So, saying nothing, she accepted the warmth along with the magic, and crossed the last few feet that brought her into the hellhound’s range. Coal red eyes watched her approach, but the huge beast didn’t move.
Lightning flickered, though, followed by a growl of thunder.
“You came looking for me,” she reminded the beast. “Well… I’m here. I don’t know what you want from me. But whatever it is, you can have it.”
“Cara…”
She ignored Sven’s warning growl and, with his magic inside her and his blood-link making her feel like she could do anything, be anything, she held out her hand and opened her fingers to let the blood trickle free.
The beast moved like a striking snake, snapping its jaws to trap her hand in its massive teeth. She screamed in shock, but when Sven and Mac both surged forward, she said, “No! It’s okay. It’s…” She trailed off as the huge animal’s tongue swiped her palm and new heat seared through her, new magic.
“Holy shit,” Sven said, and looped an arm around her waist to support her when she sagged. “What is this? What the fuck is this?”
She didn’t know, couldn’t have told him if she did, because suddenly the creature reared back on its haunches and let out an earsplitting howl that drove her back and into his arms. She didn’t want to cling, but she could only watch in terrified awe as fresh lightning split the sky, thunder pealed, and the clouds erupted, fragmenting into a dozen vapor trails. Twenty. Forty.
The cloudy shadows spun momentarily and then plummeted straight for the dome and then through, not deterred by the shield or the Nightkeepers’ spells.
“Incoming!” Sebastian bellowed, and raised his machine gun.
“No!” Cara shouted, surging toward him even knowing she would be too late to stop it. “Hold your fire!” For a nanosecond his decision hung in the balance as a vapor trail beelined straight for him. He glanced at her. Didn’t fire.
And the mist slammed into him and disappeared.
Sebastian yelled and staggered back, clutching his chest, then his forearm. “Son of a—” was all he got out before the fog erupted once more, streaming from where his fingers covered his bloodline mark. But it wasn’t the same fog that had gone into him: As it emerged, it stretched and lengthened, growing wings and a body, gaining dark substance and form and a set of razor-sharp claws and a wickedly hooked beak.
The shadow creature—it was still a shadow, translucent despite the visible detail—flapped up and hovered above him while his face blanked with shock. “What? Who?”
“Whoo!” The huge owl was more streamlined than its real-world counterparts, with long, powerful legs and wings that cut through the air like scythe blades.
“Jesus, gods,” Cara whispered, flashing back on the day of the funeral, when Sebastian had been nearly suicidal over having been marked by the magic. “It’s his bloodline totem. The owl is his totem.”
“The others too,” Sven said, voice hushed.
She started to push away from him, but then her eyes went past Sebastian. And she froze at the sight of shadow creatures everywhere—felines, foxes, monkeys, reptiles, peccaries, and more. There was a totem shadow for each of the winikin, all bigger, stronger, and meaner-looking than their native cousins. The winikin themselves looked stronger and meaner too, as if they had been lit by a new inner power. And as they connected with their creatures, their shadow-familiars, their faces lit with fierce joy.
Magic, she thought, awestruck.
Shaking now, she turned back to the hellhound—so much bigger than the sleek coyote it had masqueraded as. The beast wasn’t crouched down anymore; she was standing, her attention going from Cara to the outer perimeter and back again. Her body was quivering too, though with eagerness rather than shock, and a low whine sounded at the back of her throat.
Cara knew that sound from Mac. It meant, Let me at ’em!
Her pulse notched up. “Can you fight the camazotz?”
Enemy! Fight! Fightkillfight! The thought-glyphs came rapid-fire, almost unintelligible.
“Did you get that?” Sven asked.
“I got it,” she said softly. She kept hold of his hand even though she didn’t need the blood-link anymore—she could feel the magic inside her—but she let herself cling, just that tiny bit, as she approached the huge creature, reached up a hand, and stroked a massive shoulder. The female’s fur was thick and coarse, and smelled of open skies and mossy hollows.
