It appealed to the person she sometimes thought she would’ve been if she hadn’t wound up with the Witch. Heck, it still appealed to the person she was, despite everything.
So use it, she told herself, and felt the fear recede a little. Who knew—maybe she could find other pieces of real magic in the books she’d bought. Maybe she wouldn’t be giving all her powers to Rabbit.
Still, though, dread pinched.
“When do you want to do it?” Dez asked.
She wanted to close her eyes and block out the sympathy in his. It would still be in his voice, though, and in the air between them. “Let’s get it over with. Say, an hour? Tell him I’ll meet him at the cave.”
The king hesitated, looking like he wanted to say a whole bunch of things, but in the end settled for, “Wear your armband, park as close to the entrance as you can, and keep your panic button primed.” The newer Jeeps were fitted with transponders that could pick up her signal and bounce it to Skywatch, hopefully overcoming the reception problems that had been getting worse and worse as the zero date approached and the barrier flux increased.
“Will do. And Dez?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for always treating me like I’ve got a right to an opinion.”
Rather than the platitudes she would’ve gotten from most of the others—the ones who’d been raised by their winikin and had always been given choices—he nodded. “Street smarts recognize street smarts, Myrinne, and ambition recognizes ambition. You’ve got more than your share of both, and I’m the last guy who’s going to ding you for that.”
Her spine straightened. “Is that a warning?”
“Nope. I’m not that subtle—if I thought you were heading for trouble, I’d tell you straight out. It was an observation, nothing more.”
But as she left the royal suite, she was pretty darned sure Dez was far more subtle than he let on. In his own way he was as much of a manipulator as the Witch had been, though with far better intentions. And right now, those intentions involved protecting the Nightkeepers’ agenda—which meant her giving up the magic to Rabbit.
“I’m doing it, aren’t I?” she muttered as she headed down the hall. But that didn’t stop her from feeling the pressure of being involved in something so much bigger than herself. It dogged her as she stalked out of the royal wing and across the main kitchen, and had her turning away from her suite.
Her rooms were too quiet, too empty and at the same time too hemmed in, sparking a sense of suffocation that chased her out a side door. There, a stone-lined path flanked the garage, but she didn’t want to snag a Jeep and keep on driving today. Instead, she headed for the magic-imbued cacao grove beyond the winikin’s hall, where the air was rainforest humid, the ground soft and the trees green and fragrant.
She slipped into the grove and picked her way to the open space at its center. There, she sat cross-legged, with her hands open on her folded knees. And—for a little while, at least—she found peace in the whirring sound the leaves made in the faint breeze, and the feeling of the earth surrounding her.
“I’m trying to get it right,” she said aloud. “I’m doing my best.” Deep down inside, though, she wondered whether that was the truth. Because when she came down to it, she didn’t want to give back the magic, not one bit.
It wasn’t fucking fair.
* * *
At the appointed time, Rabbit sat outside the winikin’s cave for a good five minutes before he managed to make himself get out of the damn Jeep. He didn’t want to be here. More, he wished he could forget the way he’d acted the last time he’d been at the cave, wished he didn’t see the parallels. And he wished to hell his knuckles weren’t throbbing like a bitch from punching his damned fridge when he got Dez’s message.
It was a dumb fucking idea to go around punching appliances, no matter how pissed off he was. More, he couldn’t let himself get pissed off, not like that. For a few minutes, he’d felt like the guy he used to be, the one who’d lashed out without thinking, doing major damage. He needed to be better than that, damn it. He needed to control the part of him that used to take over and make him do dumb things—not the stripped-down creature he’d become while imprisoned, but the angry, unloved kid who wanted to set the world on fire and watch it burn.
Or maybe the two were flip sides of the same anger.
“Pull your shit together,” he muttered. He owed Myr his absolute best self, even today. Especially today.
He hated that it had come to this, hated that she was going to be the one making the sacrifice when she deserved the magic a hell of a lot more than he did. He hated it . . . and he respected the hell out of her for making the call. She would be dreading the mind-meld that the spell required, he knew, and was determined to make it as easy as he could for her, just as he’d done his damnedest to quell the raw gut punch of lust that had nailed him every time he had gotten near her over the past week and a half.
It was his problem that he couldn’t be satisfied with what he’d gotten back already, his problem that he wanted more, wanted her, with a churning desire that was equal parts magic, lust, history and fascination with the stronger, sleeker, glossier woman she’d become . . . and one hundred percent Not Happening.
It was also past time for him to get his ass down there. Bad enough he was supposed to take her magic, worse to make her wait on him.
He had parked on the bank of the wide wash, where flash floods created a huge river and filled the cave when the rains came. It was dry now, so Myr had parked with her Jeep’s nose stuck into the cave mouth, no doubt partly so it could act as a transponder, partly so the trick door—a huge stone slab that was geared to uncertain magic—couldn’t slide into place and trap them inside.
As he got out of his vehicle and headed down there, kicking up pebbles and sand with his worn boots, he remembered all too well the fury that had carried him into the cave the last time, the anger and betrayal that had blasted through him when he’d seen her there with his eccentrics. Phee’s lies had been whispering in his head, stroking the rage and chaos inside him until he’d let it loose.
