Blood Spells

moment for her to focus on him.

He was leaning over her, holding out a hand that was crusted with blood, dust, and ash, as was the rest of him. His hair stuck up in gluey clumps, and blood seeped from a cut above one eyebrow, but she was struck by the way those red-rimmed eyes were entirely focused on her. She saw grief and anger in him, and frustration that Iago had beaten them and destroyed the cave.

But she didn’t see the hated distance, the detachment. He was still there, totally with her in the moment. They were back at Skywatch . . . but he still had gold in his eyes.

Hope fluttered in her chest, cautiously unfurling. Had El Rey changed things between them after all?

She didn’t know. What she did know was that, just then, she needed someone to fuss over her, and he was offering.

Putting her hand in his, she said, “Lead the way.”

He pulled her to her feet and they set off toward the residential wing, leaning on each other.

“You two want some help?” Jox called across the great room.

Patience smiled at the royal winikin, but shook her head. “No, thanks. We can take care of each other.” And for the first time in a long, long time it didn’t feel like that was wishful thinking.

Two hours later, the residents of Skywatch gathered in the great room. Michael was there, having left Mendez, still zonked out in one of the basement storerooms and guarded by Carlos and a double-

barreled shotgun loaded with jadeshot. Sasha was there too; Strike had ’ported her back to the compound so she could quick-heal Sven’s busted arm, Brandt’s cracked ribs, and a few other blast injuries, and also to give her a break from watching over Anna, whose condition was stubbornly unchanging. Nate and Alexis, posing as members of the extended family, had taken over at the hospital.

Patience felt loose-limbed and relatively well rested, thanks to a long shower and a huge shared bowl of pasta that Brandt had made while she was washing up. And if it had seemed once or twice that he’d been trying too hard, at least he was making an effort.

As Strike called the meeting to order and did a quick “this is where we’re at” to bring the winikin, Michael, and Sasha up to speed, Patience pressed her sneakered foot against the side of Brandt’s boot and received a return nudge that meant more to her than it probably ought to. But she let herself have the moment.

Strike finished his rundown with, “Obviously these new developments raise a shitload of additional questions and issues, but our priority needs to be finding a way to get our asses into the intersection for the solstice-eclipse. We can’t use the light-magic tunnel. Even if we could come up with a spell to move that much rubble, the area’s going to be under some serious human scrutiny. Which means we need to find another way in.” He looked at Rabbit. “Do you think you could find the dark-magic entrance?”

“Maybe. Could I open it once I found it? Probably. But that’d lay me wide-open to Iago, and I don’t

—” He broke off, flushing. His voice was tight with guilt and frustration when he said, “At this point, I don’t know what the fuck to do except stay here inside the wards for the rest of the war. It doesn’t make any godsdamned sense for me to go outside where Iago can read me whenever the hell he wants.

It’s like I’m an enemy spy, only I’m not. I’m just . . . fuck. I’m not strong enough to block him anymore.” He fell silent, scowling miserably. Myrinne, who sat beside him on the far love seat, touched his arm in support; he nodded acknowledgment, but his expression didn’t lighten.

“I keep wondering why Iago didn’t know about the intersection already,” Patience said. She’d been going over it in her head, partly in an effort to not think about the cave, or the fact that they were running out of time.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Lucius said. “The Order of Xibalba split off from the Nightkeepers, right? But then it developed its own characteristics, which we’re pretty sure parallel the Aztec culture.

Well, in the Aztec world, the boys who were destined to be soldiers were raised under really rough conditions. When they hit fifteen, they entered military training camps, where knowledge was power and an elder son always had a much higher status than his younger brothers. Based on that, I could see Ix keeping the intersection’s location a secret from Iago, especially if they were the only two surviving members of the ruling bloodline. It was all about competition, even between brothers.”

Rabbit didn’t look entirely convinced. “If that was the deal, why was Iago so pissed when he found out how Ix died?”

“Because they were blood,” Strike said flatly.

“And because we’re Nightkeepers,” Brandt put in. “Not to mention that we prevented his father’s reincarnation as a makol. It doesn’t matter how he felt about Ix—he’s going to be bullshit.”

A shiver crawled down the back of Patience’s neck. “ ‘What has happened before will happen again,’ ” she murmured, quoting from the writs. When Strike gestured for her to continue, she said, “Everything cycles. Cabrakan and Iago both blame Nightkeepers for killing their brothers. And they both want revenge.” But she frowned when that jarred. “Except if Iago wanted to kill me and Brandt, why didn’t he blow the cave while we were inside? He had to have seen us through the eyes of the makol.”

“He might have decided he couldn’t risk killing the two of you right at the light-magic entrance,” Lucius pointed out. “There’s a good chance the sacrifice would have opened the skyroad for good.”

There was a beat of silence as they absorbed the near miss.

In that moment, though, Patience had an idea. To Rabbit, she said, “I know you said you’re not strong enough to block Iago anymore, but do you think you could direct him to certain pieces of information? Or hide other pieces so he can’t get to them?”

A faint spark kindled in his eyes. “Maybe. Yeah. I think I could figure out a block that looks like my normal background mental pattern, sort of camouflaging some stuff.”

“No,” Brandt growled. “Don’t even think about it.”

Which meant he already had. Pulse bumping with a mix of nerves and adrenaline, she turned to Strike. “Iago didn’t come after us today because he’s too smart to waste the power he could gain from our sacrifice. We can use that to set a trap.”

“No,” Brandt repeated, jaw set. “Abso-fuckinglutely not.”

Strike flicked him a look. “That’s not your call.”

Brandt glared. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t try it. Set me up all you want. Douse me in ketchup and tie a fucking bow around my neck. I don’t care. But she doesn’t get used as bait.”

Patience’s inner warrior wasn’t buying that one, but the woman within liked the steel in his tone. To new beginnings, she thought. “We don’t have to decide the details now. The immediate question is whether Rabbit can figure out a way to show Iago only what we want him to see.”

Brandt turned back to her. “I’m serious; if we set a trap, I want you waiting with the others, not down in the hot zone with me.”

But instead of the gold-shot concern she expected to see in his face, she saw cool distance.

Her heart plummeted, and her pulse bumped off rhythm when she realized that he wasn’t present anymore. He was . . . gone. “That didn’t last long, did it?” she said softly.

Regret flashed briefly in his eyes. Instead of answering, though, he turned to Lucius. “Is there anything in the library about major dark-magic spells that are specific to a solstice-eclipse? It’d help if we knew what Iago could be planning for tomorrow night.”

“He might not be planning anything,” Rabbit pointed out. “I think he’s still pretty weak, at least physically. He might hold off until the spring equinox, when he’s at full power.”

“You willing to bet on that?”

“No. I’m just saying.”

Patience let the conversation move around her while she tried to make the inner shift from “this is our new beginning” to “I’m responsible for my own emotions.” She’d gotten pretty good at the latter, but it sucked to realize how quickly she had fallen back into old patterns based on a few good days.

Damn it, she knew better. But she was weak when it came to him, too ready to give things between them a second chance. Or a fifth. A twenty-fifth.