by Mel Odom
“What are you talking about?” Hawke asked, swinging around in disbelief. His anger flared again, and he tried to hold it back. Snakechaser didn’t deserve his wrath, but he felt it threatening to spill out of him all the same. He glanced over at Flicker, who stood with her arms around herself. “She’s dead.”
“No, she’s not.”
Hawke dismissed the hope the man offered. This was done and over. He’d rolled the dice and lost. He focused on Flicker. “When did her vital signs disappear?”
“Thirty-eight minutes ago.” She didn’t look at him. The loss had hit her hard too, or maybe she was thinking they were good and hosed as far as corp attention went. “Nobody flatlines that long and comes back.”
Snakechaser smiled and shook his head. “That’s just science talking. This here?” He waved at Rachel. “This is magic, cousin. She may look like this, dead to us maybe, but this is like a cocoon for her. She is in a process of change. All we need to do is provide a spark to start the chrysalis that will bring her back to this world. She’s not finished with whatever she has to do. Trust me on this.”
Even though common sense told him dead was dead, Hawke did trust Snakechaser, but there was still that doubt. He refused to be tempted.
“He’s right,” Nighthorse said. “Rachel’s still in there. We’ve got to go get her, find out what she needs, and help bring her through whatever she’s facing.” She sat in the middle of the floor, crossed her legs, and placed the bowl she’d constructed from dark-green and yellow rocks in front of her.
“Ah.” Snakechaser’s golden eyes widened in pleased surprise as he studied the bowl. “You have an inkling of what’s taking place here, cher?”
“Yes. This is a focus.” Nighthorse replied as she made herself comfortable. “Whatever’s in there, it has to be powerful. Rachel isn’t trained to deal with magic. She needs somewhere to place it. I thought maybe this would help her get some semblance of control. If we can get it to her.”
“You’re going to need help,” Paredes said as he took a seat across the bowl from Nighthorse. He looked up at Snakechaser. “You’ve been there. You can guide us.” He held out a hand.
Doubt clouded Snakechaser’s eyes. “Whatever is in there, or is working through that place, it didn’t want me there. It threw me right out. I couldn’t stop it.”
“You’ll be with us this time,” Nighthorse said. “Three of us will be stronger together.” She held out her hand, too.
“I have little energy left,” Snakechaser said. “I was inside too long.”
“We’ll do the heavy lifting,” Paredes said. “You just get us into the game.”
Nodding, Snakechaser lowered himself to the floor and took their hands.
Nighthorse looked up at Hawke. “You should come with us, too.”
“Not me.” Hawke shook his head. “I don’t want anything to do with magic.” And if Rachel was somewhere else, he didn’t want to go there to see her dead either.
“You’re the one among us who has spent the most time with her, hermano,” Paredes said. “You’re the one she has the strongest relationship with. You need to come.”
“She doesn’t like me,” Hawke pointed out. “She thinks I kidnapped her.” Which, in reality, he had.
“Hawke,” Nighthorse said, “if this is going to work, I think you need to be there. We should be able to reach her, but you’re the best chance we have at getting her to listen.”
Twitch walked over to Hawke and nudged him with a shoulder. She looked up at him with her gamine grin. “They’re telling it true, mon, and you know it. Go. Save her if you can.”
Certain that even if the others got into the dream or whatever Rachel was having that he wouldn’t be able to cross over with them, Hawke sat on the other side of the focus facing Snakechaser.
They all held hands, and he felt the itchy blanket of magic wrap around him. A bright shimmer fogged his vision. He was just about to ask if it was going to hurt when—
—he stood on a stone ledge high in a mountain range. Lightning seared the black, starless sky, leaving white-hot scars that lingered for a moment before cooling and fading. Cold, hard rain drenched him, and a basso peal of thunder rolled over him, striking him with physical force.
Snakechaser, Nighthorse, and Paredes stood around him, all of them looking astonished at what they were seeing.
