A glance at his forearm showed that he’d been tagged with a new glyph he had to assume was the goddess’s mark. There was no
jun tan
, though. No sign that they were officially mated, which was a relief.
The power—shimmering gold and rainbows—cut out when they landed, leaving him and Alexis swaying on their feet. He looped an arm around her waist so she wouldn’t stumble and fall, and felt the familiar kick of heat that always came when he touched her. Only the heat was subtly different, stronger and richer, and laced with undertones of color and temptation.
Her taste was imprinted on his neurons, and he could smell their mingled scents on her skin, on his own. The musk, the sex, the goddess . . . all of it bound them together.
Uncomfortable, he let his arm drop and stepped away from her, so they stood apart when they faced the Nightkeepers, and their king.
Strike looked them both over, and didn’t seem reassured by what he was seeing. “You guys okay?” he asked, but they all knew he was asking so much more than that.
“Better than okay.” Alexis stepped forward, her face seeming simultaneously softer and edgier, as though the god-power had tightened her jawline and darkened the rims of her blue eyes, but plumped her lips and smoothed the corners of her mouth and her brow. She looked like herself . . . only more so.
Nate wasn’t sure whether the changes were new and god-wrought, or if they’d been a gradual shift he hadn’t noticed. Either way they looked good on her, and resonated within him, as though he’d seen this new Alexis in another time and place. Which didn’t make any freaking sense whatsoever.
She cupped her palms and smiled, and light kindled in her hands. Where before she’d needed blood and chanted spells to summon a weak fireball, now it sprang to life instantly, without blood or word, growing from a spark to a conflagration, not just the red of a Nightkeeper or the gold of a god, but both those colors, along with the greens and blues and purples he’d seen from her in the sacred chamber, all the colors of the rainbow.
“Ixchel,” Leah said, coming up to stand beside Strike. The gold of the creator god sparked in her eyes through the magic of the eclipse connection.
The imperfect human Godkeeper faced the true Godkeeper for a moment that hung suspended in time. Then the queen bent and spit at Alexis’s feet in obeisance. Moments later Strike did the same. Then each of the others did the same, as the Nightkeepers welcomed the goddess into their midst.
Nate held himself apart, standing near Alexis because he couldn’t not be near her, but distancing himself at the same time. Nobody seemed to notice or care, though, because—for now, anyway—the goddess’s protector was ancillary.
“Thank you,” Alexis said. Her face shone with power and joy, and the colors from the fireball had extended to touch her, limning her in rainbows. She looked at Sven, the goddess power somehow prompting her to pick him out of the others. “Congratulations.”
Surprise flashed across his features, then pride. He held out his forearm, showing that the indecipherable talent mark he’d worn since the previous fall had changed, resolving itself into a glyph that was very like Strike’s, yet not. “I’m a translocator,” he said. “Which pretty much means I can teleport inanimate shit without touching it.” But though his words might be deprecating, his eyes shone and his shoulders were square beneath his combat duds.
Alexis next turned to where Patience stood, with Brandt beside her. “I’m sorry.” This time Nate was pretty sure it was Alexis the woman, not the goddess, who was speaking.
Patience shook her head. “It was as it was meant to be.” She was holding Brandt’s hand, her grip tight, as though she were fighting not to let go. She glanced at Nate, then back to Alexis. “Better for it to be the two of you right now.”
Better for whom?
Nate wondered, then wished he hadn’t, wished he could just let events unfold. But unease dogged him as the Nightkeepers headed topside to collect Jade and the
winikin
, and they all linked up once again for the trip home. As the teleport magic kicked in, an echo in the king’s voice reached them all, a thought he’d no doubt meant to keep private, or just between him and Leah, but had been broadcast through the bloodline link:
What good will rainbows do against Camazotz?
Excitement buzzed through him at the thought that he might be close to finally meeting Sasha, finally putting a face and body to the voice on the phone, maybe even getting answers to some of the questions that plagued him. Oddly, he wasn’t really thinking of Desiree’s challenge or the doctorate, though he’d phoned in the day before and told the Dragon Lady where he was headed. Those things—and the university—seemed far away, and inconsequential.
What mattered was the strange light coming from the thin, iridescent corona surrounding the eclipsed moon, which had turned a bloody orange-red, and his headlights, which lit a faint track that optimistically called itself a road. He hung on to the steering wheel as his rented four-wheel-drive vehicle dropped into a pothole and bounced out again, and an ominous thumping noise started coming from the undercarriage. He didn’t care, though. All he cared about was getting to the end of his journey.
