Stormwalker: Nightwalker Part 29

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Pericles shouted, stumbled, fell.

I knew that a powerful mage like Pericles probably had spells to safeguard him from even a bullet in his heart, but the impact did slow him down. He dropped out of the fight, and now only Emmett remained.

Nash lined up another shot for Emmett, but Emmett shot a black spell that rushed at Nash like a javelin, and Nash took the impact straight through the gun. The spell vanished as it hit Nash's magic absorption field, but the shock made him drop the pistol.

I heard Nash curse as he lost the gun in the dark, but I had to turn my attention back to Emmett.

He knew some nasty magic. I hoped to all the G.o.ds that I could wring out of my body any spell that touched me, because with my heightened awareness, I saw that these spells could linger and affect my offspring.

The wild thought flashed through my head- Can Mick and I even have offspring? -when more immediate concerns interrupted me.

One was the auras surrounding Bear, which were now spreading wide like the dust storm.

The other was a crazed Nightwalker who rushed out of the shadows for the fallen Pericles.

Pericles started up-so Nash's shot hadn't killed him after all-but then Ansel was upon him.

"Ansel! Stop!"

Not that I cared at this point whether Ansel sucked Pericles dry, but I feared what Pericles's magic might do to Ansel. The blood of a mage could be deadly.

"Gabrielle, get Ansel!"

But Gabrielle wasn't where I'd seen her last. She was now in front of Nash, struggling with him for the leather-covered pot. Nash was trying to subdue her without hurting her, but Gabrielle beat on him with one fist while she tried to rip the pot from him with her other hand.

I couldn't do anything about her right now. The wave of ancient beings Bear had awakened engulfed Pericles and Ansel, swirling around them and blotting them from sight, then they took Emmett. And now they were coming for me.

I drew on my storm power, but found myself beating off streaks of darkness that dove at me like angry flies. The cuts on my face bled and stung, I lost hold of some of my power, and I hit the ground with both feet-hard.

I whirled and beat at the maelstrom, but the shards of auras slashed me as the ones that attacked Richard Young had, ancient things angry at the disturbance of their resting place.

I heard Nash shouting, but I was too busy swatting things to give him my attention. The storm started to die, dust and wind losing momentum as it moved on to another part of the desert.

Dimly, through the choking dust and dark auras, I saw Bear's hands go up. The pot, which Nash and Gabrielle still fought over, shot away from them and went straight for Bear.

She caught it without struggle. The pot glowed, the only bright point in the gloom. The animal patterns again chased each other and the lightning around the bowl. I clearly saw the tortoise morph into a coyote, who chased the bear, who chased the lightning, which chased the coyote.

Bear sang more words in her high-pitched voice, but these I didn't understand. The language was so ancient, it probably never had been heard in the world.

My feet left the ground again, but not by my doing. I dove for the earth, grabbing, but my fingers scrabbled in dirt, fine rocks and dried gra.s.s coming away as I was yanked upward.

I tumbled toward Bear, feet-first, a whirlwind sucking me to her. Gabrielle came as well, jerked from Nash's side, she screeching and swearing. Emmett slammed into me as he joined me, then Pericles struck me, then Ansel. Nash was the only one I didn't sense with us.

Gabrielle, Emmett, Pericles, Ansel, and I were squashed together into one ma.s.s. Pericles'

blood was hot on my skin, and the stench of Nightwalker made me gag. Pericles was still alive, though, Ansel weakening.

We were pulled, painfully, inexorably, toward Bear. Her voice grew louder, filling the skies, and the auras swirled with us, binding us together.

The shape of a coyote rose behind Bear. He lifted his muzzle as she continued to sing, his huge face turning to the moonlight. There was moonlight again, a hole ripped through the clouds and my storm.

Coyote howled, not a mournful howl or the high-pitched yowling of a coyote, but a wailing song that blended with Bear's.

Coyote wrapped his arms around her, paws laced across her shoulders, not stifling her or hindering her, but joining her.

Bear and Coyote. Two of the oldest G.o.ds. Husband and wife. One.

The ring Mick had given me stung my finger. I held onto the magic of the turquoise and silver while the wild power around me threatened to batter me b.l.o.o.d.y.

We were dragged onward toward the shimmering pillar of Coyote and Bear.

Just before we reached them, the singing stopped, and a fierce weight crushed me into nothing.

I heard another scream, a voice familiar to me-not mine, not Gabrielle's, not Mick's. The voice, stronger than I'd heard it in a long time, wound up to a horrific shriek.

"Janeeettttttt! Oh, this is so not goooooood."

Before I could react, the screaming cut off, and everything went dark.

My own groans woke me. I opened my eyes.

I lay flat on my back in darkness, but it was natural darkness. Clouds filled the sky, blotting out the moonlight, and a steady rain fell.

I was soaked, muddy, and in pain. I licked water from my lips and tasted blood.

Something large, wet, smelly, and warm lay down next to me. A cold nose touched my face, then a hot tongue swiped across my lips.

"Ewww." I sc.r.a.ped my hand over my mouth. "What are you doing?" In an instant, Coyote became a man-large, naked, and still wet. "Healing you," he said.

"Coyote spit is clean."

"Yuck."

"I can keep on, if you want." He waggled his tongue.

"G.o.ds, you are such a pervert."

Which, in my world, was terrifyingly normal.

"What the h.e.l.l happened?" I asked.

"Bear activated the artifact, it did its thing, and she's gone."

"Gone." I tried to sit up, clutched my head, which hurt like h.e.l.l, and tried again. I managed to become upright this time and sat unmoving, my head pounding.

