Storm Kissed Part 23

"My marks faded. I don't work for you anymore."

The coyote stirred, but he dropped a hand to the top of its head and it quieted. "I've come to bring you back," he said simply. "Skywatch needs you."

She started to answer, but then hesitated, frowning because that really didn't compute. If anything, she had been a distraction within the training compound-a young half-human winikin who hadn't been raised in the program and didn't care for the hierarchy. "How does that work? I didn't fit in there. I didn't make any sense there."

"Things have changed. They need to keep changing." He dug into a pocket, held out a note. "From Jox. You've been promoted."

Heart racing, she took the note, careful not to let their fingers brush. She didn't open it right away, though. Instead, she hesitated, looking up at the bulk of the Disco as she rode solidly at the wharf.

He looked up, too, expression going wistful. "I never figured you for the sea."

"Me neither." And that was all he was getting.

She hesitated, then opened the letter and read it. Then she reread it. Twice. The words dipped and wheeled like gulls: . . . too stuck in tradition, need to modernize . . . perfect for the job . . . end-time war needs you . . . calling you back to duty. "Jox wants me to lead the winikin," she said dully. The surf roared in her ears, though the water beyond the marina was gla.s.sy.

"I know. And there's more, something that Jox didn't know about." As with the letter, his words ran together: . . . more survivors . . . unbound winikin . . . members of the resistance . . . Mendez wants them brought in . . . JT wants to meet you first . . .

For a moment, she flashed back on the pain and terror of her father calling the magic to mark her with the aj winikin and the coyote glyph, indenturing her to Sven. He hadn't raised her within the system that to him was the natural order of things-he had focused on Sven, leaving her to her mother, and then had the gall to be surprised when she hadn't been able to make it work at Skywatch. She had hated the place, the people, and the hierarchy that said she was little more than a glorified servant to the shallow, egotistical golden boy her father had raised.

". . . and tomorrow's the solstice," Sven said in conclusion.

She lifted a shoulder. "First day of winter. Big whoop."

He looked out over the water as if just noticing there was an ocean there. Or maybe he was stalling. Maybe this was just as awkward for him as it was for her. She had outgrown her long-ago crush on him, had decided to file the rest of it under "things I did when I was young and stupid" and move on. But while that might have worked if he had looked like the guy who had finally sent her away from Skywatch before they killed each other, the man who looked back at her now was a stranger-tough and capable-looking. "Strike and Anna are sick," he said quietly. "Maybe dying. Red-Boar and Woody are already dead. Jox and Hannah are in hiding with the twins. And tomorrow . . . h.e.l.l, unless the skies split open and drop a d.a.m.ned miracle on us, it could all be over tomorrow and this whole conversation is pointless. But if we make it to next week, we're going to need the unbound winikin to have any chance. And to get the survivors, we need you."

"This JT guy-"

"Isn't an option to lead the winikin. None of them are. You're Jox's choice." His voice dropped an octave. "We need you, Cara."

A warm, heavy body pressed against her leg. She looked down to find the coyote leaning against her, looking up with pleading eyes. "Nice try," she said, figuring Sven had told the animal to ham it up. But when she looked back at him, she found him staring at the coyote with a faint wrinkle between his eyes.

She told herself that it didn't matter, that he didn't matter, at least not any more than the others. But that was a lie. You've told me what everyone else back there wants. What do you want? But asking that would imply that he had the right to an opinion, which he didn't. She didn't wear his bloodline mark anymore, wouldn't ever have worn it in the first place if her father had given her a choice. She had a choice now, though. "I'm not doing it," she said finally, even though her stomach was churning, her bones aching. "I'm staying here. I like what I'm doing. I'm good at it."

"You'd be good at this, too."

She almost laughed. "You must be desperate."

"I want you to come back willingly."

"That's not going to happen." But a chill shivered through her at the implied threat. "And for the record, if any of you are thinking of knocking me out and dragging me back, be advised that Jox isn't the only one capable of leaving sealed letters with friends. If I disappear, you guys are going to get some unexpected-and official-visitors." The Nightkeepers weren't a strictly secret organization, but they definitely preferred to stay far off the government's radar.

His eyes narrowed. A low growl vibrated in the coyote's throat. "You're bluffing," Sven said quietly.

"Try me." She stared him down until he looked away. Satisfied, she nodded. "Sorry," she said, completely unapologetic. "I've got to go. Like I said, I've got a date."

