Storm Kissed (22 page)

Shit
, he thought when warmth trickled through him. He was definitely talking himself into that one, ignoring the very real threat posed by his bloodline. But at the same time, he knew damn well that the war took precedence, and regardless of the other stuff, she was an asset to the team. He wouldn’t have identified the third artifact or found the ice cave without her. She could find damn near anything . . . and given what Rabbit had pulled from Iago’s mind during their fight, the Nightkeepers badly needed her skills right now. Because there was bad news and more bad news: The Xibalban had captured Keban and the other artifacts. He controlled three pieces of the weapon, and the solstice was less than a week away.

On the upside, the Nightkeepers still had the star demon hidden away . . . and Rabbit had discovered that there were five artifacts, not four. There was one more out there, in play. But that was where the “more bad” came in. “I couldn’t figure out what the fifth artifact looks like or where it’s hidden,” Rabbit had said, “because there’s another problem. Iago isn’t the dominant personality anymore; the demon soul of Moctezuma is in control now, and Iago’s brain is
seriously
fucked up. I couldn’t get anything other than what was floating at the top of his sicko soup.” He had paused, a muscle at the corner of his jaw pulsing. “He’s the one who has been taking the villagers. He’s figured out how to turn them all
makol
, not just the evilest of them. He’s got a fucking army brewing—hundreds, maybe thousands.” Including men, women, children . . . and Rabbit’s friends.

As for the rest, Rabbit had gotten hints about the solstice and a dark lord, but no specifics on who, what, or how to stop it.

Based on the new information, the Nightkeepers were scrambling to put together new recons, new strategies. Sasha was doing some healing work on Sven, who had turned quiet and strange since his inexplicable collapse and equally inexplicable reawakening the next day. Rabbit and Myrinne had gone back down south to keep looking for Iago’s base camp. Reese had gone off with Jade, Natalie, and Lucius to try to figure out what the fifth artifact could be, where it might be hidden, and—

Shit
, Dez thought, disgusted.
Meditate already.
He would’ve skipped the routine, but he knew all too well how easy it was to start the downward slide. A missed prayer or a momentary grab for power weren’t deadly in isolation, but for him they could be as dangerous as a dry drunk’s first sip.

Staring at the wall, he drew a deep, incense-laden breath and blanked his mind. Then he relaxed his scalp, his face, his sinuses and jaw, working his way down, feeling the bumps and bruises, the psychic stink that came from having grappled with Iago.

Those reminders of the fight brought a thick stir of anger. The Xibalban had gotten the two-faced mask. More, he had almost killed Reese.
Damn it
, Dez thought, he should’ve tried harder to chase her off, should’ve found a way to send her back to Denver, even if the knowledge that she had a guy waiting for her made him want to put his fist through something. It would be better to have her safe in the arms of another man than risking herself with the Nightkeepers.

When a molar creaked, he made himself relax his jaw.

She wasn’t as fast as he was, didn’t heal like he did, didn’t have shield magic or lightning. Worse, she was still stupid-brave. She might think she had grown up and slowed down, but she was wrong. She would still be the first one through any door if he didn’t push her out of the way. Seeing her locked inside Iago’s shield had just about killed him, as had watching the
makol
squadron advance on her.

This so wasn’t working. He really, really sucked at this.

A knock at his apartment door had him lunging to his feet. “Thank Christ.” It wasn’t until he had his hand on the doorknob that he realized the thrum of his blood wasn’t just coming from relief. The knock had been the syncopated four-tap that had been his and Reese’s old signal for:
It’s me. All clear
.

Except nothing was clear. He knew that for damn sure the moment he opened the door.

She was wearing dark jeans and a stretchy top that clung to her breasts and had desire hammering through him, racing on the afterburn of magic. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, back her up against the far wall and imprint his body on hers. Electric heat flared at the thought, saying
yes, this is right, this is what was meant to happen
, with a certainty as incontrovertible as the writs themselves. But back in the day, he’d thought the same about buying her that ring because he wanted to get laid, hadn’t he?

