Demonkeepers (36 page)
—More than three thousand years ago, this pharaoh forcibly converted the Egyptian empire to monotheistic worship of the sun god, Aten, and proclaimed himself a god-king. As part of converting his subjects to the new god, he had all priests of the old religion slaughtered . . . including the Nightkeepers who had guided ancient Egypt up to that point.
—The lords of the underworld, Xibalba. Driven from the earth by the many- times-great-ancestors of the modern Nightkeepers, the
Banol Kax
seek to return and subjugate mankind on the foretold day: December 21, 2012.
—A female Nightkeeper who has bonded with one of the sky gods. The Godkeepers are prophesied to form the core of the Nightkeepers’ fighting force in the years leading up to the 2012 doomsday.
—A female Nightkeeper with visionary powers; a seer. The
itza’at
talent is often associated with depression, mental instability, and suicide, because the seer can envision the future but not change it.
—The sun god of the ancient Maya. Each night at sunset, Kinich Ahau enters Xibalba. With the aid of two huge black dogs called companions, the god must fight through the underworld to reach the dawn horizon each morning, beginning a new day.
—These demon souls are capable of reaching through the barrier to possess evil- natured human hosts. Recognized by his luminous green eyes, a
makol
-bound human retains his own thoughts and actions in direct proportion to the amount of evil in his soul. An
ajaw-makol
, which is a ruling
makol
created through direct spell casting, can create lesser
makol
through blood sacrifice.
—Humanoid spirit entities that exist in the barrier and hold within them all of the accumulated wisdom of each Nightkeeper bloodline. They can be asked for information, but cannot be trusted.
—A member of an ancient race sworn to protect mankind from annihilation in the years leading up to December 21, 2012, when the barrier separating the earth and the underworld will fall and the
Banol Kax
will seek to precipitate the apocalypse.
—Formed by renegade Nightkeepers, the order was believed to have been destroyed in the 1520s. However, the Order of Xibalba survives, and is now led by a powerful mage named Iago, who seeks to bind his soul to that of the long- dead Aztec god-king, Moctezuma.
—An oracle created when a magic user’s soul is destroyed but the body is magically preserved, becoming an animate shell that relays information from the barrier-bound library to the Nightkeepers on earth.
—A mage who holds a powerful but fickle talent among the Nightkeepers: the ability to create spells.
—Descended from the conquered Sumerian warriors who served the Nightkeepers back in ancient Egypt, the
winikin
are blood-bound to act as the servants, protectors, and counselors of the magi.
—Formerly found in the cloud forests of Ecuador, this underworld access point, which opens only on the cardinal solstices and equinoxes, has vanished from the face of the earth.
—The Nightkeepers’ training compound is located in a box canyon in the Chaco Canyon region of New Mexico, and is protected by magical wards.
—The nine-layer underworld, home to the
Banol Kax
and
makol
.
—This three-room stronghold at Skywatch contains the writings and artifacts collected by the Nightkeepers since they escaped Spanish conquest in the fifteen hundreds and migrated north to what became the United States. Although impressive in its scope, the archive contains very few prophecies focused on the 2012 doomsday and end-time war, as these were addressed in far older texts.
—A force field of psi energy that separates the earth, sky, and underworld, and forms the energy source that powers the Nightkeepers’ magic. The strength of the barrier fluctuates with the positions of the stars and planets, and weakens as the 12/21/2012 end date approaches.
—The “beloved” glyph that signifies a Nightkeeper’s mated status.
—Created by far-seeing Nightkeeper leaders, this repository contains all the ancient artifacts and information the magi need to arm themselves for the end-time war. Once housed in a sacred cavern on earth, the library is now hidden deep within the barrier, and may be accessed only by the Prophet.
—Following a series of prophetic dreams, the Nightkeepers’ king led them to battle against the
Banol Kax
in the mid-eighties. The magi were slaughtered; only a scant dozen children survived to be raised in hiding by their
winikin
. These are the Nightkeepers of today.