You’re mine, she thought, and her throat closed when she got a wash of love, support, and acceptance in return.
“Cara!” It was Dez, his voice ragged. “Can they help?”
The winikin had gathered at the center of the dome, each with a huge shadow-animal nearby. Some lay prone or stood at attention; others flew in tight circles near the top of the shield, screeching battle cries.
At the sight, Sven hissed out a breath. “The cave painting.”
She nodded, heart going thudda-thudda in her chest. “The coyote is their leader. That’s what the painting means. She’s in charge.”
“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “You are.”
Pitching her voice to carry, she called to the others, “What do you think? Can we fight the camazotz now?”
There was a ragged chorus of assent, one that strengthened at its tail end.
“I can’t hear you. Can we fight now?”
The chorus got deeper, stronger. “Yes.”
“Can we kick ass now?”
“Yes!”
Her pulse was drumming, her palms going sweaty. Don’t overreach, she told herself. Don’t sacrifice anyone to make a point. But her instincts said this was it; this was right. This was what she’d been brought here to do. “Our king has asked us to defend this place. Will you do it?”
It was a risk, but a calculated one, and it was rewarded with a resounding, “Yes!”
Grinning, Cara stripped off Natalie’s wristband and tossed it to her. Then she pulled her combat knife, held it in the air, and shouted, “Then let’s drop the shield and clear out the vermin!”
A huge shout rose up, coming from winikin and magi alike. Then the shield came down, and all hell broke loose.
Cara’s hound bolted away from her, roaring a challenge, and the shadow-animals leaped to follow.
The camazotz screeched their unearthly cries and took to the air as the horde descended, leaving the lower-slung animals to howl in protest. Soon, though, they had work to do, as the airborne totems went to work shredding wing sails and sending the demons crashing to the ground. Or, like Cara’s beast, leaping high in the air and snatching a bat demon midflight, then crunching and dropping it before lunging after another. Mac was right in the middle of the melee too, slashing at hamstrings and leaving the demons crippled and howling.
They would regenerate, though.
“Come on!” Sven tugged at Cara’s hand, but she was already in motion, knife at the ready. She reached for her wristband, but he waved her off.
“I’ve got us covered.” A shield spell—sleek and flexible, and like nothing she’d ever seen before—appeared in the air around her, molding to her body and creating lightweight, nearly invisible armor.
“Impressive.” She hid the pinch of sadness. “I guess when your magic came back, it came all the way and then some.”
He nodded. “I just needed to figure out my real priorities.”
It hurt to know she wasn’t one of those priorities, but she lunged into the fray, puffing one camazotz and then another to dust. The others had fanned out and were doing the same, working in twos and threes, often with winikin and magi mixed without issue, all watching one another’s backs while the shadow-familiars knocked down their enemies.
“Look out!” Sven yanked her out of the way as a quick healer leaped up and made a grab for her. He launched a fireball that was so bright she had to close her eyes, then dispatched the thing with grim efficiency. When it was gone, he shot her a look she couldn’t interpret.
“Sorry,” she
said. “And thanks.”
There were other live ones, other close calls, but they worked their way through the slaughter, which was made far less macabre by the fact that the ichor vanished when the camazotz did. And all the while, she was aware of her creature—lithe and beautiful, violent and deadly—staying connected to her as the enemy ranks thinned, and—
“Incoming!” Sebastian bellowed as the opacity blocking the tunnel bulged and tore for a third time, letting more camazotz into the space. But they weren’t like the others—these ones wore armor, and they had a plan.
Fast and fresh, they dodged the shadow-familiars and zeroed in on the Nightkeepers. Time seemed to slow for a second as Cara saw three of them catch sight of Sven and make a dive for him. She screamed and turned back, but she was farther away than she had realized, and the camazotz were lightning-fast.
