warnings. “Poor thing. We’ll dose her with our drugs and your herbs, which should slow things down. I didn’t call you to talk to her, though. I need . . . well, it’s probably better if you see for yourself.”
“We’ve got this,” said the linebacker-looking attendant, waving him off. “I’ll get the meds into her and set her up for the night.”
The doctor nodded. “If you have a chance, try to find some family. If you can learn anything else about her and the little girl, it might help.”
Anna was all too familiar with the vague hospital-speak that translated to “don’t alarm the patient, but we don’t know fuck-all about what’s going on here,” but the instinctive kick of irritation it brought was dampened by his obvious frustration. “What little girl?” she prodded.
“Follow me.” He shucked his gloves and dumped them in an overflowing bin out in the tent-city hallway, then pulled out a fresh pair from the pocket of his lightweight coat, which had an ID badge clipped to the collar and DAVE written on a pocket in faded blue Sharpie. As he led her through the human traffic, dodging laundry carts and gurneys with the ease of long practice, he said over his shoulder, “The cops brought them both in this morning after a neighbor reported hearing screams. They found a man and a woman dead out in the front room—they were infected, but it looked like a murder-suicide. The little girl was locked in the bathroom and the woman you just saw was going at the door with a hammer, screaming that she was going to kill the little devil. The virus must’ve crossed the blood-brain barrier, though that’s not the normal presentation. Anyway, we’re guessing she’s a relative.” He grimaced. “You saw what she was like.”
“Scary,” Anna said softly. “And very sad.”
“Yeah.” He stopped outside a closed door near the end of the hallway. There was a hand-drawn biohazard symbol on the door, along with DO NOT ENTER in three languages. Putting a hand on the knob, he said, “This is a rough one. Kids always are.”
“I’m tougher than I look.” You have no idea.
He didn’t look convinced, but nodded and pushed through, paused a moment to survey the patient, and then said, “Come on in.”
Anna stepped through into a smaller room, which was hot and stuffy despite a narrow window vent near the ceiling. The space was maybe ten by ten, and held two beds; one was empty, the other occupied by the heartbreakingly small figure of a child.
She was curled on her side as much as a set of padded, too-large restraints allowed, and barely made a lump beneath a soft blanket that was decorated with smiling cartoon teddy bears in jarring primary colors. It had no doubt been a donation from some group or another and designed to cheer up younger patients. Here, though, it just emphasized the gloom of the shantytown hospital and the pallor of the little girl’s face, which was a sharp contrast to her dark lashes and the glossy blue-black hair that had escaped from a thick braid.
The sight of a pink ribbon tied at the end of her braid—and the smear of bloody fingerprints on the crumpled bow—had Anna blowing out a steadying breath and telling herself, You’re here to help, not hurl. The latter was tempting, though, as the antiseptic-laced smell of disease and jammed-together people went suddenly oppressive.
She’d said she could handle a sick child. Maybe she’d been wrong. Suck it up. You can do this.
The girl was murmuring something, her lips moving almost soundlessly.
“Hey there, Rosa,” the doctor said gently, in English. “I’ve brought the lady I told you about. Can you open your eyes and talk to us?”
“I’m still not sure what you need me for,” Anna said, equally softly. “If the mother speaks Spanish, and the child understands English, what—”
“Lean in,” he said, waving her to the bed. “Listen.”
She leaned in . . . and froze as the girl said, in perfect ancient Mayan, “Ilik oolah. Tun k’eex le ka’ano’ tin kaxtik aantah.” Greetings, seer. The sky is changing, and we need your help.
Oc Ajal, Mexico
Myr and Rabbit didn’t have any big “aha!” moments picking through the overgrown remains of Anntah’s hut, and they didn’t get anything when they spiraled out around the site, searching for a hotspot, a spike in the force, whatever the hell you wanted to call it. Some sort of evidence that they were on the right track.
There was plenty of dark magic—she could dimly sense it as a greasy shiver down her spine—but that was all. Which left them standing back at the main fire pit, feeling like that was where they’d been heading all along. One look at Rabbit’s face and she knew it wasn’t her imagination. He was tight and withdrawn, his eyes shadowed as he stared down at the spot where his grandfather had died. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call the old bastard his breeder. His creator. Gods.
She swallowed as sympathy warred with uneasiness. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He hesitated. “You’re not going to like it.”
Probably not. “Try me.”
“Phee never really mentioned the crossover, or what she was going to do with my magic once she had it. Which makes me think she didn’t know everything about it . . . and that would mean the Banol Kax don’t, either. If that’s the case, then we can assume that Anntah’s soul never made it to Xibalba, because sure as shit they would’ve pumped him dry.”
“Okay. So you’re thinking . . . what, that his soul was destroyed?” It sounded logical enough, but didn’t do anything to ease the shimmies in her stomach.
“Not exactly. He used a seriously powerful dark-magic spell to anchor his soul to his body, so he could talk to me when I got here. So I was thinking . . . what if his soul got stuck?” He gestured to the fire pit. “What if he’s still here?”
Myr’s mouth went dry. “You want to summon Anntah’s ghost.” It wasn’t a question.
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, but there was nothing casual in his expression as he said, “It’s the best theory I’ve got right now. Unless you’ve got another idea?”
“How about anything that doesn’t involve summoning another one of your relatives from beyond the grave?”
“It’s not like I want to do it this way, especially not with you here.”
“Because you knew I would argue?”
“Look around you.” His gesture encompassed the village. “The whole place reeks of dark magic. I used it to bring Anntah’s soul back the last time, and I’m going to need to use it again.”
She lifted her chin. “I won’t run away from you this time. I sw—”
“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Don’t promise me that, not ever. In fact, promise me that you’ll run if you need to, call for help, whatever it takes. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
Suddenly, it didn’t feel like he was talking about just here and now. She remembered what he’d said back in the cave, about not wanting her beside him during the final battle. She hadn’t really thought about it at the time— too many other things had been going on. Now, though, as he faced off against her wearing combat black and bristling with weapons, with his eyes fierce and his jaw set in a stubborn line, she could picture him standing alone in the final battle, so damn determined to make things right that he wasn’t thinking of anything else. Even himself. “Rabbit . . .” she began.
“Promise me.” He looked away, voice roughening. “I’m not kidding, Myr. I’ve kept the dark magic under control so far, but it hasn’t been testing me. It is now, though. It wants out. And once it’s out, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to handle it.”
Oily brown magic surging in the air, pulsing and writhing as if something was trying to be born from the other side of the barrier. Rabbit looming over her with his ceremonial knife at her throat and dark-magic madness in his eyes. The images came straight from her nightmares.
She shoved them aside. “Stop trying to scare me.”
“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to protect you, damn it.”
“Well, knock it off.” She called her magic and cast a crackling green shield around her body. “I can take care of myself. What’s more, I can keep an eye on you and make sure things don’t go very wrong . . . or I can deal with it if they do.” She tapped her armband, indicating the dead man’s switch she’d had JT install. “One way or another.”
He stilled. “You knew.”
