Spellfire

by Jessica Andersen

  Something eased inside her. “Right here?”

  His eyes lit and he smiled a slow, sexy grin. “Actually, darlin’, I don’t give a shit where, as long as it’s with me.”

  They were both smiling when he cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.

  His lips were warm and firm, his beard-shadow a bristly, masculine contrast as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue invaded, and heat pooled low in her belly. Anna leaned in, opened to him, and breathed the softest of moans.

  How long had it been since she’d been kissed? Had she ever been kissed like this? She didn’t think so, didn’t remember this kind of hunger, this kind of combustion. She caught his wrists, not to pull him away, but to hold him close. His pulse thudded beneath her thumbs, bringing an electrical charge that flared from him to her and back again. There was magic in the moment and the man, she thought, but of the purely human variety. And she was very okay with that.

  He eased the kiss, still cupping her face as he pulled back to take a long look around the room, as if suddenly seeing where she had hidden behind the shield, or the fading sparkle of magic in the air. “Seriously, though. What happened here?”

  “What if I say that I’ll tell you the whole story one day?” she said, and was surprised not to feel the slightest twinge from her conscience.

  She hadn’t ever told Dick the truth, hadn’t even considered it. And maybe that had been part of their problem, because as much as she had wanted to be truly human, it had been a lie. Now, though . . . yeah. Now, she thought she could talk about her childhood, the massacre, the magic, the war, all of it. And she thought David would believe it, even understand. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before, not like anyone she could’ve imagined meeting.

  “Okay, I’ll take that.” His grin was a lightning flash of perfect teeth. “No rush, by the way. We’ve got time.” He paused, searching her eyes. “Right?”

  “Yes, we do.” Her smile felt like it lit her from within. “In fact, as of today, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

  * * *

  December 22

  Skywatch

  Myr came awake feeling warm, fuzzy, a little headachy, a lot dizzy, and so damn comfortable cuddled up with Rabbit on a wide, squishy couch that she didn’t ever want to move. But at the same time, there was a part of her that was buzzing with excitement and anticipation, telling her that something wonderful was coming, or had already arrived.

  Snuggling in, she cracked an eyelid, and for a moment thought she was still dreaming, or that she’d gone back to college or something. That was the last time she’d awakened borderline hungover, to the sight of a battlefield of a living room strewn with empties, plates, cups, streamers and other unidentifiables—and, hello, was that a blow-up doll in the corner?—along with bodies of both sexes lying asleep in a variety of positions ranging from comfortable to “oh, hell, that’s gonna hurt when he wakes up.”

  But as she came all the way back to consciousness, she recognized the bodies and the room, and knew this wasn’t college. It was Skywatch . . . and it was the Day After.

  “Holy crap.” Her voice cracked. “We saved the world.”

  “Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Rabbit’s voice rumbled in her ear and his lips cruised the back of her neck. “And we capped it off with a hell of a party. Really wrecked this place.” His hand shifted from her hip to her stomach, where he spread his fingers and pressed, pulling her back against him so she could feel his morning wood through several layers of clothing. “Got a party going on in here, too.”

  A laugh bubbled up. “Classy.”

  “That’s me, baby. Classy, elegant and all yours.”

  She turned in his arms, rearranged her legs to dovetail intimately with his, and grinned into his sleep-fuzzed, beautiful, beloved face. “Yeah, you are. And I’m not gonna let you forget it again.”

  “Won’t happen.” His hand had migrated to her ass, and urged her close as his lips found her cheek, her ear. “I’m yours, Myr, and you’re mine.” And there was nothing sleep-fuzzed about the look in his eyes as he drew her in for a kiss that heated her blood and made her head spin in a very different way.

  “Love you,” she whispered against his lips, not afraid to say it now. Not afraid to feel it.

  “Love you back, Myr. Love you back.”

  “Hey, you two, get a freaking room,” called a voice from the other side of the sofa, down by the vicinity of the floor. “Trying to slip into a coma here.”