Spinning on her heel, she marched to the staircase that led up to the parking area. She didn't need him, she reminded herself, refusing to look back. Right now all she needed was to drown herself in friendship and lasagna, though the thought of eating anything made her want to hurl. Then, when she got home, she would figure out how to stash a letter to Jack and Beth, telling them that if she disappeared without warning they should start the search in a small box canyon near Chaco, New Mex. She probably should have done that a while ago, but until she came to work on the Disco, there hadn't been anyone who would have noticed that she was gone.

Now, though, she had a life. And it didn't have anything to do with a dozen magic users and their servant-slaves.

Mac chuffed anxiously as Cara hit the top of the staircase and strode out of sight without looking back, leaving Sven with the impression of her dark and mysterious eyes, exotic face, and the startling streak of white in her hair. Along with those images, though, came the sinking sensation of failure.

He had known it wouldn't be easy to see her again, even harder to convince her to come back with him. He didn't know what else he had expected-the awkwardness they had parted with, maybe, or even the air-clearing fight they probably should have had years ago. But whatever he'd expected, it hadn't been for her to be coolly indifferent and turn him down flat. He looked down at Mac. "Now what?"

The coyote whined a little, still staring after her, projecting: friend-friend-friend.

Apparently his familiar was already a fan. Poor sod. Sven shook his head. "I'm not so sure she would agree with that one." Problem was, he didn't have a choice in the matter, because Dez's order had been crystal: Do whatever it takes to get her back here. He had taken command a few hours ago, and while the transfer of the fealty oaths actually hadn't turned out to be that big a deal-Sven didn't feel a difference, at any rate-the new commander 's first order had made some serious waves. Long overdue waves, maybe, but waves nonetheless, because he had told the winikin to "crack the f.u.c.king envelope and put Jox's replacement in charge already."

So, despite JT's bl.u.s.tering, the deed had been done, and a name had raced through the room: Cara Liu.

That had been a h.e.l.l of a shock for most of them-Carlos had seemed like the obvious choice-but once Sven got past his initial "no f.u.c.king way" and a whole lot of other emotions he was ignoring, he had seen the logic. She wasn't part of the system, wasn't really outside it. She would have as good a chance as anyone-except maybe Rabbit-to convince JT to cough up the resistance's old contact protocol, bring in the rest of the unbound winikin, and find a way to integrate them into the hierarchy-or build a new one. More, she didn't want to do it. She hated Skywatch, despised the idea of being anybody's servant, resented her father, and wasn't overly fond of the Nightkeepers. Which, again, made Jox's choice a d.a.m.ned good one under the circ.u.mstances.

For maybe ten seconds, he debated following her and taking another crack at convincing her to come willingly with the added bonus of scaring off her date. But then he shook his head and tapped his armband instead, hitting up Strike for a ride home. Rabbit had sh.o.r.ed up the king's 'port talent once more, and Strike swore he was fine to 'port himself and one or two others. Besides, it wasn't like they had another option-with thirty-some hours to go, there was no time to waste on traveling.

Once Strike was on his way, Sven stuck his hands in his pockets and looked out over the harbor, feeling only a small tug at the sight of the wide-open sea. He figured that he would give Cara a day or two to think it over and set up her fail-safe letters-or even disappear entirely, if that was what she wanted to do. Dez would be p.i.s.sed, but he would deal with that if it happened, because as far as he was concerned, some things were better left in the past. And not everything that had happened before would-or should-happen again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

December 21

Solstice day

Skywatch

In the hours after Dez took over the Nightkeepers' fealty oaths, things broke loose in a big way, to the point that he started getting sidelong looks that were more speculative than hostile. Reese didn't know whether the breakthroughs were a sign of the G.o.ds' approval or just a case of timing working in their favor for a change, but suddenly she had information to work with.

It started with the charm that Sven had taken off the dying villager, which they were a.s.suming was how Iago was turning innocents into makol. The leather pouch had turned out to contain black cohosh, sage, and a couple of other ingredients shared with the antidote Reese had cooked up for Dez, along with a small, crudely carved stone that was slippery with dark magic. It all seemed to corroborate that Iago was descended from the serpent bloodline, which had gotten Reese and the others talking, throwing ideas around the library's main stone table.