“No!” She cried as the first one swooped down, unfurled its claws, and—
The hellhound appeared as if from nowhere and snatched it from the sky. Then she spit it out and grabbed the others. With the third still dangling from her jaws like a chew toy, she spun and bolted for the tunnel and the oily blackness of the torn barrier. Bat demons were still flowing out like water, and the opening was a nasty churn of shadows.
Stop enemies! The thought-glyphs appeared in Cara’s mind, but it took her a second to translate, another to understand.
She surged toward the tunnel entrance. “No! Come back!”
“Cara, wait!” Sven caught her arm and dragged her back, launching a fireball in the same move and toasting the camazotz that had been aiming right for her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Come back!” she cried again, her voice breaking on a sob, but the hound didn’t hesitate. She gathered herself and launched straight into the roiling blackness of the tunnel mouth.
And disappeared.
“NO!” Cara pulled against Sven’s grip, then clutched at him when the stone surface beneath their feet began to vibrate. The rattlesnake noise slashed through the space, growing louder and louder still.
“Cover your eyes!” he shouted, and pulled her into his arms and shielded them both just as the tunnel detonated with a huge roar of rock and dark magic.
Power blasted them, and shrapnel slammed into the shield. Cara clung to Sven, burying her face in his chest and trying to block out the sound of her familiar’s demise, her sacrifice. “No.” She didn’t weep, not now. But she would. She might have known the creature for only a short time, but without realizing it, she’d been missing that part of herself for most of her life.
The noise died down, then faded to silence. She stayed pressed into him, though, not wanting to open her eyes and have it be time to move on.
“Cara.” He eased her away. “Look. Look at what you’ve done.”
She glanced around. The camazotz were all gone, vanished like they’d never been there. But they had left a disaster area in the wake of the fight. The beautiful cave was a shambles: The white sands were bloody red in places, warning that there had been injuries, maybe even more deaths than just Breece. The water was muddy, the tunnel a rubble-filled nonentity, and even the pretty green vines hanging down from above had burned, going withered and brown. “What a mess.”
“No.” Sven pointed to the others. “Look at them.”
The others were picking themselves up and dusting off, talking in low tones. Nightkeeper, winikin, human… it didn’t seem to matter anymore. There were handshakes and backslaps, and places where Nightkeepers had shielded winikin, and vice versa. And the shadow-creatures watched over it all, protecting the protectors.
A lump of emotion balled up in her throat. “We did it,” she whispered past the tightness. “We won… and we did it as a team.”
“You did it.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You and your magic.”
She sighed and let herself lean into him for one last moment, closing her eyes and savoring his solid strength, his kindness, his… Shit. Don’t think about it.
But if she couldn’t think about Sven and she wasn’t yet ready to think about the familiar she’d lost, what could she think about?
Whatever comes next, she decided. She would put one foot in front of the other, and not think about how she’d lost her man and her dog, and was one pickup truck short of a flipping country song.
Pulling away, she swiped at her eyes, took a deep breath, and faced Sven. “Well, I guess—”
Trapped!
The word was faint and pained, but she heard it loud and clear. And Mac must have too, because he let out a howl and bolted across the cavern to the tunnel. He sniffed and searched, racing from side to side and up the precarious rock slide, then gave an excited bark and looked back at Cara.
Heart kicking, she started toward him.
“Wait,” Sven said from behind her. “Let me.”
He must’ve sent some silent command, because Mac jumped down and sat on his haunches nearby, watching expectantly. Then warmth washed through her as Sven tapped into his magic. And the rocks began to move.
Huge gray slabs eased aside, boulders levered up, and smaller chunks floated as if on ghost wings while Cara stared in awe at the magic he could make.
“There!” Sven said. “I see her. Stay here.” Without leaving room for discussion, he climbed up the rock slide and ducked into the hole he’d made.
Frowning, Cara started to follow. “What are you…” She trailed off as he straightened and turned to her, carrying a dark-haired, normal-size coyote. “Oh.” Her heart beat off rhythm as he carried his precious cargo down the slippery slope. “Be careful!”