  Rabbit chuckled. “Sorry, Kev. Hey, that your doll over there?”

  “Bite me.” But there was a laugh in the winikin’s party-roughened voice.

  Heavy, shuffling footsteps sounded from the direction of the kitchen, and Strike called. “Coffee?”

  “Are you asking if we want some or if we’ll make you some?” Rabbit retorted. “That would be ‘yes’ and ‘no’, respectively, by the way. Black for me, warmed-over coffee ice cream–style for Myr.”

  “Lots of cream, lots of sugar. Got it.”

  As the smell of brewing coffee spread across the great room, the bodies started coming back to life. Rabbit and Myrinne got vertical and cuddled on the couch, not in any real hurry to do anything, even make pancakes. Some of the partiers grogged off to their beds, while others wandered into the big kitchen and started rummaging for leftovers. Pretty soon, there were a couple of different breakfasts going and a buzz of conversation, heavy on the good-natured ribbing.

  “Feels like Christmas morning a few days early,” Rabbit said. “Or pick the celebration of your choice. It’s that lull after the presents and before the big feast, you know?”

  Myr just nodded, but along with the satisfaction of a job very well done and the deep, warm happiness of being there with him, and knowing they were together for good this time, came a quiet sort of sadness as she looked around the party-blasted great room, and beyond the glass sliders to the tarped-over pool. “Everything’s going to change now. Isn’t it?”

  She had lived here with the Nightkeepers for almost three years. She had trained with them, fought with them, sometimes argued with them, and while she might not have appreciated all of them—or their rules—right off the bat, they had been far more of a family to her than she’d ever had before.

  Rabbit’s arm tightened around her. “We’ll still see each other on the Cardinal Days.”

  The mention brought another stab of regret. She almost didn’t want to try it, didn’t want to know, but she made herself cup her hand, palm up, and whisper, “Pasaj och.”

  There was a faint lift beneath her heart, but there was no magic.

  It was really gone.

  “Not gone,” Rabbit said, as if he could still read her thoughts. He rubbed his roughened cheek on the top of her head. “It’ll still be there if we need it.”

  “And different isn’t bad,” Strike said, setting down their coffees and taking the love seat opposite them with a gusty sigh. “It’s just different.”

  “Being waited on by the former king,” Rabbit said, reaching forward to hand Myr her coffee and then snag his own sludge-black brew. “Now that’s different.”

  Strike grinned. “I’d tell you to bite me, but it sounded like Kev got there first.”

  “He’s just pissed that his little secret floated out last night.” Rabbit nodded in the direction of the blow-up doll, who was deep-throating a beer bottle.

  They kept going like that, in an easy man-cave banter that flowed over Myr, smoothing the sharp edges and reminding her that this was why she didn’t party hard all that often—she got pretty damn melancholy when she was hungover.

  “Look at it this way,” Rabbit said into her ear. “Things could be a hell of a lot worse.”

  That startled a snort out of her. “Understatement of the year.” But she took a deep sip of her coffee, hoping that the sugar and caffeine would give her the kick in the ass she needed. “Sorry. I’m just . . . it’s so weird to think that we’re all going to go our separate ways now, and th
at’s got me feeling . . . I don’t know. Clingy, I guess.”

  “We’re sure as hell not going our separate anything, babe.” Rabbit nipped her ear. “You said you loved me, remember? I’ve got witnesses.”

  She chuckled and poked him in the ticklish spot over his ribs, making him twitch and grab her wrist. The exchange sloshed her coffee, but it made her feel immeasurably better.

  “Call it clingy if you want.” Strike shrugged. “I call it love. Family. And there’s nothing wrong with that—in fact, it’s exactly right as far as I’m concerned.” He was sprawled back in the love seat with his feet up on a detritus-heaped coffee table, but his eyes were suddenly intense. Suddenly those of the one-time king. “You guys know we’re family, right? I don’t care about blood, your parents, or what-the-fuck-ever, Rabbit’s my little brother, and that’s never going to change.”

  “I . . .” Rabbit cleared his throat. “Yeah. Thanks. Love you, man.”

