Storm Kissed (48 page)

 

Solstice Massacre
—Following a series of prophetic dreams, the Nightkeepers’ king led them to battle against the
Banol Kax
in 1984. The magi were slaughtered, with only a scant dozen children surviving to be raised in hiding by their
winikin
.

 

skyroad
—The celestial avenue connecting 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 anything happening on earth, giving the demons control.

 

Triad
—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 powerful spell casting. However, Brandt is the only functional Triad mage, as Anna is comatose and Dez’s ancestors used up the magic saving his soul.

 

writs
—Written by the First Father, these delineate the duties and codes of the Nightkeepers. Not all of them translate well into modern times.

Coyote bloodline
—Coyote-Seven, known as Sven, can move objects with his mind and wears the warrior’s mark, but is missing a part of himself. His
winikin
was the senior-statesman, Carlos, who turned over the responsibility to his daughter, Cara Liu. Cara didn’t want to be anyone’s servant, though, and soon left Skywatch.

 

Eagle bloodline
—A bird bloodline, and therefore connected with the air and flight. The members of this bloodline include Brandt, his wife Patience (who has the talent of invisibility), and their twin sons, Harry and Braden, who are five years old. Patience’s
winikin
, Hannah, and the former
winikin
leader, Jox, have taken the twins into hiding.

 

Harvester bloodline
—Typically the holders of passive, healing magic. Jade is a spell caster and warrior, though she spends much of her time with her human mate, Lucius. Together with Natalie and JT, two of the rebel
winikin
, they form the core of the Nightkeepers’ surveillance and intel capabilities.

 

Hawk bloodline
—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 destructive power is kept in check by his love for his mate, Alexis.

 

Jaguar bloodline
—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 is a seer who denies her talents and was struck into a coma by the Triad magic; and Sasha is the Nightkeepers’ healer. Strike’s mate and queen, Leah Daniels, is full human, a former Miami-Dade detective who now leads Strike’s royal council.

 

Peccary bloodline—
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 soon after the Nightkeepers were reunited, giving his life for his king and queen. Red-Boar’s teenage son, Rabbit, lives with the stigma of being a half blood, and commands wildly powerful magic. He is—more or less—kept in check by his love for his human girlfriend, Myrinne.

 

Serpent bloodline
—The masters of trickery. Snake (Dez) Mendez is a bad actor who joined the Nightkeepers late and is only just beginning to win their trust. His
winikin
, Louis Keban, is dangerously unbalanced and knows far more than he should. Dez is a loner; his only real vulnerability is in his feelings for ex–bounty hunter, Reese Montana.

 

Smoke bloodline
—They are often seers and prophets, but the surviving member of this bloodline, Alexis Gray, 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, strong in the power of her mated bond with Nate Blackhawk.

 

Stone bloodline
—The keepers of secrets. 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.

Leah Ann Daniels
—The former detective is Strike’s mate and the Nightkeepers’ queen.

 

Lucius Hunt
—Once a
makol
, now Lucius is the Nightkeepers’ Prophet and head geek. Mated to Jade and a warrior in his own right, he is currently sidelined while healing from a near-fatal injury.

 

Reese Montana
—Tough and self-reliant, with an outer shell hardened by past betrayal, this ex–bounty hunter has toned things down and gone private. But when she’s offered a chance to get back in the action and help save the whole damn world, she jumps at the offer . . . even if it means working with the man who broke her heart a decade earlier.

 

Myrinne
—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.

Iago
—The leader of the Order of Xibalba is a mage of extraordinary power, capable of “borrowing” the talents of other magi. Iago has gained additional power by allying himself with the bloodthirsty Aztec god-king, Moctezuma, and now seeks to take out the Nightkeepers by trickery.

MAGIC UNLEASED

 

 

 

The Jeep skidded in the turn, hit a bump that would’ve done a ski mogul proud, caught some air, and landed shuddering. There wasn’t much dust—New Mex was in its rainy season just like the rain forests Sven, Mac, and JT had come from—but rocks clunked against the undercarriage and something mechanical thumped ominously. In the back, a bulky hammock swung wildly from side to side, its canine occupant emitting a low, annoyed growl.

Sven hung on to the holy-shit handle and jammed a knee against the door. “Jesus, JT, what’s the fucking rush?”

Not that the irascible
winikin
didn’t usually drive like a death bat out of hell, but this was something else. Or maybe it wasn’t, and Sven just wanted it to be, because he was in zero hurry to get where they were going.

“One of us is getting laid tonight, and it ain’t you.” JT bared his teeth in a smile that held more than a bit of
nyah-nyah
, along with a solid dose of anticipation that had nothing to do with Sven and everything to do with Natalie, the pretty archaeologist who was waiting at the other end of the access road.

“Nice. Real nice.” Sven scowled out the window. The tint reflected the bristle of his hair, which had bleached nearly white during the nine months the three of them had spent hunting
makol
in the Mayan highlands. “Watch it or I’ll suddenly realize I ‘forgot’ something that we have to go back for.”

And given that “back” was a solid three-day drive plus some magical shenanigans at the U.S.–Mexico border, that would put a serious crimp in the plans of Mr. I’m-getting-some-and-you’re-not.

“Try it,” JT suggested with a “you and what army?” sneer, but they both knew Sven wouldn’t pull rank—first because there wasn’t any rank to pull as far as he was concerned, and second because this was no random trip home.

