Spellfire n-8

by Jessica Andersen

  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 ta
ctics, he said quietly, 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.”

  Oh, hell, no. A foul taste soured the back of Rabbit’s throat. “What if I refuse?”

  “Then I’ll end it myself.” The old man’s expression didn’t change, like he was talking about supersizing his number three combo, not murdering his own son. “If we can’t use you, we’re sure as shit not going to let the Banol Kax have you.”

  “Jesus.” For all that he’d remembered his old man as a colossal dick, the reality—if you could call a guy back from the dead “reality”—was so much worse.

  “Think about it,” Red-Boar advised. “But don’t take too fucking long.” Glancing back at the ruin, he raised his voice and called, “I’m ready to leave.”

  Moments later, Anna stepped out and headed in their direction. Strike must’ve taken the others back, leaving her to transport the stragglers. She didn’t ask how it had gone. Instead, she held out her hands. “Link up, and let’s get out of here.”

  “He’s staying,” Red-Boar said flatly.

  “Dez said not to let him out of my sight.”

  “And I’m saying you’re going to.” The old man’s mouth thinned to a grim line. “The spell won’t work if his heart isn’t in it, and he needs to make his own choice. Besides, I found him once, I can find him again.” His eyes went to Rabbit. “And the second time won’t be a rescue mission. Understand?”

  “Loud and clear.” Asshole.

  Anna’s vivid blue eyes gained wary shadows. “Rabbit . . .” She trailed off, shook her head. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore. I don’t know how to make things better, or even if I should try.”

  In a way, that stung worse than all of Red-Boar’s threats and insults put together. Among the magi, Anna was Switzerland. Years as a researcher and university prof had given her the patience of . . . well, something really freaking patient. So for her not to know how to deal with him . . . yeah. That pretty much summed it up.

  Before, he had been the Master of Disaster, always starting with more or less the right intentions but winding up blowing shit up anyway. Now, though, the others didn’t even trust his intentions. Hell, he wasn’t sure he trusted them himself.

  He took a big step back, away from Anna and Red-Boar. “He’s right. I need to think.” Not about whether he was committed to the Nightkeepers’ cause, but whether he could fight effectively—or at all—with his old man up his ass.

  “First you need to get some rest and heal up.” Her nose wrinkled. “And take a shower. Not in that order.”

  Now she was being more herself, reminding him of a bossy big sister. But while that brought a wistful tug, it didn’t change anything. “Go on without me. I’ll hike in later.” Probably.

  She hesitated a long moment, seeming unperturbed when Red-Boar started muttering under his breath. Finally, though, she nodded. “Okay, I guess. But Rabbit?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t disappoint yourself.”

  Her quiet command stuck with him long after she and his old man disappeared in a hand clap of inrushing air. More, really, than any of what Red-Boar had told him in between the four-letter words, because he’d spent most of his life trying to live down to his father’s opinion. Now, though, it was just him, the badlands, and a whole lot of empty scenery stretching on as far as he could see. Hell, the fact that he could see more than a few feet in front of him without coming up against a rock wall should be enough. Breathing fresh air should be enough. Having a choice—any choice—should be enough.

  It was, too. He was grateful for his freedom, grateful that he’d gotten a chance to kill Phee, grateful that he’d gotten to see Myr, no matter how much it had hurt to watch her walk away. And he wanted to think that if the gods were asking him to swear himself to any of the others—or, shit, all of them—he would’ve sucked it up and done it. Red-Boar, though, would be all over him, telling him when to eat, when to sleep, when to shit . . . and what to do with the powers of crossover magic.

  Fuck me, Rabbit thought when that one put a quiver of “so there you have it” in his gut. Because when he came down to it, he didn’t trust his father any more than he trusted himself. Less, in fact. Which under the circumstances left him up shit’s creek and paddling with his damn hands. The thought had him scowling down at the baked ground near his feet.

  He jolted as a winged shadow glided past.

  Pulse bumping, he looked up, reached for the machine gun, found it gone and went for the knife instead. But it wasn’t a camazotz; it was an eagle—or maybe a falcon?—circling in for a lazy landing. The bird was a rich brown color, with golden eyes that fixed on him as it backwinged to perch on a jagged wall nearby. Up close it was a big bastard—way bigger than he wanted to tangle with—but it seemed to be content to sit up there and stare down at him like he was a rabbit of the ears-and-tail variety, and a good option for a snack.

  He didn’t know his raptors all that well, couldn’t tell if this one was a local resident or something more—eagles had been sacred to the ancient Maya, after all, symbolizing the freedom of the sky, the rising and setting of the sun, and even the start of a war. Which was all pretty damn relevant to the here and now, thankyouverymuch.

  “Got any advice?” he asked. Because if he couldn’t trust the gods, then who the hell could he trust?

  The bird just cocked its head to look at him out of one eye, then the other. Nate Blackhawk—the Nightkeepers’ hawk-shifter—had once told him that it was like seeing a different plane with each eye, then a third with both together. Rabbit didn’t know what the eagle was seeing now, though.

  “Anything?” he prodded.

  It looked away, fluffing its wings a little in a move he took to mean, Screw you, bub. I’m just an eagle. And besides, this is your call. Either you can handle your old man or you can’t. What’s it going to be?<
br />
  “It’s not about handling him. It’s a question of whether it’s a good idea to give him that kind of power. What if he goes off his fucking rocker and starts following his own agenda, using me as his weapon?” It wasn’t unthinkable—Dez’s winikin had tried to use him that way, convinced he was doing the gods’ work. And Red-Boar himself had tried to kill Strike’s human mate, Leah, thinking he knew the gods’ plan better than the rest of them.

  And your other option would be . . . ?

  “I could disappear, hole up underground somewhere that the blood-link can’t find me, and then . . . shit, I don’t know. Figure out a way to help the Nightkeepers from there, I guess. I’m supposed to be the crossover, right? If the gods want me to help, they’ll find a way to tell me how.”

  You’re reaching.

  He shot the bird a baleful look. “Oh, shut up.” But the eagle—or, rather, whatever inner voice he’d given to it—had a point. If he was going to do things differently this time, he didn’t get to pick the easy changes, even when the hard ones had the potential to suck donkey dick.

  Then the eagle gave an unearthly screech and launched itself into the air. It didn’t buzz him or look back or anything as it powered into the sky with steady sweeps of its wings. Still, though, it felt like the bird’s visit had been a sign. Even more so when it banked and headed for Skywatch.

  “Shit,” Rabbit muttered, knowing what the answer had to be.

  Sign or no sign, it hadn’t ever been a debate, really, because all the logic in the world couldn’t trump the one thing he’d left out of his inner argument: Myrinne was at Skywatch. And while she probably didn’t want his protection—probably didn’t even need it anymore—she was going to get it anyway.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  December 2

  Nineteen days until the zero date