Then Nate’s trajectory suddenly changed and he was shooting up and away. Alexis had half a second to think that the trip out had been so much faster than the one in; then she was following him and trying not to put too much stock into the hope that there would be air left up above.
When she saw his fire magic glitter off the interface between water and air, she started crying with relief.
The second her head broke the surface, she let go of the shield magic, gasping as the water rushed in on her, soaking her and chilling her in a slap that proved more invigorating than uncomfortable.
Treading to keep her head in the air pocket, she squinted against the red burn of Nightkeeper fire. The situation wasn’t good; their heads were nearly touching the carved ceiling of the long, narrow temple room, and water was still coming in from the cracked place right near where the dragon’s snout touched the rainbow in the overhead mural.
Wait a second, she thought. What? She was positive the carved entities hadn’t been touching before; they’d been several feet away from the crack. She blinked and looked again, but the carvings didn’t change. The images of Ixchel and Kulkulkan were touching each other, pointing to the crack. She was positive they’d moved somehow, but why?
Then she remembered the torches from her vision, and how the smoke had moved to a narrow fissure in the wall, halfway down the long side.
“That’s it,” she said, suddenly understanding. She pointed to the crack where the water was flowing in. “That’s where we need to hit the wall. It’s the weak spot.”
Nate looked seriously dubious. “Sure, it’s a weak spot, but there’s nothing to indicate that there’s air on the other side. The water could be coming from a fully submerged tunnel.” But he swam to the spot and put his face near the crack, trying to hear or feel some sort of breeze that might suggest the air was going out the same way the water was coming in. After a long moment he shook his head. “I don’t know. I think we should keep looking.”
The top of Alexis’s head nudged the ceiling as the water continued to rise. She tilted her chin up so she could breathe, and said, “Trust me. That’s the spot.”
His eyes bored into her, and for a second she thought he was going to refuse. In the end, though, he nodded. “If you’re sure.” He didn’t ask how or why she knew; she had a feeling he didn’t want to know. He swam toward her. “Let’s get in the corner over by the throne. Remember, put your shield up right after we launch.”
“Count on it.”
Lit by his low-grade fireball, they swam to the short end of the room, where they found that they could stand on the altar itself and keep above water—for the moment, anyway. The window of opportunity was closing fast. In order to both stand on the throne they had to crowd close together, her back to his front, in a position that fit too well as far as Alexis was concerned, one that felt safe and sane, and revved her nerves, not just at what they were about to attempt, but also what she’d vowed to do if they made it out of there alive: try once more, this time letting him know that she wanted him for who he was, not just for the power they could make together.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice a low growl, his lips very near her ear.
“One more thing,” she said quickly, as the water rose to her mouth. “When you shield, try to take as much of the air around your head as you can. Just in case.”
He nodded. “Will do.”
They didn’t need to clarify what the “in case” would be, nor would it help to mention that if their fireballs broke through the weak spot and the water came rushing in, even the shields would buy them only so much time to enlarge the hole if necessary, swim through, and find another air pocket and a way out.
“Okay,” she said, though he hadn’t asked, “I’m ready.” She wanted to hold on to him, wanted to kiss him good-bye, wanted to ask him if he thought there would ever be a right time for them. But in the end she didn’t do any of those things. She just leaned back a little, drawing strength from his strength, and readied her magic, stretching out her bleeding right palm and calling on the goddess for help, for luck. She felt Nate’s magic rev up, felt it touch her own, and felt the two twine together for a moment, somehow becoming more than their sum. Twin fireballs grew from the weeping cuts on her and Nate’s outstretched right hands, growing larger and larger, spinning and spitting and beginning to heat, though the flames didn’t burn their users.
Alexis dug down, felt him do the same, and the fireballs grew and changed from a source of light to one of destruction. She closed her eyes and envisioned the weak spot, envisioned the carved serpent and the rainbow fleeing away from the cracked spot. Her power peaked, and the fireball flared to life.
“Now!” he shouted.
The fireballs winged through the air and hit their target, and the world exploded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Alexis ducked instinctively, though they’d both yanked up their shields, bubblelike around their heads.
Seconds later Nate shouted something and dragged her below the water, crowding her close to the throne wall, shielding her with his body and his magic.
A shock wave slammed into them, compressing Alexis’s lungs even through the shield. A freight-
train roar of explosion thundered around her. She cried out inside her small sphere of air and clung to Nate, who was hanging on to her, keeping her secure, keeping her anchored. Debris pelted them, pinging off the magic, and she felt Nate flinch, wondered if something had gotten through.
In the aftermath of the shock wave there was a rush of water, colder than the liquid surrounding them, stirring up a current, a tide, as the water moved from one chamber to the next.
They’d done something, she realized. But had they done enough?
Before the water had even begun to settle, Nate kindled a small fireball and urged her into the current. They had to swim hard at first, then less so, as the chamber they were in filled fully with water. And although that had been the plan, Alexis’s heart kicked when she saw the last thin stream of bubbles escape through the hole they’d made.
“Follow those bubbles!” she said, and felt Nate’s fingers tighten on her hand, which he’d clasped and held fast, as though he never intended to let go. And though she knew he’d let go eventually, she let herself lean on the feeling as they kicked toward the gap that’d opened up in the rock wall.
Regret twisted at the sight of the carved stone blocks shattered by the attack. The temple had stood for more than a thousand years, only to fall to the ancestors of its makers. But necessity was necessity, so she spared only a glance back at the narrow room she’d dreamed of, seeing that the carvings of the serpent and the rainbow had disappeared. Then she kicked upward, following Nate’s tug on her hand, and the red-hued glow he held clutched in his outstretched hand. Moments later he extinguished the fireball, because they didn’t need it anymore.
Instead, they swam up toward daylight, and freedom.
Later that night, back at Skywatch, exhausted, sore, and dispirited from the day’s events, Nate avoided his teammates, bummed a sandwich off Jox, and hid out in his parents’ cottage. He got his laptop up and running, but couldn’t bring himself to write. Instead he lay back on the sofa and stared at the hawk medallion he wore around his neck. The one that—according to Carlos—his father had entrusted to his winikin just hours before king Scarred-Jaguar led his Nightkeepers to attack the intersection.