With Dez closeted in the royal quarters hashing over the plan for tomorrow, and no real private time in sight, she had geared up for an all-nighter. Lucius was dividing his time, brainstorming with Reese, working on whittling down the sites where Iago could be hiding and trying to find a cure for Strike. Jade and Natalie were in and out, helping when they weren't needed elsewhere. And by the time the sky was lightening with the first pink smudges of dawn, Reese had a working theory that she felt was spot on.

Lucius had made the connection that the serpents had left the Mayan territories and established their northern outposts right around the same time the Xibalban sect had split off from the Nightkeepers. It was Reese, though, who had figured it out. "The codex you found said the serpents were sent to settle the outposts because the jaguars considered them particularly loyal, but what if that was spin control? What if the jaguars were getting rid of them? And what if that was related to the Xibalban split?"

"You're thinking about a failed coup?" Lucius had said, surprised . . . but then nodded. "Yeah, I see it. A group of serpents lose sight of their balance and start getting in deep with the dark magic . . . and the next step, given their makeup, would be the throne. Maybe there was already a legend about a serpent king, maybe it started there, who knows? Either way, they got their a.s.ses kicked, the jaguars kept the throne, and the bad serpents became the Xibalbans."

"Which left the jaguars with the question of what to do with the rest of the serpents. So they sent them north as a 'reward'"-Reese finger-quoted the word-"for their loyalty." It fit. It played. And she wished it didn't, because she could seriously use a break from thinking about the serpents and their ambitions.

Over the next couple of hours, they used the new info to narrow down the list of possible sites for Iago's mountain temple. With Strike's ability to teleport severely limited, the magi would be able to check out only five or six of the most likely sites. But even selecting for mountains with Mayan or Aztec connections plus a snake legend left them with fifty-two possibles and nothing more to go on, really. Reese's temper sharpened as her rumbling stomach escalated from twinges to a bad-tempered mutter.

"There's bread in the bowl over there." Without looking up from the codex he was translating, which had a slim chance of being able to help Strike, Lucius made a vague gesture behind him. There, a carved stone jaguar fountained water from its mouth to gather in a bowl between its paws, while a second bowl held maize cakes. Both were always fresh and fully replenished.

"The magical bread-and-water deal is cool, but I was thinking more along the lines of a decent doughnut." She hadn't had a really great doughnut-plain, with just a little crunch around the edges-since arriving at Skywatch.

"Would Belgian waffles count?"

She jumped at the sound of Dez's voice, and her edginess smoothed out some when she saw him standing in the doorway with a picnic cooler. "With whipped cream?"

"Freshly made, plus strawberries. Not to bring down the room, but apparently, Sasha cooks up a storm when she's upset."

Reese sobered. "I wish we had something that would help."

"That wasn't a complaint." He crossed to her and kissed her cheek.

She leaned into him, closing her eyes for a second, then realizing that was a bad idea when fatigue washed through her. He was warm and solid, and smelled like breakfast and the outdoor air. In another lifetime, they would have woken up together and made leisurely love, then made breakfast together, sneaking kisses and copping feels in the process. But it wasn't reality, she knew-she was pretty sure neither of them could cook. Not to mention that they had a world to save, and she was stuck. Sighing, she straightened away from him. "Let's eat."

They cleared a section of the stone table and laid out the feast he had brought-not just the waffles, but fluffy eggs, toast, and a thermos of coffee for Lucius and one of tea for her, along with a two-liter of Diet Mountain Dew and a plate of brownies that he left in the cooler with a mock-stern glare. "Those are for later. Or at least wait until I'm out the door before you dig in."

She flipped him a salute, and made do with a waffle piled with enough whipped cream and syrupy strawberries to make him wince.

Breakfast was a brief but lively meal, with Jade and Natalie joining in halfway through. Dez caught the researchers up on the battle preparations, including the welcome news that Rabbit had gotten in contact with an older brother of his makol-abducted friend, Cheech. The older brother, who worked in Mexico City and was far more mainstream than his relatives, had heard about the village and was frantic for his family. When Rabbit, posing as a member of a secret U.S. government agency, had "recruited" him as a local a.s.set to help locate the guerilla group responsible for the village raids, he had jumped at the chance. With the help of several trusted friends, he was redistributing the magic sensors throughout Mexico City; built atop the Aztec's capital city, the backfilled lake region was where Iago typically hung out. "It won't give us much warning," Dez finished, "but that's better than none."