Not again. Never again.
Taking a deep breath, he brushed past her Jeep and stepped into the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, for the cave to come clear around him as a circular space with a sandy floor and ancient paintings of animals overhead. In the center, near a plain, unadorned stone altar, Myrinne sat cross-legged in front of a small fire that she’d laid in a circle of stones.
Heat seared low in his gut and punched beneath his heart, but he weathered the blows like he’d endured the ’zotz’s lash, by telling himself he was getting what he damn well deserved. More, he was trying to give her what she deserved—the respect of a fighting equal and the room to do what she needed to do, even when it wasn’t what he wanted.
The air carried hints of ginger, patchouli and vanilla, making him think of the candles she used to light in her college dorm room, back when things had been so much easier than they were now, though they’d both thought them complicated as hell. It was only a couple of years ago, but it felt like a fucking lifetime. Since then, he’d been to hell and back; he’d destroyed villages, led battles and killed xombis; he’d aged a decade in a year; he’d lost one king and gained another. And, though he wouldn’t have believed it possible back then, he’d lost Myrinne.
She looked up at him now, eyes dark and determined, and if there was an answering flare of heat deep within them, it was quickly gone.
Ah, baby. He wanted to tell her that she could trust him, that he wouldn’t hurt her ever again. And yet he didn’t dare make any promises when his knuckles were bruised with temper and the end of the world lay ahead of them. So he didn’t say a damn thing. Instead, he crossed to her, boots thudding hollowly on the dried mud.
She watched him approach, expression unreadable. The small fire darkened, though, turning more green than orange, and the smoke thickened and turned bitter, coating the back of his throat.
Exhaling, he said, “Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.” He told himself to leave it at that. Couldn’t. “Shit, Myr, I—”
“Don’t. Let’s just get this over with.” She pointed to the opposite side of the fire. “Sit.”
He sat, assuming a cross-legged pose that mirrored hers. “You’ve got the spell?”
“Yeah. Here.” She handed him an index card with the Hooked on Phonics version of the ancient Mayan incantation. “I’ll unblock your magic and we’ll both jack in. After that, we say the spell, and . . . well . . .” She looked away.
Before, she had forbidden him from mind-bending her, going so far as to have him put mental blocks in there and teach her how to use them to keep him out. And she had, right up until the moment when she’d realized he had lost himself to Phee’s lies. Then, to save herself, she had let him in and showed him that she wasn’t working for the demons . . . he was. He hated that he’d forced her to that point, hated that he’d hurt her. And he hated that he was about to do it again.
He waited until she looked at him, until their eyes met and held over the fire. “Seriously, Myr. I’m sorry about this.”
Anger flared in the depths of her eyes. “Yet here you are.”
“King’s orders.”
“Right. Because you’ve never gone against orders before.”
“Hello, Boar Oath.” Though he hadn’t really bumped up against it yet, wasn’t sure what would happen when he did. For the moment, he wasn’t having trouble following his old man’s orders.
The look she shot him said she knew it. “You want this. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Myr . . .” He didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to have this fight. Her glare said she wasn’t backing down, though, so he said, “I agreed to this because we need to figure out the crossover’s powers. Not because I want to take the magic away from you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And?”
She knew him too damn well. “Fine. I’m also doing this because when the barrier comes down, the Banol Kax are going to be gunning for the crossover. And I don’t want you standing next to me when that happens.” Not when he wasn’t sure he’d be able to shield her and still do whatever it was the gods needed him to do.
Her expression flattened. “I don’t want you protecting me.”
Quelle surprise. Because if he’d learned anything over the past week and a half, it was that she didn’t want anything from him anymore. “Deal with it. This is one of the few things I can do to protect you, whether you want it or not. I just wish to hell we could break the connection without you losing your magic.” He knew better than to think she would wait tamely behind the lines—she’d be going into battle with or without the magic. Given that, he’d far rather have her fully armed. Unfortunately, the spell Lucius had found was very specific—it would return the magic to its rightful owner.
“You . . . damn it.” She looked around, but he wasn’t sure if she was seeing the cave or fighting back tears.
“Myr . . .” He reached out to her.
“Don’t.” She held up a hand. “Just don’t, okay? Like I said, it’s probably better if we go right to the spell. It’s not like us talking about it is going to change anything.” She paused, lifting her little wand. “Ready?”
No. “Yeah.”
And, as they had practiced a hundred times over the past ten days, she unblocked the magic, letting it flow from her into him.
Power washed through his head and heart like an old, familiar friend. Suddenly, he was himself again; the cold places were warm, the empty places filling as his magic sizzled through his veins, back where it belonged. The flames changed, gaining red along with the green as his talents came online, his mind-bender’s magic vibrating against hers like it knew what they were about to do.
“Breathe in the smoke and cast the spell,” she said. But then, echoing along their shared magic, he heard her whisper, I don’t blame you for any of this.