  “Same goes. And being family, I want you to come to me and Leah if you need anything—a place to land, a sounding board, a kick in the ass, whatever.” His eyes flicked to Myr. “You, too, kiddo. You’d be family even if you hadn’t hooked up with this one.” But his grin said he was glad they had worked things out, that they were in it together for the long haul.

  “What does that make her,” Rabbit said in a teasing tone, trying to reassemble his tough-guy image. “An in-law?”

  “I’ve always liked the idea of being an outlaw,” she put in, ignoring the faint, unexpected tug. There would be time to get into the marriage-and-future stuff later. It surprised her a little, though, to realize it was something she wanted with him—something normal and official, and just about the two of them.

  “Family is family,” Strike said, wisely avoiding the topic.

  A sudden burst of noise and energy from the Nightkeepers’ wing brought her eyes around just as Patience and Brandt hustled through the archway, dragging wheeled carry-on suitcases.

  “We’re ready,” Patience announced breathlessly. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes shone with excitement. “We’re leaving.”

  “I suspect they picked up on that,” Brandt said dryly. But he was grinning, looking more relaxed and easy than Myr had ever seen him. To Strike, he said, “I just talked to Jox, confirming everything. He said to say ‘hi’ and that he’ll see you soon, with Hannah, Harry, Braden and the dog all in tow.”

  In other words, the winikin and the twins were fine, and there hadn’t been any unexpected end-date happenings on that end. No doubt the winikin had been equally relieved—if not more so—to learn that the Nightkeepers had made it through without any real casualties except their magic. Which was a worthwhile sacrifice, Myr supposed, even though it was going to take some time to get used to the loss.

  Strike closed his eyes and exhaled a long, relieved breath. “Good, good. I’m . . . that’s good.” Then he cracked one eye. “What dog?”

  For some reason, Brandt’s eyes went to Rabbit and danced with glee before he said, “Long story. Tell you when we get back.”

  “Let’s go, let’s go!” Patience nudged her husband toward the garage. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”

  Amid a chorus of “Good luck,” “Congratulations” and “See you soon,” Patience and Brandt headed off, dragging their luggage and looking like any other couple headed off for a few days away. Well, any other couple made up of two huge, incredibly attractive people who drew the eye and exuded an aura of power. It seemed that Seth had been as good as his word, letting them keep some of their lower-level magic.

  “Damn it’s going to be good to have Jox home,” Strike said with a broad grin.

  “And the rug rats,” Rabbit added, eyes gleaming at the prospect of once more being Unc’ Rabbit.

  When they said it like that, acted like that, Myr finally relaxed all the way, realizing that things at Skywatch weren’t going to break up right away. There were reunions yet to have, plans yet to make. And no matter what else was going on in their lives, they would meet back every three months for the Cardinal Day ceremonies, year after year, generation after generation.

  “Puppies!” a new voice said from up near the kitchen, and Sven shuffled through the archway with his hair standing straight up, wearing nothing but boxers and an utterly disconcerted look.

  “The twins got puppies?” Strike asked.

  Sven frowned. “No clue. But if they don’t, I’ve got some they can have. Eight, in fact. Eight coyote puppies in the back of my freaking closet.” He headed for the coffee like it was the answer to a prayer, muttering to himself, “We didn’t even realize Pearl was preggers. How the hell did she hide that? Why? She was fighting yesterday, for crap’s sake.”

  One of the winikin, Ritchie, looked over from cooking up a mess of eggs. “Why are you in your boxers? Aren’t you cold?”

  “Shit, yeah. But Mac won’t let me near my clothes.” Sven sucked back half his coffee, then looked into the mug. “My own familiar. Sheesh!”

  “You can grab some of my jeans and stuff,” Strike offered. “Just knock. Leah’s hiding out with a book, taking some quiet time.”