“This place is big,” Paredes said, sounding awfully impressed in spite of himself. “I can’t even guess how much energy it takes to hold this together.”
Nighthorse held up her hands. “There’s a lot of power here, a lot of ancient spirits as well.” She smiled in pleasure.
“Hawke,” a deep voice called.
Turning toward where the voice had come from, Hawke spotted the cave mouth and knew this was the ledge where Snakechaser had gotten tossed out of this world. Or whatever it was. The place was certainly large enough to be another world, and it looked like nothing he’d ever seen.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“There will be time for that later. You need to help Rachel. You’ll find her inside.”
Saving Rachel was the mission focus. Hawke emptied his mind of everything else except the woman. He strode to the cave mouth, waiting for something to happen, and reached for his katars because his pistol hadn’t crossed with him. He was surprised when they filled his hands. He tried to bring his wired reflexes online, but got no response. His vision suite—infrared, thermal imaging, and low-light—wasn’t working either.
“Your cyber won’t work here, hermano.” Paredes halted beside Hawke and flicked a ball of light into being. “Neither will percussion weapons. Your knives are a part of you. Like my sword.” He drew a katana from his side. “Things that exist here must be things that are close to you.”
“My cyber’s part of me.”
“Not here.” Nighthorse popped another light into existence and telescoped the staff she wore at her side. “Here it must be personal.” She looked up at him. “Rachel is inside. Are you ready?”
Hawke took a fresh grip on his blades. Instead of voicing an answer, he stepped into the cave. The lights floated just ahead of him as he followed the dark, curving tunnel deeper inside.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
The tunnel widened and turned down, gradually opening into a large cavern where Hawke spotted a blue glow that grew in intensity. Harsh crackling and the buzz of ozone filled the muggy air. An uneasy feeling crawled across Hawke’s neck and slid down his spine. He regretted his lack of cyberware and firepower, and consoled himself with the knowledge that his three companions were in their element.
“Hurry!” The voice didn’t sound so calm and certain now. Frenzy worried at the edges of it.
Moving faster now, Hawke found Rachel sitting at the edge of a pool. Her arms were outstretched, her hands wrapped around the artifact she’d found in Guatemala. Blue fire lapped over her while her hair danced wildly.
“Save her!”
Keeping an eye on the shadows, Hawke holstered the katars and ran toward Rachel. He reached for her, intending to pull her away from the artifact, but Nighthorse rammed her staff between his feet and tripped him. Unable to keep his balance, Hawke hit the ground, rolled, and shot back up to his feet.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
Nighthorse held up a hand. “Saving your life. If you touch her, you’ll be crippled or dead.” She pinned him with her dark eyes. “Wait, and let us see what we can do.”
Hawke growled a curse. Everything in him screamed to get Rachel away from the artifact.
“Are you listening?” Nighthorse demanded.
“. . . Yes.”
Nighthorse lowered her hand. “Good. Everything’s going to be fine.” She turned her attention to Rachel, but didn’t try to touch the woman. “Rachel, do you hear me?”
Rachel continued holding the artifact, only now her image was thinning, like she was losing mass and becoming more transparent.
“R
achel?” Nighthorse sat beside the other woman without touching her. “I’m a friend. I’m here to help you, but I need you to listen to me.” She plucked the bowl from thin air, like a sleight-of-hand card trick done by a street performer. “Do you see this?” She held the dark-green and yellow bowl up. “This is malachite. The stone has attributes that help focus magical power. I’ve fashioned it so it can help you hold that power without it hurting you. This is a focus. I can show you how to use it.”
Without warning, Rachel spun with a feral look and superhuman quickness. A bright blue blade appeared in her hand, and she drove it straight for Nighthorse’s throat. Before the shaman could move, probably before she even knew the knife was streaking for her, Paredes parried the blow with his sword. Blue sparks flared from the contact.
“Rachel!” Hawke spoke before he knew it, and he caught himself just before he grabbed her.
She spun on him then, wildness gleaming in her eyes as she drew back her blade. It lengthened in her hand, growing thicker and longer.
