Final Prophecy 05 - Blood Spells (6 page)

As the final string of silvery bubbles escaped, and panic chilled to grim desperation, Brandt’s mind locked on the last of Woody’s expectations.
Faith,
he thought. When all else failed, that was what it came down to, wasn’t it?

The cold vanished, the car and the river disappeared, and Brandt found himself hanging weightless and immobile, completely deprived of all sensory input save for that created by his body: the pulsing whine of blood through his veins, the sensation of swallowing, the repetitive act of breathing.

His brain spun as he fought to shift gears.

As he did so, he was aware that this wasn’t the first time he’d made the transition, or the second. More like the hundredth. Sick dread latched itself on to his soul as he realized all over again that the Triad spell had trapped him in his own private
Groundhog Day
. He was reliving that night over and over again, an endless loop in which he sank into a vision, became his teenage self and experienced the terror of that night, then switched back to his adult self, only then becoming cognizant of what was going on.

He didn’t know how long he’d been cycling, but he knew for damned sure that he had to get out of this fucking loop, and
fast
, because it wouldn’t be long before it started all over again.

This wasn’t part of the Triad spell. By now, he should be fighting to assimilate—or be assimilated by—his ancestors. Instead he was reliving the night he’d almost died in that river. At the thought, though, adrenaline kicked. A near-death experience formed a link to the gods. The Godkeeper ceremony involved near death by drowning. Maybe the Triad spell did too.

But he was already having an almost-dead-by-drowning experience within the vision. What more did he need to do in order to complete the spell?

He didn’t know.

And then it was too late, because the temperature dropped, chilling him to his bones.

For the last few seconds he was himself, he let his mind fill with a warm memory, that of Patience’s face aglow with happiness as they swapped marriage vows in front of a JP and half a dozen friends, needing nothing more than each other, really. Even though they had both lied about why their godparents—aka
winikin
—couldn’t be there, beginning the chain of small lies that had shaped the early, happy years of their marriage, the memory brought only a poignant ache.

No matter what had come after, that had been a good day. One of his best.

As the small peace dissolved, he closed his eyes and whispered into the blackness, “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m lost and I can’t figure out how to get back.”

Then the bottom fell out of his world, his soul lurched, and his consciousness regressed to that of a terrified, dying teen.

 

 

Just past dawn, Patience jolted awake with her heart pounding and Brandt’s voice echoing in her mind.

“Hey,” she said, a smile blooming as she rolled toward him, having finally crashed in the bed, albeit clothed and atop the comforter. “You’re—” She broke off at the sight of his still form, the lack of animation in his angular features. “Not awake,” she finished, disappointment thudding through her as she saw that he looked the same as he had when she’d fallen asleep—his breathing too slow, his skin gray despite the IV taped at the crook of his elbow.

After recharging, she and the others had tried everything they could think of the night before, from a joint blood sacrifice to a one-sided attempt for her to call sex magic and awaken their
jun tan
bond. Their mated link had remained stubbornly silent. Yet now she could swear his voice had awakened her.

Although the other mated pairs could share thoughts when they were uplinked, her and Brandt’s bond had always been different. Their
jun tan
link had carried a magic of its own, one that allowed them to transmit power, pleasure, and thoughts, sometimes even from a distance. So it wasn’t impossible that she’d heard him, but still . . .

“It was probably just a dream,” she murmured, knowing too well how much false hope could hurt. But that didn’t stop her from taking his hand, interlacing their fingers, pressing their scarred palms together, and sending part of herself into their
jun tan
bond, just to see. The mark on her wrist warmed momentarily, but that was it. His half of their mated bond didn’t respond.

It wasn’t a surprise. But it hurt with a dull ache that gathered beneath her breastbone and lay leaden, weighing her down. She didn’t let go of his hand, though. Instead, she inched closer to his big, warm body and let her eyes drift shut.
I’ll just lie here for a minute longer. . . .

Shrieks and laughter pulled her out of sleep into the warm drowsiness of yellow morning sunlight and the weight of her husband’s arm across her hips, the curve of his body behind hers, enfolding hers. Through the open bedroom door, she saw Rabbit spinning around in the main room, roaring demonlike while Braden clung to his shoulders and Harry battered at his knees, two miniature magi fighting to bring down one of the fearsome
Banol Kax
. With a final roar, Rabbit fell back onto the couch, flailing in pretend death throes while the twins pounced on him.

Brandt’s chuckle vibrated through his body and into hers. “Points to the
winikin
.” He slid her panties down but not off, so the waistband caught at the tops of her thighs, holding her legs together and creating deliciously wicked friction as he positioned himself to rub against her slick folds from behind, teasing them both. She purred and arched against him, heating to his touch and moving restlessly as urgency built. Then he shifted to slide into her, stretching and filling her—

Patience’s body shuddered, and the movement snapped her from her light doze, jolting her back to reality.

