She dropped to her knees opposite him. “What can I do?”
“Pray,” he said raggedly.
Almost before the word was out of his mouth, Rabbit jerked and shuddered. She gasped, afraid it was the beginning of another seizure. But then he rolled partway onto his side and dragged in a rattling breath. He tried to say something, but the words devolved into a painful hacking cough.
“Thank the gods,” she whispered, and the sentiment was echoed by several of the others.
Brandt didn’t call on the sky, but he did rock back on his heels, his expression easing slightly. When Rabbit struggled to speak, he pressed on the younger man’s shoulder. “Take it easy. There’s no rush.”
But Rabbit shook his head furiously, finally managing to get out, “It was Iago. He came right through the blocks and saw everything. He knows exactly what we’re—” A rattling roar split the air, drowning him out.
A millisecond later, twenty warriors materialized within the confines of the chameleon shield.
The men were in their twenties and thirties, lean and muscled, their arms and legs marked with scars and tattoos that ranged from crude letters to intricate, high-tech art. But although the ink was modern, their outfits and weapons were pure Aztec.
They wore bulky quilted shirts and intricately wrapped cotton loincloths that were knotted at the front, leaving the decorated ends to dangle at knee level. Most of them carried long, flat wooden staves that had rows of sharpened obsidian blades inset along the edges, turning them into crude but effective swords. The lone exception carried a long, obsidian-tipped spear and wore a blue-painted wooden helmet that left his face visible through the gaping mouth of a terrible horned creature with a pug nose and sun-disk eyes.
Their eyes glowed luminous green.
Strike roared, “Makol!”
The Nightkeepers reacted instantly. Red-gold magic sang in the air as the magi brought their talents online and ranged themselves around where Brandt, Patience, and Myrinne still crouched over Rabbit.
At first the obsidian-edged staves didn’t seem like much of a threat, but then the demon-helmeted leader barked an unfamiliar spell, dark power rattled in the air, and the obsidian blades spun into magic-wrought motion, whizzing chain-saw-like. At a second command, the sword tips became spear throwers that launched spinning, razor-sharp blades toward the Nightkeepers.
“Shields!” Strike ordered, though most of the warriors already had their protective spells online.
The first barrage bounced off those shields, except for a single blade that caught Sven in the shoulder, sending him to his knees as blood splashed the rock behind him. He clamped his lips on a cry.
Alexis dropped down beside him, yanked his shirt off, and worked it into a passable field dressing as the others launched a salvo of fireballs and jade-tipped bullets. Within the core of the defensive formation, Patience brought up her shield magic and spread it out, forming a protective globe that encompassed a groggy Rabbit, and Myrinne, who hadn’t left his side. Brandt did the same, so together they cast a double layer of protection as Rabbit struggled up, eyes wild. He pointed to something behind them. “The doorway!”
Patience’s heart lurched as she spun and saw that two of the Aztec makol were headed straight for the tunnel mouth, both loaded with heavy satchels. They are headed for the cave!
As one, she and Brandt started after them. Behind them, Rabbit shouted, “Iago got right into my head. He knows about the light-magic entrance.”
Brandt cursed. “If he sent the makol to breach the inner doorway, he must not have known how to get into the intersection, after all.”
“And watch your backs,” Rabbit said, his voice now coming from their earpieces as they crossed to the pyramid. “He knows you two killed Ix. He’ll be gunning for both of you.”
“Roger,” Brandt said. He paused near the darkness of the doorway. The two makol were gone. When he glanced at Patience, she saw the warrior in his eyes, but there was something more there too.
Something worried. “You should stay up here and make sure none of the others get through.”
Which was logical enough. But it was also bullshit, and they both knew it.
“You’re not leaving me behind.” This was their cave. Their intersection. She wasn’t letting Iago have it.
But at the same time, part of her liked that Brandt was suddenly acting more like a mate than a mage. On impulse, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his.
When she drew back, his eyes were dark, without a hint of gold. But they weren’t cool. Not by a long shot. His voice was rough when he said, “They’ll pin us down in the tunnel if they sense us. We’ll have to sneak in. Which means no shields.”
“Then that’s an even better reason to bring me along. They can sense spells, but not talent-level magic.” She held out her hand.
He took it. And she turned them both invisible.
They dropped their shields and headed through the doorway and down the stairs. As the cool darkness closed around them, Patience felt naked, partly because she couldn’t use her shield and partly because going invisible always made her feel strangely insubstantial even though her mass didn’t change. But although she didn’t need direct contact to maintain Brandt’s invisibility, he didn’t let go of her hand.
Instead, he tightened his fingers on hers as they rounded the first curve, and whispered almost soundlessly, “I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. Deal?”
The words echoed back to that first night, warming her and making her feel more solid. Focus, she told herself. But the warmth lived alongside her warrior’s battle tension as they continued downward, trailing the fingers of their free hands along the tunnel wall to help guide them in the pitch blackness.
Then, suddenly, the darkness lightened: Up ahead, she could see where the tunnel opened up to the cave, which was lit from sunlight coming down from above.
“Can you guys read us?” Brandt breathed into his throat mic, but got static back. They were on their own.
As they moved closer, the air gained a hint of salinity and freshness. The combination was a potent memory trigger, but Patience kept the lid on her emotions as they took high and low positions and eased around the corner to check out the situation.
“Oh, dear gods,” she whispered almost soundlessly as she got her first real look at the cave.
It was beautiful.
The ancient cathedral had been impressive at night, lit by fireworks and starlight. In the daylight, illuminated with yellow sunlight, it was magical. The perfectly circular skylight dripped with lush green vines that hung down from up above. Sunlight streamed through, casting the lagoon water in vivid blues and greens that contrasted with the white limestone and the richer tans and browns of soil and other stones.
But even as one part of Patience locked on to the beauty of the subterranean pool, her inner warrior focused on the situation: There was no sign of the doorway that led to the inner chamber, but the two makol were positioned right where it had been. One of them stood guard with his buzz sword at the ready, staring through them. The other one was hammering something into the wall.
“Looks like the bastard’s not going to bother with magic,” Brandt breathed. “He’s just going to blast his way in.”
“Not if we take out his makol,” she said, equally softly, though her stomach churned.
She hated killing makol. Even though their human hosts were chosen based on evil, and couldn’t be saved once the possession was complete, she was all too aware that each of those hosts had once been someone’s child.
Taking a deep breath to settle the quease, she pulled her ceremonial knife. “You’re on point. I’ve got your six.”