—This celestial avenue connected the earth and sky planes, allowing contact between the Nightkeepers and the gods. Since Iago’s destruction of the skyroad, the gods have been unable to influence events on earth, giving sway to the demons and tipping humanity’s balance dangerously toward the underworld.
—The last three years prior to December 21, 2012, are known as the triad years. During this time, the Nightkeepers are prophesied to need the help of the Triad, a trio of über-powerful magi created through a powerful spell . . . one that the Nightkeepers cannot locate. Their only hope is that the spell is contained within the library . . . and that their Prophet can find it.
—Written by the First Father, these rules delineate the duties and codes of the Nightkeepers. Not all of them translate well into present day.
winikin
—The most mystical of the bloodlines. Coyote-Seven, known as Sven, can move objects with his mind and wears the warrior’s mark, but he is the least mature of the magi. His
winikin
, the senior statesman, Carlos, has been reassigned to Nate Blackhawk, whose
winikin
died when Nate was a baby. Carlos’s daughter, Cara Liu, is supposed to be serving Sven. Instead, she has returned to the human world.
—A bird bloodline, and therefore connected with the air and flight. The current members of this bloodline include Brandt, his wife, Patience (who has the talent of invisibility), and their twin full-blood sons, Harry and Braden. On the king’s order, Brandt and Patience’s
winikin
, Woody and Hannah, have taken the twins into hiding for their own protection, dividing the family unit.
—The harvesters most often worked behind the scenes, and were the most passive magi. The bloodline’s last remaining
winikin
, Shandi, has raised its sole surviving member, Jade, to be the prototypical harvester . . . but Jade chafes against the restrictions of her heritage.
—Also connected with air and flight, this bloodline can be aloof and unpredictable. Nate Blackhawk, the surviving member of this bloodline, was orphaned young and trusts few. He is a shape-shifter whose potentially destructive power is kept in check by his love for his mate, Alexis, and the steady guidance of his
winikin
, Carlos.
—The royal house of the Nightkeepers. The members of this bloodline tend to be loyal and fair-minded, but can be stubborn and often struggle between duty and their own personal desires. The current members of the jaguar bloodline include the Nightkeepers’ king, Strike, and his sisters, Anna and Sasha. Strike is a teleporter, Anna a seer who denies her talents, and Sasha a wielder of the lifegiving
ch’ul
magic. They are protected and guided by the royal
winikin
, Jox. Strike’s mate and queen, Leah Daniels, is full human, a former Miami- Dade detective who now leads Strike’s royal council.
—The boar bloodline is old and powerful; its members ruled the Nightkeepers before the jaguars came to power. Red-Boar was the only adult mage to survive the Solstice Massacre; he lost his wife and twin sons, and never forgave himself for living. He was killed by a
makol
during the reunited Nightkeepers’ first battle against the dark forces. Red-Boar’s teenage son, Rabbit, lives with the stigma of being a half-blood, and commands wildly powerful magic.
—The masters of trickery. Snake Mendez is serving the tail end of a jail sentence and is apart from the Nightkeepers, yet he already has some of his powers. His
winikin
is locked up in a secure psychiatric facility, driven there by despair at what his charge has become.
—Often seers and prophets. However, the surviving member of this bloodline, Alexis Gray, has shown neither talent. Instead, she once wielded the power of the goddess Ixchel, patron of weaving, fertility, and rainbows. With the destruction of the skyroad, she has lost her Godkeeper connection but remains a fierce warrior.
—The keepers of secrets. The members of this bloodline are known as great warriors, although the last surviving bloodline member, Michael, is a master of the protective shield spell as well as the killing silver magic called
muk
. His
winikin
, Tomas, and his mate, Sasha, combine to keep him balanced when the deadly magic threatens to tip him toward darkness.
—A longing for adventure and recognition rendered Lucius vulnerable to seduction by one of the demon
makol
. Under its influence, he found and nearly betrayed the Nightkeepers, and then defected to the Order of Xibalba. Newly returned to the Nightkeepers, with the demon exorcised, he should wield the power of a Nightkeeper Prophet.
