“We’ll all go,” Dez said. “But first we need to destroy this place.” He gestured to the warriors, and within seconds, the air hummed with Nightkeeper power. When the vibration peaked, Dez gave a curt “Now!” and fireballs flew.
The fiery bolts slammed into the stones with a rending boom and sent them toppling into each other, sheared off at their bases. The noise was deafening, underscored by the sharp pings of shrapnel deflecting off a shield spell that sparked with Dez’s signature lightning sizzle.
“Again!” the king commanded, and the Nightkeepers sent a salvo into the tunnel. The ground beneath them rolled and shook, and a gout of limestone ash erupted. “Last one!” Dez called, and they hammered the tunnel mouth with a final round of detonations that blazed and blasted, collapsing the dark-magic portal in on itself and sealing off the threat.
Rabbit had to lock his legs to keep from stumbling—not just because the ground was moving, but because of the flat-out fucking power the Nightkeepers had just unleashed. Before, he had been the strongest of the magi, the only one with multiple talents and the wild magic of a half blood. Now, he had almost nothing, yet it seemed that the old legends had been right about the Nightkeepers’ powers increasing exponentially as the end date approached.
“Link up!” Strike called, and the teammates scrambled to form an intricate network of clasped palms and other handholds that would connect them to the teleporters’ magic.
Shaken, Rabbit moved into the uplink. He found himself flanked by Dez and Michael, two men he would’ve called friends before, but who now acted as an implied threat: Don’t try anything, or we’ll fry you.
Michael wielded death magic. If anyone could kill the crossover, it was him.
The crossover. Shit. The label had gotten slapped on Rabbit thanks to his dubious bloodlines and an enemy prophecy, but nobody had a clue what the name meant. Unless . . .
He looked over at Red-Boar, and found himself caught in the steel of his old man’s stare. Something twisted inside his chest, a logic-fuse that said no way, impossible, he can’t be alive. But he was there, flesh and blood, and maybe he would have some answers.
Then Strike and Anna triggered the ’port magic, and Rabbit was surrounded by the familiar-strange sensation of moving while staying still. And alongside the urgent need to get to Myrinne, it hit him like a ton of fucking bricks that he was leaving the island. He wasn’t going to die there, wasn’t going to be sacrificed to the Banol Kax—at least not yet. Instead, he was going to get another chance. More, he was going to get an opportunity for revenge . . . and maybe, if he was really fucking lucky, some sort of atonement.
CHAPTER THREE
Chaco Canyon, New Mexico
When the Nightkeepers materialized in the badlands northwest of Skywatch, rapid-fire impressions slapped at Rabbit like physical blows: He felt the cooler, drier air of New Mexico, saw the yellowed-out sun, the wind- tortured rocks, and the jagged outline of a stone-block Chacoan ruin. Its upper levels had fallen in, but the ground floor was relatively intact, with rows of tall, dark windows the width of arrow-slits and a single narrow door. An older Jeep leaned at a drunken angle in the sand some thirty feet from the road, near the turnoff to the ruin.
Stomach dropping, Rabbit stepped away from the others. “Is she—”
He broke off as a white-robed figure darted around a corner and swept through the narrow doorway into the ruin, followed by a dark, winged blur.
“No!” He bolted for the ruin, not waiting for orders or permission.
His boots skidded in loose grit and pounded over rock, and if Dez yelled for him to wait the hell up, he didn’t hear it over the hammering of his pulse. The machine gun was an awkward weight that banged as he ran, but he flipped the clip and slapped it home, and then did his damnedest to be quiet as he reached the ruin and slipped inside.
The single door led to a narrow hallway. He headed for the far end, where the fallen-through roof let in the fresh air. The room beyond stank of dark magic, making him want to howl and fling himself into the attack. Instead, he paused in the shadows, pulse thudding. He might get only one chance. He had to make it good.
The far doorway opened to a larger space, where several rooms had fallen in to form one. There, Phee and the ’zotz stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs to him. Faced opposite them, cornered, was Myrinne.
The first sight of her in so long punched a fist beneath his heart, and he felt a twisted mess of relief, guilt, love, shame and a thousand other things that he couldn’t deal with right now. But there was also surprise, because she didn’t look like he had expected, like he remembered. She had her dark hair swept back in a soft, loose braid, but there was nothing soft about the set of her jaw or the anger in her eyes. She was wearing low-slung jeans he recognized and a curve-hugging hoodie he didn’t, and she was brandishing a small wooden stick, a freaking magic wand, like it was going to do something against Phee and the ’zotz.
The last time he’d seen her, she had been weak and broken, barely alive. Even before that, she had wanted to fight but hadn’t always trusted her skills. Now she looked strong, capable and somehow brilliant, like she was in sharper focus than everything around her. But she wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t get in there and save her. Please gods.
His prayers had gone unanswered for so long that he almost didn’t feel the click at the back of his brain, almost didn’t recognize it. But then the heat of battle readiness changed inside him, gaining a subsonic hum and suddenly feeling like magic. Liquid energy flowed from deep inside him, bubbling up to fill the empty spaces, and the air around him glistened with red-gold sparks.
His heart clutched. Holy shit. This was really happening.
Through suddenly numb-feeling lips, he whispered, “Pasaj och.” And, as if it had never been blocked, the barrier connection formed.
Power hammered through him, lighting him up and making him feel like he could do damn near anything. He didn’t stop to question why or how. He just summoned the magic into him, knowing there wasn’t a second to lose.
Phee hadn’t sensed him yet; she was too focused on Myrinne. Dark energy crackled in the air as the demoness raised her hands to cast a spell. “Xibal—”
“No!” Rabbit shouted, lunging through the doorway, out of the shadows and into the light. And, as Phee and the ’zotz spun toward him, he slammed a thick, fiery shield spell around Myrinne, protecting her.
The flame-threaded shield blurred the details, but he saw her jolt and heard her cry his name in a tone of horror. But then, without warning, emotions blasted through him: shock and anger, followed by a sharp lash of resentment.
What the fuck? His senses spun under the sudden onslaught, which was coming from the magic, from Myrinne. It was like they were mentally connected all of a sudden, like his mind-bender’s talent had fused their perceptions. Only he wasn’t using that part of his magic. This was something else.
Focus! His self-directed snap was almost too late, because Phee quickly shook off her shock, and when she saw that he was riding high on the Nightkeeper magic she coveted, her eyes went bright and brilliant. Her arms swept wide and she flung a bolt of dark magic at him.
Rabbit raised his hands, spread his fingers and shouted: “Kaak!” And for the first time in months, the fire came at his command. Pure and cleansing, it poured from him in a brilliant stream of Nightkeeper power.
Dark magic met light and detonated, hammering him back with its shockwave. The ’zotz screeched and took wing, narrowly escaping the blast. But the bat demon recovered almost immediately, and beelined straight for him with its fangs bared and its talons outstretched, attacking before he could call more fire.
Shit! He threw himself flat and rolled aside.
Without warning, a streak of green fire—like his, only not—seared through the place where he’d been, hit the camazotz and blasted it back. The strange flames clung like napalm and spread, engulfing the bat demon, which fell to the ground and lay writhing, emitting shrill shrieks.
As it died to ash, a suddenly wild-eyed Phee cast a shield spell around herself, yanked a pair of carved stones from her robe, and started a transport spell. The bitch was trying to escape!
“She’s mine!” he bellowed, not sure which of the others had taken out the ’zotz or how they’d summoned
