held more than just the shield magic.

  “Don’t,” she said, then couldn’t get another word out, because he was lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

  “It’s one thing to risk my own life, another to risk yours. I couldn’t . . . I don’t want you hurt again because of me.”

  Her heart went thudda-thump and her breath thinned in her lungs, but she lifted her chin. “It’s my choice to be here. I’m not your responsibility.”

  “Promise me you’ll call for backup if things get hairy.”

  She nodded, because what was the point of arguing about something she was already planning to do? “I promise.”

  Without another word, he turned and moved ahead of her, pulling his .44 as he headed down the stairs toward the cave mouth, which was a huge, rounded opening the size of a highway underpass. Pulling her .38, Reese followed. And as she did, she told herself not to make the moment into something more than it really was. Which was nothing, really. Or at least nothing that could truly matter.

  The air changed, the temperature decreasing with each step as they passed into the cave and descended the final short flight of stairs to where a wide observation platform overlooked the frozen lake. The night vision robbed her view of color, but it was still impressive. The frozen surface was roughly circular, edged with jumbles of rock and curving cavern walls that dripped with more ice, some of it in icicles, some as cascading waterfall formations.

  That was all the same as it had been last night and the night before. Now, though, there was also a line of starscript glowing blue-white on the far wall, where the ice ended and the stone began.

  Adrenaline kicked through her at the confirmation that they were in the right place at the right time. “Nice,” she whispered under her breath, feeling a beat of optimism.

  Dez swung over the railing. “Come on, let’s take a closer look. Keep an eye on the door for me, though.”

  “Hell of a door.” The cave mouth was a huge, gaping opening with multiple time-worn rock trails leading down. It would be far too easy for Keban to find a sheltered position up there and shoot down into the cave. Which is why I’m sticking close to the guy with the magic, Reese thought. She traded her .38 for the heavier firepower of the autopistol as they walk-slid across the frozen pool to the other side, then climbed over jumbled rocks to the starscript. Two outcroppings protruded slightly out into the pond; one was marked in blue-white starscript with half a man’s face, the other with half a screaming skull. Behind them on the wall, running roughly between them, was a squiggling, serpentine line.

  Dez kicked at the ice between the two marked stones. “Doesn’t look any different than the rest of it.”

  “The cave adds ice every year. Depending on when the artifact was hidden, it could be pretty far down.”

  “Lucky for us, we’ve got—”

  Without a buzz or hum of warning, the air cracked nearby and twenty men materialized in the center of the cave. Or not men, Reese saw even as she pivoted and brought up her autopistol, blood icing at the sight of glowing green eyes. “Makol!”

  They wore long loincloths, quilted armor and feather-trimmed demon-faced masks, and they carried buzzswords—wooden staves edged with spinning black blades that could detach like throwing stars. Her heart seized on a crazed thought of Ohmigod they’re real, but then Dez shouted something and amped his shield to a blue-white latticework of energy, snapping her out of her shock.

  She fired a panicked burst through the shield and a makol sprayed black blood and went down writhing. And for a second she froze, flashing back on another cavernous space, another gunned-down body lying twitching on the floor in a pool of blood.

  “Reese!” Dez jerked her behind him and let rip with a blast of purple-white as their attackers spread out and rushed the shield, swords buzzing a high-pitched bee swarm of sound. The magic tore into the oncoming line, knocking back three of the makol, who went down twitching. “Reese! There’s too many of them. Make the call.”

  She jerked from her paralysis and slapped her armband, but nothing happened. There was no little red light, no acknowledging beep. No reception, damn it. “We’re too deep underground! We need to get closer to the door!”

  “Wait. Close your eyes.” Dez grabbed her, stripped off her goggles and got an arm around her, so her face was pressed into his chest and covered with the edge of his coat. Then electricity raced over her, through her, and the world went bright white as he unleashed a massive bolt of magic into the ice near their feet.

  The blast was deafening. The ice heaved beneath them, cracking and tilting, and she clung to him without meaning to.

  Then he let go of her, shoved the goggles into her hand, and snapped, “Get the mask and we’ll make a run for it.”

  For a terrifying second, she was lost in a surreal world of pitch blackness lit only by luminous green eyes and his shield magic. Then she jammed the goggles into place and everything snapped back into focus: The makol had concentrated their efforts at one point on Dez’s shield and were trying to hack through with their swords. He stood opposite them, channeling lightning with one hand and firing an autopistol with the other, keeping them off balance and floundering. Bleeding.

  “Move!” he bellowed.

  Reese moved.

  Spinning to where he had blasted away the ice and part of the rock near the starscript, she dove into the ragged chasm he had created. Her night vision was blurry at close range, but her fingers found a lumpy object wrapped in frozen cloth. She tried to pull it out, but the cloth tore and her fingers brushed a smooth, sleek, and intricately carved artifact. The mask! She fumbled, trying to get hold of it.