She opened her eyes to find herself in the master bedroom, lying beside Brandt as the yellow morning sun came in through the window to warm the cool blue room. But that was where the parallels stopped. She wasn’t wrapped in Brandt’s arms, and he sure as hell wasn’t making love to her. He hadn’t for longer than she wanted to count. Yet arousal ran through her, making her shiver hot and cold, and wish she had stayed asleep a few minutes longer.

“Damn it. That wasn’t fair.” She didn’t know who or what she was pissed at, just that she was pissed. Frustrated. Sad. Depressed.

Forcing herself to get moving, she headed for the connecting bath, then through to the boys’ room, where she usually slept. There, she changed into clean jeans and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt, and dragged her long hair into a ponytail. Every few minutes, she looked through the bathroom to the master bedroom, where Brandt lay unchanged, looking as isolated as she felt.

Outside the bedroom window, the sun shone brightly, warming her chilled skin when she pressed her palms against the glass and rested her forehead for a moment. “I could use some help here, gods. I need more to go on than just ‘make him remember.’”

She waited a long moment, hoping for a sign. A clue. Something. Anything.

Nothing.

Exhaling, she turned away from the window and headed through the suite, intending to grab some breakfast, check with the
winikin
to see how things were going in the outside world, and see if Jade and Lucius had gotten any further with the library research. But as she was passing through the main room, a flash of purple on the coffee table caught her eye and made her hesitate.

It was her first deck of oracle cards, part of a boxed set that she’d bought off Amazon on a whim, and maybe a bit of rebellion against the traditions that dictated too much of her life at Skywatch.

Mayan astronomy wasn’t part of the old ways; hell, as far as she could tell, most of the shtick had been lifted straight from tarot readings, glossed over with a veneer of Mayan glyphs and concepts designed to appeal to the human world, where there was a growing awareness that December 21, 2012, might be more than just some hype and a couple of loud movies.

Over the past few months, though, she’d realized that just because the codices didn’t mention the oracle, that didn’t make it bullshit. More and more often, she was turning over cards that related to—or even predicted—what was going on in her life. In fact, she was starting to think that the oracle could tap into some type of magic, whether or not the others wanted to accept it. Which was why she didn’t brush off the instinct that told her to cut the deck now.

She crossed to the low table and chose a card at random, without even shuffling. When she flipped it, she froze at the sight of a jagged “X” formed of two step-sided pyramid outlines, joined at their crowns.

It was the mirror glyph,
etznab
.

Again.

A shiver worked its way down her spine, and her heart picked up a beat. What were the odds she would cut the same card twice in a row from two different decks?

Glancing at the sliders, at the shining sun and the blue sky around it, she said, “I get it. Brandt and I have unfinished business. And apparently he has some with his ancestors too. But I don’t know what else I’m supposed to take from this.” She reached for the dog-eared book that went with the deck, figuring she should reread the entire entry on the
etznab
oracle.

But then she hesitated, staring at the card.

What if it wasn’t signifying unfinished business? What if it was telling her something far more obvious?

“Mirrors,” she whispered. “Holy shit.”

The ancestors had held mirrors as sacred, believing they were doorways into the soul . . . and into memory.

Her hands shook as she fumbled out her phone and called the library. Thanks to a private cell covering the compound—Jox’s doing—the call went through immediately, though canyon country itself was a dead zone. “Hey there,” Jade said in answer. “Any news?”

“Brandt is the same.”

“I’m sorry. Anna’s in bad shape too.” Jade’s voice echoed with concern for her friend. “Strike and the others are at the hospital now.”

“Gods.” Patience closed her eyes and sent a quick prayer. She didn’t know Anna well, but she was a teammate, estranged or not. And, apparently, a Triad mage. She had collapsed within minutes of the Triad spell being triggered, and had wound up rushed to the ER with an intracranial bleed.

Jade continued, forcing a businesslike tone into her voice. “And in the ‘not sounding good’ department, Mendez’s
winikin
disappeared out of his locked mental ward yesterday right after Mendez dropped out of sight. Nate, Sven, and Alexis are up there now, looking for both of them.” She paused. “But I’m guessing you didn’t call for an update.”

“No.” Patience let out a slow breath and crossed her fingers that this was going to work. “Did Lucius’s search for memory enhancers pull up anything related to mirrors, like a mirrored artifact or a spell that uses one?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then Jade said, “There’s a mirror-bottomed pot on the ‘to be translated’ pile. The magic led Lucius to it, but we moved it down on the priority list because a rough translation of the first few glyphs suggested that it’s more aimed at breaking mental blocks than recovering actual memories.”