Demonkeepers

. . . but in Hannah’s handwriting.

A sob caught in Patience’s throat and the luminous screen blurred as tears filled her eyes. But when emotion would’ve put her on her ass, her warrior’s talent flared, clicking her over to logic and rationality on one level of her consciousness. That part of her fumbled out her family-only cell phone, punched in the address, and saved the precious information. Then she closed out of the files, powered down the mininotebook, and tucked it back into its case in the corner. Leaving the room as she’d found it, save for being a few degrees warmer, smokier, and lower on oxygen, thanks to the gaslit torches and her own hyperventilation, she slipped out of the shrine and shut the door, pausing to wipe the door handle, not because she thought anyone would be likely to dust for prints, but because . . . well, just because. Then, breathing shallowly through her mouth and moving on cat’s- paw feet, she retraced her steps through the royal suite.

Even as her body was going through those motions, though, her heart and mind were focused on her phone, and the treasure within it. An address. She knew where her babies were—or at least where they’d been. Rather than exultation or excitement, she felt numb with the emotional hugeness of it, the prospect that she might soon be watching them walk past as she stood nearby, invisible. Hungry for even the sight of them. Would they sense her? Would they somehow know she was there?

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warned herself. “One thing at a time.” And just then, the one thing was getting out of there unseen. She’d been in the suite far longer than she’d planned, but a quick pause and scan at the main doors showed that the hallway was still empty, the coast still clear.

Once she was out in the hall with the carved door closed behind her, she exhaled a long, deep breath and inhaled its return, the oxygen making her suddenly light-headed. Her blood buzzed in her veins and she could’ve sworn her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore, though it was joy rather than magic making her feel that way. Laughter bubbled in her chest as she spun a full circle, her hands spread away from her body and her hair flaring out.

“Bullshit,” the king’s deep voice said, faint with distance. “I had you beat until the last set of targets. And you cheated.”

Patience froze, her smile turning to an “O” of horror.

“Gods, could you be any more of a sore loser?” Leah’s voice was light and teasing as the two of them continued their long-standing debate over who rocked the gun range. “I took out one more target with half a clip fewer jade-tips. And you shot one of the good guys; that’s an automatic forfeit.”

“I still say she looks like a shifty bitch,” he said of one of the new false-alarm targets Michael had installed in an effort to train the warriors to avoid collateral damage.

“She’s eighty if she’s a day, and she’s using a walker.”

“Not anymore she’s not,” Strike said with dry satisfaction. “Bitch is dead.”

Leah’s laughter burbled, but Patience felt only dread at the happy sound. Oh, shit. What was she going to do? The hallway dead-ended at the royal suite; the only other doorway along it led to the royal winikin’s rooms. Both of the suites had exterior doors, but if she could hear the royal couple’s footsteps, they’d be able to hear a door shutting—the heavy panels weren’t quiet, and it’d be far worse to be caught trying to escape versus bluffing it through. Going invisible wasn’t an option because the other magi could see right through the illusion; the magic worked only on non-Nightkeepers. So it was bluff time.

You can do this , she told herself. You’ve prepared for this . She’d run through the scenario in her head a hundred times, thought of a dozen excuses for why she was in the royal wing univited. But as Strike and Leah rounded the corner and caught sight of her, their steps hesitating nearly in unison, her mind went completely and utterly blank.

“I’m—” Sorry, she stopped herself from saying, because that hadn’t been in any of the scripts. A hot flush climbed her cheeks and flop sweat spiked its way down her spine. “Uh—”

“Oh, good, there you are,” a new voice said from behind the royal couple. Patience boggled as Brandt rounded the corner, moving full steam ahead and looking purposeful. He nodded to her. “I was coming to tell you they weren’t still out at the gun range, but I see you found them.”

Leah sent Patience a sharp glance; Patience tried to replace the look of panic with one of purpose.

“Well, technically I’d say they found me.” She hoped to hell they couldn’t see her hands shaking.

Strike seemed to buy it. He refocused on Brandt. “You need us for something?”

“It’s just an idea I’ve been kicking around. Pretty preliminary stuff, but I wanted to get your take on it.” He nodded toward the royal suite. “Do you have a few minutes now?”

The king nodded. “Sure thing.”

The three of them moved past Patience, but then Brandt paused very near her, letting the others get ahead. As she stared up at him, he looked almost like a stranger, all hard eyed and angry . . . until he leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek and whispered, “One of these days you’ll start believing we’re on the same side.”

Then he straightened and walked away, motions stiff and angry. But instead of dismay at his anger, or the irritation she’d so often turned to recently, she felt warmth unfurl in her chest. And as she headed back toward their apartment with her phone clutched to her chest in an unconscious hug, she felt, for the first time in a long, long time, that maybe she wasn’t so far away from putting her family back together, after all.

Texas Lucius and Jade made a quick stop at a drive- through for calories, after which she dozed off in the passenger seat, recovering, Lucius assumed, from the scribe’s magic. When they’d left the sublet, he’d been strung tight and jonesing for the sex her kiss had promised, but it was probably better this way.

He’d been raw from the scene in Anna’s office and the knowledge that he was leaving his old life behind once and for all, making him more vulnerable to her than he’d wanted. He’d been shaken by the makeout session, loose kneed and knocked off-kilter by the intensity of his own response and the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to sweep her up, lose himself in her, promise her things he had no intention of promising.

That was the old Lucius, the one who’d charged headlong into flawed relationships, only to pancake hard. That wasn’t him. Not anymore. Still, though, the need for sex rode his blood. He would’ve liked to think it was magic, that he was close to breaking through whatever barrier kept him locked on the earth plane, but he knew it wasn’t the magic. It was Jade.

He kept glancing over at her as he drove. She was partway curled on her side facing him, with one hand under her cheek, the other fisted loosely in her lap. Her forearm marks were a dark contrast to her pale skin; he wanted to kiss her there, wanted to kiss her all over, until she felt desired. Cherished.

Let her sleep, he told himself. There’s time yet.

But how much time? They were down to less than four days to the solstice. If the Banol Kax managed to put Akhenaton into the sun god’s place, there was no telling what would happen. Would the pharaoh come after his ancient enemies once again? For all they knew, Skywatch would be a damned crater by the twenty-second, unless he found a way to get his ass back in the library to pull out the info they so badly needed. But, short of offering himself up for a soul sacrifice and hoping to hell his body would become the receptacle for a true Prophet, he didn’t know what he could do to help.

More, he and Jade were bringing back news of Anna’s defection, which was going to have ripples beyond the cow Strike was going to have. But at the same time, Lucius couldn’t help wondering whether Anna might not have a point. The Nightkeepers needed a super-Prophet but didn’t have one.

They needed Godkeepers, a seer, the library . . . hell, more manpower. None of those things seemed imminent. Some didn’t even seem possible.

“The magic has to be the answer, for my part of things, at least,” he said, thinking aloud as the miles unfolded beneath the Jeep’s off- road treads. “I’m human, so therefore shouldn’t have magic, but Cizin was attracted to me. There had to have been nastier dudes than me on campus, and they would’ve been an easier sell on the ajaw-makol possession. So why me?” It was tempting to think that there was some reason the demon had been able to reach through the barrier and influence him the way it had. Although the Nightkeepers guarded their bloodlines and had strict mores against producing half-bloods, the fact that those mores even existed suggested there had been some strays over the years. So he supposed it was possible he could have a Nightkeeper descendant way back . . . but that didn’t play, given that his only real connection to