A year ago, if someone had told her that in twelve months she would be part of a mom-dad-kid trifecta and thinking about getting a job at one of the universities in the city nearest Skywatch, she would’ve laughed her ass off. Hell, she wouldn’t have believed it even if she’d seen it in a vision. But it was her new reality, her new life. And she was freaking loving every minute of it.
She’d earned this reprieve. They all had. For her—and, she hoped, for all of her teammates—it wasn’t about zapping from place to place anymore, wasn’t about training and prepping for the next equinox or solstice, the next attack. It wasn’t about saving the world—it was about living in it, and enjoying every moment.
And as she pulled through the wide-open gates of Skywatch, she was surprised to realize that she was enjoying the hell out of this particular moment too.
She’d been sad to leave David and Rosa behind, and had figured she would treat the ceremony more like a duty visit to her relatives than anything. But her spirits lifted suddenly when she saw the front of the mansion jam-packed with a dizzying variety of conveyances, and it hit her that she might be back at Skywatch, but it was nothing like it had been before.
The vehicles ranged from Harleys, Victories and other two-wheelers leaned up in the rock garden to the right of the main entrance, to a wide assortment of banged-up jeeps and random rentals, all the way up to the sleek black Jaguar that Leah had bought for Strike, partly as a joke on his bloodline name, and partly because she liked going fast. The narrow-nosed helicopter off to one side probably belonged to Nate, who’d always had a thing for techware and had undoubtedly needed to get back in the air. He and Alexis had loved flying together, after all.
Oh, and of course, there was Sven and Cara’s windsail, a flimsy wheeled surfboard thing that cruised along the hardpan at stupid speeds. They had surprised everyone by staying on at Skywatch when Reese and Dez relocated permanently to Denver, taking a goodly number of the winikin with them to found a bunch of nonprofits and see about spreading out the Nightkeeper Fund.
Despite Sven’s former footloose tendencies, he and Cara had decided Skywatch was the best place for Mac, Pearl, and their pups, at least for the time being. So they had stayed to oversee things, and were helping Jade and Lucius fully catalog the library and figure out how to keep the Nightkeepers’ records secure for the next twenty-six millennia or so. They all wanted to believe that Rabbit’s magic had barred the kax and the kohan from the earth for good, but they weren’t taking any chances.
No doubt Sven had parked his toy out front as a reminder that these were his digs now, a way of marking his turf that was a little more subtle than taking a whizz on the pillars that ran on either side of the covered overhang leading up to the front door.
Then again, Anna wouldn’t put it past him to have done that, too.
She was grinning at the thought as she parked at random amid the vehicular mob scene, killed the engine, and just sat for a moment, looking up at the mansion. It was the same white-trimmed stone as before, with its sprawling wings and low-maintenance landscaping, but somehow it looked different to her now, as if it had changed.
Or maybe—probably—she was the one who’d changed.
Then the door swung open to reveal Strike, Leah and Jox jammed into the opening, waving and shouting for her to get her ass inside already, looking like they were so damn glad to see her they couldn’t stand themselves.
She was out of the car in a flash, leaving her luggage behind, and dodging through the jammed parking area to meet them halfway.
Leah got to her first. “You look amazing!” Hauling Anna into an energetic hug, she whispered, “I’m so happy for you!” She broke away with a grin and a wink as Strike and Jox reached them, and passed Anna off for more hugs, more exclamations.
“Come in, come in.” They urged her up the walkway so quickly that she didn’t get a chance to hesitate, as she had done almost five years earlier, when she’d first come back after so long, and found only bad old memories.
Now there were new memories—not all of them good, granted, but enough good ones to balance off the bad. And, really, she couldn’t regret the things that had made her the person she was today, living the life she had now.
Better yet, as she walked through the front doors, past the engraved sign that showed the world tree and reminded her to fight, protect and forgive, she felt for the first time since she was a teenager that she really had come back to her childhood home, and she was safe there. And, better yet, she was happy to be there for a while . . . though she’d be happy to get back to her family, too.
