Magic Unchained (43 page)

“Cara, sweetie…” Natalie reached out and clasped her arm.

“I’m okay,” Cara said, though that was a lie. “He warned me this would happen.” She hadn’t believed him, though. Somewhere deep down inside, she must have told herself that it wouldn’t come to this, or that if it did, he would stay with her.

Apparently parts of her were still seventeen and stupidly optimistic. Or they had been. She could feel them now, dying inside her as she turned away from the tunnel mouth and focused on her team. Hers now, because she no longer had a coleader, no check to her balance. It was going to be up to her to lead the
winikin,
up to them to protect the magi.

And Sven…
Gods, please keep him safe
. But that was the only thing she would ask for when it came to him, because she had a job to do and a team to lead.… And he had just bailed on her for the last time.

Sven ran along a narrow game trail in the rain forest, searching, searching. There! Up ahead, a flash of movement, a stir of leaves, and then gone. Lungs burning. Close now, but where?

The vision blurred to reality and then back again, making him feel desperate and schizo. He ran on two legs, on four, and then back again, following the whip of Mac’s tail, glimpsed briefly and then gone. Leaves and branches lashed at him, and a troop of monkeys screeched overhead, sending parrots darting from the trees.

Mac didn’t slacken, didn’t look back.

“Damn it, get back here!” Sven’s voice sounded strange and alien in his own ears. “What’s going on here?” The strange double vision felt like it did when he was deeply linked with his familiar, but their bond was silent. He couldn’t call the coyote back, couldn’t ask what he was chasing, didn’t know why they were running away from the cave and their teammates—away from
Cara,
damn it.

What more do you want from me?
he asked the gods, anyone who might have an answer. He was following the vision, but he didn’t have his magic back, couldn’t hear Mac, hadn’t gained anything except a broken fucking heart.

He had known it would hurt like hell to end things, but he hadn’t even begun to guess how much it would suck to see her walk away and not look back.

The trail widened and he saw Mac fully for the first time since the chase had begun. The big coyote was flattened out with his nose to the ground and his tail flagging, tracking, searching, all the things Sven kept envisioning. Only he wasn’t inside Mac’s head in the visions. He was… Shit, he didn’t know where he was, or why.

He stopped dead on the trail. The skewed double vision cleared abruptly, as if he’d shut off some other channel without being aware of its existence. He was alone in his head once more, brain no longer fogged by something else’s dreams. And he didn’t like what he saw.

What. The fuck. Was he doing?

He was running away. That was what.

Brush crashed up ahead, then faded as Mac kept going without slackening speed. But Sven let him go as his head did some crashing of its own. Part of him wanted to keep going, keep running… but the rest of him said to turn his ass around and go back to where he belonged. Not just with his teammates or the
winikin
army, but with his woman.
Cara
. He had come back to Skywatch determined to make amends for having let her down time and again, and what did he do instead? He hurt her a thousand times worse and told himself it was the right thing to do.

She was the one who’d been right, though. He was running from her, from his growing feelings, though he’d talked himself into believing that the urgent, out-of-control sensations were coming from his bloodline magic. And in doing so, he’d blocked that magic, just like she’d said. At least, he hoped that was what had happened, because that should mean it was fixable.

He couldn’t explain the visions or Mac’s odd behavior,
but it was time to make a choice. He could keep following the vision, or he could go back to the fight, the team, and his woman.

“I’m going back.” He said it aloud, daring the
nahwal,
the gods, or the universe to tell him different. Then, not waiting for an answer or caring what it might be—this was his life, his choice—he spun and bolted back the way he had come.

No lightning struck him dead; no demon appeared to drag him to Xibalba as he raced through the rain forest on his own two feet. He didn’t feel the slashing branches, didn’t stress about his magic, Mac, or anything else he couldn’t control right now. The one thing he could control—the thing he should’ve been in better control of all along—was himself. Starting now.

As he ran, he prayed that Cara would give him one more chance to apologize, one more chance to prove that he wanted her, that he was willing to make whatever amends she wanted, whatever sacrifice would prove that he was committed to her the way she wanted, the way she deserved.

