He lit the parchment and set it in the central pit atop the turtle’s shell, and as it burned he brushed the smoke toward his face and breathed deeply, trying to find some scrap of inner calm through the headache and nausea. Normally he had a tough time praying—he often spent more time watching the patterns the smoke made than he did actually communing—but tonight the words came straight from his soul. “Please help. I need to know, is the dream something I need to stop from happening… or are you showing me what I’m supposed to do?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
September 18
Three days to the equinox; three months and
three days to the end date
Skywatch
“Bullshit!” Carlos stormed across his sitting room and into the kitchen. “That’s just bullshit.”
Apparently this was where she and Sven had learned to use the word so forcefully, Cara thought with grim humor. “You’re not the first to say that.” Though Dez’s tone had been more wondering than disbelieving, and he’d gotten on board pretty damn quick with the idea of her having a connection to the magic and the gods. “But just because it sounds crazy on the surface, that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I know you’re not a liar, Cara Liu. But you’re reaching.”
Glasses clinked as he rearranged the dirty dishes in the sink, then turned on the water to let it warm in an old habit that had started as a gesture of housekeeping after her mom died—it had been his way of saying, “I help out around here too”—but over time had become a tic, a defense mechanism. If he saw a hard conversation coming, on would go the water. Tears? Bring on the dish soap.
Seeing it now put a lump in her throat and made her miss her mom more than she had in years. By the time the cancer finally took her it had been a blessing, and they’d all had their chances to say good-bye—sometimes it had felt like too many chances. Now, though, as she stared at her father and saw a stranger, she wished she had someone to talk to, someone who understood him.
She was on her own, though. Sven had offered to come with her, but she’d turned him down. Things between them were still too new. She hadn’t expected to come back to Skywatch as his lover, hadn’t expected it to have changed her outlook as much as it had.
Besides, this was between her and Carlos.
Forcing her voice steady, she said, “I don’t think it’s a reach. Look at the evidence—the nahwal, the visions, the mark, the skull statue, the way the hellhound seems focused on me… all of it points to the winikin being part of the gods’ plan, with me leading them.”
“Zane thought the same thing.”
It would have stung if she hadn’t already thought it. “Zane was a solo act. Sven and I have shared the visions.”
A plate banged. “I’m guessing that’s not all you’ve shared.” His voice was cold, his shoulders set.
She fought not to let him see that he’d made a direct hit. “I know you didn’t want us together.”
“Still don’t.” He slapped off the water and spun to glower at her. “You don’t get to say that you’re doing what the gods want, but do it by defying the writs.”
“There’s nothing in the writs forbidding a relationship between a winikin and a mage. And you know as well as I do that the First Father wasn’t a god. He was just the guy who got the Nightkeepers out of Egypt ahead of the death squads, and led them to this continent for a do-over.”
“Yet you think his resurrection will win the war, and that you and Sven are meant to bring him back.”
Another direct hit. But rather than argue, she blew out a breath and said, “I’m just doing my best here. I’d like to think we all are… but we’re running out of time.”
He turned back to the sink. “What do you want from me? You must want something, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“I…” She trailed off as angry tears threatened, not just at him, but at herself for not realizing how bad things had gotten between them. She had thought they were peacefully coexisting. Wrong. If she’d had a plate in her hand she would have banged it louder than he was doing as he attacked a stubborn speck. “What is your problem? What have I done that’s so awful, really? Is it because I refuse to behave like a proper little servant? Because I left? Or is it because Jox put me in charge rather than you?”
“I’ve had about enough of this.”
“Bullshit. I’m the one who’s had enough. I should have called you on this when I first got back and you made it clear that you didn’t want me here if I wasn’t going to do things your way.”
“Stop it,” he said, louder this time, but he wouldn’t look at her, just kept scrubbing away like he wanted to take the design off the plate.
But she couldn’t stop. The words were tumbling out now, propelled by years of frustration and the inner voice that whispered, No regrets. “Or maybe you just don’t want me around at all. If I hadn’t been at the ranch, Sven wouldn’t have needed to stay away for all those years, would he? Or maybe I should go all the way back, to when Mom got pregnant with a half-blood. Is that why you spent all your time with Sven and left me to her? Because I’m half human, not even a real winikin? Is that why you never cared as much about me… because you didn’t want me in the first place?”
Her eyes were dry, her chest hollow, because none of it was news. She’d thought it all before, though never said it aloud. And for a moment it seemed like she still hadn’t, because she got zero response.
Her father kept working, methodically washing and rinsing the last glass and then setting it in the drainer. He turned off the water and wiped his hands on the towel he’d tucked at his waist. And then—and only then—he turned to face her.
She wasn’t sure what she had been hoping to see in his expression—grief, perhaps, or guilt. Maybe the hint of a tear… some acknowledgment that he’d been a shitty dad. What she got was… nothing. There was no guilt, no anger, no nothing but the face of a man who thought himself blameless in this mess. “I did my duty by both you and Sven.”
“Your duty according to the writs, you mean.”
“Of course.” For a second she thought she saw something in his eyes, as if maybe he wasn’t as sure as he seemed, but needed to cling to that certainty rather than admit there might have been other ways to go. But when she looked again, it was gone.
Anger bubbled up from some inner store she hadn’t even been aware of keeping deep inside. “Was it your duty to force the marks on me without any explanation, never mind training?”
Impatience flashed. “I did what needed to be done.”
“You needed Sven and used me to get him.”
“The Nightkeepers are the keys to this war. Not us.”
He was so sure of it, so immovable. Pressure vised her chest, making it hard to breathe. “You could have told me what was going on. You could have asked. That would have taken what? Five minutes? Ten?”
“Would you have agreed to try it?”
She had asked herself that more than once. “Yeah. I would have.” But she would have known what was going on, what to expect… and how little of that expectation to put on him.
“Well, then.”
“That’s not the point. The point is… Shit.” It didn’t matter, really, did it? He wasn’t going to apologize or change and she didn’t need him to do either. She was doing fine without him. “Thank the gods you married Mom. You got that one right, at least.”
There it was again—that nanosecond flash of emotion. But then he squared his shoulders. “Is that what you came to tell me?”
“No, I… no.” She exhaled, trying to push past the pressure in her throat that said she’d been hoping for
