Spellfire (9 page)

It was his problem that he couldn’t be satisfied with what he’d gotten back already, his problem that he wanted more, wanted
her
, with a churning desire that was equal parts magic, lust, history and fascination with the stronger, sleeker, glossier woman she’d become . . . and one hundred percent Not Happening.

It was also past time for him to get his ass down there. Bad enough he was supposed to take her magic, worse to make her wait on him.

He had parked on the bank of the wide wash, where flash floods created a huge river and filled the cave when the rains came. It was dry now, so Myr had parked with her Jeep’s nose stuck into the cave mouth, no doubt partly so it could act as a transponder, partly so the trick door—a huge stone slab that was geared to uncertain magic—couldn’t slide into place and trap them inside.

As he got out of his vehicle and headed down there, kicking up pebbles and sand with his worn boots, he remembered all too well the fury that had carried him into the cave the last time, the anger and betrayal that had blasted through him when he’d seen her there with his eccentrics. Phee’s lies had been whispering in his head, stroking the rage and chaos inside him until he’d let it loose.

Not again. Never again.

Taking a deep breath, he brushed past her Jeep and stepped into the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, for the cave to come clear around him as a circular space with a sandy floor and ancient paintings of animals overhead. In the center, near a plain, unadorned stone altar, Myrinne sat cross-legged in front of a small fire that she’d laid in a circle of stones.

Heat seared low in his gut and punched beneath his heart, but he weathered the blows like he’d endured the ’
zotz
’s lash, by telling himself he was getting what he damn well deserved. More, he was trying to give her what
she
deserved—the respect of a fighting equal and the room to do what she needed to do, even when it wasn’t what he wanted.

The air carried hints of ginger, patchouli and vanilla, making him think of the candles she used to light in her college dorm room, back when things had been so much easier than they were now, though they’d both thought them complicated as hell. It was only a couple of years ago, but it felt like a fucking lifetime. Since then, he’d been to hell and back; he’d destroyed villages, led battles and killed
xombis
; he’d aged a decade in a year; he’d lost one king and gained another. And, though he wouldn’t have believed it possible back then, he’d lost Myrinne.

She looked up at him now, eyes dark and determined, and if there was an answering flare of heat deep within them, it was quickly gone.

Ah, baby
. He wanted to tell her that she could trust him, that he wouldn’t hurt her ever again. And yet he didn’t dare make any promises when his knuckles were bruised with temper and the end of the world lay ahead of them. So he didn’t say a damn thing. Instead, he crossed to her, boots thudding hollowly on the dried mud.

She watched him approach, expression unreadable. The small fire darkened, though, turning more green than orange, and the smoke thickened and turned bitter, coating the back of his throat.

He drew breath to speak, but she forestalled him with: “How about we skip the conversation and go right to the Vulcan mind-meld.” It wasn’t a question.

Exhaling, he said, “Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.” He told himself to leave it at that. Couldn’t. “Shit, Myr, I—”

“Don’t. Let’s just get this over with.” She pointed to the opposite side of the fire. “Sit.”

He sat, assuming a cross-legged pose that mirrored hers. “You’ve got the spell?”

“Yeah. Here.” She handed him an index card with the Hooked on Phonics version of the ancient Mayan incantation. “I’ll unblock your magic and we’ll both jack in. After that, we say the spell, and . . . well . . .” She looked away.

Before, she had forbidden him from mind-bending her, going so far as to have him put mental blocks in there and teach her how to use them to keep him out. And she had, right up until the moment when she’d realized he had lost himself to Phee’s lies. Then, to save herself, she had let him in and showed him that she wasn’t working for the demons . . .
he
was. He hated that he’d forced her to that point, hated that he’d hurt her. And he hated that he was about to do it again.

He waited until she looked at him, until their eyes met and held over the fire. “Seriously, Myr. I’m sorry about this.”

Anger flared in the depths of her eyes. “Yet here you are.”

“King’s orders.”

“Right. Because you’ve never gone against orders before.”

“Hello, Boar Oath.” Though he hadn’t really bumped up against it yet, wasn’t sure what would happen when he did. For the moment, he wasn’t having trouble following his old man’s orders.

The look she shot him said she knew it. “You want this. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Myr . . .” He didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to have this fight. Her glare said she wasn’t backing down, though, so he said, “I agreed to this because we need to figure out the crossover’s powers. Not because I want to take the magic away from you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And?”

She knew him too damn well. “Fine. I’m also doing this because when the barrier comes down, the
Banol Kax
are going to be gunning for the crossover. And I don’t want you standing next to me when that happens.” Not when he wasn’t sure he’d be able to shield her and still do whatever it was the gods needed him to do.

Her expression flattened. “I don’t want you protecting me.”

