Dawnkeepers

“We can’t.” She held him off, though she was strongly tempted to give in to the heat, to the one thing that had always been easy and right between them. “We have to go back.”

She didn’t question whether they could return to the others, or how. She could feel the power inside; it would undoubtedly decrease some as the barrier thickened with the passing of the eclipse and the skyroad was once again separated from the earth. But for now, for this moment of magic, she had no limits.

She and Nate pulled on their soggy clothes, putting themselves back together as best they could. She tried not to think about the others seeing them, and knowing what had just happened. But sacrifice and sex were the cornerstones of the magic, particularly the Godkeeper ritual. There was no shame in it.

Even as those thoughts swirled in Alexis’s brain, she felt the presence of the goddess, her quiet reassurance, not in words but in a wash of love that told her she could do this, she could. Knowing it, believing it, she turned and touched her lips to Nate’s. And the gods, feeling them together, sent them back to the antechamber to be reunited with the Nightkeepers . . . bringing the rainbow goddess, Ixchel, with them.

Nate told himself he was braced for the stares, told himself it didn’t matter what the others knew, or thought they knew. What was important was what’d just happened to—and between—him and Alexis, and how they went on from there. But when the gods zapped the two of them back to the antechamber and all eyes snapped to them, he realized he wasn’t really braced for the attention . . . and he didn’t have a frickin’ clue where he and Alexis were headed.

A glance at his forearm showed that he’d been tagged with a new glyph he had to assume was the goddess’s mark. There was no jun tan, though. No sign that they were officially mated, which was a relief.

The power—shimmering gold and rainbows—cut out when they landed, leaving him and Alexis swaying on their feet. He looped an arm around her waist so she wouldn’t stumble and fall, and felt the familiar kick of heat that always came when he touched her. Only the heat was subtly different, stronger and richer, and laced with undertones of color and temptation.

Her taste was imprinted on his neurons, and he could smell their mingled scents on her skin, on his own. The musk, the sex, the goddess . . . all of it bound them together.

Uncomfortable, he let his arm drop and stepped away from her, so they stood apart when they faced the Nightkeepers, and their king.

Strike looked them both over, and didn’t seem reassured by what he was seeing. “You guys okay?”

he asked, but they all knew he was asking so much more than that.

“Better than okay.” Alexis stepped forward, her face seeming simultaneously softer and edgier, as though the god-power had tightened her jawline and darkened the rims of her blue eyes, but plumped her lips and smoothed the corners of her mouth and her brow. She looked like herself . . . only more so.

Nate wasn’t sure whether the changes were new and god-wrought, or if they’d been a gradual shift he hadn’t noticed. Either way they looked good on her, and resonated within him, as though he’d seen this new Alexis in another time and place. Which didn’t make any freaking sense whatsoever.

She cupped her palms and smiled, and light kindled in her hands. Where before she’d needed blood and chanted spells to summon a weak fireball, now it sprang to life instantly, without blood or word, growing from a spark to a conflagration, not just the red of a Nightkeeper or the gold of a god, but both those colors, along with the greens and blues and purples he’d seen from her in the sacred chamber, all the colors of the rainbow.

“Ixchel,” Leah said, coming up to stand beside Strike. The gold of the creator god sparked in her eyes through the magic of the eclipse connection.

The imperfect human Godkeeper faced the true Godkeeper for a moment that hung suspended in time. Then the queen bent and spit at Alexis’s feet in obeisance. Moments later Strike did the same.

Then each of the others did the same, as the Nightkeepers welcomed the goddess into their midst.

Nate held himself apart, standing near Alexis because he couldn’t not be near her, but distancing himself at the same time. Nobody seemed to notice or care, though, because—for now, anyway—the goddess’s protector was ancillary.

“Thank you,” Alexis said. Her face shone with power and joy, and the colors from the fireball had extended to touch her, limning her in rainbows. She looked at Sven, the goddess power somehow prompting her to pick him out of the others. “Congratulations.”

Surprise flashed across his features, then pride. He held out his forearm, showing that the indecipherable talent mark he’d worn since the previous fall had changed, resolving itself into a glyph that was very like Strike’s, yet not. “I’m a translocator,” he said. “Which pretty much means I can teleport inanimate shit without touching it.” But though his words might be deprecating, his eyes shone and his shoulders were square beneath his combat duds.

Alexis next turned to where Patience stood, with Brandt beside her. “I’m sorry.” This time Nate was pretty sure it was Alexis the woman, not the goddess, who was speaking.

Patience shook her head. “It was as it was meant to be.” She was holding Brandt’s hand, her grip tight, as though she were fighting not to let go. She glanced at Nate, then back to Alexis. “Better for it to be the two of you right now.”

Better for whom? Nate wondered, then wished he hadn’t, wished he could just let events unfold. But unease dogged him as the Nightkeepers headed topside to collect Jade and the winikin, and they all linked up once again for the trip home. As the teleport magic kicked in, an echo in the king’s voice reached them all, a thought he’d no doubt meant to keep private, or just between him and Leah, but had been broadcast through the bloodline link: What good will rainbows do against Camazotz?

PART II SATURN AT OPPOSITION

Saturn is strongly associated with time. In the Dresden Codex, one of only four surviving Mayan texts, the movement of Saturn is used to help set the interlocking Mayan calendars, including the Long Count. At opposition, Saturn is at its closest point to the Earth.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

February 9 Lucius nearly killed himself trying to find the location the starscript had directed him to. Granted, he probably should’ve gotten a room in Albuquerque instead of pushing on into the darkness, but it was like something was driving him, keeping him going well past his natural reserves. He wasn’t tired, though he knew he damn well ought to be. He hadn’t been chugging caffeine, didn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten anything, yet he was fully alert, and his body felt strong, supple, and ready for action.

Excitement buzzed through him at the thought that he might be close to finally meeting Sasha, finally putting a face and body to the voice on the phone, maybe even getting answers to some of the questions that plagued him. Oddly, he wasn’t really thinking of Desiree’s challenge or the doctorate, though he’d phoned in the day before and told the Dragon Lady where he was headed. Those things—

and the university—seemed far away, and inconsequential.

What mattered was the strange light coming from the thin, iridescent corona surrounding the eclipsed moon, which had turned a bloody orange-red, and his headlights, which lit a faint track that optimistically called itself a road. He hung on to the steering wheel as his rented four-wheel-drive vehicle dropped into a pothole and bounced out again, and an ominous thumping noise started coming from the undercarriage. He didn’t care,