—The former detective is now Strike’s mate and the Nightkeepers’ queen.
—Raised by a witch who told fortunes in the French Quarter and was sacrificed by Iago at the hellmouth, this young, ambitious beauty is Rabbit’s lover.
—The leader of the Order of Xibalba, Iago is a mage of extraordinary power, capable of “borrowing” the talents of other magi. Iago hopes to gain additional power by allying himself with the might of the bloodthirsty Aztec through the soul of their god-king, Moctezuma.
romance in Jessica Andersen’s Final Prophecy
series. With the two-year threshold to the 2012
doomsday on the horizon and an earthquake
demon wreaking havoc worldwide, Patience
and Brandt must race to rescue their kidnapped
twin sons. But in order to do so, they must reveal
long-hidden, deadly secrets that threaten their
marriage . . . and their lives.
Two years and six days to the zero date
Call off the ceremony. The omens suck!
It was now-or-never, do-or-die time . . . or potentially “do-
and-
die” given that the Triad spell had a two-thirds attrition rate.
Patience suppressed a shiver at the thought. The air in the tomb was cool and faintly damp, and the flickering torchlight made the carved stone images surrounding her seem to move in the shadows, morphing from Egyptian to Mayan and back again, as though echoing an earlier chapter of the Nightkeepers’ evolution. Sweat prickled from her back beneath the lightweight black-on-black combat gear she wore to go with the warrior’s mark on her inner wrist. She was heavily armed—they all were—though it was questionable whether jade-tipped bullets and ceremonial knives would do a damn thing to improve their odds. They weren’t going up against a physical enemy; they were offering themselves to the sun god, which would choose three of them to receive the Triad powers. At least that was the theory. Problem was, the theory also said that the entire pantheon would choose the Triad, not just the sole god that currently had access to the earthly plane. Which meant . . . well, they didn’t know what it meant, and the uncertainty intensified the
not good
vibe that had first lodged in Patience’s stomach early that morning when she’d charted the day’s sun, sacred numbers, and light pulses, and got what amounted to a cosmic suggestion that she should stay the hell in bed with the covers pulled up over her head until tomorrow.
Not that anyone wanted to hear
that
particular opinion at the moment.
Across the circle from her, Strike began the ceremony by ritually inviting the gods and ancestors to listen up; he spoke in the old tongue, having memorized the spell phonetically. Beside him, Jade joined in to smooth over his occasional fumbled syllable, as she was the only one there who was even passingly fluent. Granted, Lucius and Anna were experts in ancient Mayan, but this was a Nightkeepers-only ceremony, which meant no Lucius, and Anna was incommunicado. With Leah also excluded for general humanness, the circle consisted of a whopping ten magi who were eligible for the Triad spell, when the legends said there should be hundreds, even thousands of them for the dozens of gods to choose from.
Yeah. Not so much.
But as Strike and Jade finished the first of three repetitions of the spell, a faint hum touched the air, beginning at the very edges of hearing, and gaining depth and voice as the magic began to gather. More than just red-gold Nightkeeper power, it was laced through with a white-light crackle that smelled faintly of ozone. Would being chosen feel like electrocution? Patience wondered. One second, everything normal, then the next . . .
zzzzap
?
Don’t pick me or Brandt
, she whispered inwardly.
Please
. Even that much of not-quite-a-prayer went against the writs, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d been guilty of the sin. How could she avoid it, when the rules set down by the First Father himself said she had to put the needs of the gods, her king, her teammates, and mankind ahead of those of her husband and children? Then again, Brandt hadn’t found it at all difficult. He’d just pushed her and the twins into a mental box called “family” . . . and nail gunned the shit out of the lid.
Don’t go there
, she thought fiercely.
This is about the magic, not us
.