Maybe, hopefully, the teammates would eventually find a way to bring their human families into the compound and include them in the Cardinal Day celebrations. Because gods knew there would be human families and more celebrations—there were too few of them to intermarry, and they had vowed to keep the traditions alive, one way or another. There would need to be changes, of course, ways of explaining the teammates and their gatherings so the humans wouldn’t find them too strange, but one day soon, Skywatch would be filled to its seams once more, would be alive once more, as it had been in their parents’ times.
For now, though, this was good. It was right.
And it was time to party.
* * *
As the quick spring dusk descended on Skywatch, the teammates gathered beneath the ceiba tree; they had decided to start a new tradition of meeting out there, at the center of their little village. Where once the area had been shadowed with the ashes of the fallen and packed hard by countless feet coming and going from the training hall, now it was softly carpeted with a faint, fuzzy green, suggesting that while the Nightkeepers’ magic might’ve ramped down, the earth magic that sustained their rain forest grotto was still going strong, keeping the ground unusually fertile.
And the grove apparently wasn’t the only thing benefitting from some fertility dancing, Myr thought with a sidelong look at where Sasha, Reese and Cara were sitting at a picnic table comparing notes; all three had announced their pregnancies at lunch, and gotten a raucous round of applause. Cara was the only one with a visible baby bump, suggesting that she and Sven had gotten a jump on things prior to the end date, intentionally or not. The other two weren’t showing yet, but they freaking glowed.
She was a little surprised to feel a harmless tug of envy—look at that, maybe she had a bio-clock, after all. Down girl, she told herself with a grin, tamping down on her link with Rabbit so he wouldn’t catch the direction where her thoughts were going and do a deer-in-headlights impression.
At the moment, he was over with Dez, Sven and Michael, stacking wood for the bonfire, their efforts overseen by two adult coyotes and their perpetual-motion puppy pack.
Even that tugged, making her laugh at herself. Really, it wasn’t like she wanted to do the home-and-baby thing any time soon. For one, she and Rabbit had a few things to knock off the to-do list between now and then. Like finishing up their degrees—something environmental for her, engineering and physics for him, along with some business courses and international relations, with the plan of heading up the emerging Nightkeeper Foundation’s interests in the Mayan highlands. They both loved it down there, and wanted to help the locals recover from the outbreak. At least that was their current game plan.
And that was the awesome thing. They didn’t need to know for sure right now. They could explore for a bit. Or, heck, for the rest of their lives. Because, hey, howdy, they had a future now. A beautiful and totally blank-slate future. The only thing they needed to know for sure was that they were going to be spending it together. Period. Full stop. She didn’t care if the gods had meant for them to be together, or that they hadn’t ever gotten their mated marks. Okay, she cared a little, but only because it had once been important to him. Now, though, he seemed content for them to go on as they were, living together and loving each other while they started really figuring out what their lives were going to look like for the next few years.
And after that? Marriage, she hoped. Kids. The family neither of them had gotten when they were growing up, but could give to the next generation.
“Gather round!” Dez called, tossing a last few sticks on the huge mound of pallets, kindling and other flammables he and the others had built. “It’s time.”
The former residents of Skywatch formed a horseshoe, with the open end facing south, the direction the wind was blowing, leaving room for the gods to join them, at least in spirit if not in practice.
What do you say? Ready for some action? The words formed in her mind, accompanied by a phantom brush of warmth across her lips, stirring her blood.
She looked up to find Rabbit standing at the center point of the horseshoe, with an open spot beside him. Her spot. With her head up and her eyes on him, she swaggered over, feeling good in black jeans and a tight black top, with high black boots that had a glint of silver at the edges. When she reached him, she leaned in and kissed him with a little nip of his lower lip that had him sucking in a breath.
