went to Rabbit. “And the second time won’t be a rescue mission. Understand?”
“Loud and clear.” Asshole.
Anna’s vivid blue eyes gained wary shadows. “Rabbit . . .” She trailed off, shook her head. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore. I don’t know how to make things better, or even if I should try.”
In a way, that stung worse than all of Red-Boar’s threats and insults put together. Among the magi, Anna was Switzerland. Years as a researcher and university prof had given her the patience of . . . well, something really freaking patient. So for her not to know how to deal with him . . . yeah. That pretty much summed it up.
Before, he had been the Master of Disaster, always starting with more or less the right intentions but winding up blowing shit up anyway. Now, though, the others didn’t even trust his intentions. Hell, he wasn’t sure he trusted them himself.
He took a big step back, away from Anna and Red-Boar. “He’s right. I need to think.” Not about whether he was committed to the Nightkeepers’ cause, but whether he could fight effectively—or at all—with his old man up his ass.
“First you need to get some rest and heal up.” Her nose wrinkled. “And take a shower. Not in that order.”
Now she was being more herself, reminding him of a bossy big sister. But while that brought a wistful tug, it didn’t change anything. “Go on without me. I’ll hike in later.” Probably.
She hesitated a long moment, seeming unperturbed when Red-Boar started muttering under his breath. Finally, though, she nodded. “Okay, I guess. But Rabbit?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t disappoint yourself.”
Her quiet command stuck with him long after she and his old man disappeared in a hand clap of inrushing air. More, really, than any of what Red-Boar had told him in between the four-letter words, because he’d spent most of his life trying to live down to his father’s opinion. Now, though, it was just him, the badlands, and a whole lot of empty scenery stretching on as far as he could see. Hell, the fact that he could see more than a few feet in front of him without coming up against a rock wall should be enough. Breathing fresh air should be enough. Having a choice—any choice—should be enough.
It was, too. He was grateful for his freedom, grateful that he’d gotten a chance to kill Phee, grateful that he’d gotten to see Myr, no matter how much it had hurt to watch her walk away. And he wanted to think that if the gods were asking him to swear himself to any of the others—or, shit, all of them—he would’ve sucked it up and done it. Red-Boar, though, would be all over him, telling him when to eat, when to sleep, when to shit . . . and what to do with the powers of crossover magic.
Fuck me, Rabbit thought when that one put a quiver of “so there you have it” in his gut. Because when he came down to it, he didn’t trust his father any more than he trusted himself. Less, in fact. Which under the circumstances left him up shit’s creek and paddling with his damn hands. The thought had him scowling down at the baked ground near his feet.
He jolted as a winged shadow glided past.
Pulse bumping, he looked up, reached for the machine gun, found it gone and went for the knife instead. But it wasn’t a camazotz; it was an eagle—or maybe a falcon?—circling in for a lazy landing. The bird was a rich brown color, with golden eyes that fixed on him as it backwinged to perch on a jagged wall nearby. Up close it was a big bastard—way bigger than he wanted to tangle with—but it seemed to be content to sit up there and stare down at him like he was a rabbit of the ears-and-tail variety, and a good option for a snack.
He didn’t know his raptors all that well, couldn’t tell if this one was a local resident or something more— eagles had been sacred to the ancient Maya, after all, symbolizing the freedom of the sky, the rising and setting of the sun, and even the start of a war. Which was all pretty damn relevant to the here and now, thankyouverymuch.
“Got any advice?” he asked. Because if he couldn’t trust the gods, then who the hell could he trust?
The bird just cocked its head to look at him out of one eye, then the other. Nate Blackhawk—the Nightkeepers’ hawk-shifter—had once told him that it was like seeing a different plane with each eye, then a third with both together. Rabbit didn’t know what the eagle was seeing now, though.
“Anything?” he prodded.
It looked away, fluffing its wings a little in a move he took to mean, Screw you, bub. I’m just an eagle. And besides, this is your call. Either you can handle your old man or you can’t. What’s it going to be?
“It’s not about handling him. It’s a question of whether it’s a good idea to give him that kind of power. What if he goes off his fucking rocker and starts following his own agenda, using me as his weapon?” It wasn’t unthinkable—Dez’s winikin had tried to use him that way, convinced he was doing the gods’ work. And Red-Boar himself had tried to kill Strike’s human mate, Leah, thinking he knew the gods’ plan better than the rest of them.
And your other option would be . . . ?
“I could disappear, hole up underground somewhere that the blood-link can’t find me, and then . . . shit, I don’t know. Figure out a way to help the Nightkeepers from there, I guess. I’m supposed to be the crossover, right? If the gods want me to help, they’ll find a way to tell me how.”
You’re reaching.
He shot the bird a baleful look. “Oh, shut up.” But the eagle—or, rather, whatever inner voice he’d given to it—had a point. If he was going to do things differently this time, he didn’t get to pick the easy changes, even when the hard ones had the potential to suck donkey dick.
Then the eagle gave an unearthly screech and launched itself into the air. It didn’t buzz him or look back or anything as it powered into the sky with steady sweeps of its wings. Still, though, it felt like the bird’s visit had been a sign. Even more so when it banked and headed for Skywatch.
“Shit,” Rabbit muttered, knowing what the answer had to be.
Sign or no sign, it hadn’t ever been a debate, really, because all the logic in the world couldn’t trump the one thing he’d left out of his inner argument: Myrinne was at Skywatch. And while she probably didn’t want his protection—probably didn’t even need it anymore—she was going to get it anyway.
CHAPTER FIVE
December 2
Nineteen days until the zero date
Skywatch
The next morning, Rabbit woke groggy as hell, and blinked up at the ceiling. Which in itself was disconcerting after spending so long chained to a damn wall.
The wall’s gone, he reminded himself, reorienting. Phee is dead and Myrinne is safe.
And he was back at Skywatch.
Granted, he’d spent the night in one of the basement storerooms that had been retrofitted as a cell, with a narrow bunk, a squat-pot, and a small bookshelf stocked with a few dog-eared paperbacks, bottled water and a six-pack of energy bars. The door was locked and faint crinkle of magic said it was warded, too. Which meant that he was as much a prisoner here as he had been on the island . . . except that now he was a willing prisoner.
By the time he’d hiked to Skywatch yesterday afternoon, he’d been shakier than he’d wanted to admit, knocked on his ass by the aftereffects of captivity, rescue, Red-Boar’s return, seeing Myrinne, finding out that she had his magic now . . . all of it. And after a shower—which had been a weird cross between orgasmic and something out of a sci-fi movie, with all the chrome and gadgets feeling unfamiliar and futuristic—he’d willingly crashed in the basement, knowing the others wouldn’t trust him until he’d made his vow to Red-Boar. And maybe not even then.
I’ll do whatever you want, he was trying to signal by being a good prisoner. You name it, you’ve got it. Anything was better than the chains and being utterly alone except when he was being beaten. And having an opportunity to kick some demon ass and help with the war . . . yeah. He’d do whatever it took. Even stay away