  The corner of Sven’s mouth kicked up as he took a look around the room. “Can’t imagine why.” As he headed for Strike and Leah’s quarters, though, Cara came into the kitchen—fully clothed—and he diverted to give her a kiss and offer up his coffee. As she leaned into him and took a sip, he asked, “How are the happy parents? Did you get Mac to cough up a T-shirt or two?”

  She grinned and shot him a sidelong look. “Cut him some slack. He’s her mate, and he’s got to be pretty freaked out right now.”

  “I guess.”

  “Poor guy.” She patted his cheek. “You should borrow something to wear.”

  “So they tell me.” He grinned though, and kissed her again, more thoroughly this time, until Ritchie ordered them both to get their asses out of the kitchen if they wanted to eat any time soon. Still, though, as Sven headed off, he was shaking his head and muttering, “Puppies. Seriously?”

  Rabbit’s low chuckle vibrated through Myrinne, making her smile up at him in answer. He grinned down at her. “I guess the world really didn’t end, after all.”

  “Nope,” she agreed with all the joy that was bursting in her heart. “In fact, it seems like things around here are getting going.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Three months later

  Spring equinox

  Skywatch

  Ninety days after the world didn’t end, the Nightkeepers, the winikin and their human allies met back at the training compound for the Cardinal Day ceremony. It took a while for everyone to get there, since they had to use human-normal transport now. Anna didn’t mind the long, storm-delayed flight or the dusty drive, though. In fact, she thought it was all pretty awesome.

  It was funny how fast things could change.

  Three days ago, she’d been in the Australian outback, eating flaky morsels of fish that she, David and Rosa had cooked on a campfire, simply because they could. The bulk of the meal had been made up of yellowbelly that she and David had landed using native-style handlines from the bank. The tastiest bites, though, had come from the little trout Rosa had caught in the shallows, using a trap she’d dug out with the help of David’s six-year-old nephew. Colin had become a fixture around the cabin, and fast friends with Rosa, who had adapted to the cabin and her new friend just as quickly as she’d taken to her new life.

  Loud noises still made her duck and cover, and there were times when she got quiet and withdrew inside herself. But although some things would take time, she was a bright, cheerful kid who seemed ready to thrive in any situation. She’d wrapped most of the quarantine camp around her pinkie by the time the adoption paperwork had gone through, making her Anna’s daughter for real and forever. She’d taken to David’s cabin—and his family—instantly, yet she’d been equally intrigued by their flight back to the States, charming the attendants and chattering in a mix of Spanish and English, the lat
ter of which currently carried more than a little of an outback twang.

  The trip to the cabin had been a delight . . . and so was the small family they were building. Anna had tried to hold back at first, not wanting to assume anything or fall too quickly. She kept reminding herself that Rosa was hers, and that relationship needed to be separate from her and David’s budding romance.

  On their third afternoon at the cabin, though, he had gotten a couple of cousins to babysit and took her out for a long ride to an Aboriginal site, where Anna delighted in the pictograms carved high on the weathered stones. They were painted in hidden clefts in colors that were still bright and vivid, and made her feel like the artists had just packed up their paints and moved on only moments before their arrival.

  After exploring, they had camped and drunk homemade wine until they were giggling like little kids, then made clumsy love for the first time, in a sleeping bag that wasn’t quite built for two. Then, later, drunk only on each other, they had made love again, lying atop the sleeping bag, naked under the stars and moon. When morning came, there was no question that they were a couple, and that they were in it for the long haul.

  As for the rest? They would figure it out as they went. For now, they were taking each day as it came, and enjoying the hell out of life. With David’s time off coming to a close, though, things were going to change. As much as Anna would’ve liked to go with him to every new outbreak, new adventure, she had Rosa to think about—school, friends, that sort of thing—so she had started looking around for a place to live, and had surprised herself by gravitating toward the Albuquerque area.

  David had taken a laid-back “when I’m not off on assignment, home is where you two are” attitude about things, so he and Rosa were going to spend the next few days checking out the city and its ’burbs, and thinking about putting down roots there. He’d been curious about Anna’s trip into canyon country, but hadn’t pressed. He would someday, she knew. But not yet.