Then, as the magic gathered in her head and heart, making her feel like she could do almost anything, she took her place beside him, and grinned around the horseshoe at the others, at her friends and teammates. “Okay. Now I’m ready for some action.”
That got a chuckle, the loudest from Rabbit, as Dez cleared his throat. “Then by all means. Let’s link up!”
She and Rabbit could’ve lit the bonfire on their own, given the magic that was zinging through them, reawakened by the equinox. But the ceremony belonged to all of them, so they joined hands—Nightkeeper, winikin, human—and opened themselves to the magic. Where before the uplink would’ve been a huge, roaring upswell of power, now it was a softer, mellower heat. Still, though, it was magic. And it was beautiful.
He squeezed her hand. “Do you want to do the honors?”
“You do it.” She didn’t need to prove anything, not anymore.
Nodding, he spread his fingers toward the stacked wood and said, “Kaak!”
A soundless shock wave detonated from them both, and red and green fire exploded from his fingers and curled around the beehive-shaped stack. It whirled around once, twice and then a third time—and whoomp!—the bonfire lit with a crackling roar, sending a pillar of red and green flames twenty feet in the air, then thirty.
Heat drove everyone back a couple of steps, but nobody seemed to mind, given the show.
“Whooo!” Reese called, bending back to watch colored sparks swirl up on the breeze, and the others joined in with a chorus of oohs and aahs.
Getting into it, Rabbit made the flames spiral and then curl around themselves. Myr laughed and added a little more blue to the mix, dropping fire bursts that looked like flowers on the curling vines of flame.
“Show-offs!” Dez called, but he was laughing.
“Sorry,” Rabbit said, totally unrepentant.
After another minute, though, they let the pyrotechnics die down, so the heat subsided a little and the bonfire became just a normal bonfire, the magic just a background hum. The teammates were still linked, though, and their power sang a sweet note in the air as Dez led them through the first Cardinal Day prayer of the new age.
There was no bloodletting, no sacrifice, no prophecies or threats of dire retribution. Instead, the teammates thanked the true gods for their help, for the victory, and for their lives. It still seemed impossible that they had all survived, yet they had. Now they would go on to live as they chose. And thank the gods for that.
There was a soft upswing in the magic, as if the gods had heard them. Or maybe it came from the prayer itself; Myr didn’t know. But she knew that she was happy, here and now, standing beside Rabbit in the center of a community that her childhood self never would have dreamed existed, never mind that she would become part of it. These were her people, her friends. And Rabbit was hers, always and forever.
“Before we break for games and food,” Dez said, “I believe someone wanted to say something?”
Myr frowned with the others, looking around. “What the—”
“That’d be me,” Rabbit said, and stepped out of line, then turned to face her.
And got down on one knee.
She caught her breath at the sight of him down there—Rabbit, who wouldn’t willingly get on his knees for anything or anyone. Rabbit, who pulled a ring box out of his pocket and flipped it open to reveal a blaze of ruby and emerald, two perfect stones set atop a diamond-studded ring.
“Oh,” she said, the word barely a breath as all the oxygen suddenly left her body.
His eyes gleamed as he said, “I’ve never loved anyone but you, and I’ll go on loving you forever, with or without this. But this is what I want, and I hope it’s what you want, too.” Then, with him on one knee and everyone they cared about watching, he levitated the ring and sent it floating into the air, so it hovered between them, wreathed in red-gold magic. “What do you say, Myr? Will you marry me?”
Now it was her turn to go deer-in-headlights. Not because she was horrified or steamrollered or anything, but because she hadn’t expected this. Not in a million years—or at least not for a few more years, anyway. Her pulse drummed in her ears and her hands shook. She was overwhelmed, she was shocked, she was—
She was supposed to say something.
Everyone was waiting.
The ring was waiting. The magic was waiting.
Yes, of course, yes! she shouted inside, but even if he heard her through their link, it didn’t count. This was the sort of thing she needed to say out loud to make it real. And she would. In a second, when she remembered how to breathe.
