Spellfire

by Jessica Andersen

Holy shit. Had he somehow transferred his barrier connection when he traded his life for hers, linking their energies and giving her some of his magic?

  Impossible.

  “Not. One. More. Step.” Her eyes were hard now, implacable. “In fact, how about you just back the fuck off?”

  He started to say something—anything—but then she pushed up her right sleeve and the air vacated his lungs with a quick sayonara at the sight of four marks in stark black on her forearm: the warrior, the fire starter, the telekyne and the mind-bender.

  They were Nightkeeper marks.

  More, they were his marks. All of them, save for the dark-magic trefoil.

  “Holy shit, Myr,” he blurted, forgetting himself, forgetting the situation in the sheer impossibility of it all. “You got my magic!”

  * * *

  Myrinne hated how her nickname came out differently in his voice somehow, becoming more important, more intimate than it should’ve been. Hell, everything was too important and intimate all of a sudden, because—damn it—the magic had reached out to him. And now, even though she’d cut the connection, she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him and feeling an unwanted pang.

  He was filthy and ragged, his hair grown out from its usual buzzed Mohawk to punkish spikes. The magic had healed him and kept his broad frame covered with a warrior’s muscles, but whip marks formed an X on his bare chest, as if a single arm had wielded the lash in an unvarying pattern. His back was even worse. More, the deep creases beside his mouth and the haunted strain in his pale blue eyes said that he had suffered over the past two months, and badly.

  Part of her—dark and vindictive—whispered, Good, I’m glad. But the rest of her knew there was nothing good about any of this.

  She wanted to tell him to fuck off, wanted to walk away. Unfortunately, she knew damn well that the magic was going to force her to deal with him. More, she didn’t want the others to see her wimp out. So, keeping her voice level, she steeled herself and said, “After you disappeared, I was unconscious for almost three days. When I woke up, I was wearing the marks and hearing voices in my head, reading minds.” It had been terrifying, yet illuminating, as if a whole new world was opening up in front of her. “The other talents came online soon after. Our best guess is that the gods wanted to keep the crossover’s magic with the Nightkeepers, and somehow managed to shunt the power into me when you went bad.”

  The new lines beside his mouth deepened, but whatever pain she’d just caused him wasn’t nearly enough payback. He had accused her of spying for the demons when he was the one being influenced, and he had nearly offered her up to them as a sacrifice. Bastard, she thought grimly, because while he’d believed her in the end, saved her in the end, she’d had to let him into her mind to prove her innocence.

  Having him see so deeply inside her had been bad—a tearing, rending invasion by the man she had loved. Worse, the mind-bending had stirred up old, unwanted memories—of watching tourists out on the street or from a small, cold closet adjoining the teashop, listening for details the Witch could use in her “readings,” knowing she would be beaten if she failed. You’re gone, she had told the Witch’s memory, over and over again. You’re nothing to me now. But then again, she’d told herself the same thing about Rabbit, yet here he was. And the painful thud of her heart against her ribs said that whatever he was to her now, it was far from nothing.

  “Anyway,” she said, making herself keep going. “After some experimenting, we discovered that I needed to use the accessories of my ‘magic’ to channel the power.” She bracketed the word with finger quotes, because he’d never really taken her Wiccan-style rituals seriously. None of them had, until she’d gone out to meditate in the cacao grove and nearly started a forest fire. After that, things had gotten seriously shaky for a few days, with her trying to adjust to the idea of suddenly being a mage while the others waited to see if she’d inherited Rabbit’s problems along with his magic.

  Dez had been the first one to really stand up for her, believe in her. Guilt tugging, she shot a look at the king. “I’m sorry I bolted. I just needed . . . I don’t know. Distance.” Yet the very person she’d needed to escape from was standing a few feet away, looking at her as if she’d just sprouted wings.

  Or stolen his magic.

  The muscles in Rabbit’s throat worked as he swallowed. Then, voice hoarse, he said, “I haven’t been able to use my powers since I left Skywatch . . . and now they’re gone again.”