Then, finally, he topped a low ridge and saw a glitter of lights below. Hitting the gas, he sent the SUV slaloming down the backside of the ridge. Ten minutes later he was driving through the open gates of what turned out to be a fricking palace, a mansion of sandstone and marble and shit that looked totally out of place in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.
The gates swung shut behind him, sending a shiver down his spine. But that didn’t stop him from parking by the front door and climbing out of the SUV.
Sasha might not be here,
he cautioned himself.
You’re probably setting yourself up for some mondo disappointment.
But he thought not.
He’d followed Ledbetter’s directions and found an oasis. He hoped that she’d done the same.
He saw a surveillance camera tracking him as he headed up a flagged walkway, under a pillared awning supported by columns that looked like their maker had gotten stuck halfway between Intro to Ancient Egypt and Mayan Architecture for Dummies. Nightkeeper influence, he was sure of it.
The air hummed with a strange, discordant sound—something his gut told him was ancient magic. Nightkeeper magic. Logic said his gut was taking a hell of a flying leap on that one, but his gut told logic to fuck off, because deep down inside he knew he was right. He’d found the Nightkeepers. And not just proof that they’d existed in Mayan times, either. He’d frickin’ found the home base of their modern-day descendants.
Again with the logic leap. Again with the certainty.
His pulse was pounding as he lifted a hand to knock. Then, when the door swung inward, his heart quite simply stopped at the sight of the woman standing in the ornate entryway.
It wasn’t Sasha, though. It was Anna.
“Lucius,” she said on a long, sad sigh. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Holy shit,
was all he could think. Shock and guilt swirled around, hammering at each other in a hell of a mental joust, as too many details that’d refused to gel in the past suddenly resolved themselves into an impossible, improbable certainty.
His boss was a goddamned Nightkeeper.
Even forewarned, though, it was a shock for Anna to have him standing on the doorstep of Skywatch, his eyes wide and a little wild. She was also surprised, once again, to realize that he’d gained mass and muscle, and wasn’t her scrawny, geeky grad student anymore.
Which didn’t even begin to tell her what the hell she should do about him. She was exhausted from the drain of the eclipse ceremony. Her brain was spinning from the gods’ choice of a keeper, and the identity of the goddess who’d bound with Alexis. And now this.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, but she didn’t tell him to leave. It was too late for that. Stepping back, she waved him in. “Come on.”
He stood rooted, white-faced in shock, but she saw something else beneath the surprise. Resentment. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he grated.
“Because it’s none of your business.” Though that was only because Red-Boar had mind-blocked his previous experiences with the Nightkeepers and the
makol
. Or had he? she thought, not wondering whether Red-Boar had neglected his work, but rather whether somehow Lucius had overcome the mental blocks. Frowning, she asked, “How did you get here?”
He stared at her for a long moment, looking like the guy she’d known for going on six years now, but also looking like the man he’d become since the prior fall, harder, tougher, and far more secretive. Then, doing a bad Anthony Hopkins impression, he said, “Quid pro quo, Clarice.” He stepped past her into the entryway of Skywatch, adding over his shoulder, “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
Three steps inside the door, he stopped dead at the sight of Strike, who was looking big and mean.
The king scowled and said, “That’s so not how it’s going to work.”
Anna knew her brother was pissed off—not just because of Lucius’s untimely arrival, but because they had themselves a Godkeeper but weren’t really sure how the goddess of weaving and rainbows was supposed to help them, and because Nate and Alexis’s relationship was far from stable, making him fear complications. That, and they were all dragging with postmagic hangovers. They should be chowing down on foods heavy in protein and fat and then heading straight to bed, rather than dealing with an unwanted guest and the questions and dangers his arrival was sure to bring.
Which meant the king was sporting a serious ’tude. Instead of backing off, though, Lucius shot his chin out. “Who the hell are you? And where’s Sasha?”
“We’re looking for her,” Anna said, figuring there’d be time later to figure out why that’d been his first concern. She stepped between them when it looked like Strike was going to lash out first and ask questions later. “This is my brother, Strike,” she told Lucius, then paused and added, “He’s the jaguar king of the Nightkeepers.”
Lucius didn’t back down, but his color drained some. “Fuck me.”
“No, thanks.” Strike leaned in. “Get this straight. You don’t belong here. We don’t want you here. But you’re here, and that’s a big godsdamned problem for us. Given that you showed up at the tail end of the eclipse, I’m going to have to assume that some of the shit that went down last fall is breaking through, which makes you an even bigger problem.”