Ah, damn it, he thought, as a one-two punch thudded beneath his heart. He wanted to call it off, wanted to hold her, tell her everything was going to be okay. That would be a lie, though, because no matter what happened next, things were going to be anything but okay. And this was one of the best chances he was going to have to protect her, or at least get her out of the direct line of fire when the Banol Kax came for him. So he leaned in, opened himself to the mind-bending magic, and breathed in smoke that was laden with the scents of patchouli, vanilla and ginger. And, as the world spun around him, going faster with each rev, he said the short spell, his words echoing a nanosecond behind hers.
Magic flared between them, lacing the air with sparks of red and gold. His perceptions went swimmy and indistinct and then lurched, and it suddenly felt as if the universe was moving past him while he sat still, more like a teleportation spell than mind-bending. He braced himself to enter her thoughts, but he didn’t.
Instead, he dropped into the mind of a long-dead king.
CHAPTER EIGHT
One second, Myr was diving into the mind-meld . . . and in the next, she found herself in the middle of someone else’s thoughts. But she wasn’t in Rabbit’s head, and she wasn’t in the winikin’s cave anymore. Instead, she was wearing full battle gear and seeing out through the eyes of a Nightkeeper queen.
And oh, holy shit, this wasn’t what the spell was supposed to do.
* * *
Summer Solstice, 1984
The tunnels beneath Chichén Itzá
“Door,” King Scarred-Jaguar snapped over his shoulder, sending his adviser, Two-Hawk, out of the circular chamber to guard the hallway and keep the stone slab from closing. The plan was for the king and Asia to form a blood-link and open the intersection, as the dreams had said. After that, the others would join in for the spell that they hoped would seal the barrier for good. If they succeeded, there would be no more countdown, no end-time war.
Please gods, Asia thought, not even sure they would be able to manage the blood-link. Not the way things were between them right now.
The king watched his adviser leave, then glanced sharply at her. “At least he doesn’t think his fealty oath only counts when it’s convenient.”
“There was nothing convenient about it.” Gods, how she wished she could go back a half hour, to when they had arrived at the site and, seeing how damn worried he looked, she had told him what she had done to protect their children, thinking it would reassure him. Instead, he had taken it as a slap, a lack of faith.
“Well it wasn’t a shining example of loyalty, either,” he growled.
With the huge chac-mool altar behind him and a row of screaming skulls lining the ceiling of the chamber above him, he was surrounded by symbols of the war he was determined to prevent. He looked very much a Nightkeeper, very much like a king and the man she loved with all her heart. But he also looked very, very pissed.
Then again, so was she.
She moved between him and the altar, so he had to look at her. “We’re on the same side, damn it.”
His jaw locked with the familiar jaguar stubbornness, which had been magnified to near deadly proportions over the past few weeks as he’d become obsessed with following the dreams the gods had sent him. “Then stop trying to undermine me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? And I’ve been right behind you every step of the way. I believe in you, Jag,” she said, using the nickname that was hers alone. “But I couldn’t let Strike and Anna . . .” She trailed off when he stiffened, eyes going cold.
More, she was all too aware of the minutes passing, the solstice approaching, time running out. She had distracted him—both of them—with her ill-timed confession. Which wasn’t the work of a queen or a warrior. Not when they had work to do, a prophecy to fulfill.
“We need to get started,” he said, almost as if he’d re
ad her mind. Except he couldn’t have caught her thoughts, even through the mated bond. Not with them so out of synch.
Exhaling, she stepped aside and turned to face the altar. Thy wills be done, she thought, and offered him her bloodied hand. “You’re right,” she said softly, trying to channel the warrior’s calm that kept eluding her. “Let’s do this.”
She had made her choice—she was there, with him. They all were, nearly a thousand Nightkeepers and three times that many winikin, filling the tunnels and spilling out into the ancient courtyards, ready to add to the uplink and block the Banol Kax from the earth, once and for all.
Gods willing.
He looked at her for a three-count, as if measuring her sincerity. Then he nodded and took her hand. “Ready?” His voice was tough and tight, that of her king, not her husband.
No. “Yes.” She opened herself to him, added her magic to his, and put her faith in him, in his dreams and his plan.
“Pasaj och,” he intoned, his voice resonating through their joined magic. The connection formed, jacking him into the solstice-thinned barrier and bringing her along through the uplink. Power flared through them, ramping quickly from a hum to a jaw-aching buzz. But it didn’t stop there, didn’t level off the way it always had before. Instead, it kept going, flooding her and amping higher and higher.
They hadn’t yet opened the intersection, yet already there was more energy here than she’d ever wielded before. Suddenly, the magic was the stuff of legends, the kind of power their ancestors had used to drive the Banol Kax from the earth plane and create the barrier.
Wonder seared through her, because the magic had to mean that it was real. It was all real—the dreams, the gods’ promises, the potential to avert the war—all of it.
Gods. Tears prickled behind her closed lids, and one hot drop slipped down her cheek.
“Asia.” Jag’s energy was suddenly different, stronger and more vibrant than it had been, not just since her confession, but for days now, weeks. Heat thrummed through their blood-link, sharp and prickly with desire, but tempered with a deeper, softer warmth that wrapped around her, feeling like his arms. Feeling like love. His voice caught as he said, “Open your eyes. Please.”
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