“There she goes,” he said as their quarry stopped at an angel-topped crypt, fiddled with the lock for a moment, and then stepped inside. “Wonder if that’s the family home?”
“I think—” Alexis broke off as the air suddenly rang with the rattle of foreign magic, and they heard the pop of displaced air from up ahead. “Come on!”
Nate wanted to grab her and shove her in a crypt until it was all over, but she wasn’t his to protect, and she was a good jump ahead of him. Adrenaline flared and he started after her, pulling the nine-
millimeter he’d checked with his luggage and hoped he wouldn’t need. “Wait up,” he hissed. “Wait for—” But they were already too late. A dark shadow passed through the crypt entrance well ahead of them. A second later the witch screamed, the sound high and terrified, followed by a masculine roar of anger, then another scream, cutting off to a gurgling rattle.
“Shit!” Nate put his head down and ran, pushing past Alexis and barreling into the crypt.
The big redhead had the witch up against the back wall of the crypt, holding her off her feet by her throat. He had a stone knife in his other hand, its tip against her temple.
It was a stone knife, yes, and it was Mayan. Maybe even Nightkeeper. But it wasn’t the stone knife.
The witch had switched blades, Nate realized, and the big guy was pissed. “Drop it!” he ordered, leveling the nine-millimeter. “These are jade tipped.” He didn’t fire, though, because ricochet would be a bitch in the stone chamber.
The witch’s eyes locked onto him, relief warring with terror as her mouth pulled back in a voiceless plea for help. The enemy mage ignored the threat and dug the knife in a little, until a drop of blood welled and tracked down Mistress Truth’s temple. “Where’s the real knife? Back at the shop?”
She shook her head wildly, then nodded, spraying tears, spittle, and terror.
“Drop her now!” Nate shouted, sidestepping so he had half a prayer of nailing the redhead without killing the witch too.
The mage looked at him, disgusted. “For fuck’s sake, you could’ve taken the damn thing earlier.
That’s always been the problem with you people. Too many fucking rules.”
Magic clapped, brown smoke detonated, and mage and witch disappeared. Nate stood for a second, stunned. There had been no rattle of gathering magic, no pop of displaced air, yet his gut told him that they hadn’t gone invisible or anything like that. The redhead had ’ported back to the shop.
Back to where Rabbit was waiting, jacked up on magic and angst.
“Come on!” Nate grabbed Alexis’s hand and practically dragged her out of the crypt to their cab.
They piled in and he told the cabbie to take them back to the tea shop ASAP, while she whipped out her cell and speed-dialed Rabbit’s phone, punching it to speaker.
After five rings it kicked to voice mail, and Rabbit’s recorded voice said, “I’m not here.”
Then the line went dead. There was no beep, no nothing. Only silence.
Rabbit thought he was handling the negotiations pretty well. After a flash of panicked certainty that he was going to fuck this up the way he’d always fucked up pretty much anything else important he’d ever tried to do, he forced himself to slow down and focus. Think.
He’d let the girl—she’d said her name was Myrinne—keep the knife. Okay, actually she’d refused to hand it over, but he hadn’t pressed. He had, however, insisted that they get their asses out of the tea shop. Myrinne hadn’t argued; she’d just put her hand in his and let him lead her through the streets of her own neighborhood, looking for someplace loud and crowded. As they walked, she told him a bit about the other guy who’d wanted the knife, namely that he called himself Iago, and had actually identified himself as Xibalban, and promised to share his magic with the witch in exchange for the knife.
“He’ll kill her,” Rabbit said.
Myrinne said nothing, just pointed to a pizza joint across the street. “Let’s go in there. It’s usually pretty quiet this time of night.”
Quiet was an understatement, Rabbit decided. The place was empty except for the guy behind the counter. Rabbit snagged a table in the corner and put his back to the wall, feeling nerves and power vibrating through him. When the guy headed toward them with menus, Rabbit ordered a couple of Cokes and told him they’d need a while.
Make that a long while.
Under the bright fluorescent lights, Myrinne’s shiner stood out loud and clear, angry and purple-
black, with spider tracks of broken veins edging the white of that eye.
Seeing that he was staring, she jerked her chin up and glared. “What’re you looking at?”
“Did the witch do it?” he asked, knowing they both knew exactly what he’d been looking at. “Is that why you want to come with me?”
At first he wasn’t sure she was going to answer, because she sort of locked up and hunched over, as though she weren’t sure how much to tell him. But then she said, “Yes, she clobbered me. But no, that’s not why I need you to take me with you. It’s because of the dreams.”
Something tickled the hairs at the back of Rabbit’s neck. “What—” He broke off as the door to the pizza joint slammed open, and a big biker-looking guy with reddish hair strode through, looking pissed. He was dragging Mistress Truth along behind him.
Adrenaline kicked Rabbit’s system even higher when he realized it was the Xibalban. Iago. Rabbit knew it like he knew his own name—not just from the description, but from the power that churned off the guy, murky brown and shit-strong.
Mistress Truth pointed at Myrinne. “That’s her. She must’ve stolen it!”
Heart hammering up into his throat, Rabbit scrambled up and shoved Myrinne behind him. “Out the back,” he snapped, pushing her in the direction of the door. “Hurry!” He didn’t wait to see if she’d followed orders; he was too busy scrambling to call the fire magic, a shield, telekinesis, whatever the hell magic he could get his hands on, because he had a feeling he was going to need all of it and more.
Panic kindled in his gut, alongside excitement and a whisper of, It’s about time.
“I don’t want any trouble in here,” the pizza guy snapped real quick. When nobody paid attention to him, he ducked down behind the counter and came up with a Louisville Slugger. He was halfway around the pass-through, weapon raised over his head, when Iago flicked the fingers of his free hand and said, “You’re leaving now.”
The guy got a blank look on his face, turned, and walked straight out the door. Rabbit froze too.
Holy shit. This guy had some serious magical ’nads. He wasn’t just a ’port; he could mind-bend too.
What the hell else could he do?
Rabbit had a feeling he was about to find out, because Iago was headed in his direction, moving fast.
“Take this,” Myrinne whispered, pressing something into Rabbit’s hand. The feel of the stone haft and a serious buzz of power told him it was the knife. Then he heard footsteps and the slam of the back door.
The enemy mage slowed and stopped, and opened his fingers so Mistress Truth dropped in a heap on the floor, weeping softly. The big guy smiled mockingly. “Don’t be a hero, kid. Hand it over and you’ll live to report back to your father.”
The taunt broke over Rabbit, chasing some of the terror with hurt, and the mixture of resentment and grief he couldn’t seem to get past no matter how hard he tried. He closed his fingers over the knife and felt the blade bite into his palm, felt the blood flow. “News flash, asshole: Living isn’t going to get me a convo with the old man. Dying will.”