Lucius glowered. “Look. I don’t know—”
“Shut. Up.” Strike snapped. He was starting to sway a little, suggesting that he’d burned through all his reserves and then some in the battle to maintain the barrier’s integrity during the eclipse ceremony. Anna should know—she’d leaked him as much power as she could, but knew he’d forced himself not to take too much during the struggle. Which meant she was in way better shape than he was. Leah, on the other hand, was already asleep.
Knowing there was a good chance her brother was close to losing his temper or passing out, or both, Anna said, “We can figure this out tomorrow, after we’ve all had a chance to recharge. I’ll take responsibility for him.”
Strike turned on her. “And how do you plan to do that? You’re just as wiped as the rest of us.”
“Jox can—”
“No,” her brother said, doing the interrupting thing again—a habit of his when he’d hit the end of his energy reserves. “We’ll lock him downstairs in one of the storerooms.” When she would’ve protested, he fixed her with a look. “Be careful or I’ll decide Red-Boar was right in the first place.”
“We had a deal,” Anna reminded him. “His life for my return to the Nightkeepers.”
“Hasn’t been much of a return,” he pointed out, sounding more tired than snide. “And that was then; this is now. If he’s retained some memory of what happened, or worse, he’s regained some
makol
magic—because how else could he have found this place?—then the deal’s off.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I have to do what I think is best.”
Jarringly, that last statement echoed back in Anna’s brain to an argument she’d overheard between their parents, when their father had spoken of leading the Nightkeepers to battle and their mother had counseled patience.
Scarred-Jaquar had done what he’d thought was best, and look what had happened. Strike was a different sort of man, a different sort of king. But was he different enough?
“Fine,” she said, backing down, because it wasn’t really important where Lucius spent the night. The larger issue of his fate wouldn’t be decided until the next day, or maybe farther out than that. “I’ll lock him downstairs.”
“Have Jox help you,” Strike said, not saying outright that he didn’t trust her to do what she said, but pretty close to it.
“Go to bed, little brother.” She turned her back on him, because she didn’t like the dynamic that was developing, the way they kept jarring against each other over the smallest of things, never mind the bigger ones. She and Strike had been close as children, distant as teens and adults. With so long apart, she supposed it stood to reason that they wouldn’t be able to fall right into an easy accord. That didn’t stop her from feeling like there was something wrong between them, something he was keeping from her. But, knowing she wasn’t going to figure it out running on empty, she turned back and grabbed Lucius’s arm. “Come on.”
He let her lead him through the first floor and down to the lower level of the main house, which held the gym on one side and a series of storerooms on the other. At the bottom of the stairs, he dug in his heels and pulled away from her, his expression accusatory. “Okay, Anna. Start talking.”
Running pretty close to the edge of her own temper and energy reserves, she said, “I don’t have to. You’re the one who’s trespassing.”
“And you’re about to imprison me. Who’s breaking more laws, d’ya think?”
Refusing to go there, she said, “How did you find me?”
He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “I wasn’t looking for you. I was looking for Sasha Ledbetter. Are you sure she’s not here?”
“Positive. Why would you think she would be? And again, how the hell did you find Skywatch?” Then she paused, thinking it through. “You followed Ambrose’s trail to the haunted temple, didn’t you?”
Just prior to the equinox battle, Anna and Red-Boar had tracked Ambrose Ledbetter to a sacred clearing, where they’d found him buried in a shallow grave. He’d been killed and ritually beheaded. At first they’d thought the
makol
had killed the Mayan researcher for the blood-power of the sacrifice, and to keep the Nightkeepers from asking him about the Godkeeper ritual. However, once Anna and Red-Boar had dug up the older man’s remains to move him to a more appropriate burial site, they’d seen that his right forearm had been a knotted mass of scar tissue, as though the skin had been burned or cut away . . . exactly where a Nightkeeper’s marks would’ve been.
Originally, they’d surmised that he might have been a Nightkeeper who’d been disgraced and cast out before the Solstice Massacre, somehow without Jox or Red-Boar knowing about it. With Iago’s arrival on-scene, however, it seemed more likely that Ledbetter had been a Xibalban, perhaps one who’d seen the light and defected as the end-time drew near.
Maybe.
The PI, Carter, had been unable to learn much about Ledbetter beyond the common-knowledge stuff available through his university, and the fact that he had a daughter—or maybe a goddaughter, depending on the source of the info—named Sasha. Anna had tried to contact the young woman right after the fall equinox, got one missed return phone call, and then the girl had effectively dropped out of sight. Strike hadn’t even been able to lock onto her for a ’port. The Nightkeepers had assumed she’d been killed too, and had turned their focus to other matters.
