that snarled and snapped inside him. Because the plan wasn’t just to bring the traitors to justice; it was to keep Nightkeeper-winikin relations intact while doing it.
When Cara got up close beside him at the door, he said in an undertone, “They’re all at a central table. I’ll go in first; you stay behind me in case he panics and starts shooting.”
In the yellow illumination coming from the porch light, there was no mistaking the stubborn I’m in charge here set to her jaw. “That’ll make it look like I’m hiding. Nope, I’m going in first. You’ll just have to move fast if he threatens me.” She pinned him with a look, then lifted the sawed-off double-barreled shotgun she held across her body. “And remember, I’ve got this and you’ve got cuffs. Only use magic as a last resort.”
“Yeah, I got that part.” He didn’t like it, but he got it. A few days ago, the idea of a Nightkeeper blasting away at a bunch of winikin would’ve seemed ludicrous. Now it was far too easy to imagine, along with the political shitstorm it would create. “I’ll do my best.” He wasn’t promising any more than that. But he also wasn’t going to argue with her about going first, because she had a point. He needed to look like backup, not heavy artillery. So he eased open the door, which led to an entryway that would let them stay concealed for the first ten or fifteen feet. “After you.” His voice softened. “And, Cara?”
Her eyes went wary, then slid away from his. “Let’s just focus on the job, okay?”
“I was just going to say that I’ll be right behind you.”
“Oh.” Faint color touched her cheeks. “Thanks.” Then, without another word, she slipped through the door.
And as Sven followed with Mac at his heels, he put the other stuff out of his mind—or tried to—and brought up his magic to a background buzz, ready to defend or attack at a moment’s notice. Because right now, it didn’t matter what had happened between them or where they were going to go from here. All that mattered was not letting Zane and Lora hurt her again… and paying them back for their betrayal.
Cara’s heartbeat thudded unevenly as she crossed the short antechamber leading to the main hall. The adrenaline pumping through her body didn’t come entirely from anticipation of the coming showdown, but she couldn’t dwell on what was happening between her and Sven.
She had to focus on the here-and-now, and do her best to get through this confrontation—hell, call it what it was: an arrest—while keeping the rest of the winikin as intact as she could. Dez, the Nightkeepers, and, hell, the war effort and therefore the whole freaking earthly plane were counting on her to not let her people decompress.
The knowledge had her pausing just shy of the doorway and taking a deep breath that whistled in her lungs.
She heard Zane’s voice coming from the room beyond, though she couldn’t make out what he was saying over the belligerent staccato of U2’s Rattle and Hum. It sounded like he was joking, but his tone carried an edge that raised the hair on the back of her neck and made her feel suddenly trapped, drowning. Claustrophobia pressed in on her without warning, but she dug her fingernails into her palms and shoved it away, pissed that she’d given him that much power over her, even for a few seconds.
The anger cleared her head and unlocked her feet, though, and before she was aware of even having made the decision, she was through the door and beelining for her betrayer.
Zane’s back was toward her, like he’d been trying to prove that he didn’t need to watch the door, and Lora was staring so raptly at him that she didn’t notice Cara’s entrance. The others, though, caught sight of her immediately. She knew their names, knew their stories, but in that moment she didn’t see them as individuals; she saw a potential stampede. And as a rancher’s daughter, she knew she needed to deal with that or risk getting flattened.
Their party-reddened eyes went from her to Sven, and their expressions fired at his invasion of their turf. Some shouted; others surged to their feet and sent chairs flying.
Cara bellowed, “Freeze!” and fired the sawed-off from her hip, making her own ears ring and aiming way over their heads, going for shock value rather than bloodshed.
It worked. They froze. All except for Zane, who whipped around. For a second, there wasn’t even a spark of recognition in his face, as if he’d already wiped her from his memory banks. Then he got it, and blankness turned to astonishment and dawning horror.
“That’s right.” Cara leveled the sawed-off at the center of his chest. “I got out of the cave. Guess you should’ve killed me yourself after all, huh?” She was watching the faces of the others, and was relieved to see the anger and disgust that had been aimed at Sven and Mac now shift to confusion.
Zane sagged back against the table hard enough to make it grate a few inches across the floor. “That’s impossible. The gods led me there. They told me they would take you in exchange—”
“They didn’t tell you shit,” she said flatly. “You came up with all of it on your own so you’d have an excuse to take over the winikin. You and Lora both.”
As if that had been her cue, the woman in question gave a low, broken moan, then turned dead white as Mac came around and stood right by her with his teeth bared and his ruff bristling. A few of the others shifted uncertainly, but their glares were aimed at Zane and Lora, not the coyote or his master.
Cara, though, was very aware of Sven standing right behind and to the right of her, letting her handle things even though he probably wanted to tear Zane apart. She didn’t let herself think that it was very like what her younger, more idealistic self had imagined, with Sven as her destined mate and protector, and the two of them fighting to save mankind.
The reality was at once very close to that, and yet so very far away.
Zane’s eyes darted around the room, to her, to Sven, and then back to her. “Lies.” He hissed the word, then glanced back at the others. “What did I tell you? She wants to get me out of the way and bring her master on board as the leader of the winikin. It’ll be just like before the massacre—we’ll be no better than a drafted army. Cannon fucking fodder commanded by leaders who hide behind invisible shields.”
And even though only seconds earlier he’d all but admitted to attempted murder, a couple of the winikin looked at each other, then at her. She felt Sven square himself, and knew she had to defuse this, and fast.
Exhaling softly, she addressed the others, members of a herd that was suddenly thinking of stampeding again. “Zane lured me to the training grounds, knocked me out, and carried me to a cave miles outside the compound—one that he’s never told any of us about, even though it could be a valuable asset. There, he and Lora bound me to an altar and left me to die in the floodwaters.” She paused, not letting the memories come. They crowded close, though, choking her slightly as she said, “I would have died if Sven and Mac hadn’t come after me. They saved my life.” She paused for a beat. “But that doesn’t make him my master. My allegiance is to the winikin.”
“Then what’s with the ink?” Zane nodded to her wrist. “That’s not just the coyote’s mark. It’s his mark… and you weren’t wearing it when you went into the cave.”
She didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her look down to where her sleeve had ridden up. “I didn’t go in there voluntarily… And you said it yourself—the cave has coyote magic.”
He sneered. “So does the coyote mage.” To the others, he said, “You’ll see. She’ll bring him in on decisions, bit by bit, until one day we’ll wake up and he’s in charge. Meanwhile, she’ll be spreading her legs and giving up whatever he wants—”
There was a blur of movement, a crack of fist on bone, and Zane flew back onto the table with his arms outstretched.
Cara gaped as Sven bent over him, fist drawn back for another blow. “Keep talking,” he warned in a low growl that Mac echoed from the other side of the table. “I dare you.”
Zane grinned to reveal teeth that were rimmed red with blood. “Go lick your own balls.”
“Insult me all you want,” Sven grated. “But not her, not like that.” His eyes raked the others. “And it doesn’t have a godsdamned thing to do with politics.”
The winikin didn’t react to that, but they also didn’t come to Zane’s defense. They just watched, stony eyed and rapidly sobering, as Sven dragged the other man up off the table and fished the cuffs from his pocket. As he started securing Zane’s wrists, he said down low, “If it was up to me, you’d be headed straight to Xibalba, do not pass go or collect dick. But the king wants Rabbit to ask you both a few questions, so—”
“No!” Lora exploded from her chair and lunged toward them. Mac yelped and grabbed for her with a flash of sharp teeth, but he missed as she came over the table and flung herself on Sven. He reeled back as she raked at him while screaming curses in a thin, high voice.
