started clapping. Then things got rolling with a cheer that started out ragged, but then gained and grew, until it was loud and raucous, with lots of waving hands and promises of mayhem. Maybe there was an edge of desperation to the war cry, but he would take it. He would fucking take it.
“Okay,” he said, “everybody ready to synch up?” Lifting his wrist, he programmed the countdown that would be sent to their comm devices. It read 3:45:30. Three hours and forty-some minutes until the hard threshold, when they would really feel the magic of the Great Conjunction and the barrier would start coming apart. Ten minutes after that, according to legend, the barrier would fall, beginning at the intersection.
Which meant that in four hours, one way or the other, the world would be a very different place.
He waited until it read 3:45:00, then hit “send.” Seventy-some units beeped and seventy-some readouts lit, then flickered as the seconds counted down.
Shit. This was really happening.
Gesturing for Strike and Anna to take their positions on opposite sides of the group, Dez said, “Everybody link up. It’s time to go.”
Coatepec Mountain
The temple atop Coatepec Mountain was open to the air, with jaguar pillars at the corners symbolizing that Strike, Anna and Sasha were its guardians. But where before the site had thrummed with the deep, sustained magic of a hotspot, now there was only the background hum of solstice power. The Nightkeepers had looked long and hard to find another intersection after Iago destroyed the tunnel system beneath Chichen Itza, knowing that when the Great Conjunction hit its zenith, the barrier would fall at the intersection and the Nightkeepers would go to war. But this sure as shit didn’t feel like a battlefield.
“Something’s not right,” Rabbit muttered. “There should be way more juice than this. It doesn’t even feel like an intersection.” Which put a nasty churn in his gut, matching the one that came from knowing he hadn’t had nearly enough time to work on his mental vault. His head buzzed with a faint rattle of dark magic and his emotions were way too close to the surface, leaving him feeling snarly and reactive, and way too ready to blow something up.
And now this . . . they had been expecting to ’port into the middle of a magical hotspot like he’d never felt before, maybe even into an ambush. But the mountaintop temple was throwing off less power than the average Denny’s, and there was no sign of the kax or kohan. Not even a xombi guard or a couple of ’zotz to use for target practice.
He glanced at his wristband. The conjunction was just over three hours away. Maybe they were massing behind the barrier, waiting to attack all at once.
It didn’t feel right, though.
“Do you think they’re going to come through the barrier somewhere else?” Myr asked. Wearing combat black and bristling with weapons, she looked every inch the sexy, kickass warrior he’d fought beside so many times before. Now, though, there was an added sheen of magic surrounding her, a subtle sparkle of power that stroked along his own. But there was also a hint of shadows in her expression, an unusual reserve.
He didn’t know if she was still upset about what happened earlier, or if this was her war face, didn’t know if he dared ask when he was feeling so twitchy. So he said, “It’s the only intersection that’s left. Where else would things go boom?”
“Maybe this is just the calm before the storm,” Brandt said, speaking up as the others muttered the same questions, the same concerns.
“Or maybe the kohan are already here, waiting to see if we’re going to renounce them or not,” Dez added grimly. An uncomfortable silence followed that statement, but no lightning bolts came down to blast the temple, no tornadoes dropped down to do a Wizard of Oz on them. And after a moment, the king said, “Okay. It’s time.”
“Let’s go.” Rabbit caught Myr’s hand, and together they moved into the shadows of the temple, where he would summon the sacrificial fire.
The others formed a big, loose circle—Nightkeepers, winikin, and humans all mixed together, all of them ready to renounce their gods.
All except one.
“Where’s Red-Boar?” Myr asked, like she had read his mind.
“Gone,” Rabbit said flatly. “He slipped away right after we ’ported in.” He paused. “Dez saw. He’s got our backs.”
She stared toward the scrubby tree line. “Maybe he’s running.”
“I wish.” Rabbit shook his head. “He’s still here. I can feel the blood-link.” Along with Red-Boar’s rage against the king, and his mad glee at the thought that Rabbit was going to back out of the ceremony at the last minute, screwing over his teammates and throwing the crossover’s power onto the other side.
After all these years, his old man finally thought he was about to do something right.
Well, fuck him.
“Ready?” Dez asked, taking his position next to him in the circle.
“To set a fire? Definitely.” Rabbit shot a last “it’s okay” glance at Myr, hoped he wasn’t lying to both of them, and then faced forward, blocked off the darkness and summoned his Nightkeeper magic. Spreading his fingers, he said, “Kaak.”
Brilliant red fire speared from his fingertips and filled the middle of the circle. There was no rattle, no dark magic, thank Christ.
The others backed off a little, expressions frozen in dread, horror and resignation as the heat flared.
Dez, though, stepped closer, palmed his ceremonial knife, cut a deep furrow through his bloodline mark, and grated, “Pasaj och.” The magic amped as he jacked in to the barrier flux. Then, stone-faced, he held his arm out over the fire, so the blood sacrifice rained down into the flames. Sparks erupted when the droplets hit, then sizzled as the blood burned off to acrid smoke. Sounding as if the words were being ripped out of him, the king recited the renunciation spell: “Ma’ tu kahool tikeni.” I no longer recognize you.
Boom! A shock wave of red-tinged energy flared away from Dez, leaving golden sparks behind. The wave rolled through Rabbit like a tsunami in deep water—it rocked him but kept going without doing too much damage to his equilibrium. He was aware, though, that if something like that hit him in the shallows, he’d be fucked. They all would.
This was big magic, a big move. And he hoped to hell they were doing the right thing.
The king steadied himself against Reese and straightened, expression smoothing to relief. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m okay . . . and it’s done.” He showed the others his forearm. “It’s over.”
There was a collective gasp—his bloodline mark had healed over and gone from black to gold.
“It fits,” Lucius muttered. “The Egyptians mined gold, but not the Mayans. I bet that was another way the kax and the kohan steered our ancestors away from the true gods.”
Dez wiped his knife and returned it to his belt. Then he looked around the circle. “Okay. Your turn.” And he didn’t just mean one at a time.
Rabbit kept the fire going, holding himself apart as the others pulled their knives and blooded their palms. Some of them hesitated; others moved quickly, slashing and getting it done. Beside him, Myr stared at her knife and whispered, “Please.”
She wasn’t talking to him, but he said, “I’ve got you. And tomorrow it’s pancakes for breakfast. Be there.”
She shot him a sidelong look, but didn’t say anything. Then, pressing her lips together, she drew shallow slices through each of her talent marks, because she didn’t have a bloodline. Moving forward with the others, she let her sacrifice fall into the fire, which sparked and smoked in answer.
“Pasaj och,” they all said in a ragged chorus, and then, “Ma’ tu kahool tikeni.”
BOOM! A stronger shock wave blasted over them, away from them, nearly blowing out the fire and sending up a billow of smoke. Rabbit was ready for the tidal wave this time, and kept a sharp eye on Myr, but although she gasped and went pale as the spell took effect, she stayed on her feet.
When the smoke cleared, she and the others stood, shaken, with gold bloodline marks in place of black. All four of Myr’s talent marks had gone gold.
“You okay?” he asked her as a buzz of similar questions rose up around them.
“Yeah. I guess I am.” She stared down at her forearm, then glanced up at him. “We’re really doing this,
