Storm Kissed n-6

by Jessica Andersen

  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 th
reat 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.

  On the upside, the Nightkeepers still had the star demon hidden away . . . and Rabbit had discovered that there were five artifacts, not four. There was one more out there, in play. But that was where the “more bad” came in. “I couldn’t figure out what the fifth artifact looks like or where it’s hidden,” Rabbit had said, “because there’s another problem. Iago isn’t the dominant personality anymore; the demon soul of Moctezuma is in control now, and Iago’s brain is seriously fucked up. I couldn’t get anything other than what was floating at the top of his sicko soup.” He had paused, a muscle at the corner of his jaw pulsing. “He’s the one who has been taking the villagers. He’s figured out how to turn them all makol, not just the evilest of them. He’s got a fucking army brewing—hundreds, maybe thousands.” Including men, women, children . . . and Rabbit’s friends.

  As for the rest, Rabbit had gotten hints about the solstice and a dark lord, but no specifics on who, what, or how to stop it.

  Based on the new information, the Nightkeepers were scrambling to put together new recons, new strategies. Sasha was doing some healing work on Sven, who had turned quiet and strange since his inexplicable collapse and equally inexplicable reawakening the next day. Rabbit and Myrinne had gone back down south to keep looking for Iago’s base camp. Reese had gone off with Jade, Natalie, and Lucius to try to figure out what the fifth artifact could be, where it might be hidden, and—

  Shit, Dez thought, disgusted. Meditate already. He would’ve skipped the routine, but he knew all too well how easy it was to start the downward slide. A missed prayer or a momentary grab for power weren’t deadly in isolation, but for him they could be as dangerous as a dry drunk’s first sip.

  Staring at the wall, he drew a deep, incense-laden breath and blanked his mind. Then he relaxed his scalp, his face, his sinuses and jaw, working his way down, feeling the bumps and bruises, the psychic stink that came from having grappled with Iago.

  Those reminders of the fight brought a thick stir of anger. The Xibalban had gotten the two-faced mask. More, he had almost killed Reese. Damn it, Dez thought, he should’ve tried harder to chase her off, should’ve found a way to send her back to Denver, even if the knowledge that she had a guy waiting for her made him want to put his fist through something. It would be better to have her safe in the arms of another man than risking herself with the Nightkeepers.

  When a molar creaked, he made himself relax his jaw.

  She wasn’t as fast as he was, didn’t heal like he did, didn’t have shield magic or lightning. Worse, she was still stupid-brave. She might think she had grown up and slowed down, but she was wrong. She would still be the first one through any door if he didn’t push her out of the way. Seeing her locked inside Iago’s shield had just about killed him, as had watching the makol squadron advance on her.

  Blank wall. Blank mind. Drift. Breathe.

  This so wasn’t working. He really, really sucked at this.

  A knock at his apartment door had him lunging to his feet. “Thank Christ.” It wasn’t until he had his hand on the doorknob that he realized the thrum of his blood wasn’t just coming from relief. The knock had been the syncopated four-tap that had been his and Reese’s old signal for: It’s me. All clear.

  Except nothing was clear. He knew that for damn sure the moment he opened the door.

  She was wearing dark jeans and a stretchy top that clung to her breasts and had desire hammering through him, racing on the afterburn of magic. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, back her up against the far wall and imprint his body on hers. Electric heat flared at the thought, saying yes, this is right, this is what was meant to happen, with a certainty as incontrovertible as the writs themselves. But back in the day, he’d thought the same about buying her that ring because he wanted to get laid, hadn’t he?

  Knowing that he couldn’t trust his motives when it came to her, he made himself step out into the hall and let the door swing shut behind him. “Hey. Everything okay?”

  She met his eyes, looking thoughtful and seeming oblivious to the ozone crackle that heated the air around them. “I was thinking . . . Skywatch is at the middle of the compass cross made by the other locations, right? So where better to hide the fifth artifact than inside the Nightkeepers’ center of ops?”

  That so wasn’t where his brain had been that it took him a second to reorient, another to see that she might very well have nailed it. Because the pattern fit. The logic played. And he was damn grateful to have something else to focus on other than the heat that burned inside him.

  Maybe keeping her close wasn’t so self-indulgent after all.

  He grinned fiercely. “I always said you were more than a pretty face.” Keep it light, he told himself when his blood continued to hum in his veins and his body attuned itself to hers.

  She stuck out her tongue at him, then lifted a flashlight. “Want to do some exploring?”

  Caution said he shouldn’t go off alone with her, not now when he was running so hot. But, damn it, this was their search and the compass artifacts were the responsibility of the serpent bloodline. And he might be tempted, but he was in control. He could handle himself. So, deciding caution could go fuck itself, he ducked back inside his apartment and grabbed his jacket. “Lead the way,” he said.

  But as they headed off, he couldn’t help wondering where the slippery slide began. And how far he could let it go before there was too much momentum to stop.

  Reese filled Dez in as he steered the Jeep along the looping trail that followed the perimeter of the box canyon. “The center of the compass is associated with the color green, and with—get this—lightning.” When he shot her a look, she nodded. “I shit you not. The Hopi medicine wheel has a similar color arrangement, except that they connect the green center with their end-time prophecy, which says that the savior will return to save them. He’s supposed to be a big, white-skinned god who wears a red cape and appears following a series of signs that include multiple earthquakes.” Like the ones that had hit the previous year, courtesy of the earthquake demon, Cabrakan.

  As they climbed out of the Jeep at the back of the canyon, he pointed out, “Only the royal bloodline wears red for ceremonies, which suggests that Strike is the guy they’re looking for. Maybe it’s his job to destroy the weapon.” His tone was matter-of-fact, his expre
ssion anything but.

  The intensity of his gaze, like the heat that had kindled in his eyes as they had stood together in the hallway, sent a shiver down the back of her neck and kicked her instincts into overdrive. Since their return to Skywatch, he had seemed . . . different somehow. He was darker and more closed off than he had been, yet at the same time she had caught him watching her possessively, with a feral, predatory gleam in his eyes. She wasn’t afraid of him—she wouldn’t have come out here alone with him if she had been. But the fragile trust that had started growing between them while they staked out the ice cave had disappeared, as had any easiness between them. Maybe encouraging him to return to Skywatch had been a mistake, after all. Or maybe you’re overanalyzing, she thought sourly.

  He looked up at the cliff face, to the triple row of dark openings that led into a small Puebloan ruin. “Why are we starting here?”

  “Since the other artifacts were all hidden at local native sites, I called down to Rabbit, who knows these ruins better than anyone. He was pretty sure that a few of the rooms have zigzag decorations suggesting serpent worship.” She paused. “Granted, the compass points aren’t exact, so the fifth artifact could be hidden in one of the main Chacoan ruins. Heck, given that Keban told you there were only two hidden artifacts left—the god’s head and the two-faced mask—number five may be in a museum somewhere. And there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to sense it . . . But we’ve got to start somewhere.”

  An hour later, though, they were forced to admit defeat. The zigzags may or may not be snakes, but the surrounding stones were solid, with no evidence of anything being hidden there.

  “It was worth a try,” Dez said as he parked the Jeep back in its spot near the training hall, which was a short walk from the mansion. “Tomorrow we can start checking the Chacoan sites—Pueblo Bonito and whatnot.”