Knowing that he couldn’t trust his motives when it came to her, he made himself step out into the hall and let the door swing shut behind him. “Hey. Everything okay?”

She met his eyes, looking thoughtful and seeming oblivious to the ozone crackle that heated the air around them. “I was thinking . . . Skywatch is at the middle of the compass cross made by the other locations, right? So where better to hide the fifth artifact than inside the Nightkeepers’ center of ops?”

That so wasn’t where his brain had been that it took him a second to reorient, another to see that she might very well have nailed it. Because the pattern fit. The logic played. And he was damn grateful to have something else to focus on other than the heat that burned inside him.

Maybe keeping her close wasn’t so self-indulgent after all.

He grinned fiercely. “I always said you were more than a pretty face.”
Keep it light
, he told himself when his blood continued to hum in his veins and his body attuned itself to hers.

She stuck out her tongue at him, then lifted a flashlight. “Want to do some exploring?”

Caution said he shouldn’t go off alone with her, not now when he was running so hot. But, damn it, this was their search and the compass artifacts were the responsibility of the serpent bloodline. And he might be tempted, but he was in control. He could handle himself. So, deciding caution could go fuck itself, he ducked back inside his apartment and grabbed his jacket. “Lead the way,” he said.

But as they headed off, he couldn’t help wondering where the slippery slide began. And how far he could let it go before there was too much momentum to stop.

 

Reese filled Dez in as he steered the Jeep along the looping trail that followed the perimeter of the box canyon. “The center of the compass is associated with the color green, and with—get this—lightning.” When he shot her a look, she nodded. “I shit you not. The Hopi medicine wheel has a similar color arrangement, except that they connect the green center with their end-time prophecy, which says that the savior will return to save them. He’s supposed to be a big, white-skinned god who wears a red cape and appears following a series of signs that include multiple earthquakes.” Like the ones that had hit the previous year, courtesy of the earthquake demon, Cabrakan.

As they climbed out of the Jeep at the back of the canyon, he pointed out, “Only the royal bloodline wears red for ceremonies, which suggests that Strike is the guy they’re looking for. Maybe it’s his job to destroy the weapon.” His tone was matter-of-fact, his expression anything but.

The intensity of his gaze, like the heat that had kindled in his eyes as they had stood together in the hallway, sent a shiver down the back of her neck and kicked her instincts into overdrive. Since their return to Skywatch, he had seemed . . . different somehow. He was darker and more closed off than he had been, yet at the same time she had caught him watching her possessively, with a feral, predatory gleam in his eyes. She wasn’t afraid of him—she wouldn’t have come out here alone with him if she had been. But the fragile trust that had started growing between them while they staked out the ice cave had disappeared, as had any easiness between them. Maybe encouraging him to return to Skywatch had been a mistake, after all.
Or maybe you’re overanalyzing
, she thought sourly.

He looked up at the cliff face, to the triple row of dark openings that led into a small Puebloan ruin. “Why are we starting here?”

“Since the other artifacts were all hidden at local native sites, I called down to Rabbit, who knows these ruins better than anyone. He was pretty sure that a few of the rooms have zigzag decorations suggesting serpent worship.” She paused. “Granted, the compass points aren’t exact, so the fifth artifact could be hidden in one of the main Chacoan ruins. Heck, given that Keban told you there were only two hidden artifacts left—the god’s head and the two-faced mask—number five may be in a museum somewhere. And there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to sense it . . . But we’ve got to start somewhere.”

An hour later, though, they were forced to admit defeat. The zigzags may or may not be snakes, but the surrounding stones were solid, with no evidence of anything being hidden there.

“It was worth a try,” Dez said as he parked the Jeep back in its spot near the training hall, which was a short walk from the mansion. “Tomorrow we can start checking the Chacoan sites—Pueblo Bonito and whatnot.”

The sun was setting, the sky going from salmon to bloodred as it filtered through the high canopy of the huge ceiba tree that had magically grown from the ashes of the
winikin
and children who had died in the Solstice Massacre. A grove of leafy cacao trees spread out beneath the bigger tree, forming a magical, out-of-place mini-rain-forest ecosystem that flourished between the training hall and the mansion.