  Dez’s eyes went from her to Rabbit and back again. She didn’t know how much the others had witnessed, how much they had guessed. Hell, she didn’t want to admit to any of it . . . but with only a few weeks left in the countdown, there was no time for secrets. “The magic reached out to you.” She rubbed her inner wrist, where the marks ached, though that had to be the power of suggestion.

  “And now?” It was Dez asking.

  “I’m blocking the link. The connection caught me by surprise just now. That won’t happen again.”

  With a gesture from her ash wand, she killed the shield spell around Rabbit. It had mostly been a symbol anyway, a sort of in-your-face “look what I can do now.”

  Apparently taking that as an invitation, he closed the distance between them with three long strides, in a move that had several of the magi bristling. She shot them an it’s okay look, even though it was far from okay. But if she was going to have to deal with Rabbit, they might as well get this reunion over with. Better to do it in public, too. That way there wouldn’t be any sidelong looks, any pity.

  Or less of it, anyway.

  As he squared off opposite her, she told herself she was imagining that she could feel his body heat. There was no mistaking the reek of sweat and blood, though. The stink of captivity brought a pang, but she refused to give in to it. She glared at him instead. “Well? What have you got to say for yourself?”

  “I think the real question is ‘Where the fuck do I start?’”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Myr’s chest tightened at Rabbit’s question, because it didn’t have an answer, not really. There was no way he could make up for what he’d done—not in the time they had left. And after that it wouldn’t matter; they’d either all be dead, the earth enslaved by the Banol Kax, or the world would be saved and they would all go their separate ways.

  Forcing herself to breathe past the sudden lump in her throat, she said, “Red-Boar explained what happened with the stones and the demoness, so we can just take it as a ‘yeah-I-know’ and move on, I guess.”

  That had been how she and Rabbit had sometimes ended their fights. The shorthand had allowed them to walk away from the dispute without really settling it, because it could mean anything from “this is stupid and I don’t want to fight anymore” to “I’m sorry, I love you and I won’t ever do it again.” It didn’t matter, as long as the other person’s expected response would be: “Yeah, I know.” It had gotten them out of a few of their more serious fights—over her rituals, his secrecy, her ambition. And it would work now, not because it would really solve anything, but because they didn’t need to solve anything. They just needed to find a way to tolerate each other for the next three weeks.

  But Rabbit shook his head, expression set. “That’s not good enough. Not anymore. Maybe it never should’ve been.”

  Nerves tugged at the knowledge that he was talking about their last few months together, when things between them had been strained even before the demoness made contact. “You don’t have to—”

  “Yeah. I really do.” He reached out and took her hand.

  “Hey!” She yanked away.

  “Please.” He held out his hand, palm up to show both his forearm marks and his sacrificial scars.

  “If you say ‘trust me’ I’m going to kick you where it hurts.” She was bluffing, though, trying to stay angry when she was suddenly all too aware of the new scars on his chest, arms and back. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, didn’t want to feel anything for him.

&nb
sp; He shook his head. “I don’t want you to trust me. I want you to read me.”

  “You . . . Oh.” The mind-bender’s talent was the ultimate human lie detector, after all.

  “You don’t have to do it,” Dez said when she hesitated.

  That decided it for her. “I’ll do it,” she said, reaching for him. She was determined to stand on her own and be a teammate that the others could rely on. She shuddered inwardly, though, when his fingers closed around hers, firm and warm.

  He placed her hand flat against his chest, then covered it with his own. “Look inside me,” he ordered. “Believe me.”

  She was acutely aware of the ridged scars beneath her palm, the steady beat of his heart beneath that. Through the mind-bender’s magic she could feel his urgency and forthrightness, along with a deep, pained exhaustion. She didn’t open herself any further to the magic, though; she really didn’t want to know what lay beneath that, and she sure as hell didn’t want to read his mind or experience his memories. Her own were bad enough.

  So, blocking all but the surface emotions, she nodded, “Go ahead.”