Hawke held his hands out. “Look, we’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help.” He kept his words soft, but speaking was a strain. “Rachel?”
“Go away!” she snarled in a ragged voice. “You don’t belong here!”
Keeping his empty hands out in the open, Hawke sat in front of her, knowing that if his cyber hadn’t translated to this world, his subdermal armor probably hadn’t either. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a long time. “I want to help you.”
“I don’t need any help.” Rachel glowered at the others. She didn’t release the artifact. Or maybe it didn’t release her. Hawke wasn’t certain which was the truth. Perhaps the bond worked both ways.
“Dani,” Hawke said, “tell me what to do.”
“The Power she has found is Ancient,” Nighthorse said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Nor have I,” Paredes echoed. “I have only heard stories about such things.”
“Whatever it is,” Nighthorse said, “it has to be contained.”
“No!” Rachel whirled and stepped into the pool, so she was standing behind the artifact. Her left arm was wrapped around the jewel, while she held the sword in her right hand. The stone pulsed, growing brighter, then darker, and each time it did that, there seemed to be less of Rachel there.
“You have to have a place to put that power,” Nighthorse insisted. “Your body is too frail to hold it. You’ll only destroy yourself.”
“You’re trying to trick me!”
Ripples crossed the pool’s surface, but they weren’t caused by Rachel. Hawke watched as the ripples passed through the woman.
“Hurry!” the voice demanded inside his mind.
“Rachel, you’ve got to listen to me.” Hawke leaned toward her.
She turned toward him, holding the long knife at the ready.
“Do you remember what you told me when we were on the Scorpionfish? About how you liked history and culture?”
Rachel shifted in the water, but her movements didn’t stir the pool. It was like she was no longer there. Wisps of her pulled away and sank into the artifact, like it was feasting on her.
“She must listen to you. Make her listen.”
“I . . . do,” she said.
Hawke kept his arms wide, thinking desperately. “Then tell me about the artifact.”
“It’s powerful. It makes me . . . stronger than you.”
“Where did it come from?” Hawke asked gently. “Don’t you want to know? Who made it? Why did they make it?”
She tilted her head and looked at him. “I . . . don’t know.”
“But you want to know, don’t you? You’re curious. You’ve always been curious.” Hawke saw his three companions waiting pensively. The blue glow brought their features into sharp relief. “Why did it pick you?”
“Because . . . because I’m supposed to be with it.”
“Why?”
Rachel hesitated and looked at the artifact trapped under her arm. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“There has to be a reason,” Hawke said. “Sometime in the past, that artifact was made so that it would pick you. No one else. Just you.”
“Yes.”
“You want to know why.” Hawke stared at her, barely able to make out her outline now because she had faded so much.
“It is . . . part of me.”
“All right, but how could it be made for you thousands of years ago?”
The ghost of a troubled frown turned Rachel’s mouth down as she looked at the artifact. “I don’t know . . .”
“We can help you find out, Rachel,” Hawke said. “We’re here to help you, but to let us do that, you need to trust us. Let us help you find out where that artifact came from, and why it’s doing what it’s doing now.”
The knife disappeared from Rachel’s hand. She wrapped her arm around the stone, and she was almost gone now. Hawke was certain the stone was holding itself up because there wasn’t enough of her left to support it.
“You can . . . help me?”
“Yes.” Hawke hoped that was true. He meant every word, but he was afraid it was already too late.
“How?”
Nighthorse handed Hawke the bowl-shaped focus. Hawke didn’t want it, but he took it, feeling the buzzing energy within it. Holding the bowl, forcing himself to move, he turned toward Rachel and held it out to her.
“Put the artifact in here,” Hawke said. “Then we can study it and figure it out.”
Rachel didn’t move.
“Is it Mayan?” Hawke asked, trying to appeal to her curiosity. “You told me you didn’t think it was Mayan. If it’s not, what is it?” He pushed the bowl closer to her. “Let’s find out together. All you have to do is put it in here.”