Keeping her head down, focusing on the process rather than the flickering torchlight and the buzz of magic, she waited for the king’s signal. When it came, she—along with all the others—palmed the ceremonial stone knife from her belt and used it to slash her right palm along the lifeline. Pain bit, bringing magic to bubble a champagne fizz in her bloodstream. It beckoned with hints of power and pageantry, and made her wish for a moment that she were solely a warrior rather than a tripartite of warrior, wife, and mother. As a warrior, it would’ve been easy to answer the call to duty, maybe even hope she’d be tapped as one of the three super magi prophesied to tip the balance.
But then again, that would mean undoing the past six years. It would mean her not meeting Brandt on spring break, nor marrying him months later. She would’ve missed the good years with him, when they’d lived as humans, neither of them knowing that they were both under the shadow of the same secret heritage, that their crossing paths had been more destiny than chance. In the altered reality of her warrior self, they wouldn’t have met until two and a half years earlier when the magic reactivated and Strike summoned the surviving magi to Skywatch. They would have met as strangers, probably would’ve become lovers, but without the complications of all the secrets and lies, and the heavy weight of the love they shared for their twin sons, Harry and Braden.
Would it have been easier that way? Probably. But even on the worst of the bad days, she’d never,
ever
wished she could go back and not have the twins. Granted, she hadn’t seen them in almost two years; she had missed out on so many firsts, and longed to see them with an intensity that was a physical constant, an ache beneath her heart. But even without seeing them, she still knew they were out there, safe with Hannah and Woody. And the knowledge kept her going.
I’m doing this for you
, she whispered to them, although she knew that, without their bloodline marks and the accompanying connection to the barrier, they couldn’t hear her. They were far safer off the grid than on it. But knowing that they couldn’t hear her didn’t stop her from talking to them in her head, even if that sometimes made her wonder whether, in marrying Brandt, she had taken on some of the madness rumored to linger in his eagle bloodline, along with the depression she’d battled for the past two years. That didn’t really matter, though. She’d beaten the depression, or at least learned to manage it. She could do the same with the other impulses too. Most of them, anyway.
Switching hands, her grip going slippery, she cut her other palm, then wiped the blade on her robe and returned it to her belt. Then, unable to delay any longer, she held out her hands to the men on either side of her so they could uplink, joining blood-to-blood in order to call on a deeper, collective wellspring of magic. On her left side, Sven took her hand immediately. The contact brought a flare of heat and magic, amping the champagne fizz to Alka Seltzer foam as he squeezed her hand in support, or maybe nerves—it was hard to tell with him.
To her right, though . . .
When her hand hovered midair, unclaimed, ice frosted the hard knot in her stomach.
Don’t do it
.
Not here. Not now
. It was her darkest unvoiced fear, that one day Brandt would decide that with the twins gone and the two of them living mostly separate lives, he didn’t want to bother with the thin veneer of a shared suite and matching rings anymore. He wasn’t big on public displays of anything, but gods knew he was more obsessed by the concepts of duty and destiny than even the
winikin
who’d raised him. He might think he was doing the right thing by severing the last of their ties before the ceremony, leaving either or both of them free to enter the Triad if chosen, without fearing that the mated bond would transfer some of the magic and risks. And those risks had to be on his mind, she knew. Of the three members of the previous Triad, one had survived, one had died outright . . . and one had gone insane.
Don’t you dare break it off
, she thought fiercely.
What we’ve got left is still better than what most people ever get
. Or so she kept telling herself.
Once, their mated bond had been so strong that he might’ve caught a whisper of those words in his head even without the bloody hand clasp of an uplink. That wasn’t the case anymore, though, which forced her to look at him, an action she’d been avoiding ever since he’d taken his place beside her. As she turned her head, she swore she heard her vertebrae creak, as if she’d grown old at twenty-six.
Their eyes locked, her sky blue to his gold-spangled brown. She took in the details without wanting to, seeing how his bronzed skin stretched across his high cheekbones, aquiline nose, and wide brow, drawn tight by stress and the sleepless nights that were reflected in the shadow smudges beneath his eyes. His sable hair was as neat as ever, his shave smooth, his eyebrows the matched curves of a gliding eagle’s wings. He was physical perfection even under the weight of duty and the threat of death or madness, and his cool calm made her feel sweaty and desperate in comparison.