I was still in Chaco Canyon. All was quiet, except for the rain and distant rumbles of thunder. No auras, no spells, no hab.o.o.b, no Beneath magic. Just me laid out like I'd been on a three-week bender.

I saw bodies around me, each about ten yards from me and from each other. Nash's pickup and the dragons still hadn't returned.

"Where has she gone?" I croaked.

Coyote shrugged. "Who knows? She'll be back. When she's ready."

"What did you mean, the artifact did its thing? What did it do? Besides throw me across the valley?"

"What Bear made it to do. She put her power into that pot not only to keep herself stable, but to help and protect her people." He shrugged again, his large body with all its muscles slick with water. "But as well-intentioned as G.o.ds may be, our power is vast, and when it falls into the wrong hands . . . well, you saw what happened."

"We all went for it," I said.

"So she took back the pot and used it for what she'd really made it for. To keep the powerfully magical away from her people." Coyote's hand landed on my shoulder, his strength immense, but it was meant to comfort, not hurt. "She could have killed you-all of you. She chose not to."

"Oh." I said, my head hurting so much I wasn't sure waking up was a blessing.

"The pot sucked you into it," Coyote said. "Weird to watch. Then it spit you out again, along with your magic mirror. The pot didn't like it. Which might also be why you're still alive."

"Nice of Bear," I said. "And the pot."

Coyote gave me a serious look, then he laughed. "Yeah, you could say that." I rubbed my head again, pain stabbing at my temples. The storm magic had been torn out of me, and I was jumpy. Being knocked out plus the blinding headache had subdued the aftershock a little, but I needed to get rid of my residual magic. I needed Mick.

Once I could see better, I realized that the body closest to mine was Gabrielle's. Coyote helped me to my feet, but I had to stand still a few moments, catching my breath and trying not to throw up, before I could hobble toward her.

Gabrielle lay facedown in the mud, her hands and hair covered with blood. Now that her magic had gone, she looked like nothing more than a young, helpless girl.

I crouched beside her and turned her over. Gabrielle looked even more helpless now, the blood and mud on her face creased with tears.

"I wanted it," she sobbed. "Why wouldn't he let me have it?" I smoothed a tangle of hair from Gabrielle's face, but she jerked away and rolled to sit, drawing her arms around her knees. "Leave me alone."

"You don't need the pot," I said. "You're already so strong. What did you want it for?" Gabrielle glared at me, her eyes swimming with tears. "To open the vortex, stupid." I didn't need to ask her which vortex. Each of the vortexes that dotted this part of the world led to different parts of Beneath. The one near my hotel led to my mother's realm.

"Why would you want to?" I asked, keeping my voice calm.

"To see her. To talk to her. To find out why she doesn't want me." The rain started to pelt down more earnestly. "Evil G.o.ddesses aren't nurturing mothers, Gabrielle. Trust me."

"She wanted you. You and your Stormwalker magic. All I got was a father who was a drunk."

"I know." I didn't say I was sorry. I was sorry for her, but saying so wouldn't help. Not with Gabrielle.

"Go away."

I stood up. Gabrielle hunkered down into even more misery.

I stuck my hand out to her. "Come on. We still have two mages and a crazed Nightwalker to deal with."

She stared at me with every ounce of hatred and loathing Grandmother and I had tried to ease out of her in the past six months. I thought we'd made some headway, but maybe not.

I kept my hand out. Eventually, Gabrielle's expression changed to one of mere sourness, and she let me help her to her feet.

"Can I kill the mages?" she asked.

"Depends."

Gabrielle didn't look mollified. I felt her fuming as we made our way through the rainy darkness to the other bodies.

I did feel bad for her. Our G.o.ddess mother had decided that because Gabrielle's father had no magic in him-he'd lied and told her he was a shaman-she wanted nothing to do with Gabrielle. I wasn't sure which was worse: our h.e.l.l-queen mother wanting to rule the earth world through me, or being utterly rejected by her.

Nash hadn't been pulled in by the magic, or thrown down when Bear disappeared. He was sitting on the outcropping under which he'd hidden, his arms resting on his knees. He'd retrieved his gun and now held it loosely in one hand. I saw blood on his face, even in the dark, his black hair glistening with rain.

"You two all right?" he asked us.

I was stumbling, Gabrielle blood-streaked, but I knew what he meant. "After a hot bath and a good night's sleep, we will be."

"She means after a good night's s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with Mick," Gabrielle said. She gave Nash a look I thought she'd stopped reserving for him. "How about it, Nash? There's plenty of motel rooms between us and Flat Mesa."

"No."

He said it simply and with strength. Nash had decided on Maya, and that was that.

Gabrielle's smile died, but she shrugged. "That's all right. I've decided that Drake is hot, and I've always wanted to do a dragon."

"Pick one without ice in his veins," I said.

"Like Colby? Mmm, not bad. Let me think about it."

I walked away from the bizarre conversation. I heard Nash jump down from the rock and follow me.

The next body I came to was Pericles. He'd reverted to looking like the short, muscular guy with the balding head who'd attacked me in the bas.e.m.e.nt of Laura's store, except now his eyes were closed, his face wan. He also had a bullet wound in his chest.

Nash crouched down and checked him, then nodded at me. "He's still alive."

"Can I crush him?" Gabrielle asked, coming up behind Nash.

"No," I said.

"He tried to kill us tonight. Why not?"

I felt Gabrielle's magic building, and I put a hand on her wrist. "It's one thing to kill him in a fair fight, another to blast him when he's unconscious. It . . . would be wrong." Gabrielle gave me an incredulous look, but her magic faded. "And you call m e the crazy one."