She would have tugged free and turned to go, but a strange warmth suddenly rose up inside her, stealing her will to move. Her feet grew roots, her fingers curled around his, and for a second it was like they were connected, not just physically, but mentally as well. She could feel the pulse of his heartbeat alongside her own and could faintly sense the humming magic within him, throbbing just beyond the threshold of her understanding. Heat kindled in her core, a potent mix of awe and excitement that urged her to go to him, be with him, bind herself to him, and give him—
No! Wrenching herself out of that litany, she tugged away, breaking the palm-to-palm contact with a sharp jerk that drew too many eyes.
Aware that they couldn’t cause a scene, she made herself smile, made herself reach up and cup his cheek, which was smooth beneath her overheated palm.
His eyes were hard and hot, churning with the magic she had felt within him. “What just happened?” he grated, voice low. But his expression said that he knew. They both knew.
She said it anyway. “I think it was the First Father’s magic acknowledging a winikin swearing to protect her Nightkeeper charge.” Damn it all. She glanced at her wrist and exhaled a small, relieved breath to find that she still lacked the aj winikin mark.
“That promise goes both ways,” he said quietly.
Maybe so, but the magical bond put on the winikin was a one-way street, and it wasn’t one she wanted to travel.
Making herself move by force of will, she took a big step back, smiling brightly and pitching her voice to carry. “No, you go ahead and look around, and I’ll get the drinks. I’ll be back in just a second.”
The last few people who had been paying attention to them—mostly bored spouses looking to liven up the evening with a good fight—went back to their own business.
Sven gave her an intense look of we’ll talk about this later, but nodded and stuck to their roughed-out plan. “No ice in mine.”
She rolled her eyes like she’d heard that a thousand times, and with that little exchange, they fell entirely off the radar screens of the humans surrounding them.
Cara headed for the bar area, slipping easily through the crowd. She didn’t draw nearly the amount of attention he did, though a few male heads turned as she approached, then pivoted back when she was gone. One of the guards gave her a once-over and a small smirk that she didn’t want to think about, while two of the others looked through her as she passed where they were stationed near the premier pieces of the showing.
A set of low, wide stairs fanned out from the two exits nearby; from there, she had a clear view of the ballroom and was close enough to three of the four guards to keep a close eye on them. Sven would have to watch out for the fourth himself. Not that the Nightkeepers couldn’t get them out of trouble if things went wrong, but it was better to keep things as quiet as possible.
Right now, things were looking nice and quiet. The crowd was starting to thin as couples headed for the dining room, the guards were vigilant but relaxed, and Sven was alone by the display case that held the screaming skull. From there, he could use low-level magic to make the switch, and then they would find a private spot on deck for the higher-level magic he needed to send the thing back to Skywatch.
As if sensing her eyes on him, he glanced up, found her, and sent her a where is my drink? gesture. They were on plan, on point, and good to go.
So why was her pulse pounding? More, why did it feel like she was still down there on the floor, surrounded by people while she stood in front of a display case?
You’re talking yourself into this. There’s nothing to be worried about. Just breathe. Everything will be fine.
“How’s it look?” his voice murmured in her earpiece, creating an odd disconnect from the scene because she couldn’t see his lips moving.
Far less adept with the communication device, she pretended to look out the door while she answered, “Seems clear.”
“Seems clear or is clear?”
She took a deep breath. “You’re good to go.” Please, gods.
Turning back, she kept an eye on the guards, the crowd, and Sven himself as he lingered a moment longer in front of the screaming skull, leaning over the step-sided display case as if studying the piece in detail. Sudden heat flared through her body, wringing a gasp that caught the nearest guard’s attention at the very moment that her oversize evening bag suddenly bulged and grew heavy. Then the heat was everywhere—inside her, all around her, not burning her but instead making her head spin. Her vision blurred and she wobbled.
“Ma’am?” The nearest guard took a step in her direction. “Are you okay?”