“Don’t.” She thought she whispered it aloud, a single word of an unvoiced prayer to the gods he refused to call on. The room was silent around them, as the others waited for her and Brandt to complete the circle.
“What’s wrong?” Unlike his smooth looks, his voice was slightly rough, edged with a sensual rasp that, even now, shot straight to her core and made her remember warm sheets and lazy mornings spent in bed, sometimes cuddling with the boys, other times just the two of them.
She looked away as a spike of anger flattened the magic fizz. What the hell kind of question was that?
Everything’s wrong
, she wanted to say, but that was the answer of the woman she’d been for too long, the one who had turned inward and self-pitying. She had pulled herself out of that place and didn’t intend to go back, which meant the easy answer wasn’t an option anymore. But what could she say instead? The woman inside her—the one who still loved the memory of the man she had thought she’d married—that part of her wanted to tell him to be careful, to stay strong, and, even, gods forgive her, reject the Triad power if it was offered to him, knowing the added risk his heritage would bring. She wanted to tell him to think of the twins, of her, of the shared future they had once imagined, even though it seemed to grow more distant by the day. The warrior inside her, though, couldn’t let those words come. The ritual they were about to enter wasn’t about being careful; it was about fulfilling a three- thousand-year-old prophecy. It was about ascending to the next stage of the end- time countdown, and maybe—hopefully—gaining the power the Nightkeepers needed to defend the increasingly volatile barrier against the
Banol Kax
during the upcoming winter solstice.
Knowing it was the right answer, the only answer, the woman let the warrior take over, blunting her emotions and quickening her blood with determination and the hot, hard throb of magic. She stretched out her hand, palm up, so the blood track glistened dark in the torchlight. “Right now the only thing that matters is calling the Triad.”
It was the proper answer, the dutiful one. And the warrior within her meant every word of it, even as the woman would’ve given almost anything to turn back the clock to safer, easier times.
“We need to—”
“Uplink,” she interrupted.
He exhaled. “Patience . . .” he began, but then trailed off, as though he didn’t know what else there was to say anymore, either. Magic curled between them, hazing the air red-gold and making it sparkle in the flickering light. The hum within her changed pitch, inching upward as their eyes locked once again, and she felt the click of the connection that had been absent for far too long.
Heat pooled in her midsection, forming a hard pressure on her diaphragm before it dripped down, warm and liquid, making her ache with longing for another time, an earlier version of the man he’d become. The need came from the inextricable link between Nightkeeper magic and sex, she knew. That and the power of the
jun tan
s, the mated marks they both wore on their inner wrists, joining their flesh and souls through the power of the barrier even though the connection of their minds and hearts had waned.
“We’re running out of time,” she said, not quite sure where the words had come from. Was that the warrior’s sentiment or something else?
His eyes flared, going hard and hot, more like those of the intense young architect she’d married than the reserved, withdrawn mage he’d become. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he growled, “Fuck it.”
Leaning in, he closed the distance between them. His mouth covered hers before she could brace or even comprehend. He swallowed her gasp, smothered her half-formed protest, and took her under with a kiss. He wasn’t holding her, wasn’t touching her anywhere but her mouth, but his kiss held her shackled as shock collided with a roar of magic-amplified lust that had her opening to him before she could call back the impulse. Their tongues touched and slid; his flavor caromed through her, lighting neurons that had been dim for months now. Years. She felt the vibration of his groan, though the sound was lost beneath the escalating hum that surrounded them, bound them together.
Heat raced through her veins. Magic. Power.
Love
. Then he took her hand, pressed their bleeding palms together, and completed the circle of ten. The red-gold buzz went to a bloodred scream, the world lurched, and suddenly Patience was moving while standing still as her spirit-self peeled out of her corporeal body and lurched sideways into the energy curtain that separated the earth, sky, and underworld. Gray-green mist raced past her, laced with lightning and the smell of ozone and desperation. Then the Triad spell took them . . . and there was no going back.