Reese hopped out of the Jeep and walked partway to the picnic area near the cacao, her mental wheels still turning. “How about planting some of those magic sensors around the Chacoan ruins? That way we’ll know if Iago ’ports in to dig something up.”

“We’ll have to check if there are any left. Last I knew, Rabbit had set up most of them in the highlands.”

It was a sobering reminder of the bigger picture. And the fact that they needed to find some answers, fast. “What about—” She broke off at a twig-snap. Her instincts flared. “Did you hear that?”

Still over by the Jeep, Dez looked over. “Hear what?”

She squinted through the half-light at the cacao grove, and raised her voice. “Is someone there?”

A shadow moved. Then luminous green flashed, followed by a high-pitched whine.

“Makol!”
Reese spun and bolted, then screamed in pain when something slash-thudded into her shoulder. Another blow impacted low on her back, and then the creature was on top of her, tearing at her, growling vicious words in a language she didn’t know. She heard Dez’s furious bellow, saw a blast of lightning magic, felt the
makol
being ripped away and turned to ash. Then it was all pain and blackness. Then nothing at all.

 

“No!
” Dez roared, dropping down beside her. “Reese!”

His shield sparked around them both as he dragged her up. He saw her blood, smelled it, felt it on his hands when he grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder, his heart pounding a sick litany of:
Not Reese. Please no. Not Reese.

In the cacao grove, dark magic rattled and air
whoomped
with the sound of an outgoing ’port. Moments later, leaves parted and more
makol
poured through: men and women wearing the mix of loomed textiles and modern clothes favored by the highland Maya.

Pulse slamming, Dez reinforced the shit out of his shield and went for his armband, nailing the emergency alarms on every available channel. “We’ve got
makol
by the big training hall, repeat
by the fucking training hall
. Reese is hurt. I need Sasha here,
now
. And for fuck’s sake put somebody on the star demon. I think Iago’s here.” The magic of the outgoing teleport had felt different, bigger.

Then he spun as a big
makol
with a nose ring and the robes of a village shaman-priest came out of the trees and lunged, slashing. The buzz-sword bit into and
through
Dez’s shield. He felt the blow not just in his shield but in his body; pain roared in his shoulder and chest and he staggered back, went down. He landed hard and lost hold of Reese. And his godsdamned shield shorted out.

“Fuck!” He launched to his feet, putting himself in front of her as the big
makol
raised his buzz-sword for the killing blow. He tried to call his shield. Failed. Tried to call lightning. Failed. Went for his .44, but it was too late. The buzz-sword sliced the air and—

Foliage whipped suddenly as a furry grayish blur erupted from the cacao grove and leaped on the
makol
.

Dez froze for a split second, surprised as hell when the dog—wolf? coyote?—clamped its teeth on the shaman’s sword arm and twisted. Inertia spun them around, and then the huge canine was on top of the
makol
, snarling horribly as it tore out the demon’s throat and then bit down on its face with a terrible crunch.

More
makol
raced out of the grove and the big dog spun to face them with a chilling snarl, its jaws dripping blood and saliva. Then it leaped over the attackers, raced back into the cacao. And disappeared.

Whump!
Air displaced as Strike and six more magi appeared in the middle of the fight. Immediately, they slammed shield magic into place and started blasting away. Rabbit and Michael were in front, wielding fire and
muk
. The deadly magical flows scythed through the bulk of the
makol
while the others napalmed with fireballs, then followed up with head-and-heart magic.

“Don’t let them at your shields,” Dez snapped. “One of them shorted mine out.” He couldn’t explain that. Couldn’t explain the coyote. Couldn’t explain how Iago had gotten inside the ward. Impossible, all of it.

Yet it had happened. And Reese had taken the brunt.

Fuck
.

He dropped down beside her, gathered her up, cursed when he felt the feverish heat pouring off her body and heard the way her breath sobbed in her lungs, strange and rattling. “Sasha!” he called harshly.
“Now.
She took a buzz-sword blade to the shoulder.”