“We need you, Cara.”
A warm, heavy body pressed against her leg. She looked down to find the coyote leaning against her, looking up with pleading eyes. “Nice try,” she said, figuring Sven had told the animal to ham it up. But when she looked back at him, she found him staring at the coyote with a faint wrinkle between his eyes.
She told herself that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter, at least not any more than the others. But that was a lie. You’ve told me what everyone else back there wants. What do you want? But asking that would imply that he had the right to an opinion, which he didn’t. She didn’t wear his bloodline mark anymore, wouldn’t ever have worn it in the first place if her father had given her a choice. She had a choice now, though. “I’m not doing it,” she said finally, even though her stomach was churning, her bones aching. “I’m staying here. I like what I’m doing. I’m good at it.”
“You’d be good at this, too.”
She almost laughed. “You must be desperate.”
“I want you to come back willingly.”
“That’s not going to happen.” But a chill shivered through her at the implied threat. “And for the record, if any of you are thinking of knocking me out and dragging me back, be advised that Jox isn’t the only one capable of leaving sealed letters with friends. If I disappear, you guys are going to get some unexpected—and official— visitors.” The Nightkeepers weren’t a strictly secret organization, but they definitely preferred to stay far off the government’s radar.
His eyes narrowed. A low growl vibrated in the coyote’s throat. “You’re bluffing,” Sven said quietly.
“Try me.” She stared him down until he looked away. Satisfied, she nodded. “Sorry,” she said, completely unapologetic. “I’ve got to go. Like I said, I’ve got a date.”
Spinning on her heel, she marched to the staircase that led up to the parking area. She didn’t need him, she reminded herself, refusing to look back. Right now all she needed was to drown herself in friendship and lasagna, though the thought of eating anything made her want to hurl. Then, when she got home, she would figure out how to stash a letter to Jack and Beth, telling them that if she disappeared without warning they should start the search in a small box canyon near Chaco, New Mex. She probably should have done that a while ago, but until she came to work on the Disco, there hadn’t been anyone who would have noticed that she was gone.
Now, though, she had a life. And it didn’t have anything to do with a dozen magic users and their servant- slaves.
Mac chuffed anxiously as Cara hit the top of the staircase and strode out of sight without looking back, leaving Sven with the impression of her dark and mysterious eyes, exotic face, and the startling streak of white in her hair. Along with those images, though, came the sinking sensation of failure.
He had known it wouldn’t be easy to see her again, even harder to convince her to come back with him. He didn’t know what else he had expected—the awkwardness they had parted with, maybe, or even the air-clearing fight they probably should have had years ago. But whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been for her to be coolly indifferent and turn him down flat. He looked down at Mac. “Now what?”
The coyote whined a little, still staring after her, projecting: friend-friend-friend.
Apparently his familiar was already a fan. Poor sod. Sven shook his head. “I’m not so sure she would agree with that one.” Problem was, he didn’t have a choice in the matter, because Dez’s order had been crystal: Do whatever it takes to get her back here. He had taken command a few hours ago, and while the transfer of the fealty oaths actually hadn’t turned out to be that big a deal—Sven didn’t feel a difference, at any rate—the new commander ’s first order had made some serious waves. Long overdue waves, maybe, but waves nonetheless, because he had told the winikin to “crack the fucking envelope and put Jox’s replacement in charge already.”
So, despite JT’s blustering, the deed had been done, and a name had raced through the room: Cara Liu.
That had been a hell of a shock for most of them—Carlos had seemed like the obvious choice—but once Sven got past his initial “no fucking way” and a whole lot of other emotions he was ignoring, he had seen the logic. She wasn’t part of the system, wasn’t really outside it. She would have as good a chance as anyone—except maybe Rabbit—to convince JT to cough up the resistance’s old contact protocol, bring in the rest of the unbound winikin, and find a way to integrate them into the hierarchy—or build a new one. More, she didn’t want to do it. She hated Skywatch, despised the idea of being anybody’s servant, resented her father, and wasn’t overly fond of the Nightkeepers. Which, again, made Jox’s choice a damned good one under the circumstances.
For maybe ten seconds, he debated following her and taking another crack at convincing her to come willingly with the added bonus of scaring off her date. But then he shook his head and tapped his armband instead, hitting up Strike for a ride home. Rabbit had shored up the king’s ’port talent once more, and Strike swore he was fine to ’port himself and one or two others. Besides, it wasn’t like they had another option—with thirty-some hours to go, there was no time to waste on traveling.
Once Strike was on his way, Sven stuck his hands in his pockets and looked out over the harbor, feeling only a small tug at the sight of the wide-open sea. He figured that he would give Cara a day or two to think it over and set up her fail-safe letters—or even disappear entirely, if that was what she wanted to do. Dez would be pissed, but he would deal with that if it happened, because as far as he was concerned, some things were better left in the past. And not everything that had happened before would—or should—happen again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
December 21
Solstice day
Skywatch
In the hours after Dez took over the Nightkeepers’ fealty oaths, things broke loose in a big way, to the point that he started getting sidelong looks that were more speculative than hostile. Reese didn’t know whether the breakthroughs were a sign of the gods’ approval or just a case of timing working in their favor for a change, but suddenly she had information to work with.
It started with the charm that Sven had taken off the dying villager, which they were assuming was how Iago was turning innocents into makol. The leather pouch had turned out to contain black cohosh, sage, and a couple of other ingredients shared with the antidote Reese had cooked up for Dez, along with a small, crudely carved stone that was slippery with dark magic. It all seemed to corroborate that Iago was descended from the serpent bloodline, which had gotten Reese and the others talking, throwing ideas around the library’s main stone table.
With Dez closeted in the royal quarters hashing over the plan for tomorrow, and no real private time in sight, she had geared up for an all-nighter. Lucius was dividing his time, brainstorming with Reese, working on whittling down the sites where Iago could be hiding and trying to find a cure for Strike. Jade and Natalie were in and out, helping when they weren’t needed elsewhere. And by the time the sky was lightening with the first pink smudges of dawn, Reese had a working theory that she felt was spot on.
Lucius had made the connection that the serpents had left the Mayan territories and established their northern outposts right around the same time the Xibalban sect had split off from the Nightkeepers. It was Reese, though, who had figured it out. “The codex you found said the serpents were sent to settle the outposts because the jaguars considered them particularly loyal, but what if that was spin control? What if the jaguars were getting rid of them? And what if that was related to the Xibalban split?”
“You’re thinking about a failed coup?” Lucius had said, surprised . . . but then nodded. “Yeah, I see it. A group of serpents lose sight of their balance and start getting in deep with the dark magic . . . and the next step, given their makeup, would be the throne. Maybe there was already a legend about a serpent king, maybe it started there, who knows? Either way, they got their asses kicked, the jaguars kept the throne, and the bad serpents became the Xibalbans.”
