Rabbit slowly closed the laptop, pushed it away, his silver-gray eyes troubled. “What am I looking for?”
“Something that would fuck some with my concentration and really screw with my ’port magic. I . . .” He flexed his fingers, denting the empty can. “I’m having trouble targeting. When I try to fix on a person or place, my mind starts racing and the travel thread gets . . . slippery, I guess you could call it.” He looked back at Rabbit, found the blank shock he was expecting. “One of the few things we’ve got going for us right now is that I can put a team on the ground anywhere in the world within the time it takes to get geared up. If we lose that ability, we’re screwed.”
“But if you’re not targeting properly—” Rabbit broke off.
“It’s not that bad yet. I swear I wouldn’t be jumping if it were. And sure as shit not with anyone else linked up.” If he lost the thread midjump, he—and anybody else he was transporting—wouldn’t just be screwed. They would be dead. “So . . . will you help?”
“I’ll do my best. But . . .”
“I know. No guarantees.” But as Strike cut his palm and held out his hand for the blood-link, he was hoping for a damned miracle.
CHAPTER SIX
Happy Daze Econo Lodge
Outside of Farmington, New Mexico
“The star demon and the white god’s head are made from different stones and don’t really look like they belong together, stylistically,” Dez said into the Webcam’s pickup, “but my magic had the same sort of reaction to them, and Keban’s letter made it sound like they were part of a set, along with the Santa Fe piece. Question is: a set of what?”
On the laptop he’d snagged from Reese, a video conferencing split screen showed Lucius’s face on one side with the stone walls of the library in the background. The other side held overlapping pictures of the star demon, a grainy image of the Santa Fe artifact that Lucius had captured off the museum’s security-cam footage, and Dez’s own crude sketch of the white statue.
He hadn’t wanted to involve the others for a number of reasons, but Reese’s arrival—and her insistence on teaming up with him, if only because she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him—had changed that. Hell, it had changed a lot of things. He had thought he was over her—well, over the infatuation, if not the guilt. But one look at her and a few seconds of having her fighting alongside him once more, and he was halfway back in that crazy, wanting place, even knowing that their destinies weren’t headed in the same direction. Maybe they had been, once, but not anymore. He wasn’t a street rat now, or even a normal guy. And he wasn’t free to make his own choices.
Damn it all, anyway.
“I think,” Lucius began, but then his eyes shifted offscreen as Jade’s soft voice said something in the background. “Hang on,” Lucius said. “Be right back.” Then he grabbed a crutch off the floor, lurched upright, and hobbled out of view.
As far as Dez was concerned, that was pretty impressive considering that a makol had sliced his damn leg off with a buzz saw less than a month earlier. Lucius’s low-grade library magic and Sasha’s chu’ulel healing skills had been enough to put him back together and give his recovery a running start, but without the accelerated recovery time of a Nightkeeper, he was stuck waiting it out. Humans just didn’t heal as quickly as the magi.
Which was not a comforting thought under the circumstances.
Shifting back in his rickety desk chair, Dez took a look through the open connecting door that joined his and Reese’s rooms. He knew he should’ve fought harder to convince her that he needed to deal with Keban alone. Hell, he would have if it hadn’t been for the go-to-hell glint in her eyes that told him she would have just doubled back and continued searching on her own. And, yeah, she was damned good at what she did.
“Louis Keban. No, it’s ‘b’ as in ‘bus stop,? ” she was saying. She sat on the edge of her bed, facing away from him with her cell on speaker and a notebook in her lap.
She had showered, and her dark hair was sleek and slick, combed back along her skull and trailing down to dampen the collar of her T-shirt. If he could see her face, he suspected it would be bare of the makeup she had been wearing before, a professional gloss that added an edge and aged her a few years past her twenty-eight. He bet that was a deliberate move, because the Reese he had known never did stuff like that accidentally.
Then again, she wasn’t the same girl, was she? For five years, they had known each other as well as two people could . . . but a whole hell of a lot had happened in the intervening decade. And a big chunk of that—if not all of it—was on him.
They hadn’t talked about the past on the long walk from the crash site back up to his truck, or on the ride into the city. They hadn’t talked about anything, really, but the past had sat between them like a hairy-assed mammoth. He’d let it stay, though, figuring it would be better for both of them if she remembered the bad stuff more than the good. Because as much as part of him—the part that still remembered every touch and sigh from the stormy night they had almost made love—wanted to make things right with her, even beg for a second chance, the man he was making himself into knew that couldn’t happen. He was a Nightkeeper. More, he was a serpent, and what had happened before would happen again.
“Okay, I’m back,” Lucius said, crutching into view. “Sorry about that.”
Dez dragged his attention back to the monitor. “Jade have something for us?”
“For me, yes. For you? Not so much.” Lucius tried for a leer that fell flat, as did his voice when he said, “Strike is sending her, Sven, Nate, and Alexis out to check another blip down in Belize.”
So far most of the spikes reported by their magic-flow sensors had either been false alarms or teams of Iago’s makol trying to take control of power sinks using small war parties that felt more like they were testing the Nightkeepers. But given the countdown, it was only a matter of time before hell broke loose.
“She’s on a good team,” Dez said. Nate’s strategic thinking and Alexis’s aggressiveness would counterbalance Sven’s outside-the-box tendencies and Jade’s lack of experience. “She’ll be fine.” Which was bull, because there were no guarantees.
“Yeah.” Lucius brushed his fingers across the jun tan glyph on his inner wrist that marked him as a mated man, then cleared his throat. “Back to the carvings. If we assume that they’re Nightkeeper in origin and go with ancient Mayan symbology, the ‘T’ glyph represents the wind. Which gives us a black star demon and a white wind god.”
“Any idea what the Santa Fe piece might be?”
Lucius tapped a couple of keys and another picture appeared, showing a carving of a strangely proportioned, squat little man who stretched his short arms over his head, like he was holding something aloft. “I think it was this guy. He was one of the four skybearers who suspended the sky at the corners of the earth.”
Dez frowned. “I thought the four balaam jaguars held up the sky.”
“Depends on who you asked.”
“Have you confirmed this with the museum?”
“The police report just calls it a ‘human figure carved of reddish stone’ and the curator won’t tell me shit. He probably thinks it was smuggled up from Mexico after the ban on cross-border antiquities trading, and thinks I’m looking to come down on him.”
“I thought it came from a Puebloan ruin.”
“Supposedly, it came from the Puye Cliff Dwellings, which are north of Los Alamos on the Santa Clara reservation. But the Puebloans weren’t really known for carved stone, and the artifacts found at Puye have been mostly red-glazed pottery with a . . .” Lucius trailed off, eyes sharpening on Dez. “Actually, they were big into serpent motifs. They believed that spirit snakes guarded their crops and protected them. That could be something, given that it’s your winikin who seems to know all the tricks here.”
Dez lifted a shoulder, playing it casual. “There are a ton of serpent myths out there, and they don’t all track back to my bloodline.”