No! She couldn’t screw this up, not now. Fighting through the haze, she clutched the bag to her chest when it threatened to slip from her fingers. “Seasick!” she blurted. Then she hunched over, channeled all of the oh, crap, I’m going to puke faces she’d seen on the whale-watch boat, and bolted out the door.
She hurried along the railing and then up the first set of stairs she came to, then another, heading higher and higher until she reached an open observation deck that was mercifully deserted. Sinking back against the nearest wall, she concentrated on breathing.
Holy shit. What just happened there?
Pull it together. Breathe. Focus.
Footsteps rang on the stairs coming up, but her instincts—or rather, the bond created by the coyote glyph she wore on her wrist—told her it was Sven. This time the burn was one of unease.
“Sorry,” she said when he joined her in the small niche, crowding her back against the door with a broad-shouldered body that all but blocked the light. His protective stance settled her, smoothing out the edges. But at the same time it made her more aware of her screwup. “I didn’t mean to draw attention like that.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was a nice distraction, and if it comes to questions, people are going to remember that you were by the far exit, nowhere near the skull. Hey.” He caught her chin in his hand and tipped her face up into the light. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I…” She trailed off as a long shudder racked her body. “Shit. Sorry. I think… Damn it.” She didn’t want to say it out loud, but didn’t see an alternative. “I think that because I don’t have the aj winikin mark to balance off the coyote glyph, the bond is acting funny. I caught the backlash of the magic when you sent me the skull, and it just about knocked me on my ass.”
“I didn’t feel anything.”
“That’s because it only goes one way.” She tipped a thumb from her chest to his.
“Not from where I’m standing.”
“Tell that to the magic,” she said, her voice threatening to crack.
“Cara—”
“Not now. We need to stay focused.” She held out the bag. “Let’s get this bad boy headed home, okay?”
He hesitated, then went for the knife he’d hidden in an ankle sheath. “Hand it over.”
The carving was heavier to hold than it had felt in the bag, and oddly warm to the touch, the stone slick and smooth. Her heart thudded in her chest as Sven blooded his palms and said the spell words that jacked him into the barrier’s power. Then he took the artifact from her, held it in both hands, and closed his eyes in concentration.
The skull vanished with a huge thunderclap and lightning flared overhead in a jagged slash that broke the sky. Which shouldn’t have happened.
Cara choked off a startled scream and spun, then gaped at the sight of dark, angry storm clouds where there had been a clear sky and stars only moments before. Oh, gods. Had the Banol Kax tracked his magic? Were they somehow using the weather to attack?
Sven shouldered in front of her, using his body to shield her from a sudden whip of wind. “What the fuck? Where did that— Get down!” He pushed her back into the lee of the wall, crowding her into a small, sheltered space. Heat raced through her in a magical backlash, and suddenly the air around them sparkled faintly red-gold. She didn’t have time to marvel at being able to see his shie
ld spell, though, because the sky suddenly flared with another huge bolt of lightning.
It ripped straight for them and slammed into the ship, making the huge vessel lurch and wreathing the observation deck with an eerie blue-white glow. There were shouts and screams from below, where the main decks had gone dark, with emergency lights springing to life here and there. A lone siren began to blare.
Sven cursed and went for his armband, which he’d folded into the shape of a phone and stashed in the pocket of his tux. “Fuck. Nothing!”
Suddenly, horribly, the glow started to draw in on itself, rising up from the deck, taking on shape and details, becoming… “Oh, shit,” Cara breathed. “Do you see…”
The blob was stretching and elongating, growing ears and a long tail even as it darkened to shadows and two burning eyes that glowed gleaming red. It was the hellhound that had attacked her at Aaron’s funeral!
“Get ready to run when I say the word.”
“I can’t.”
“Cara—”
“No!” She wouldn’t risk leading it down to the others. “We need to stop it here!” She scrabbled in her bag for the gun, though jade-tips had barely made a dent the last time.