  “Reese!” His voice cracked with the strain of holding the shield.

  “Almost there.” Her fingers found an edge and the disk popped free. “Got it!” She lunged to his side, held it out. “Here.”

  “Keep it.” He jammed the autopistol into his belt and grabbed her free arm. A tingle ran through her at his touch, a sign that his magic was running hot. He grated, “Close your eyes on three. One. Two. Now!”

  She slammed her eyes shut as he let rip with a huge bolt of magic that cracked and crashed, and made her hair spark with static.

  “Come on!” He dragged her to a stumbling run over the torn-up ic
e, tightening the shield spell around them.

  She caught disjointed glimpses of makol bodies, ripped limbs, black blood.

  “Don’t look,” he ordered roughly, pulling her to his side and trying to block the sight with his body. But she could still see the carnage, smell the blood.

  When they reached the legs of the observation deck, he expanded his shield to include the wide platform, then offered her his cupped palms as a boost. “Come on.” He gestured. “Up. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Numbly, clutching the mask under one elbow, she scrambled up, away from the ruined ice pond. Her thoughts raced, but she kept wondering what the tourists would think in the morning. There was no way the magi could set the ancient cave to rights. Pull it together, she told herself, and called in the Mayday as Dez hiked himself up onto the other end of the platform.

  “We’re on our way,” a crackling voice—she wasn’t sure whose—acknowledged from the tiny transmitter.

  She turned to Dez. “Did you—”

  Without warning, a huge crack split the air inside his blue-white shield spell, and a man materialized on the platform between her and Dez.

  Reese reeled back, heart lunging into her throat as her brain snapshotted the monstrous makol. He was as huge as any Nightkeeper and wore the same sort of black combat pants and boots, a weapons belt and long, carved knife. That was where the comparison stopped, though. He was bare-chested, wearing a ceremonial half robe of feather-worked crimson that was clasped at his throat and open everywhere else, revealing that his skin was ravaged, waxy, and runneled from shoulders to scalp. His features were lopsided and his eyes were the luminous green of the lesser makol, but with darker green pupils that burned with hatred.

  Iago. Her mind supplied the name in the split second before Dez shouted, “Jump!”

  She bit off a scream and flung herself backward off the platform as lightning magic cracked. But then unfamiliar shield magic whipped around her, burning her with greasy heat, catching her midair, and hoisting her back up. She kept hold of the mask but lost her autopistol, which went spinning over the edge. She heard it land with a crack as Iago’s dark magic dumped her back on the platform. Dez roared her name and lightning flared, turning the world blue-white. But it didn’t penetrate the dark shield that Iago had cast around him and Reese.

  Mouth twisting, the Xibalban advanced on her, pulling a sickle-shaped stone knife as he came.

  “No!” Rage and anguish roughened Dez’s voice, which was muffled by the greasy brown of the dark-magic shield.

  She was trapped! Panic lashed but she went into survival mode, ducking beneath Iago’s knife swipe, and firing her .38 into his torso. The bullets chewed into him, dark ichor sprayed, and he fell back two steps, but the leathery flesh knit almost immediately and the wax-faced bastard laughed as he closed on her once more. Her pulse hammered, her mind screamed for her to get out, get out! But she couldn’t get through the dark shield, couldn’t—Wait, she thought, remembering how her other gun had fallen through the shield . . . and that the baseline shield spells were designed to keep bodies in but let projectiles out.

  “Dez!” she screamed as Iago closed on her, starting to draw the shield tighter so she wouldn’t have anywhere to run. “Catch!”

  She hurled the wrapped bundle through the shield. It fell short, but Dez lunged for it as Iago roared in fury and slammed Reese aside. She hit the ground hard and slid, head ringing. Her vision blurred, but in the shield-lit darkness, she saw Iago dive for the artifact as Dez did the same. The men grappled as lightning and dark magic slashed around them in wild, furious bolts.

  Breath sobbing in her lungs, she aimed her .38 just as Iago rose over Dez, his knife flashing in the moonlight. She screamed and fired, pounding two jade-tips into his knife hand. Blood splashed black in the moonlight and the knife went flying. Dez kicked his enemy up and off, then spun toward Reese and shouted once more: “Jump!”

  But when she got to the edge of the platform, she saw luminous green eyes below. As one, the regenerated makol warriors lashed out with their buzz-swords, letting rip with a salvo of deadly blades. Screaming, she threw herself back as the projectiles bounced around her. But when Dez started for her, she pointed. “Don’t let him get the statue!” Iago was almost on top of the yellow idol.

  “No!” Dez roared, lunging for his enemy.