He didn’t know yet how he was going to do that. But he would do it. That was a promise.

The way back seemed shorter than the trip out; he was there within minutes, chest heaving and legs burning from the sprint. He’d made it!

But as he neared the edge of the clearing at the mouth of the tunnel, a terrible rattle split the silence and the air shimmered in a smudged gray curtain across the cave mouth. The surface bulged and rippled obscenely, warning that the barrier was almost breached at that point, which wasn’t something they had planned for. If the demons came down that tunnel and caught the Nightkeepers
unprepared… “No!” Sven surged toward the breach. “Cara!”

A blur came hurtling at him from the side, too fast for him to defend. It slammed into him and he went down beneath a huge projectile of fur, muscle, and sinew.

He hit hard and rolled, shouting, “Mac, godsdamn it, stop!”

But the coyote that faced him in an aggressive crouch wasn’t Mac, he saw with sudden shock. It was a sable-coated female with dark, frantic eyes. She lowered her head and snarled, then jerked up with an utterly canine look of surprise as Mac burst from the undergrowth with a roar.

The bigger male hurtled over Sven and thudded to the ground in front of the female with his teeth bared and a low growl revving in his chest. The female’s snarl ratcheted up and the two tensed to spring, to fight, to—

“Hold it!” Sven surged to his feet. “Mac, hold! Look!” He pointed to the cave entrance, where the dark curtain was folding in on itself and curling around to enter the tunnel, moving fast. “She was protecting me!” As the bigger coyote subsided, Sven repeated in an
oh, holy shit
tone, “She was protecting me.”

Moving around Mac, he put himself right in front of the female, who was still crouched, but had stopped snarling. She watched him with wary eyes and her whole body shook, but she held her ground as he hunkered down.

“Dear gods. You’re real, aren’t you? Where did you come from, sweetheart? What are you doing all the way down here?” Mac had appeared unexpectedly, but at least they could theorize that a pack of the coyote bloodline’s carefully selected hybrids had escaped after the
massacre and gone feral. Down here… he didn’t have a clue.

But she was real, all right. And she was powerful enough that her visions had reached him all the way up in New Mexico.

Heart thudding with sudden excitement, he tried to think of how it felt when the visions came, how he’d run after Mac seeing double, once as himself and once as another coyote. And, seeking those feelings, he sent a pulse of magic, along with a thought-glyph.
Friend
.

The female barked, high and excited.
Friend! Talk!
Where? Man where? Searchsearchsearch, where?

The “man” concept was one he knew from when Mac had been trying to track him down, their mental link somehow activated before Sven really understood what was happening to him. It was gender neutral, and meant the one particular human being that the coyote was meant to bond with. The female was a familiar in search of her person.

And there was only one other person on the planet who wore the double-dotted coyote glyph.

Excitement flashed in his veins like wildfire. “In there!” He pointed to the cave, where the dark, roiling shimmer had entirely plugged the tunnel. “She’s in there! Is there another way to get inside?”

His mind filled with scattershot images coming in a suddenly very familiar mental tone.
Running. Searching, searching. A cave. Enemy! The enemy is in the cave. A back way. Another tunnel. Run. Hurry. Fast-fast.

He didn’t know how she had learned thought-glyphs or come to be in the Guatemalan rain forest, or how she’d managed to contact him, but right now none of that mattered. All that mattered was getting into that cave.

“Go!” Heart hammering, he waved her off. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Following her thought stream like a beacon, he and Mac chased the sable female through the trees and up a nearly vertical cliff face, to where a crack led to a narrow, twisting tunnel. And, gods willing, all the way inward to the cavern of Che’en Yaaxil.

“What the hell is that?” Natalie cried. But she knew. They all did. The chatter of dark magic coming from the tunnel was just as the magi had described it: like the noise made by an Amtrak-size rattler.

“They’re coming,” Brandt confirmed. He and Patience were helping the
winikin
with the shield stones that Lucius and Jade had magicked up for the
winikin
to use for protection. They worked either singly or as an overlapping domed defense, which was what they had in place now.

