“Come on.” Lucius steered her through the archway and onto the upper landing of the great room. “Let’s get some brownies and try the satellite feed again, and when that doesn’t work, I’ll introduce you to the suckfest called ‘stuck at home, waiting for news.’ ”
Reese let out a shuddering breath as they turned for the kitchen. “Okay. Deal.” She glanced over at him. “Fair warning. I’m not very good at waiting.”
“There’s a shock. I—” He broke off as his crutch slipped out from underneath him, then hissed as the move jarred his bad leg. Reese grabbed his arm, steadying him as she looked down, expecting to find spilled water, maybe a leak.
Except it wasn’t water. It was blood.
She hissed as all of her quick fears about makol in the compound came racing back. Yanking the .44 and going into survival mode, she said in a low voice, “Check on the others. If they’re okay, have them get armed and get out here.”
“Oh, shit,” he said, face going stark. “This isn’t good.” But as Reese moved away, she heard him activate his armband, heard a reassuringly calm answer from one of the winikin, elsewhere in the compound.
The blood started thinly—a few gravitational drops near the archway leading to the royal quarters, a couple of smears tracking to a nearby hallway. Then it got heavier as it turned down another hall and started weaving, then turned to bloody scuff marks as it turned through the doorway leading to the sacred chamber. Pulse hammering, she tucked herself beside the door, crouched, and took a look around the edge, staying low. Then she froze for a second, mind refusing to process the horror-movie scene.
Anna lay motionless near the altar, wearing blood-soaked pajamas. More of the red liquid was splashed on the altar, the floor, the curving walls, even the glass ceiling, creating reddish patches on the floor where the sun shone through. She was alone. There was no makol, and the ceremonial knife clutched in her hand, the vivid slashes on her wrists, said there never had been.
“Jesus.” Reese was up and into the room in a flash, jamming the .44 in her belt as she dropped down beside the motionless woman. The cuts were fresh and running, showing a sluggish pulse. Reese’s stomach grew queasy as the salty tang of blood invaded her lungs, her sinuses, but she grabbed the other woman’s wrists, gripped tightly, and lifted her arms above the level of her heart. Her blood was warm and wet, sticky in spots.
She heard Lucius’s uneven steps out in the hallway. “It’s Anna,” she called in scant warning, hurting for him. “She’s—”
“Oh, gods.” His voice was low and broken, as if he wasn’t all that surprised. He stood for a half second in the doorway, then limped to let himself down on Anna’s other side, his leg sticking out at an awkward angle as he wedged himself behind her, up against the altar, so he could support her upper body while Reese kept the pressure on.
“We found her quickly,” she said, but almost couldn’t hear herself over the thunder of her pulse. Then she realized the thundering noise was the sound of boots on tile. The others were coming. Natalie was the first one through the door; she gave a low cry and went pasty when she got a look at the scene. Several other winikin were right behind her; their faces mirrored her shock.
“Make a hole,” a voice barked, and JT came through carrying a medic’s duffel. He took one look, dumped the bag, and started yanking out IV materials. “What the hell happened? There wasn’t a damned thing on the monitors. Nothing got in or out of here.”
“She was holding the knife when I got here,” Reese said.
“The solstice must’ve triggered something inside her,” Lucius said raggedly. “But she should be healing. Why the hell isn’t she healing?”
Without warning, Anna’s eyes flew open and she gasped—a long, sucked-in breath that arched her body, tipping her head back and raising her chest until she was supporting herself on her ass and the crown of her head.
“She’s seizing!” JT went for the IV line with a loaded syringe.
Lucius grabbed his arm. “No, wait. Look!”
Anna’s mouth worked and her head lolled wildly, but then her movements smoothed out as she scanned the room . . . and locked on to Reese. Suddenly, her hands twisted in Reese’s, reversing their grip until she wasn’t holding pressure on Anna’s wrists anymore—the other woman was holding hers. Instinct told her to wrestle free, but she made herself stay put and meet Anna’s eyes, which were clear now, with none of the fog that had clouded them for more than a year. But at the same time they were vacant and uncomprehending. Which made it doubly eerie when she said, voice cracking, “The serpent staff cannot be wielded without balance—without it, the temple will become a doorway without a door and the vulture will be set free. You must stop the serpent prince from tipping the balance !” Then, like a switch had been thrown, the fog snapped back. She shuddered and let go of Reese’s hands.
“Move.” JT shouldered her aside and got to work, issuing low orders to Lucius—hold this; press here—but to Reese those were peripheral inputs that barely dented the spinning whirl inside her, the shock and horror as the pieces once again rearranged themselves, this time forming a compass within a circle, with the black opposite red, yellow opposing white, and green lightning at the center.
They fit together. They balanced. And if any one piece was taken away, the outer shell fell apart, releasing the lightning in a terrible explosion of nuclear proportions . . . and bringing Lord Vulture’s twilight.
Iago would have no compunction against activating all five of the artifacts. But if it came to it, Dez—the man he was now—may try to leave one of the pieces out of the puzzle, needing to prove to both of them that he was a better man than before. And then . . . boom. She looked at Lucius, heart racing. “I have to talk to Dez. I think he’s going to kill us by trying to do the right thing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Coatepec Mountain
I’m here. Come and get me . . . get me . . . The whispers echoed in Dez’s head, getting louder every foot the Nightkeepers fought toward the temple, hacking through the makol lines. It wasn’t just the one voice now— there were three others, quieter whispers that pulled at him, seesawing him from honor and balance to upheaval and revolution.
Lightning crackled around him, deflecting buzz blades, bullets, and whatever the fuck else the makol were throwing at him. He killed when he had to, knocked down where he could, aware that the other Nightkeepers were doing the same, though it was a bloody, thankless task. Yanking off the amulets turned out to disable but not kill them, and when they went down, the others turned on their fallen comrades and ripped them to shreds. So the magi were knocking the villagers down, over and over again, hoping they would find an answer in the temple, where Iago was casting the spells to activate the staff. Dez could feel the pulsing, hissing magic that was both dark and light, and pure serpent. If he didn’t get in there soon and stop Iago, they were fucked.
Overhead, Nate’s hawk incarnation soared and wheeled alongside the sun god in its firebird form, the two of them acting as air support. Dez tapped his armband—the solstice had knocked out the long-range communication, but short-range still worked, sort of. Into the hissing static, he said, “Now!”
As one, the hawk and firebird wheeled and dove, accelerating to a blur and swooping across the battlefield, strafing a fiery path between the Nightkeepers and the scaly, pearl-colored shield that enclosed the temple. Makol went down in flames, screaming, and Dez plunged up the hill with several of the others at his heels. A few of the magi were already up there, working on the shield. As he ascended, the whispers got louder, more urgent. We’re here. Come and get us!
Up close, the temple was actually a series of archways leading from one to the next, undulating like a sea monster swimming through the earth. The floor was carved stone, the roof open to the sky. Iago stood inside, a dark, robed form kneeling before a curving, serpentine throne. On it, fitted into holders, rested the five puzzle pieces, the staff across the arms, the four compass artifacts set around the back piece of the throne, which fanned out like a green sunburst that ended in white, red, yellow, and black.
Come and take us. Bring your knife and come and fight for us!