Quelle surprise
. Because if he’d learned anything over the past week and a half, it was that she didn’t want anything from him anymore. “Deal with it. This is one of the few things I can do to protect you, whether you want it or not. I just wish to hell we could break the connection without you losing your magic.” He knew better than to think she would wait tamely behind the lines—she’d be going into battle with or without the magic. Given that, he’d far rather have her fully armed. Unfortunately, the spell Lucius had found was very specific—it would return the magic to its rightful owner.

“You . . . damn it.” She looked around, but he wasn’t sure if she was seeing the cave or fighting back tears.

“Myr . . .” He reached out to her.

“Don’t.” She held up a hand. “Just don’t, okay? Like I said, it’s probably better if we go right to the spell. It’s not like us talking about it is going to change anything.” She paused, lifting her little wand. “Ready?”

No.
“Yeah.”

And, as they had practiced a hundred times over the past ten days, she unblocked the magic, letting it flow from her into him.

Power washed through his head and heart like an old, familiar friend. Suddenly, he was himself again; the cold places were warm, the empty places filling as his magic sizzled through his veins, back where it belonged. The flames changed, gaining red along with the green as his talents came online, his mind-bender’s magic vibrating against hers like it knew what they were about to do.

“Breathe in the smoke and cast the spell,” she said. But then, echoing along their shared magic, he heard her whisper,
I don’t blame you for any of this
.

Ah, damn it,
he thought, as a one-two punch thudded beneath his heart. He wanted to call it off, wanted to hold her, tell her everything was going to be okay. That would be a lie, though, because no matter what happened next, things were going to be anything but okay. And this was one of the best chances he was going to have to protect her, or at least get her out of the direct line of fire when the
Banol Kax
came for him. So he leaned in, opened himself to the mind-bending magic, and breathed in smoke that was laden with the scents of patchouli, vanilla and ginger. And, as the world spun around him, going faster with each rev, he said the short spell, his words echoing a nanosecond behind hers.

Magic flared between them, lacing the air with sparks of red and gold. His perceptions went swimmy and indistinct and then lurched, and it suddenly felt as if the universe was moving past him while he sat still, more like a teleportation spell than mind-bending. He braced himself to enter her thoughts, but he didn’t.

Instead, he dropped into the mind of a long-dead king.

CHAPTER EIGHT

One second, Myr was diving into the mind-meld . . . and in the next, she found herself in the middle of someone else’s thoughts. But she wasn’t in Rabbit’s head, and she wasn’t in the
winikin
’s cave anymore. Instead, she was wearing full battle gear and seeing out through the eyes of a Nightkeeper queen.

And oh, holy shit, this wasn’t what the spell was supposed to do.

*    *    *

Summer Solstice, 1984

The tunnels beneath Chichén Itzá

“Door,” King Scarred-Jaguar snapped over his shoulder, sending his adviser, Two-Hawk, out of the circular chamber to guard the hallway and keep the stone slab from closing. The plan was for the king and Asia to form a blood-link and open the intersection, as the dreams had said. After that, the others would join in for the spell that they hoped would seal the barrier for good. If they succeeded, there would be no more countdown, no end-time war.

Please gods,
Asia thought, not even sure they would be able to manage the blood-link. Not the way things were between them right now.

The king watched his adviser leave, then glanced sharply at her. “At least he doesn’t think his fealty oath only counts when it’s convenient.”

“There was nothing convenient about it.” Gods, how she wished she could go back a half hour, to when they had arrived at the site and, seeing how damn worried he looked, she had told him what she had done to protect their children, thinking it would reassure him. Instead, he had taken it as a slap, a lack of faith.

“Well it wasn’t a shining example of loyalty, either,” he growled.

With the huge
chac-mool
altar behind him and a row of screaming skulls lining the ceiling of the chamber above him, he was surrounded by symbols of the war he was determined to prevent. He looked very much a Nightkeeper, very much like a king and the man she loved with all her heart. But he also looked very, very pissed.

Then again, so was she.

She moved between him and the altar, so he had to look at her.
“
We’re on the same side, damn it.”

His jaw locked with the familiar jaguar stubbornness, which had been magnified to near deadly proportions over the past few weeks as he’d become obsessed with following the dreams the gods had sent him. “Then stop trying to undermine me.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? And I’ve been right behind you every step of the way. I believe in you, Jag,” she said, using the nickname that was hers alone. “But I couldn’t let Strike and Anna . . .” She trailed off when he stiffened, eyes going cold.

More, she was all too aware of the minutes passing, the solstice approaching, time running out. She had distracted him—both of them—with her ill-timed confession. Which wasn’t the work of a queen or a warrior. Not when they had work to do, a prophecy to fulfill.

