Dawnkeepers

though. All he cared about was getting to the end of his journey.

Then, finally, he topped a low ridge and saw a glitter of lights below. Hitting the gas, he sent the SUV slaloming down the backside of the ridge. Ten minutes later he was driving through the open gates of what turned out to be a fricking palace, a mansion of sandstone and marble and shit that looked totally out of place in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

The gates swung shut behind him, sending a shiver down his spine. But that didn’t stop him from parking by the front door and climbing out of the SUV. Sasha might not be here, he cautioned himself.

You’re probably setting yourself up for some mondo disappointment. But he thought not.

He’d followed Ledbetter’s directions and found an oasis. He hoped that she’d done the same.

He saw a surveillance camera tracking him as he headed up a flagged walkway, under a pillared awning supported by columns that looked like their maker had gotten stuck halfway between Intro to Ancient Egypt and Mayan Architecture for Dummies. Nightkeeper influence, he was sure of it.

The air hummed with a strange, discordant sound—something his gut told him was ancient magic.

Nightkeeper magic. Logic said his gut was taking a hell of a flying leap on that one, but his gut told logic to fuck off, because deep down inside he knew he was right. He’d found the Nightkeepers. And not just proof that they’d existed in Mayan times, either. He’d frickin’ found the home base of their modern-day descendants.

Again with the logic leap. Again with the certainty.

His pulse was pounding as he lifted a hand to knock. Then, when the door swung inward, his heart quite simply stopped at the sight of the woman standing in the ornate entryway.

It wasn’t Sasha, though. It was Anna.

“Lucius,” she said on a long, sad sigh. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Holy shit, was all he could think. Shock and guilt swirled around, hammering at each other in a hell of a mental joust, as too many details that’d refused to gel in the past suddenly resolved themselves into an impossible, improbable certainty.

His boss was a goddamned Nightkeeper.

Anna could not freaking believe what she was seeing, even though the surveillance system had forewarned them of the visitor, and Strike had recognized Lucius. He’d ordered Jox to open the gates and told Anna to go meet her student and bring him inside, on the theory that it’d be better to contain the damage than try to avoid someone who’d shown up in the Nightkeepers’ sphere one too many times for coincidence.

Even forewarned, though, it was a shock for Anna to have him standing on the doorstep of Skywatch, his eyes wide and a little wild. She was also surprised, once again, to realize that he’d gained mass and muscle, and wasn’t her scrawny, geeky grad student anymore.

Which didn’t even begin to tell her what the hell she should do about him. She was exhausted from the drain of the eclipse ceremony. Her brain was spinning from the gods’ choice of a keeper, and the identity of the goddess who’d bound with Alexis. And now this.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, but she didn’t tell him to leave. It was too late for that. Stepping back, she waved him in. “Come on.”

He stood rooted, white-faced in shock, but she saw something else beneath the surprise.

Resentment. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he grated.

“Because it’s none of your business.” Though that was only because Red-Boar had mind-blocked his previous experiences with the Nightkeepers and the makol. Or had he? she thought, not wondering whether Red-Boar had neglected his work, but rather whether somehow Lucius had overcome the mental blocks. Frowning, she asked, “How did you get here?”

He stared at her for a long moment, looking like the guy she’d known for going on six years now, but also looking like the man he’d become since the prior fall, harder, tougher, and far more secretive.

Then, doing a bad Anthony Hopkins impression, he said, “Quid pro quo, Clarice.” He stepped past her into the entryway of Skywatch, adding over his shoulder, “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Three steps inside the door, he stopped dead at the sight of Strike, who was looking big and mean.

The king scowled and said, “That’s so not how it’s going to work.”

Anna knew her brother was pissed off—not just because of Lucius’s untimely arrival, but because they had themselves a Godkeeper but weren’t really sure how the goddess of weaving and rainbows was supposed to help them, and because Nate and Alexis’s relationship was far from stable, making him fear complications. That, and they were all dragging with postmagic hangovers. They should be chowing down on foods heavy in protein and fat and then heading straight to bed, rather than dealing with an unwanted guest and the questions and dangers his arrival was sure to bring.

Which meant the king was sporting a serious ’tude. Instead of backing off, though, Lucius shot his chin out. “Who the hell are you? And where’s Sasha?”

“We’re looking for her,” Anna said, figuring there’d be time later to figure out why that’d been his first concern. She stepped between them when it looked like Strike was going to lash out first and ask questions later. “This is my brother, Strike,” she told Lucius, then paused and added, “He’s the jaguar king of the Nightkeepers.”

Lucius didn’t back down, but his color drained some. “Fuck me.”

“No, thanks.” Strike leaned in. “Get this straight. You don’t belong here. We don’t want you here.

But you’re here, and that’s a big godsdamned problem for us. Given that you showed up at the tail end of the eclipse, I’m going to have to assume that some of the shit that went down last fall is breaking through, which makes you an even bigger problem.”

Lucius glowered. “Look. I don’t know—”

“Shut. Up.” Strike snapped. He was starting to sway a little, suggesting that he’d burned through all his reserves and then some in the battle to maintain the barrier’s integrity during the eclipse ceremony. Anna should know—she’d leaked him as much power as she could, but knew he’d forced himself not to take too much during the struggle. Which meant she was in way better shape than he was. Leah, on the other hand, was already asleep.

Knowing there was a good chance her brother was close to losing his temper or passing out, or both, Anna said, “We can figure this out tomorrow, after we’ve all had a chance to recharge. I’ll take responsibility for him.”

Strike turned on her. “And how do you plan to do that? You’re just as wiped as the rest of us.”

“Jox can—”

“No,” her brother said, doing the interrupting thing again—a habit of his when he’d hit the end of his energy reserves. “We’ll lock him downstairs in one of the storerooms.” When she would’ve protested, he fixed her with a look. “Be careful or I’ll decide Red-Boar was right in the first place.”

“We had a deal,” Anna reminded him. “His life for my return to the Nightkeepers.”

“Hasn’t been much of a return,” he pointed out, sounding more tired than snide. “And that was then; this is now. If he’s retained some memory of what happened, or worse, he’s regained some makol magic—because how else could he have found this place?—then the deal’s off.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I have to do what I think is best.”

Jarringly, that last statement echoed back in Anna’s brain to an argument she’d overheard between their parents, when their father had spoken of leading the Nightkeepers to battle and their mother had counseled patience.

Scarred-Jaquar had done what he’d thought was best, and look what had happened. Strike was a different sort of man, a different sort of king. But was he different enough?

“Fine,” she said, backing down, because it wasn’t really important where Lucius spent the night.

The larger issue of his fate wouldn’t be decided until the next day, or maybe farther out than that. “I’ll lock him downstairs.”

“Have Jox help you,” Strike said, not saying outright that he didn’t trust her to do what she said, but pretty close to it.

“Go to bed, little brother.” She turned her back on him, because she didn’t like the dynamic that was