Blood Spells

The part of her that kept track of their failures tried to warn her that at worst he was using her feelings to strengthen his magic, or that at best it was just another fresh start. But deep down inside she knew this time was different. He was different. She could feel it in their magic, in the sync of their blood and power, in the echo of his thoughts within her.

For the first time in their relationship, he didn’t just want and love her; he needed her as much as she needed him. And he was willing to risk loving and losing her. He was ready to take it on faith.

Faith. It had never really been about the Akbal oath, she realized. Or at least not the way she had thought. She hadn’t needed him to retake the oath to prove that he trusted her to take care of herself.

She had needed him to love her despite the curse, needed him to want her enough— need her enough—

that he was willing to risk loving and losing her.

After that, it was up to fate and the gods.

“I think we’ve finally found our balance,” she whispered, staring up into eyes that had gone molten gold with love and magic.

He leaned in to touch his forehead to hers. “Stay safe. I love you.”

“You too.”

Then they separated and turned to face Iago, who had dragged himself to his knees on the other side of the shield magic. But although they weren’t touching anymore, they were deeply linked, intimately aware of each other.

She glanced over to where Woody and Hannah stood shoulder to shoulder at the farthest corner of the rockfall, each holding an autopistol and wearing an expression of fierce determination. Behind them, the twins were partly protected behind the hastily piled wall of debris.

Hannah met her eyes square on. You can do this, the look said. This is who you are. She felt Brandt’s unspoken wash of agreement. And the thing was, she appreciated their support . . . but she didn’t need it. She knew who she was now.

Suddenly, Iago’s voice carried from the other side of the shields, “Give it up. Drop the shield and I’ll spare the winikin.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” Brandt called back. “You’ve got me and Patience. Let the others go.”

Inwardly, he sent, He’s got us cornered. He wouldn’t make an offer like that unless he’s weaker than he wants us to think.

He used himself up regenerating, Patience agreed. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still dangerous.

“You want to save your winikin or not?” Iago demanded.

Brandt hesitated just long enough for it to be believable. “Okay. Shield’s coming down.” Ready?

Ready.

Together, they spun up the jun tan magic and used it to shield the twins and winikin, then themselves. Beyond those shields, their battle magic painted the air a sparkling red-gold.

Now! Brandt sent.

They dropped the shield and Iago appeared, his molten-wax features distorted with rage and hatred, and haloed within a cloud of dark magic. Roaring his brother’s name, he unleashed a bolt of power at them.

The magic wrapped around them, coating their shields, which groaned but held as they lashed back, sending a massive fireball hurtling at the Xibalban.

Iago raised a strong shield and the fireball spent itself harmlessly. But he let the shield wink out again as he built his next bolt.

Understanding slashed through Patience. He can only handle one spell at a time!

Hold the shields, Brandt said. Reverse ours when I give the word, and then break right. We need to split his attention. He sent a mental image of his plan. Which she thought might work.

Gods willing.

She nodded, sweat prickling at the drain of holding two shields, one around her and Brandt, the other protecting the winikin and the twins. Stay alive, she ordered him. I love you.

You too. Ready? . . . Go!

She dropped both of the shields and used all her power to create a new one that surrounded Iago in a sphere of reflective magic, just as the enemy mage unleashed a deadly energy bolt straight at them.

The dark magic caromed off the shield and flew back toward Iago, who screamed as he disappeared within a coalescing cloud of brown hellmagic.

Patience held the shield, but it drained her, sapping even the jun tan power. The sphere lasted for only a few seconds before it dissolved beneath the dark-magic onslaught and Iago roared free once again.

She dove and rolled to the right. Brandt spun, lunged the other way, and let rip with a fireball.

Iago spun and, seemingly instinctively, slashed at the incoming fireball with Moctezuma’s knife.

The red-gold magic flared and disappeared, leaving the knife glowing.

Oh, shit. The thought echoed through Patience and Brandt at the realization that the first-fire knife wasn’t just a symbol. It had powers of its own.

Iago’s eyes lit. Lifting the knife, he lunged for Patience.

She reeled back, scrambling to cast a new shield. The spell failed. The jun tan magic was depleted.

Brandt shouted her name. A heavy weight slammed into her from the side, sending her flying into the wall.

Her head cracked against stone. And the world went dark.

“No!” Brandt saw Patience slide down the wall, limp and unmoving, saw Woody drop down beside her. The winikin had pushed her out of the way, but not soon enough. Iago closed on them both, raising the glowing knife. Denying what was about to happen, Brandt screamed, “Patience!”

He flung himself at Iago, slammed into the bastard’s dark shield magic, and fought to push through the faltering spell, which flayed him raw, lashing him with harsh agony. Then he was through! He went in low, tackling Iago and sending him flying backward.

They went down hard together, grappling for control of the knife.

Iago had the strength of an ajaw-makol, but Brandt was desperate. He fought dirty, ditching his martial arts moves for the “fucking get it done” techniques he’d learned from Michael. He jammed his elbow in Iago’s windpipe, grabbed his knife hand, and twisted so hard he broke the fucker’s wrist. The Xibalban bellowed in pain and Brandt wrestled the knife from him, but the enemy mage got his other hand around Brandt’s neck and squeezed hard.

“Screw. You,” Brandt grated. He reversed the first-fire knife, which vibrated with trapped Nightkeeper magic, slashed it once across Iago’s throat, and then drove the blade into the Xibalban’s gut, angling high to slice through his diaphragm to his heart. As he did so, he started reciting the head-

and-heart spell, hoping to hell they were close enough to the moment of solstice that he would be able to banish the ajaw-makol .

Iago’s body arched and he gave a high, keening cry. Dark magic broke over them both, in a shock wave that was like being inside a thunderclap. Power surged as the Xibalban overrode the energy cost that normally prevented teleportation through rock.

’Port magic rattled and the bastard vanished.