All because she’d gone exploring as a child.
That was why she hadn’t wanted to talk about the scar before, for fear that it would be something like this. Even before she’d learned of the Nightkeepers and the things going on beneath the surface of everyday life, she’d known Matty’s—and her—connection to the 2012ers and their Maya-based mythology wasn’t a coincidence.
‘‘He was crying,’’ she said softly, her voice cracking on guilt and despair. ‘‘He didn’t want to go into the tunnel, but I made him.’’ And in doing so, she’d started the chain of events that would eventually kill him.
‘‘You were eight.’’
‘‘I knew better.’’
‘‘You made a mistake.’’
‘‘Yes.’’ There was silence between them for a moment. She could hear sounds coming from other parts of the mansion, and the steady thump of Strike’s heart beneath her cheek. ‘‘He kept a journal,’’ she said eventually, feeling as though the words were being pushed out of her by an outside force, a compulsion to purge all the ugly truths she’d been keeping. ‘‘I guess he started seeing a therapist after his fiancee left him. I didn’t even know. . . .’’ She trailed off, feeling the weight of guilt. ‘‘The Calendar Killer task force kept it as evidence, but Connie had them make me a copy.’’
‘‘Did he write about that night in Mexico?’’ Strike asked, seeming to know she needed the prodding or she’d lose her ability to keep going. ‘‘Did he say that was why he was attracted to Zipacna and the group?’’
‘‘Not in so many words, but now that I look back, yeah.’’ She nodded. ‘‘It was in there. He talked about how he felt like he and Zipacna were connected somehow, like they’d known each other in another life.’’ She glanced at Strike. ‘‘Past lives weren’t Matty’s style. He wasn’t real artsy or spiritual. He liked things—possessions, money, pleasures—and he liked to get them the easy way. At first I thought that was the attraction of Survivor2012— the nice mansion, the fat bankroll. When I read that diary, though, it freaked me out. It sounded like he was really buying into the religion, which didn’t make any sense.’’ Now, though, maybe it was starting to. ‘‘Do you think—’’ She broke off. ‘‘Do you think he became who he was because of Kulkulkan’s darkness, or did he get the darkness because his personality already skewed that way?’’
‘‘I don’t know.’’ He shifted so he could look into her eyes. ‘‘Which would be easier to hear?’’
She exhaled. Nodded. ‘‘Yeah. Doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s just . . . I can’t help thinking that if I’d gotten the darkness I could’ve handled it better. I was older and stronger; I should’ve—’’
‘‘Hush.’’ He pressed his lips to her forehead. ‘‘What’s done is done. We go on from here.’’
She said, ‘‘I don’t suppose any of the trainees got time travel as a talent last night.’’ It was both a wistful thought and an offer to change the subject.
He gave a rumble of sad amusement. ‘‘Unfortunately that’s not in our skill set. As of last night, I have one fire starter, one invisible, a seer, a spell caster, and seven warriors. Sven got a talent mark nobody’s ever seen before, and I’m the local teleport.’’
‘‘And the guy in the apartment?’’
‘‘Red-Boar got him fixed and wiped his memories.’’ He paused. ‘‘Anna came back with me. I don’t know how long she’ll stay, but she’s here now.’’
‘‘I’m happy for you,’’ Leah said, feeling a catch in her throat. ‘‘Brothers and sisters should stick together.’’ Then, knowing they couldn’t stay curled up in the royal suite forever—tempting though that might be on many levels—she said, ‘‘What happens now?’’
He was silent for a moment, then said, ‘‘I need to talk to Anna, and see where her head is at. She got her mark on the way through the barrier, but an
‘‘My ‘situation,’ ’’ she repeated. ‘‘Is that what we’re calling it?’’ Acid burned at the back of her throat. ‘‘I suppose it does sound better than, ‘We’ve got two options: Option one, I die before the equinox and the god goes free, or option two, the god and I both die during the equinox and take the skyroad with us, meaning that there will be no Godkeepers ever, and pretty much ensuring the end of the world as we know it.’ ’’
He tightened his arms around her. ‘‘You’re not alone in this, okay? We’re going to find a way.’’ He sounded angry, but not with her, she knew. With the situation. The whole miserable, sucky situation they’d found themselves in.
She pushed away and levered herself up on her elbows, so she was braced above him looking down. ‘‘And if we can’t?’’
‘‘We will,’’ he said, and there was such certainty in his voice that she was tempted to believe him.
But saying something didn’t make it the truth, even if the guy saying it was magic.
‘‘Your duty is to the gods first,’’ she said, ‘‘then your people and mankind. I’m pretty far down on that list.’’
‘‘Trust me, I know what the king’s writ says.’’ He reached up and cupped her jaw in his palm, and she could feel the ridges of the sacrificial scars from the night before, rough against her skin. ‘‘But you said it yourself— this is a new day, with modern men and women playing the role of Nightkeeper. Some of the old ways simply don’t apply now. Maybe it’s time to make up a few new rules.’’
Tightening his grip, he urged her down, his eyes darkening with sensual intent.
Heat speared through her. Lust and frustration, her constant companions since she’d come to Skywatch, rose to the surface and her skin prickled with awareness, with anticipation.
But she stilled as the reality crashed in on her, chilling her to her soul. ‘‘You’re in bed with me because you think there’s no point in our staying away from each other, that you’re going to have to—’’