  Iago lashed out with a fat bolt that was part lightning, part dark magic. Dez blocked with a shield, but went down hard, skidding heavily under the impact.

  Reese’s heart stuttered, her hands cramping where they wrapped around the empty .38. This was it. This was—

  Brilliant silver light strobed the interior of the cave, painting the walls with makol-shadows that writhed and collapsed. When her vision cleared, she saw Michael silhouetted at the cave mouth, silver death magic flowing from his hands like mercury. In the same instant, Rabbit hurtled down the stairs, landed hard, and flung himself on Iago. Dark magic flared instantly.

  “Rabbit, no!” Strike’s voice bellowed from the other side of the cave, which was suddenly full of fireballs and ice as the Nightkeepers launched into battle.

  Reese heard someone shout her name, but she was already falling back and twisting out of the way as a green-eyed makol appeared over the edge of the platform, its buzz-sword swinging down and—

  Purple-white lightning hit it from one side, silver muk magic from the other, and the thing exploded, the chunks vaporizing to greasy ash before they hit. More silver flashed, more flames, and then there was a huge roar of magic, a mix of dark and light.

  “Rabbit!” Myrinne’s anguish split the air as his and Iago’s images wavered and began to fade. Reese’s heart stopped as Dez threw himself on the pair. Lightning detonated, burning her retinas with the afterimage.

  When her vision cleared, he and Rabbit lay together on the platform.

  Iago was gone.

  Pulse hammering, she raced to the pair. On one level she was cognizant that the cave was lit blue-white now by a huge ball of fire that hung near the ceiling, illuminating the scene as the magi dispatched the last of the makol. But the rest of her was locked on Dez, who was pulling himself to his feet, ragged and battered, but alive. Alive! Her heart raced and a small sound escaped her, half laugh, half sob.

  His head snapped around and their eyes met. And for a second it was as if the bad years hadn’t happened, as if they had been on the same team all along, only the stakes were so much higher now. Then she was in his arms, crushed against his chest. It didn’t matter that the moment came out of adrenaline and leftover fear. What mattered was that he was solid and real. And that he whispered her name and held on tight.

  After a moment, he eased the embrace, but kept hold of her, tucking her against his side as he turned to face the others. “He got the mask.”

  Strike just looked at him, expression dark. “Are you ready to tell us what the hell is really going on here?”

  When Dez hesitated, Reese tightened her grip on him. It’s time. If Iago was involved, there was no way the two of them could handle the search alone. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll tell you. It’s a long story, though.”

  “Then let’s head home.” Strike gestured to the others. “Link up.”

  Dez shifted his grip from Reese’s shoulder to her hand, twining their fingers together to tug her into the forming uplink. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath, but she must have been, because exhaling made her light-headed. Or maybe that was the realization that he was voluntarily turning himself in and asking for help.

  It felt like they were coming in from the cold.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  December 15

  Six days to the solstice

  Skywatch

  Dez sucked at meditation.

  Despite a year′s worth of practice, he still spent the first ten minutes or so sitting there cross-legged, staring at the small chac-mool altar he’d set up in the spare room of his suite, breathing incense . . . and going through a
mental litany of “this is stupid,” “how long do I have to sit here?” and “great, now I need to pee.” Even after that, he usually had a hard time turning off the chatter on a good day. And today wasn’t all that good.

  He and Reese had briefed the team on the compass artifacts and the threat they represented. Strike and the others weren’t thrilled with the way he had handled things, but the king had accepted his gut instinct as a reason for secrecy, because for better or worse, that was the way the magic seemed to work. And thanks to the fealty oath, where the king went, so went the magi. Which meant that Dez was back in the fold, save for some sidelong looks. And some of those were coming from Reese.

  He sensed that she wanted him but didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t help her with that—her instincts had always been good. But as much as he told himself he should be doing his damnedest to drive her back to Denver where she’d be out of the line of fire, he couldn’t make himself do it. In barely a week and a half, she had become intertwined with the Nightkeepers and the war efforts—almost as if the gods themselves had wanted her involved. Problem was, he didn’t know how much of that was solid logic and how much was him finding reasons to do what he wanted to, deep down inside. He wanted her near him. Wanted to see if they could be the people in his dream. A couple. A mated pair.

  Shit, he thought when warmth trickled through him. He was definitely talking himself into that one, ignoring the very real threat posed by his bloodline. But at the same time, he knew damn well that the war took precedence, and regardless of the other stuff, she was an asset to the team. He wouldn’t have identified the third artifact or found the ice cave without her. She could find damn near anything . . . and given what Rabbit had pulled from Iago’s mind during their fight, the Nightkeepers badly needed her skills right now. Because there was bad news and more bad news: The Xibalban had captured Keban and the other artifacts. He controlled three pieces of the weapon, and the solstice was less than a week away.