Behind him, the bonfire grew hotter and bigger, going the pure orange-red of his magic now. For a moment, she thought he was letting off some steam into the magic, channeling his hidden nerves. But then the flames rose up from the bonfire, curled in on themselves, and made a perfect heart. It hung there behind him, living, beating in time with her pulse, then dissolved to the words “I love you.”
Suddenly she could breathe again. She could even laugh again, though the sound was breathless and a little wild. “Only you,” she said on a rush. “Only you could propose by writing it across the sky in flames.”
“And?”
“And yes, of course. Of course I’ll marry you. Only you, Rabbit. My one and only.” She held out her hand and watched it tremble as the ring floated onto it and snugged into place.
He exhaled in a rush and bowed his head for a second. “Thank fuck. For a second there, I thought . . .”
“No,” she said, tugging him to his feet. “Don’t ever think it.” Then they kissed, triggering a chorus of whoops and applause, along with shouted suggestions that ranged from cute to borderline obscene, though all in good fun.
Rabbit chuckled against her mouth. “Hope you didn’t want me to do that in private.”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“That’s pushing it.”
“Okay. You’re perfect for me, which is why I love you. It’s why I’m going to marry you. And it’s why, as soon as I get you alone, I’m going to . . .” She put her lips to his ear and started whispering.
Her skin heated as she got to the nitty-gritty and heard his breath quicken, felt his fingers tighten on her hips. The air around them hummed with equinox magic and the blood began to roar through her veins like—
“Whoa!” Rabbit pulled away and put himself between her and the bonfire, which suddenly flared higher and hotter, reaching up into the night sky. “Sorry. Got a little carried away there.”
But when he gestured to bring the flames under control, the bonfire didn’t respond, even when Myr added her magic to his. Instead it burned even brighter, flaring into strange shapes and moving like a living creature. It wasn’t under their control anymore!
“Wait!” She grabbed his arm. “Look!”
The flames curled into the shape of an animal’s head on a man’s shoulders. It wasn’t any critter that’d ever done a cameo on Animal Planet, th
ough.
It was Seth.
The god didn’t speak, but it moved within the flames and the smoke, turning to peer down at Rabbit and Myrinne. Its eyes shimmered, and the radiance of golden magic emerged from the flames and snaked to wrap around them, touch them, twine around their wrists.
Myr gasped as her skin heated, then burned, and something shifted inside her, soldering into place with a click that she felt more than heard. Then the burn faded and the smoke withdrew.
“Gods,” Rabbit whispered. “Father. Thank you.”
The giant head of flame tipped once in acknowledgment, then shimmered and disappeared. Moments later, the fire died down to normal once more, leaving a stunned, awed silence behind.
“Did that just happen?” Leah whispered. Her face was lit with wonder and her hands were wrapped around Strike’s arm as if she’d had to hold him back from coming to Rabbit’s aid.
Rabbit hadn’t needed help, though. And Myr had a feeling he’d finally gotten what he wanted. What they both wanted, though they had trained themselves not to care.
Now, though . . .
Holding her breath, she put her right forearm near Rabbit’s, both of them facing down. “You ready?” she whispered as her heart drummed against her ribs.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“On three. One . . . two . . .” On “three” they both flipped their wrists over to show their marks. And sure enough, they both had a new golden glyph: the intertwined curlicues of the jun tan. The mated mark that signaled the gods’ acceptance of their paring.
Finally, Myr thought. Or maybe she said it aloud, because Rabbit looked at her with a quick grin that did nothing to wipe the awe from his face.
“Myr . . . gods. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Tears were running down her face, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t thought the jun tan would matter, but it did. It really, really did. Because as she held him, kissed him, she could feel the magic of their new connection, feel the love washing from her to him and back again. More, she felt him. He was tough and solid, and ready to go to war for her, for what he thought was right. He was her soldier, her lover. More, he was Rabbit. Her man. Her mate. Her one and only.
Spellfire Page 32
