Reese had found herself studying the two of them together, not because theirs was one of the two human-mage pairings at Skywatch, but because it was so different from her own experiences with the opposite sex. “She’s lucky to have you,” she said softly.
“We’re lucky to have each other.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ve got something for you. Several somethings, in fact. I spent last night tracking down info on the injection and the powder Keban had used on Dez previously. Once I had an idea of what was going on there, it wasn’t too hard to figure out the gas he was using today.”
Reese closed her eyes on a surge of relief. “Tell me Dez is going to be okay.”
Lucius nodded. “He’ll sleep it off on his own, but I found an antidote that will speed up the process and immunize him against future attacks.”
“Okay.” She breathed through a too-strong punch of relief. “Okay. That’s good.”
“I’ll shoot you the recipe in a minute—Natalie is transcribing it now. While we’re waiting on that, I’d like to tell you what I’ve found so far on these potions, see if you pick up on something I’ve missed.”
She gave him a “go ahead” finger wiggle. “Bring it on.” It wasn’t the first time one of the Nightkeepers had asked her to run through a pattern with them—they appreciated her special skills, especially given how much of their ancestral knowledge had been lost over the centuries.
“Well, the library came up dry, so I figured we must be dealing with bloodline-specific knowledge that Keban should’ve passed down to Dez, but didn’t. I read up on the serpents, trying to figure out if they had a hidden guardianship, like the way the star bloodline was responsible for protecting the library.” He shook his head. “If they did, they buried it well. But I found a reference that talked about how, around the turn of the first millennium, the members of the serpent bloodline left the Mayan Empire to establish a Nightkeeper presence among the native tribes to the north.”
Reese narrowed her eyes. “How far north?”
“This far.” Lucius tapped the stone table to indicate Skywatch. “They built the ruins later ascribed to the mysterious Chacoans and integrated into life up here. When the Conquistadors forced the other Nightkeepers out of the southern territories, the serpent bloodline helped them get resettled among their tribal allies. Hopi, mostly, though there were others.”
“Thus, all the serpent myths in this area.” It fit, Reese thought. It played. So why was she getting a low-grade itch that said there was more to the story?
Lucius nodded. “The Nightkeepers shared their technology with their allies, which would have made enemy tribes seriously jealous. That could account for the inconsistency of snake myths among the tribes of the Southwest, where they’re either messengers for the gods or deceitful spirits that bring death and disease.”
Reese nodded. “Okay. So how does that tie in with what Keban’s been doing?”
“The native tribes didn’t practice magic in the same sense that the Nightkeepers did, but they discovered certain plants and other materials could impact the magic, especially that of the serpents, who relied so heavily on the senses of smell and taste. The first formula Keban used, the liquid he injected into Dez the night of the storm, somehow kick-started his powers. So far I’m drawing a blank there, which may mean it’s something the magi and winikin of the serpent bloodline kept to themselves.”
“If it was part of the serpents’ initiation into the magic, we don’t need it.” Dez already had more than his share.
He nodded. “For the other two potions, I looked for tribes that had ‘bad snake’ myths, and came up with a dozen or so candidates. I think the powder was a general antimagic charm, probably something that Keban kept on hand in case he ran up against a Nightkeeper, regardless of bloodline. Then, once he realized Dez was trying to stop him from getting the artifacts, he cooked up something specific to members of the serpent bloodline. Assuming I’ve called it right, the formula is similar to the powder but has a few additional ingredients . . . one of which is the New Mexico ridge-nosed rattlesnake.”
His eyes gained a glint that upped her pulse. “I take it that’s a regulated species?”
“It’s endangered at the state level, threatened at the federal level, and tough to find at any level. I’ve already got Carter looking into possible sources. He’ll e-mail you a list as soon as he’s pulled it together.” A low murmur off camera had Lucius looking up and away, then grinning. “Thanks, Nat.” To Reese, he said, “Okay, the recipe for the antidote is headed for your in-box. It’s part of the Hopi snake dance ritual, minus the two weeks of preparation and the actual snake-handling part.”
Reese wrinkled her nose. “Glad to hear it.”
There was motion at the corner of the screen, and Natalie—who was one of the two recent additions to the winikin and a former hotshot archaeologist in the outside world—came into view. She was bubbly, driven, and in many ways the opposite of her mate, JT. They made it work, though, with her softening his hard edges, him pushing her out of her comfort zone.
And Reese really needed to stop analyzing relationships.
“I had Sasha confirm the instructions,” Natalie said into the Webcam, “but call if you get stuck.”
Reese suffered a spasm of mild horror. “I have to cook?”
Natalie grinned. “If you can make tea, you can probably handle this one. The ingredients are pretty common. The black cohosh—aka black snakeroot—is native to the eastern part of the U.S. and probably would’ve been a high-value trade item back in the day, but you should be okay. If the health-food stores don’t have it, try a homeopath.”
Reese pulled up the e-mail on her phone, saw that she’d received the promised file, and nodded. “Okay. Guess I’m going shopping.”
But as she said her good-byes and shut down her laptop, she was very aware of a low-grade churn in her stomach and the feeling that she hadn’t asked Lucius exactly the right questions. She was missing something. And that was never a good sign.
The cashier at the natural food store sent Reese a funny look as she rang up her purchases: snakeroot, sage, maize, dried beans, measuring cups and spoons, and an industrial-strength coffee grinder. At first Reese thought the girl might have recognized the ingredients for the snake ritual . . . but when she got the same sort of look at the convenience store where she loaded up on Ho Hos and Diet Coke, she started to suspect they were looking at the tired rag that had formerly been her jacket. She had brought a couple of clean shirts and underwear on what she had anticipated would be a short trip to locate Dez, and her tough combat pants looked okay despite what they had been through in the past twenty-four hours. Her coat, though, was torn and tired, and looked like what it was: city gear that had been dragged through the mud.
“You’re rationalizing,” she said to herself, earning another leery look from the convenience store clerk. “Admit it. You want the leather.”
She had parked near an upscale store that seemed to cater to either biker bitches that had money, or high rollers who wanted to look like biker bitches. Maybe both. Regardless, the mannequin in the window was wearing a hell of a jacket. Cropped in the front and dipping longer in the back, it was sleek and deceptively simple, with a square collar, off-center zip, and subtle studs on the sleeves—the good kind that wouldn’t scratch the shit out of furniture or flesh.
Reese didn’t covet often or easily, but she was feeling it now. A piece of it was probably leftover adrenaline, another piece of nostalgia. But she was also cold, and would rather have her own coat than borrow Dez’s again. That had been far too . . . intimate. So, telling herself she would make it fast, she dumped her purchases in the car, stripped out of her bedraggled city coat and headed into the store.