For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to give up the artifact, or maybe she wasn’t strong enough to make it let go of her, then she dropped the stone into the bowl. When the artifact met the focus, all noise and light evaporated from the cavern for a heartbeat.
Vision clearing as quickly as it had vanished, Hawke watched Rachel fall into the water and sink beneath the surface, disappearing like sugar paper.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
“No!”
Hawke threw the bowl back to Nighthorse and jumped into the water before he saw her catch it. The bottom of the pool dropped off quickly, and he was up to his chest within two strides. Ducking beneath the water, no longer able to see Rachael, Hawke reached for where she’d last been.
He swept his arms wide and found no trace of her. Shoving forward through the cold water, he reached out again. This time his fingers grazed flesh that was only a shade warmer than the pool. He stretched out again and found her arm.
Wrapping an arm around Rachel, Hawke kicked to the surface and swam toward the pool’s edge, pulling her after him. When he got her to the bank, he pushed her up. She rolled limply across the stone, water dribbling from her mouth and nose.
Paredes knelt over Rachel as Hawke kicked up from the pool. The mage put a hand over her lips, then shook his head at Hawke. “She’s not breathing, hermano.”
Hawke dropped to his knees, turned her head to the side and checked to make certain her air passages were clear, then started CPR. “C’mon, Rachel. Don’t give up on me now. Breathe!” He stopped the chest compressions, opened her mouth again, and breathed into her.
Rachel still didn’t respond.
“Hawke, let me.” Nighthorse came forward and shoved him aside. She placed her hands over Rachel’s chest and shimmers fell across her. A moment later, Rachel’s body convulsed, then fell back. Limp and unbreathing, she lay on the wet stone.
Nighthorse looked at Hawke and tears glimmered in her eyes as she shook her head. “I can’t reach her.”
Hawke started back toward Rachel, unwilling to give up. Before he could touch her, a shadowy figure knocked him aside.
“Enough! You are going to let her die!”
Bruised and aching, his own bre
ath gone for a moment, Hawke watched as the shadow of a man stood above Rachel and spread his hands wide. Shimmers so silver and pure Hawke was certain he could have reached out and touched them danced over Rachel. Her body twitched in response.
“Live, Child! Live so that you may Become!”
Rachel’s eyes snapped open, and she took a hoarse, ragged breath. She stared up at the shadow. “Who are you?” she gasped.
“You already know me—I am the Shadowman. I breathed life into you, and now you will complete your Journey. You still have one more task to accomplish.”
Hawke got to his feet and moved toward the shadowed figure, intending to put himself between Rachel and whatever threat the being might offer. The shadow waved an arm at him, and Hawke flew a dozen meters away, landing in a bone-bruising sprawl.
“Stay back! I will not kill you unless you try to challenge me again!”
Hawke got to his feet and reached for his katars.
“Hawke, no!” Weakly, Rachel got to her feet and addressed the shadow. “You did this? You sent me after that artifact?”
“Yes, all that and more.”
“Why?”
“For you. So that you may Become.”
“Become what?”
“You will know when you have finished the final task.”
“This is over right now. No one is going to make me do anything.” Rachel stood facing the shadow.
For a moment, Hawke saw a gleaming patch of scales, then he was just as certain that the shadow belonged to a tall, handsome man with long, steel-gray hair. Then there was only darkness again.
“If you stop now, you will die. And there will be nothing I can do to prevent it. Your fate rests in your hands alone, Child. I will not take that away from you, not after giving you life.”
As Hawke leaped forward, the shadow waved at him again. He came to a sudden stop, suspended a meter above the stone floor. He tried to move and couldn’t.
In the next instant, a wall blocked Nighthorse, Snakechaser, and Paredes off from Hawke and Rachel. Snakechaser slammed his walking stick against the barrier, scattering shimmering sparks in all directions. The barrier also proved impenetrable to Paredes’s sword. Nighthorse’s eyes gleamed with a greenish glow, but the wall stood.