“She’ll need to see Sasha,” he called, and got an, “On my way,” from the healer. When he reached Cara, he nudged her back to a soft spot in the sand, and knelt to lay the coyote at her feet. And when she crouched down and cautiously touched the sable fur, she got a wash of love and support in return, along with a sighed thought-glyph of, Found.
Yes. She was found, all right. And she hadn’t even known she was missing until now.
“She’ll be okay,” Sven said, looking at her across the coyote’s furry bulk with eyes that seemed to be conveying a silent message she didn’t understand. “I think she’s mostly bruised and shaken up.”
“She’s not the only one.” It was amazing how quickly things could change, she thought, and turned to Mac, who sat nearby. She threw her arms around the bigger coyote’s ruff and buried her face in his dusty fur, choking out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you. I owe both of you.”
“No owesies,” Sven said. “He loves you. He’d do anything for you.” He paused. “And so would I. Because I love you too.”
And just like that, everything changed again.
Stomach lurching, she let go of Mac and shot to her feet, hands balling to fists. “No,” she said quickly. “You don’t. That’s adrenaline talking.”
“No, it’s me talking. I love you,” he said, loud enough that the low murmur of conversation cut out and they became the center of attention.
A flush climbed up her throat and heated her face, even as she wanted to weep. “Adding volume doesn’t make it true.” Softening her voice, she added, “Let it go, okay? Just… let it go.” Because if he didn’t, she was badly afraid she would do something really stupid. Like give him yet another chance.
“I can’t let it go, because I love you. And I know how to prove it.” There was something very determined in his eyes all of a sudden; the look brought a tremor of nerves and a quick, frantic thought that this was real. This was different.
But she’d thought that before, hadn’t she?
She swallowed hard. “What proof? More promises that you’ll take back when they get inconvenient?”
“Not exactly.” Expression resolute, he reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and dropped down on one knee.
And all Cara could think was, Oh, hell, no.
For all that her inner seventeen-year-old—and maybe even parts of the woman that teenage
r had grown into—wanted to squeal, the rest of her, the smarter majority vote inside her, knew that this wasn’t the right answer for either of them.
“Don’t…” she began, but then trailed off and stared, shocked, at the piece of paper he was unfolding. Or not paper, really. An index card filled with Carlos’s cramped writing done in pencil.
It was the aj winikin spell.
Cara gulped as Sven met her eyes. And started to read. “No. Stop.” She took a step toward him. “Don’t.”
He didn’t falter, just kept reading. Tension snapped into the air; she recognized it from when she got her mark, back beneath the wide-open Montana sky. It was the winikin magic. The servant’s spell.
“Seriously, stop. I don’t…”
He kept reading, but his eyes flicked to hers.
Panic gripped her. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t! The king, the other Nightkeepers, her father… Gods. But he wouldn’t stop. How could she… Then she knew. She hated it, but she knew how to make him stop. He was nearing the end and she was running out of time.
Planting herself squarely in front of him, she raised her voice to carry over the spell and said, “I don’t love you.”
He flinched. But he kept reading to the end of the card, and then locked his eyes with hers when, like magic—because that was what it was—a new mark appeared on his forearm: the image of a hand cupping the face of a sleeping child.
Cara looked down at her own wrist, where she wore the single coyote glyph with the double dot. “I don’t feel any different.”
“That’s because it’s a one-way street. It’s my promise to you that I’ll protect you, care for you, support you, and be there for you from now on. Period.” He caught her hands and stood, and she suddenly realized they were back where their affair began, standing in the middle of Che’en Yaaxil, holding hands.
Only this time it was real. His commitment was real.
Her eyes flooded and she gripped his hands tightly. “I lied.”
His shoulders eased. “About which part?”
“The part where I said I don’t feel any different.” She closed the distance between them. “I do feel different.”
Magic Unchained n-7 Page 35