“We need to get started,” he said, almost as if he’d read her mind. Except he couldn’t have caught her thoughts, even through the mated bond. Not with them so out of synch.

Exhaling, she stepped aside and turned to face the altar.
Thy wills be done
, she thought, and offered him her bloodied hand. “You’re right,” she said softly, trying to channel the warrior’s calm that kept eluding her. “Let’s do this.”

She had made her choice—she was there, with him. They all were, nearly a thousand Nightkeepers and three times that many
winikin
, filling the tunnels and spilling out into the ancient courtyards, ready to add to the uplink and block the
Banol Kax
from the earth, once and for all.

Gods willing.

He looked at her for a three-count, as if measuring her sincerity. Then he nodded and took her hand. “Ready?” His voice was tough and tight, that of her king, not her husband.

No.
“Yes.” She opened herself to him, added her magic to his, and put her faith in him, in his dreams and his plan.

“Pasaj och,”
he intoned, his voice resonating through their joined magic. The connection formed, jacking him into the solstice-thinned barrier and bringing her along through the uplink. Power flared through them, ramping quickly from a hum to a jaw-aching buzz. But it didn’t stop there, didn’t level off the way it always had before. Instead, it kept going, flooding her and amping higher and higher.

They hadn’t yet opened the intersection, yet already there was more energy here than she’d ever wielded before. Suddenly, the magic was the stuff of legends, the kind of power their ancestors had used to drive the
Banol Kax
from the earth plane and create the barrier.

Wonder seared through her, because the magic had to mean that it was real. It was all real—the dreams, the gods’ promises, the potential to avert the war—all of it.

Gods
. Tears prickled behind her closed lids, and one hot drop slipped down her cheek.

“Asia.” Jag’s energy was suddenly different, stronger and more vibrant than it had been, not just since her confession, but for days now, weeks. Heat thrummed through their blood-link, sharp and prickly with desire, but tempered with a deeper, softer warmth that wrapped around her, feeling like his arms. Feeling like love. His voice caught as he said, “Open your eyes. Please.”

She didn’t want to lose the moment, didn’t want to see the coldness in him. But when she looked up at him, she saw the man she’d been missing. “Oh, Jag.”

The magic coiled around them, sparking the air red and gold as he moved in and locked his lips to hers.

And his kiss . . . ahh, his kiss.

I love you
. His voice spoke through their mated bond, which was strong and true once more.

The knots of fear and grief loosened as she leaned into him, feeling the rise of their own special mated magic.
I love you, too
, she sent back.
I’m sorry I told you. I was trying to help.

I know, and you
did
help, and that scared me, because it means I’m not as sure as I need to be that this is going to work.

Maybe—probably—that should have worried her. Instead, it put them back on the same team, shoulder to shoulder. The fear wasn’t gone, but they were together. And that gave her the strength to break the kiss and look up at him. “I love you. What’s more, I believe in you.” She linked their fingers together. “I love you for the life we’ve had together and the children we’ve created. And I love you for being willing to make whatever sacrifice is necessary so they can live their lives without a war hanging over them.”

His eyes were moist. “Asia . . .”

“It’s okay. Really. I’m proud to stand beside you right now. That’s what’s important, in the end.”

“This isn’t the end for us,” he said with new determination. “I won’t let it be. We’re going to do this, damn it. We’re going to win the war, right here, right now.” Tugging her to his side, he said, “Come on. Let’s get this intersection open.”

Suddenly aware of the solstice power that thrummed up through the stones beneath their feet and the banked energy of the others waiting to begin the spell, she turned so they faced the
chac-mool
side by side.

And, linked by blood sacrifice and the mated bond, they began the spell, doing it as it was meant to be done: together.

*    *    *

Myr was shaking as she came out of the vision. Because that was what it had been—a vision, sent from the gods. The spell hadn’t transferred her magic—it was still lodged inside her, still racing through the connection linking her and Rabbit. Instead, the spell had sent them back to the past and showed them the last few minutes before the old king had unleashed the Solstice Massacre. But how? Why?

“Jesus,” Rabbit rasped. “That was . . . are you okay?”

She blinked, somehow unsurprised to find that they were on their feet, holding hands in front of the
winikin
’s altar, just like the king and queen had been facing the huge
chac-mool
beneath the pyramid of Chichén Itzá. More, when she locked eyes with Rabbit, she saw a hint of Jag in him—just a blink and then gone, but it was enough. “You saw it, too,” she said. “You were there, in the king.”

He nodded. “He was so convinced he was right . . . and he was so damn wrong.”

“Asia knew. She had seen foreseen their deaths, but she stood beside him anyway, not because of the writs or his orders, but because she loved him and believed in him utterly . . . even though she was furious with him, too.”

