Demonkeepers

on.” That much she could promise. And, as she said it, she imagined she felt a faint tingle of magic.

“I—” Shandi broke off and shook her head. “Never mind. We’ll talk about it later. You’re wanted in the kitchen.”

The star inside Jade wanted to ask who wanted her, for what, whether it had to be that exact moment, and what the “never mind” meant. The woman inside her, the one who thought she was starting to understand that the three “D”s were less about never rebelling than they were about carefully picking her rebellions for maximum effect, said only, “Okay, I’m on it. Thanks.”

She moved past the winikin and headed for the kitchen, but turned back after only a few steps when she realized that the other woman hadn’t moved. “I’m sorry. Was there something else?”

“No. I . . . No.” Shandi’s expression showed a flicker of surprise, there and gone quickly. “Go on,” she said briskly. “The king’s waiting.”

Jade went. She didn’t feel the magic now, didn’t see glyphs morphing in her mind’s eye, but as she headed down to the main kitchen, she thought the magic might be a little closer than it had been before. Unfortunately, any progress she might’ve made in that direction was lost the moment she came through the archway and saw Lucius at the breakfast bar, along with Leah, Strike, Michael, Sasha, and Jox.

Her defenses slammed up to buffer the jolt of body memory that came at the sight of how Lucius’s faded green T-shirt stretched over his wide shoulders and the strong lines of muscle on either side of his spine, and bared his buffed-out arms. His shirt was untucked at the back of his jeans, slopping out casually, as if to say, I have more interesting things to think about than the way I’m dressed . That was purely Lucius, both the old and the new, she thought. And with that thought, she realized that she’d almost stopped thinking about which pieces of him she remembered from before and which were new.

He was just . . . himself now. And he was taking up far too much of her attention.

Jerking her eyes away from him, she took a quick look beyond the kitchen to the great room—or what was left of it. She hadn’t been in there since the previous day, and to her relief, changes were already evident. The wrecked furniture had been cleared out, the glass sliders had been replaced with their screen counterparts, the couch didn’t appear to be lurking in the pool anymore, and tarps were stretched across the conversation pit, where most of the damage had occurred. The atmosphere was damp with a combination of leftover meltwater and the humidity spilling in from the outside. Overall, she thought it looked better than it had right after the iceball incident . . . but not by much.

The odd thing was, though, that she didn’t feel all that bad about the destruction. Instead, a bubble of joy tried to push its way into her throat, making her want to do another little victory dance and say, I did that. I’ve got magic!

She channeled her inner harvester and didn’t act on the impulse. But she sure as heck thought about it, and did a little inner dance as she turned to the group at the breakfast bar. “Shandi said you wanted to see me?”

Strike nodded. “Grab a seat.”

The only empty bar stool was one next to Lucius. She took it without comment and returned his nod of greeting with one of her own.

“Anna called me this morning,” Strike began. “She wants to talk to you and Lucius about your encounter with Kinich Ahau. She thinks she might have some ideas.”

When he paused, seeming to invite a response, she said carefully, “That’s good news, right? I mean, she’s the expert.” She glanced at Lucius. “No offense.”

“Trust me, none taken. She’s got almost a decade on me in official fieldwork, and combines her training with knowing the legends backward and forward, thanks to Jox’s teachings.”

But Jox shook his head. “I can only take part of the credit. She was good with the stories even before . . . you know. Before.” He paused, his voice softening. “She was in the nursery when the boluntiku attacked. She’d been telling the little ones about the hero twins traveling to Xibalba to rescue their father from the Banol Kax. She was always telling them the stories.”

The massacre was very close to the surface for those old enough to remember it, Jade realized, with fragments coming from many different perspectives. Jox’s focus had been getting Strike and Anna to the safe room below the mansion. Shandi had been struggling between her two callings. Vennie had arrived in the aftermath. Flames. Dead, staring eyes. She shivered as a chill touched the back of her neck, but resisted the urge to shift closer to the warmth beside her. “When is Anna getting here?” she asked instead.

“She wants us to come to UT,” Lucius answered.

“More accurately,” Leah put in dryly, “she’s refusing to return to Skywatch or have the convo by phone or Web conference. She’s insisting that you two come to her.”

Strike sighed. “As much I’m sorely tempted to ’port out there and drag her home, we don’t need just her; we need her talent too. And that’s not something I can control by brute force.” He turned his scarred palms upward, to the sky and the gods. “She’s asked me to give her room. I told her I’d give her as long as I could . . . which means the two of you going out to UT and having a sit-down with her.” He paused. “While you’re there, I’d like you to check up on Rabbit and Myrinne. Anna swears that they’re doing fine, no problems, but the ki—Rabbit’s been ducking my calls. I’d appreciate it if you could put eyeballs on him, maybe ask around a little and make sure he’s not into something . . . well, something Rabbit-like.”

Which could be anything from vandalism to torching half of the French Quarter, Jade knew. But beneath the wry amusement, adrenaline buzzed. She had tried not to be disappointed when the others were sent off on assignment and she was left behind. Her talents were fledgling at best, and the others were better trained and had field experience. But a trip to the university . . . it seemed like a nice middle ground. It was a few hours at most, in familiar territory. “I’m in. When do we leave?”

“Not so fast,” Strike cautioned. “I can’t teleport you there. Or rather, I can’t ’port Lucius. So you two are going to have to get there the old-fashioned way . . . which is going to exponentially increase your exposure level.”

“It . . . Oh.” She’d spent so long at the university that it hadn’t occurred to her that their being outside the warded confines of the compound would carry additional risk. But Lucius wore the hellmark, which meant that once he was outside Skywatch, he could be tracked through dark magic.

More, with the solstice only five days away, all of the magi had to be on guard against early moves by the Banol Kax. “So, what’s the plan? Airplane?”

“No way,” Lucius said immediately. “Bad enough to stick me inside a small space crammed with bodies . . . worse if the Banol Kax or Xibalbans come after me and take out a planeful in the process.”

He shook his head. “No plane. I’ll take one of the Jeeps, load up with jade-tips, carry a panic button, and take my chances.” For the first time since she had sat down beside him, he looked at her fully. “I was outvoted on the idea of going alone.” His tone suggested that had been less a case of keeping him safe from dark magic, and more a case of the Nightkeepers not wanting to let him loose with the hellmark, a history of debatable loyalty, a vehicle full of antimagic ammo, and intricate knowledge of Skywatch. “One option is to have Michael and me do the road trip, while Strike ’ports you straight to the university for the meeting, then back when it’s over.” In other words, Michael and his death magic could keep a careful eye on Lucius, while she took the easy way out.

It made logical sense . . . and the rebel inside Jade thought it sucked. More, she could practically feel Lucius withdrawing from her, even as they sat there only a few inches apart. If she was right about the emotional context needed for her magic—and potentially his—then withdrawing from her wasn’t going to help him get back into the library. Exactly the opposite, in fact. “What’s the other option?”

“For you and Lucius to make the trip together,” Michael answered. “Obviously, you’d be armed to the teeth and have all the necessary gadgets, including panic buttons.” More than simple buttons, the advanced communication devices not only transmitted a signal calling Skywatch for help; they also photographed their immediate vicinity and transmitted the images so Strike could teleport backup or otherwise decide on a response. “But keep in mind that neither of you has reliable fighting magic, so if it comes down to a fight, you could be badly outgunned until help arrives.”

Jade thought about the shield spell she’d tried—and failed—to morph earlier, and couldn’t argue the point.