  “It’s not enough to say I’m sorry, not even close.” His voice vibrated beneath her palm. “But, I am sorry, Myr. I’m so fucking sorry for what I did to you. I’ve spent the past two months going over and over it again in my head, torturing myself with it, but in the end there isn’t really anything more I can say except that I’m sorry.”

  The apology resonated, though.

  Don’t, she told herself. Don’t trust him. Don’t believe in him. Don’t let yourself rely on him, lose yourself in him. Because that had been the worst of it, really. It hadn’t been until he was gone, until she had healed, that she stepped back and realized that she had gotten so involved in being the crossover’s girlfriend, she had stopped trying to be herself.

  Pulling her hand away, she took a big step back, until she couldn’t feel his body heat anymore. “Apology accepted.”

  His pale blue eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”

  “You’re not the only Nightkeeper to do shitty things under the influence, and now that I’ve experienced the magic firsthand, I get how powerfully it can affect the user. And like it or not, we’ve got more important things to worry about right now.”

  The brave words rang hollow inside her, though, because it really, really sucked to realize it was the truth. Once upon a time she would’ve bloodied anybody who’d dared to imply that her and Rabbit’s relationship wasn’t the number one most important thing in the universe . . . but that relationship didn’t exist anymore. And, really, how much did a lover—or an ex—matter when they were facing the end of the world?

  “So that’s it?” he said. “We’re done?”

  “What did you expect?” snapped, suddenly very aware that they weren’t alone.

  “I never expected to see you again. I thought I was going to die in that cave.”

  Her heart twisted. “Damn it, Rabbit.”

  “Sorry.” He cursed under his breath. “Sorry. I’m the bad guy here, not you. Never you.” He squared his shoulders. “Okay. That’s it, then. I guess I’ll need your help with the magic. Other than that . . . well, I’ll stay out of your way.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” They stood there for a moment that probably seemed longer than it really was. A dull headache thudded as adrenaline drained. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said softly, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it back.”

  And she was, really. The anticipation had been worse than the actual event. Sort of.

  “Thanks. And Myr?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you were the one who got my magic. Of anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

  She just nodded, doing her damnedest to hold it together. He was really her ex now; it was really over. Which shouldn’t have hurt but somehow still did, warning that some part of her had hoped, deep down inside, that when Red-Boar found him he’d be the old Rabbit, quirky and unexpected, and so thoroughly in love with her that he made her feel like she could do anything.

  Thing was, she didn’t need a lover to be strong. More, the man standing opposite her wasn’t the guy she’d been in love with . . . but he also wasn’t the angry, strung-out stranger he’d been at the end. He was both of those men and neither of them, a grim, scarred version with stark, honest eyes that had new shadows, new secrets. She didn’t know this Rabbit, didn’t know how to deal with him.

  Just walk away, she told herself. Be smart this time, and just walk the hell away. And, forcing her feet to move, she did exactly that.

  * * *

  Rabbit hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. But in his deepest, most secret fantasies—the ones he hadn’t even really admitted to himself—he’d never pictured her walking away from him.

  She still cared—he’d seen it in her face, along with the shadows that said she didn’t want to care. Which meant . . . shit, he didn’t know what it meant, but he knew he didn’t want to leave it like this. Couldn’t. He went after her, boots digging into the soft sand outside the ruin as she headed for the bogged-down Jeep.

  But the moment he started down the incline, Red-Boar came out behind him and grated, “Hold it right there.” And the bastard backed it up with a shield spell that he cast like a damn cage.

  Rabbit banged off the invisible wall, cursed, and spun back toward his old man. “Stay out of this,” he warned. “It’s none of your damned business.”

  Red-Boar was alone; the others hadn’t followed, though Rabbit didn’t know what that meant. His old man cast a long enough shadow as it was, as he strode to where the shield enclosed Rabbit, then leaned in close to growl, “It’s entirely my damned business. The gods sent me back to make sure you do your duty, and that doesn’t have fuck-all to do with patching things up with your girlfriend.”

