Nightkeepers

She felt herself falling, felt strong arms catch her.

Then nothing.

‘‘Here.’’ Rabbit shoved a can of Coke across the kitchen table in Jox’s direction.

The winikin took the can and stared at it, his wits dulled with fatigue and grief, with failure. Strike had been gone for hours. The solstice had passed, and although the barrier remained active, Red-Boar hadn’t been able to find him.

Here one second, then poof. Gone while his winikin counted pallets of cow shit and bitched about broken bags.

‘‘Drink,’’ Rabbit urged. ‘‘You know—sugar? Caffeine? The old man isn’t the only one who needs to recharge.’’

Magic consumed enormous amounts of energy, so while Red-Boar had searched, Jox had done what a winikin ought, forcing the mage to eat and drink, mostly foods that were heavy on fat, sugar, and protein. Even with that, the Nightkeeper’s strength had given out eventually. He’d staggered off to bed an hour earlier, muttering something about looking in their few remaining spellbooks when he got up.

He hadn’t bothered stating the obvious; that they might already be too late. Strike had teleported with no training, no guidance. For all they knew, he’d materialized inside a mountain.

‘‘I could help, you know,’’ Rabbit said out of nowhere.

Jox looked across the table to find the kid fiddling with his own soda can, practically vibrating with suppressed excitement. Oh, hell. This was so not what he needed right now. ‘‘Listen, Rabbit,’’ Jox said, wishing one of the others could’ve handled the convo. ‘‘You know there are . . . circumstances that’re going to make it difficult to induct you into the magic. It could be dangerous. Probably will be.’’

Rabbit scowled. ‘‘I’m a half-blood. Trust me, I got that. But it doesn’t mean I can’t do magic, just that it might be different magic. And it’s not like you’ve got a bunch of options. What have you got to lose?’’

‘‘It’s not as easy as that,’’ Jox said, but held up a hand to stem the coming protest. ‘‘But I’ll talk to your father. That’s all I can promise.’’

Slumping in his chair, the teen shrugged and pretended to be absorbed by reading the side of his Coke can. ‘‘Whatever.’’ His tone made it clear he didn’t expect squat from Red-Boar, and frankly Jox couldn’t blame him.

‘‘Look, Rabbit. I’ll—’’

The house phone rang, interrupting. Jox stared at the cordless handset as it rang again, and fear gathered in the pit of his stomach. It could be Strike, he thought. Or it could be someone calling to say they’d found Strike. Or —

Nope. It was one or the other. And until he answered, the scale was evenly balanced between the two, between hope and despair.

It rang again, and Rabbit said, ‘‘You want me to get it?’’

‘‘No.’’ Jox reached for the phone with shaking hands and hit the speakerphone button on the second try. ‘‘Hello?’’

‘‘I’m okay.’’ It was Strike’s voice, tired-sounding and on a crappy connection, but it was his voice. He was alive, and somewhere on the earth. He wasn’t stuck in the barrier, and he hadn’t become an insta-fossil.

Jox exhaled on a rush of relief so intense it would’ve floored him if he hadn’t already been sitting down. ‘‘Thank the gods.’’ He went dizzy, and pinched the bridge of his nose when his eyes prickled. ‘‘Gods damn it, you had us scared.’’

‘‘Sorry. I called as soon as I got somewhere with a signal.’’

Jox waved for Rabbit to go get his father, but he needn’t have bothered. Red-Boar came stumbling in, bleary eyed. ‘‘Where is he?’’

‘‘I’m in the apartment down by Chichen Itza,’’ Strike answered. ‘‘It’s a long story.’’ He rapped out a quick report about a murderer who’d gone through the makol ritual, and the woman he’d planned to sacrifice.

The words sort of blurred together, though, as Jox dropped his head into his hands. Thank you, gods. Thank you for keeping him safe when his fuckup winikin was asleep at the switch. I’ll never ask you for anything ever again. I promise.

The vow lasted approximately thirty seconds or so, until Strike said something about a vision.

Jox whipped his head up. ‘‘Please gods, you did not just say what I think you said.’’

‘‘I used a sleep spell on her,’’ Strike said, ignoring the winikin. ‘‘She’ll be okay until you guys get down here, right?’’

‘‘Who cares?’’ Red-Boar said bluntly. ‘‘She’s collateral damage. We need to find the ajaw- makol before it starts multiplying. One of those green-eyed bastards is bad enough. We sure as hell don’t want an army of them.’’

‘‘We’ll find the ajaw-makol and take care of him,’’ Strike said, voice going hard. ‘‘But Leah is not collateral damage.’’

‘‘You’ve had a hell of a day,’’ Jox said quickly, before the two exhausted magi could get into it. ‘‘Put some protein into your system, and shut it down for a few hours. We can figure out the rest when we get there.’’

‘‘Don’t handle me, Jox,’’ Strike snapped. ‘‘I’ve been having the dreams for weeks. She had them, too. We recognized each other, for crap’s sake. And the ajaw-makol called her a keeper of the gods.’’

Shit. Jox and Red-Boar exchanged a look, while Rabbit grinned at the prospect of a fight.