“She wasn’t mad at the end.”

“No. Not at the end.” Was that what the gods—or the ancestors, or whatever force had guided the vision—had wanted them to see? That when the chips were down, true love conquered even the worst of mistakes? That mated pairs needed to go into battle united, no matter what they needed to forgive in order for that to happen?

Myr looked away from him. She couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t quell the heat in her blood that had come from the dream-kiss and the pressure of Rabbit’s fingers on hers. More than ever before, she wanted to lean into him, touch him, kiss him, and forget about the outside world, just as Asia had done.

“He loved her so much,” Rabbit’s voice was rough with emotion. “So damn much, and he didn’t know how to fix things with her, how to protect the people he loved and still do what the gods wanted.”

Breath hitching, she looked back at him, and found herself caught in the heat of his eyes. They were warm and alive, making her realize suddenly how locked down he’d been since his return. Now, though, there was a spark of the old impetuousness when he tugged on their joined hands and pulled her into him, against him. And when she made a muffled noise, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, I swear.”

It wasn’t okay, far from it . . . but she couldn’t make herself pull away from his body, his warmth, his scent. Her mind went blank, save for a deep-down whisper that said,
Yes
. This was what she had been missing; this was where she was supposed to be.

Only it wasn’t.

“Let go of me,” she said into his chest. But she held him close.

“I can’t. I’ve tried.” He rested his cheek on her hair and breathed her in. “We should’ve been like them. Partners. Mates. Together to the very end.”

“Rabbit . . .” She trailed off, knowing she should push him back. Instead, she pressed her face against his chest, so she could hear his heartbeat, thudding steadily with a rhythm that seemed to say,
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive
.

Was that what the vision was trying to tell them? That life was short? Warmth kindled low in her stomach, weakening her and telling her to take what she wanted now, before it was too late. And whether or not she wanted to admit it, that wasn’t just the sex magic talking. It was her body, her heart.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive
.

She levered away, not to escape but to look up at him. There was a faint curve to his lips, which were so often—more these days than ever—set in concentration. “It was your smile,” she said before she knew she was going to. “That day in the tea shop, it was your smile I noticed first.”

He went still, not even breathing. But his eyes were locked on hers and the magic raced between them.

“You came in with Nate and Alexis to buy that ceremonial dagger from the Witch,” she continued, “but I didn’t really pay attention to them—they were just marks. Customers. Whatever. But you were different.” He’d looked fierce and capable, like he could handle anything. “And when you saw me, you smiled.” Just a quick grin, a “hey, hottie, whassup?” like she’d gotten a thousand times before . . . but one that had held empathy, along with a devilish glint that had made her want to see what would happen if he let loose.

“You were hiding behind some shelves.” His voice was thick. “You disappeared almost as soon as I saw you, but for those few seconds, it was like you were the only person in the room. Like the light was drawn right to you.” He paused. “After we left the shop, it was your face that stuck with me. Not just because you had a black eye, but because you looked lonely, angry, trapped . . . and for the first time in my life, it felt like I’d met someone like me.”

Myr’s heart bumped in her chest. They’d never really talked about their first meeting, at least like this, and that was probably the most romantic thing he’d ever said to her, damn him.

“You did,” she said through a throat gone tight with emotion. “I was. Oh, hell.” Her better intentions crumbled in that instant—or maybe they had already been most of the way gone, undermined by the vision and his smile, and remembering what it had felt like to be beaten down for so long . . . and then to suddenly have someone who gave a shit.

She didn’t know which one of them moved first, but they met halfway.

Spurred by magic, memories and the crazy desire that hadn’t burned out despite everything, she pressed her lips to his, opened her mouth to the plunge of his tongue, and clutched at his shirt as he kissed her.

Yes!
said the burn of excitement that flared as his warm strength surrounded her and their bodies lined up, bumping and then pressing together from collarbones to thighs, and everywhere in between.
Finally!
said her libido as he growled low in his throat and changed the angle of the kiss.
What the hell are you doing?
said her better sense. But even though kissing him went against everything she’d been telling herself for the past ten days, she couldn’t make herself stop.

So she didn’t stop. Instead, she opened to him, twined around him, and moaned as the sizzling energy pumped from her to him and back again, racing through the connection she had hated before, but now couldn’t get enough of.

Then, suddenly,
boom
! The magic flared higher and hotter, not sex magic anymore, but spell-cast magic. It whipped around her, caught her up, sucked her in.

“Rabbit!” She clutched at him, fear surging as her senses pinwheeled and then accelerated, spinning faster and faster. Wind came out of nowhere, screaming suddenly inside the cave to buffet them, circle around them, suck at them.