  Rabbit’s jaw locked. “We were mates.”

  His father shot a pointed look at his forearm, which was bare of the jun tan mark. “Listen up, boy, and listen good. We’re both here by the gods’ graces, and for only one reason: To figure out what the hell you’re supposed to do that’s going to tip the balance of the war, and then make sure you fucking do it. So you need to focus on what’s important, and she’s not it.”

  Which meant Red-Boar didn’t know dick about the crossover’s supposed powers. “She’s got my magic.”

  “Lucius will find a way to fix that,” Red-Boar said, flicking his fingers to dismiss the detail, and Myrinne.

  “Do you dislike her because she’s human, because she’s got access to boar magic, or because she was mine?”

  “Me? You’re the one who thought she was a spy.” The old man’s eyes narrowed. “She’s always wanted power, after all. Now that she’s got it, she doesn’t want anything to do with you. Funny how that worked.”

  “Get. The fuck. Out. Of. My head,” Rabbit said grimly, spacing the words between his teeth. In his peripheral vision, he saw Myrinne use her wand to telekinetically ease the Jeep back onto its tires and roll it up to the road.

  “You want her, even love her, but you don’t trust her all the way when it comes to the magic,” Red-Boar said, digging in. “She’s always been attracted to it, always wanted it, even when getting it conflicted with the writs and your king’s orders. But she’s a hot piece of tail, and damn good at leading you around by your dick, so you followed wherever she led. At least until the end.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The Jeep’s engine fired up, grit spurted from beneath the tires, and Myrinne wheeled off, headed back in the direction of Skywatch and catching air on the first big bump. She went too fast when she was upset, he knew. And also when she was pissed. When she was happy. Pretty much any other time, too. She was a high-octane, life-in-the-fast-lane woman, and there was nothing wrong with that.

  It didn’t make her a spy or the enemy; it just made her who she was.

  Red-Boar stepped up beside him to watch the Jeep speed away. Changing tactics, he said q
uietly, like they were man-to-man and he gave a shit, “You should leave her alone. You’ve done enough damage.”

  And the hell of it was, he was right about that one. Maybe she’d healed up stronger than ever, but that didn’t make up for what he’d done.

  So he watched her go, and kept watching until the dust cloud disappeared. Then, exhaling, he turned back to Red-Boar, aware that the shield spell was gone and the others had ’ported away, leaving the two of them alone. “What do you want from me?”

  “The same thing I’ve always wanted: for you to get your head out of your ass and behave.”

  “According to whose rules? Yours?”

  Red-Boar made a disgusted noise. “Just follow Dez’s orders, and when we figure out what the crossover is supposed to do, like I said, just fucking do it.”

  Rabbit wanted to argue, but couldn’t really. The messenger didn’t matter so much as the message. He glanced back along the road, where the kicked-up dust had turned to a faint haze. “Phee showed me a vision of you and her living together in the rain forest.”

  “Lies,” Red-Boar said flatly. “All of it.”

  “Fine.” Rabbit rounded on him. “Then you tell me. Who was my mother? How did you end up with her? And why the fuck didn’t you leave me in the highlands if you hated me so much?”

  Red-Boar spat in the dust near his feet. “Leave it alone, boy. The past doesn’t matter worth shit. This is one of the few times that what has happened before won’t happen again.”

  “But—”

  “Enough!” Red-Boar’s sudden bellow reverberated off the nearby ruin and sent a sand-colored lizard scuttling for cover. Lowering his voice to a growl, he said, “Get this through your thick fucking skull, boy. You don’t get to make demands here. If you want to get your ass back on the team, you’ll do as you’re fucking told. More, you’ll promise it on your soul. Remember, rescuing you was just the first part of my job. The second is to get you to swear an oath . . . not to the king—that’s not worth shit with you and we both know it. No, I’ve got a spell that’ll bind you to the eldest member of the boar bloodline . . . which means I’ll have your ass. I’ll control you.” He leaned in. “I’ll fucking own you.”