As if spurred by the sight, the beast roared and charged.
“Leave her alone!” The air turned suddenly scorching as Sven lunged upright, summoned a huge orange-red fireball, and unleashed it with a yell.
The magic slammed into the creature, encircling it with fire and driving it back and down. The thing gave a hideous mewl of pain and collapsed as the flames flared higher, growing so bright that Cara had to squint and then turn away.
Sven stood planted in front of her with his hands balled to fists as if he would’ve fought the thing with his bare hands rather than letting it get to her. But before she could think about the spreading warmth that ran through her at the sight, new horror kindled. “It’s regenerating!”
Lightning lashed the sea around them, bringing thunder and wind, and letting them see that the creature wasn’t just regenerating. It was getting bigger.
“Motherfucker,” Sven said. And braced for the fight.
We’re dead. That was all Sven’s brain could cough up at the realization that they were out in the middle of the fucking ocean without backup or additional weapons. His shield was good for now, and he would try again with the fireball spell, but already he could feel the drain on his magic. He had burned too much of it sending the skull back to Skywatch.
The hellhound snarled as lightning flickered behind it, painting the scene with St. Elmo’s fire.
Gods help us.
Cara came up beside him with her puny little pistol, eyes hard and determined. Her dress glittered in the blue-white lambency of the storm, her hair trailed from its twist in tendrils of white and black, and his magic haloed her with sparks of red-gold. In that moment, she looked like a goddess, and so damn beautiful it made his chest ache.
He wanted to hold her, have her, protect her. But he couldn’t—
Join. You are more powerful together than apart. This is as it was meant to be. The nahwal’s voice echoed in his head, followed by her soft gasp. She turned to him, eyes wide and scared, even as his pulse thudded with mingled shock and excitement.
“You heard that?” he grated.
She snapped her mouth closed and nodded. Then she held out her hand, palm up, to offer her scar. “Do it.”
There wasn’t time to weigh the options; hell, there weren’t any options. He needed the kind of boost that came only from another mage… or a lover.
He took her hand as the beast struggled to its feet with a gurgling roar that called thunder and a howl of wind. He scored her palm and drew blood as the creature started stumbling forward, its eyes locked on his faltering shield. Then he took her hand in his, aligning them blood-to-blood, and hoping to hell this wasn’t a huge mistake.
He felt the jolt of a low-level blood-link, but needed more than that. Way more. Calling his magic, he reached for the barrier and whispered, “Pasaj och.” But nothing changed. It was just the two of them and his nearly tapped-out magic.
“Hurry!” She gripped his hand, urging him on. “Kill it!”
He called a fireball, but it wasn’t much, wasn’t enough.
“It’s not working!” she cried, voice cracking.
He shook his head. “I don’t know—”
You to her and her to you. The bond must form or all is lost! And for a nanosecond—the briefest of instances, there and gone so quickly he almost missed it—pounding restlessness flared through him and he flashed back on a hot, baking desert floor burning his feet as he raced along, searching for the one who would complete him. Those were the dreams he’d had last year, the ones that he hadn’t realized were coming from Mac. But how… “That’s it!”
His magic wasn’t searching for a mate; it wanted a familiar. He was a coyote, after all.
Heart banging against his ribs, he tightened his grip on her and concentrated, not on his magic or the barrier connection, but on his bloodline mark. He focused on it, poured his magic into it, and opened himself to the soul bond he shared with Mac, even though the coyote was too far away for it to function. The magic pooled, searching for a target, then zeroing in on her.
His magic found her, recognized her, wanted her. It arrowed from him to her and back again, and his body convulsed as something tore inside him. Then blazing heat fired in his veins, burning down to his soul and then outward again, shooting down his arm to his bloodline mark.