Now Anna wondered if they’d been too hasty on that one.
Lucius nodded. “Yeah. I saw the temple.” His eyes changed. “Those were your bootprints just inside the door, weren’t they? The ones that disappeared into the pitfall?” His eyes sharpened, went feral. “What was down there?”
“Nothing good,” she said faintly. After reburying Ledbetter’s headless corpse at the edge of the forest, she and Red-Boar had split up to look for the Nightkeeper temple they suspected Ledbetter had discovered. In finding it, Anna had been . . . she still didn’t know how to describe it, though “partially possessed” was probably close enough . . . by a
nahwal
, which never should’ve been able to exist on the earth outside of its normal barrier milieu. Under its influence, she’d cut her wrists in sacrifice, nearly bleeding out before Red-Boar had managed to carry her into satellite phone range and call for help. Since then, none of the Nightkeepers had been back to the ruin, which they’d taken to calling the haunted temple because of the
nahwal
’s odd behavior. Without access to Red-Boar’s mind-bending skills, which he’d used to pull her back when the
nahwal
tried to drag her into the barrier for good, Strike had decided there was too much of a risk. Anna had been scared enough of the place not to argue, but if Lucius had been there, if he’d seen something she and Red-Boar had missed . . .
“I found Ledbetter’s head,” Lucius answered, his voice going ragged. “And the address of this place, written in starscript. There were signs of a struggle, footprints that didn’t add up.” He swallowed hard. “I hoped Sasha read the ’script and came here. Since she didn’t, and since nobody’s seen her since she went south . . .”
When he trailed off, Anna finished, “Either the Xibalbans grabbed her from the haunted temple, or she’s dead. Or both.”
“Xibalbans?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Maybe.
“What else did you see in the temple?”
He glanced along the basement hallway. “You going to lock me up?”
“I have no choice.”
“Then I didn’t see anything.”
“Bullshit.”
He raised an eyebrow, and something faintly malevolent glittered in the depths of his eyes, which were greener than she remembered. “Prove it.”
Frustration slapped at her. “Damn it, Lucius.” She was too tired to deal with this now, too drained.
Without being told, he headed for the first of the doors on the right, then paused and looked back. “This one?”
“Two down,” Anna answered, knowing there really wasn’t much more to say. She followed him to the storeroom, which Strike had outfitted as a holding cell back when he’d planned to imprison Leah rather than letting her sacrifice herself. Her incarceration had lasted approximately five minutes, until Rabbit had let her out and Red-Boar had lured her to the Chaco Canyon ruins, where he’d tried to gun her down in cold blood, thinking to save Strike from repeating his father’s mistake by choosing love over duty and dooming them all. In the end, though, Red-Boar had died for loyalty and love of his king. That sacrifice had washed away all the other sins.
And why do you keep thinking of Red-Boar?
Anna asked herself with a stab of guilt. She’d called her husband from the road and made some excuse about her meeting being moved up a couple of days, and hadn’t talked to him since. In the meantime, her heartache had eased some and logic had returned. They’d dealt with the affair already, and were working to move past it. And there was nothing concrete to suggest he’d encouraged Desiree. There was no reason for her to be thinking of another man. Especially one who was not only dead, but had been an asshole when he was alive. He’d had his reasons, but still. . . . She made a mental note to call Dick when she woke up the next morning. Maybe they could plan to take some time away when she got back.
“It’s not as bad as I expected.” Lucius shrugged at the accommodations. “No worse than fieldwork.”
Tearing her thoughts from Dick and Red-Boar, Anna looked at Lucius and saw a stranger. Feeling fatigue drag, she said, “I’ll come for you in the morning.”
“Yeah.” He turned away, and didn’t look back as she shut and padlocked the door and set the key on a shelf nearby. Then, just to be on the safe side, she set a magical ward that a human could pass through, but which would stop a magical creature in its tracks.
In theory.
Lucius heard the key turn in the lock and knew he should feel trapped, knew he should be freaking right the hell out. Hello, mental overload. The Nightkeepers not only
had
existed, they still did, and Anna was one of them. He had his proof, had his doctorate, if he still wanted to play Desiree’s game. But there was more here than just that, wasn’t there? The convo out in the entryway suggested that the other Nightkeepers already knew about him somehow, that Anna had bargained for his life. How, exactly, had he missed that?