above him while his face blanked with shock. “What? Who?”
“Whoo!” The huge owl was more streamlined than its real-world counterparts, with long, powerful legs and wings that cut through the air like scythe blades.
“Jesus, gods,” Cara whispered, flashing back on the day of the funeral, when Sebastian had been nearly suicidal over having been marked by the magic. “It’s his bloodline totem. The owl is his totem.”
“The others too,” Sven said, voice hushed.
She started to push away from him, but then her eyes went past Sebastian. And she froze at the sight of shadow creatures everywhere—felines, foxes, monkeys, reptiles, peccaries, and more. There was a totem shadow for each of the winikin, all bigger, stronger, and meaner-looking than their native cousins. The winikin themselves looked stronger and meaner too, as if they had been lit by a new inner power. And as they connected with their creatures, their shadow-familiars, their faces lit with fierce joy.
Magic, she thought, awestruck.
Shaking now, she turned back to the hellhound—so much bigger than the sleek coyote it had masqueraded as. The beast wasn’t crouched down anymore; she was standing, her attention going from Cara to the outer perimeter and back again. Her body was quivering too, though with eagerness rather than shock, and a low whine sounded at the back of her throat.
Cara knew that sound from Mac. It meant, Let me at ’em!
Her pulse notched up. “Can you fight the camazotz?”
Enemy! Fight! Fightkillfight! The thought-glyphs came rapid-fire, almost unintelligible.
“Did you get that?” Sven asked.
“I got it,” she said softly. She kept hold of his hand even though she didn’t need the blood-link anymore—she could feel the magic inside her—but she let herself cling, just that tiny bit, as she approached the huge creature, reached up a hand, and stroked a massive shoulder. The female’s fur was thick and coarse, and smelled of open skies and mossy hollows.
You’re mine, she thought, and her throat closed when she got a wash of love, support, and acceptance in return.
“Cara!” It was Dez, his voice ragged. “Can they help?”
The winikin had gathered at the center of the dome, each with a huge shadow-animal nearby. Some lay prone or stood at attention; others flew in tight circles near the top of the shield, screeching battle cries.
At the sight, Sven hissed out a breath. “The cave painting.”
She nodded, heart going thudda-thudda in her chest. “The coyote is their leader. That’s what the painting means. She’s in charge.”
“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “You are.”
Pitching her voice to carry, she called to the others, “What do you think? Can we fight the camazotz now?”
There was a ragged chorus of assent, one that strengthened at its tail end.
“I can’t hear you. Can we fight now?”
The chorus got deeper, stronger. “Yes.”
“Can we kick ass now?”
“Yes!”
Her pulse was drumming, her palms going sweaty. Don’t overreach, she told herself. Don’t sacrifice anyone to make a point. But her instincts said this was it; this was right. This was what she’d been brought here to do. “Our king has asked us to defend this place. Will you do it?”
It was a risk, but a calculated one, and it was rewarded with a resounding, “Yes!”
Grinning, Cara stripped off Natalie’s wristband and tossed it to her. Then she pulled her combat knife, held it in the air, and shouted, “Then let’s drop the shield and clear out the vermin!”
A huge shout rose up, coming from winikin and magi alike. Then the shield came down, and all hell broke loose.
Cara’s hound bolted away from her, roaring a challenge, and the shadow-animals leaped to follow.
The camazotz screeched their unearthly cries and took to the air as the horde descended, leaving the lower-slung animals to howl in protest. Soon, though, they had work to do, as the airborne totems went to work shredding wing sails and sending the demons crashing to the ground. Or, like Cara’s beast, leaping high in the air and snatching a bat demon midflight, then crunching and dropping it before lunging after another. Mac was right in the middle of the melee too, slashing at hamstrings and leaving the demons crippled and howling.
They would regenerate, though.
“Come on!” Sven tugged at Cara’s hand, but she was already in motion, knife at the ready. She reached for her wristband, but he waved her off.
“I’ve got us covered.” A shield spell—sleek and flexible, and like nothing she’d ever seen before—appeared in the air around her, molding to her body and creating lightweight, nearly invisible armor.
“Impressive.” She hid the pinch of sadness. “I guess when your magic came back, it came all the way and then some.”
He nodded. “I just needed to figure out my real priorities.”
It hurt to know she wasn’t one of those priorities, but she lunged into the fray, puffing one camazotz and then another to dust. The others had fanned out and were doing the same, working in twos and threes, often with winikin and magi mixed without issue, all watching one another’s backs while the shadow-familiars knocked down their enemies.
“Look out!” Sven yanked her out of the way as a quick healer leaped up and made a grab for her. He launched a fireball that was so bright she had to close her eyes, then dispatched the thing with grim efficiency. When it was gone, he shot her a look she couldn’t interpret.
“Sorry,” she said. “And thanks.”
There were other live ones, other close calls, but they worked their way through the slaughter, which was made far less macabre by the fact that the ichor vanished when the camazotz did. And all the while, she was aware of her creature—lithe and beautiful, violent and deadly—staying connected to her as the enemy ranks thinned, and—
“Incoming!” Sebastian bellowed as the opacity blocking the tunnel bulged and tore for a third time, letting more camazotz into the space. But they weren’t like the others—these ones wore armor, and they had a plan.
Fast and fresh, they dodged the shadow-familiars and zeroed in on the Nightkeepers. Time seemed to slow for a second as Cara saw three of them catch sight of Sven and make a dive for him. She screamed and turned back, but she was farther away than she had realized, and the camazotz were lightning-fast.
“No!” She cried as the first one swooped down, unfurled its claws, and—
The hellhound appeared as if from nowhere and snatched it from the sky. Then she spit it out and grabbed the others. With the third still dangling from her jaws like a chew toy, she spun and bolted for the tunnel and the oily blackness of the torn barrier. Bat demons were still flowing out like water, and the opening was a nasty churn of shadows.
Stop enemies! The thought-glyphs appeared in Cara’s mind, but it took her a second to translate, another to understand.
She surged toward the tunnel entrance. “No! Come back!”
“Cara, wait!” Sven caught her arm and dragged her back, launching a fireball in the same move and toasting the camazotz that had been aiming right for her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Come back!” she cried again, her voice breaking on a sob, but the hound didn’t hesitate. She gathered herself and launched straight into the roiling blackness of the tunnel mouth.
And disappeared.
“NO!” Cara pulled against Sven’s grip, then clutched at him when the stone surface beneath their feet began to vibrate. The rattlesnake noise slashed through the space, growing louder and louder still.
“Cover your eyes!” he shouted, and pulled her into his arms and shielded them both just as the tunnel detonated with a huge roar of rock and dark magic.
Power blasted them, and shrapnel slammed into the shield. Cara clung to Sven, burying her face in his chest and trying to block out the sound of her familiar’s demise, her sacrifice. “No.” She didn’t weep, not now. But she