Dez had called them back to Skywatch, which meant there was something going down. More, that “something” was big enough that the king hadn’t been swayed by Sven’s argument that he was
this
close to figuring out why hundreds of villagers who had been released from
makol
possession last winter had reverted and gone vampiric, attacking their friends and families and turning them into more of the green-eyed monsters. Instead, Dez had told him to get the hell home. And he’d had a definite “don’t make me repeat myself” tone when he’d said it. So they were headed back to Skywatch, whether or not Sven liked the idea.

At the sound of a soft whine coming from behind him, Sven scowled even harder at JT. “You might want to slow down before Mac makes you.” His familiar had toughened up over the past year, getting over his adolescent spookiness, but the burly coyote still wasn’t big on transportation, whether by wheels or teleport. He liked having his paws on the ground.

“Whoops. Sorry about that, big dog.” JT eased up on the gas. He might be a stubborn ass and way too ready to pick a fight over the Nightkeepers versus
winikin
stuff, but he was a loyal son of a bitch, and Mac had saved both their lives down in the
makol
-infested Mexican highlands.

Even though the ride smoothed out, Mac kept whining low in his throat, sending off distress vibes that bumped up against the mental barrier Sven kept between the two of them. There was a canvas
rustle-thump
as the coyote lurched out of the hammock, and then his big head appeared between the men, his shoulders jamming the gap between the two front seats. The coyote’s eyes—pale green, with an eerily human directness—locked on the road ahead, where Sky-watch was invisible behind a couple of sandy humps.

JT chucked him under the chin. “What’s the matter, boy? Timmy fall in the well again?”

“You’re a godsdamned riot,” said Sven, who’d heard about a million variations on the theme since he and Mac had bonded. And, yeah, it had been funny the first hundred or so times, but the laughs were thinning out across the board as the countdown moved into the last month before the end-date.

The gods were holding the barrier so far, but with the
makol
spreading viruslike, the dark-magic threat was increasing daily. And with tension stringing everyone tight as shit, Sven and Mac had been getting on each other’s nerves more and more, making the mental block between them a necessity and weakening the magic that came from their partnership. That wasn’t good, but Sven didn’t know how to fix it. Or, rather, he did, and it so wasn’t happening. Thus, the mental barrier.

Now, though, something was getting through:
Danger
. The thought-glyph that came from the animal was faint, but recognizable. And when he raised an eyebrow in Mac’s direction, the coyote chuffed a low bark. It wasn’t his “emergency!” howl or even his “get your ass over here and deal with this” bark; it was more a signal of “I think there might be something wrong but I’m not sure.” Mac’s instincts had proven damn good, though, and Carlos had drilled it into Sven’s head:
Never disrespect your familiar
.

He could bend the bond if he did it carefully . . . but if it snapped, he was screwed.

So, cursing under his breath, Sven lowered the mental block. As it fell, he muttered under his breath, “This better be for real and not just you jonesing to get out of the car.”

Then the magic took hold, aligning his senses with those of his familiar, and for a moment he perceived the interior of the Jeep from Mac’s point of view: the vehicle’s shuddering bounciness; the two men in the front, one excited the other reluctant; and an intense hit of eau de dirty laundry with a chaser of stale Mickey D’s. Then the connection locked in and he caught the mental stream the coyote was directing at him—not thought-glyphs but pure emotion: frustration, fear, and anxiety overlain with an image of a beautiful dark-eyed woman with a white skunk-stripe in her straight black hair.

“Son of a—” Sven broke the connection and glared, sending back a double-helping of the thought-glyph that meant “cold” in the tradition of the coyote bloodline, but for him and Mac had come to mean “chill out and knock it the fuck off.”

JT glanced over. “Problem?”

“Nope.” Sven faced forward, ignoring his familiar. He didn’t block the coyote’s mental stream all the way, though; it buzzed along his nerve endings and filled his mind with thought-pictures, one of which gelled. In it, Cara was standing at the edge of the training hall in the sleek gray military jacket that marked her as the leader of the
winikin
. With her dark eyes gleaming in challenge, her hair tied back in a slick ponytail and her hands behind her back in a parade rest that made her seem far taller than her fine-boned five three, she looked calm and capable, and nothing like the girl he’d grown up with. But then again, neither of them was the same as they had been back then, thank the gods.

“Guess I’m not the only one excited to get back,” JT said as they crested the last hill and the coyote’s whining got louder.

Sven didn’t answer. He hadn’t let on to JT that for the past few months Mac had been nagging that they needed to get back to Skywatch, that Cara needed them. She was fine, though—he had checked and double-checked. Not to mention that if she needed someone, her second in command, Zane, had made it real clear that he was taking care of business in that department.

Mac growled low in his throat, his attention fixed on where the training compound spread out in front of them at the bottom of the incline.

The stone walls that blocked off the open end of the box canyon were a lighter shade than the red-rock canyon walls, the mansion beyond a study of earth tones and white trim. Behind the sprawling, multiwinged structure, a small grove of trees butted up against the huge steel training hall that the
winikin
had claimed as their territory, no magi need apply. Beyond that were cottages, the firing range and urban warfare setup, and at the back of the canyon, nearly lost in the distance, the entrance to the Nightkeepers’ ancestral library. There were people scattered pretty much everywhere, reminding Sven how crowded things had gotten in the compound when Cara and her forty-some rebel
winikin
showed up, nearly tripling the population of Skywatch overnight. Granted, the Nightkeepers needed all the trained bodies they could get right now, but still.