“Stand your ground,” Cara called to her teammates, amazed that her voice stayed steady. The rattling noise shifted and slithered and made her want to claw at her own skin. She held it together, though, just as she’d held it together up to this point in the op, by focusing on the immediate situation and dealing with whatever small piece of the whole needed to be dealt with.

The big picture was too damn scary right now: The Nightkeepers were having zero luck activating the screaming skull, there were nasty things coming up that tunnel, and it was her job to make sure they didn’t get to the Nightkeepers.

So she concentrated on the pieces that needed to work. “Breece,” she directed, “go help Sebastian.” The shield stones had their own power sources, but they used
a blood-link as the catalyst. The more a
winikin
hated magic and the magi, the harder they found it to link up, even if they were honestly trying, as if something deep inside them still rejected the connection.

Trying very hard not to think of the parallel to Sven, she made a couple of other moves, shoring up faltering spots in the shield-stone dome, which was visible as a pale blue glow all around them. Through it, she could see a dark mist gathering at the tunnel mouth, then thickening to an opaque fog that began to roil and spin.

The rattlesnake hiss amped, but she held her ground, all too aware of the magi in the center of the dome. They were blood-linked and deep in the magic, nearly insensate as they focused all their energies on the skull and the resurrection spell. They were trusting her people with their lives, and she wasn’t going to let them down.

She had their backs, even if nobody had hers.

“Weapons ready,” Brandt called out, his voice ringing over the din. “Wait to fire until we see—”

A vicious rending noise tore through the cave, and the fog split in half, gaping to either side as terrible creatures poured through into the cave. At first she saw only a roil of dark body parts, glimpses of clawed hands and feet, and wickedly barbed tails, but then the creatures fanned out and she saw the demons for real.

They were human shaped, eight or nine feet tall, with wingspans of twice that, made of dark skin stretched across fingerlike bones. Their faces looked like they’d been caught in the middle of a shape-shift between human and pug, with squashed-in noses and beady eyes that kindled and glowed red as they solidified. And if that wasn’t enough to warn her that these were the bat demons JT and Natalie had once faced, barely escaping
with their lives, then the ID was sealed by their whiplike tails and grotesquely oversize penises, which had flat, leaflike scales at their tips.

“
Camazotz!
” JT shouted, confirming her guess and sparking new fear, because the powerful demons could be killed only up close and personal—cutting off their penises puffed them to smoke—and because where he and Natalie had fought a nest of newborns, these
camazotz
were fully mature.

As they came through the tear in the dark barrier, their burning red eyes locked onto the
winikin
and their mouths split in terrible screeches that started in the audible range but then ran up from there to a supersonic whine that made Cara’s bones ache.

Someone screamed, snapping the terrified silence of the
winikin
line and unleashing a chain of cries and shouts that warned of a stampede.

“Hold your shields!” she shouted. “Stay open to the magic! For the love of the gods and tomorrow, don’t lose those shields! And get ready to shoot!” She checked her weapon—an M-16 modified to handle the new exploding-tip jade bullets—with hands that shook so badly it took two tries to get the clip back in.

The
camazotz
poured through the rip. There were twenty of them, then thirty. And then, as if they had reached some critical mass or were answering some command given outside human hearing, they raced to surround the shielded circle.

“Steady,” Patience called. She and Brandt were blood-linked, adding their magic to that of the shield stones, and they each had a pulsing, glowing fireball conjured and ready to hurl through the one-way shield, which would let things out, but not in.

The
camazotz
moved closer, eyeing the shield as if trying to figure out whether it would burn them. But the shield stones gave off only a passive force field, and one that hadn’t yet been truly tested.

Please, gods,
Cara whispered inwardly, but then didn’t know what she dared ask for, or even if the gods were listening. For a few brief days, she’d felt like part of the prophecies, part of the war. Now, though, it seemed like she’d been talking herself into the impossible-seeming logic. What were they doing here? Was this even the right place, the right spell? On some level, she had expected the
Banol Kax
to send the shadow creatures to attack: the hellhound, the eagles, all the other beasts that had erupted during Aaron’s funeral. Those were her enemies, hers and the
winikin
’s, and would have meant something.