Reese squelched her instinctive bristle, well aware that her p.i.s.siness wasn't aimed at him. She hated that the patterns weren't coming this time, when it mattered so d.a.m.n much. When they figured out the connection between the serpents and the Xibalbans, she had been so sure it would point them toward Iago's hideout. And maybe it would, but not fast enough . . . and they were running out of time.

Lucius outlined what they had so far, finishing with, "If Strike could 'port us-"

"He can't," Dez said flatly. "As it is, Rabbit's going to have to ride shotgun inside his head to get us down south when we figure out where we need to be." He said "when" but Reese heard "if."

"Then I should get back to work on this." Lucius tapped the codex he'd been translating. "We need our teleporter back in action."

"We need to find the mountain," Dez corrected.

"Exactly," Reese agreed, chasing a last forkful of waffle. "Which means that we need to get some magi down to the potential sites to sniff around."

But as Lucius moved to the other end of the table, where he'd been working, Dez said, "No, I mean that I need you to stop dividing your efforts and focus on the mountain. Not Lord Vulture, the serpents, or Strike's illness. Find. Me. That. Mountain."

Reese's stomach knotted and the breath backed up in her lungs. His eyes held regret . . . but she thought she saw something else there too, something hard and implacable, almost daring her to argue, as if he would welcome the fight, the excuse to push her away. She knew that look, though she hadn't seen it in a long time. Don't overreact, she told herself. You're tired and frustrated. What was more, like a cheater's wife imagining another woman's perfume or a junkie's mother searching her kid's room, she was primed to see problems where they may not exist. "We need Strike's help," she said carefully. "He's our best bet of narrowing down the search."

Dez shook his head. "Find another way." Impatience tightened his face. "There's a difference between exploring all the avenues and getting stuck in a dead end. And-" He broke off. "s.h.i.t. Sorry." He leaned back, exhaling. "This sucks. I hate having to make this call, but someone has to. We need that mountain, guys. We've got to get to Iago before he activates the serpent staff."

It was a good apology, good logic. But was it the whole story or only the tip of a lurking iceberg? Stop it, she told herself.

"You're right." Lucius sat heavily. "I know you're right. It's just . . . s.h.i.t." He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "No. You're right. I'll stop buzzing around. d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l." He hadn't said it, but Reese knew he was hoping that curing Strike might somehow help Anna, who still lay unconscious-not getting any worse, but not getting better, either.

Dez nodded. "Thanks. I hate having to make the call, but . . . thanks." He paused. "We okay?" He directed the question at both of them, but he was looking at Reese.

She hesitated, then nodded. "We're okay," she said softly, and told herself to believe it. But as he collected the trash and cooler-leaving the soda and brownies behind-and headed out, her stomach stayed uneasy, her instincts p.r.i.c.kling.

Ten minutes after he left, though, they got the break they needed.

"Got it," Lucius hissed triumphantly, eyes gleaming. "I've f.u.c.king got it."

Reese's heart jolted. She had been running scenarios while waiting on hold for the past ten minutes-way longer than it should have taken her contact to check an order for the one rare ingredient found in the makol amulet: a certain type of snub-nosed snake. Now she hung up and crowded in beside him as relief spiraled through her. "Show me."

His laptop showed a photo of an ancient ruined city with a main street, offshoots, a s.h.i.t ton of building footprints, a few more complete structures, and two huge rubble mounds that had been partly restored back to pyramids. A modern suburb sprawled in the near distance-was that a Wal-Mart behind the pyramid?-and mountains loomed in the background.

"That's Mexico City," he said. "And this"-he indicated the ruin-"is Teotihuacan. It's not Aztec or Maya, which is why it wasn't a primary focus of our search. It was a sort of spiritual tourist attraction for the Aztec, though, kind of the way we treat their ruins now. And you see these mountains?" He highlighted the distant peaks. "Moctezuma built temples on them. When you draw lines connecting the temples with the pyramids of Teotihuacan, it measures out the Long Count."

"Aztec temples that refer to the Mayan calendar predicting the end date." Reese nodded. "That fits with what we're looking for."