“No!” he shouted, afraid the magic would burn her, hurt her, but he couldn’t call it back, couldn’t shut it down. Then the power raged through him, coalesced into a huge fireball that hung in the air, bleeding flames. And for a brief instant he saw double, perceived double—hell, he was double, sensing things not just with his own faculties, but with Cara’s as well.
Connection. It burned through him, forging new pathways in his soul. He could feel her terror, but also the determination that was overriding it to put her at his side, facing the creature with nothing more than a Glock nine. Through her senses, he could feel the heat and sizzle of his Nightkeeper magic, which she shouldn’t have been able to sense. And through both of their eyes, he saw the hellhound gathering for a leap.
“Now!” she shouted, or maybe he did. It didn’t matter as he launched the fireball with a tremendous heave, straight at the onrushing creature.
Boom! Magic detonated on impact, wreathing the beast in flames. The hellhound screeched and reared up, snapping. But this time the fire raged higher and hotter as Sven poured more magic into the fireball, keeping the attack going. “Die, damn you!”
The magic kept coming and coming—from him, from her, from the greater power they somehow made together. He didn’t question it; he used it, searing the beast, charring it. On one level there was dull horror and the too-familiar stench of burning flesh. On another, he knew only that he had to protect Cara and the humans below. Nothing else mattered… and if deep down inside he put her ahead of the masses, and went against the writs in doing so, he was fucking fine with that.
The creature struggled horribly, resisting death with keening cries until it finally collapsed with a shudder. Still, he kept it burning, holding on to the magic while lightning lit the night sky, and the wind whipped around them, pitching the huge ship from side to side. He burned the beast to cinders, but before he could call it done, the noise of the storm changed, rising to the scream of an unrushing funnel cloud.
“Hang on!” He grabbed Cara and shielded them both, but the twister didn’t head for them. It went for the creature’s ashes instead, sucking them off the deck and back up into the storm. The wind howled and lightning flickered, but even as the answering rumble of thunder trailed off, the storm was breaking up, dissipating.
Between one eye blink and the next, it vanished, leaving no sign of disturbance save for a slow roll beneath their feet and a rising clamor coming up from the decks below.
“Gods.
” Cara let out a shuddering breath. “The creature got stronger.”
“Yeah, but so did we.” And it was only just beginning to hit him how much stronger they had gotten together… and what it meant.
She looked at him then, and her eyes held a gleam that stirred his already stirred-up blood even more. But before she said anything more, shouts sounded from the staircase just as his armband pinged, doubly interrupting.
“I’ll stall,” she said. “You answer.”
Without waiting for his nod, she stashed her gun in her bag and ran to the stairwell with a cry of, “Did you see that? What’s happening?” Her tone notched up with each question, ending on a wail of, “Are we sinking?” That stalled the human tide that had rushed up thinking there was something going on up on the observation deck. Her near-sobs of “There’s a fire? Where?” and “Oh, God, are there enough lifeboats? Sven, for the love of all that’s holy, stop trying to upload that to YouTube and come on!” completed the turnaround.
Most of the looky-loos headed back down, while a few stalwart souls—all male, big surprise—stuck around to calm her down and shoot him dirty looks.
“You there?” Dez said the moment Sven answered the phone. “What the hell is going on? The skull arrived hotter than hell, and with a blast of magic like I’ve never felt before. And then your dog went nuts.”
“He’s not— Shit, never mind. Here’s the deal.” Sven rattled off a quick rundown of the attack, ending with, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but there’s got to be some connection between the storms, the creature, and Cara.”
“And between the two of you.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to make a big deal about that yet, though. Not until he and Cara had a chance to talk about it. It might not make any difference, really.
Or it might change everything.
“You want us to try a midocean pickup?”
“No, don’t risk it.” When Cara called his name, Sven looked over and saw her and a couple of cruise employees waiting by the stairs. “I’ve got to go. They’re sending us all to our cabins while they turn the boat around and head in. If we disappear now, there’ll be questions.”
Magic Unchained Page 26