"So does this." Lucius did the tap-tap thing and brought up a line drawing of a temple made of upright pillars carved into gape-mouthed serpents. "Got this from a Spanish missionary's journal. These are the same three mountains back in the midfifteen hundreds." When he zoomed out, the temple was shown located atop the middle of three mountains, with other temples hinted at on the other two, a ruin roughed into the foreground. "This," he said, "is the one on the left in close to real time." He tapped and the line drawing was replaced by a bird's-eye photograph of spa.r.s.e tree cover and a jumbled ruin. Tap. "The one on the right." Another greened-out photo, another temple footprint. Tap. "The middle." Green. But no ruin, not even a shadowy depression or some broken rock to mark where one might have been. "Lower down, sure, the forests can grow over anything in zero time flat. But up there? We should see something . . . unless it's been deliberately hidden. Like on another plane."

Reese nodded, pulse upping a notch. "Works for me. Let's-" Her phone rang with a digital bleat; it was the snake guy. She answered, "Montana here."

"Got the info here," he said in accented English. "The guy's name was M. Zuma, and they were shipped to a cantina in Pachuca." He rattled off the address. "That help?"

"It does. I'll put a thank-you in the mail tomorrow."

"I take PayPal."

"Of course you do." What self-respecting black marketer didn't these days? She wrote down the info, shaking her head, but as she hung up, she shot a hard-edged grin at Lucius. "M. Zuma bought three of those snub-nosed snakes last week, and has bought a couple of dozen over the past few months, all for delivery to a bar in Pachuca. How close is that to your mountain?"

"d.a.m.n close."

"Okay, let's pull together all the info we can find on this thing, and I'll take it to Dez while you get back to work on that codex. And let's not tell Dez he was right, okay?" But she was grinning as she said it, because what mattered was that they had found Coatepec Mountain . . . and they might have a fighting chance after all.

By noon of the solstice day, when the full team a.s.sembled in the great room and the briefing got under way, Dez had the beginnings of a plan and a h.e.l.l of a stress headache.

The migraine had hit him the second he accepted the first of the fealty oaths: Strike's. He suspected the s.h.i.t hurt because the power that had come with the oaths-a strange and vibrant sort of feeling in the depths of his chest-wasn't balanced by the responsibilities that came with the true kingship. Sasha had taken the edge off the headache, bringing it down to a dull roar. She hadn't been able to do anything about the stress, though.

He wasn't sure if he'd been too young, too stupid, or too firmly under the star demon's control when he led the Cobras, but he didn't remember it being this complicated. Back then, when he gave an order somebody got it done. Simple. This, on the other hand, was anything but simple. He was trying to coordinate a dozen magi who were waiting for him to screw something up, along with a bunch of winikin who weren't sure they liked each other, never mind him. Strike was shaky and Anna was barely hanging on, which meant that the people closest to them were distracted. And Reese hadn't said anything, but he had seen her flinch when he cracked down on Lucius. She seemed okay now, but it had put him on edge.

He couldn't vet his orders through her, didn't intend to-he'd been put in place partly because he was a colder-blooded leader than Strike, and he needed to be that guy. But it worried him. Hang on, baby, he urged her as she briefed the others on the discovery of Coatepec Mountain. We've just got to get through today, and things will settle down. He hoped.

"We should have a new set of updated images in the next thirty minutes," she was saying, having taken over the briefing so Lucius could stay in the library. "One of my contacts thinks he can get us some penetrating radar shots as well, which could give us a better idea of the temple's footprint, maybe even a hint at the tunnels mentioned in the missionary's journal." She sent it back to Dez with a nod.

To Nate, who had the ability to shape-shift into a powerful man-sized hawk called the Volatile, he said, "Once we get in there, I want you up flying recon."

"Alexis and I are on that."

"Not Alexis. I want you to take Patience." Very aware of the low mutterings, he held up a hand. "I know that means splitting up two mated pairs. But think about it logically. The makol can sense Alexis's chameleon shield because it's a spell, but they can't detect Patience when she goes invisible, because that's an inborn talent. Which means she and Nate, invisible, can take recon footage without being seen or sensed, and potentially blasted out of the sky." He thought about asking if they were cool with that, but didn't, because this wasn't a democracy. Moving on, he said, "We'll 'port into this clearing here." He indicated a spot on the satellite image being projected on the big flat screen, and glanced at Strike. The king sat beside Leah, gray-faced but otherwise looking okay. "You're confident you can make the jump?" Not like they had another option. There wasn't enough time for them to get to the mountain any other way.

The king nodded. "Yeah. Rabbit's going to do the driving. We've done a few practice hops, and we're good to go."