“Break ’em,” Nate said promptly. “We’ve made it this far with the fates pissed at us. We can make it the rest of the way.”
Several of the others nodded, all magi. The older winikin, though, didn’t. They knew how bad things could get when a king went off the rails. More, they weren’t just talking about Skywatch now; they were talking about the whole damn world, and he couldn’t put himself ahead of that, no matter how badly he wanted to. He might buy himself a few more hours, days or even months, but at what cost?
“Lord Vulture symbolizes a nuclear winter,” he said quietly. “I don’t think we can break them.”
“We might be able to reinterpret them,” Lucius said. Strike had brought him in to things just past one that morning, and it showed in his haggard face. But his red-rimmed eyes gleamed. “Some of the prophecies have had tricks to them, loopholes. Like the way I avoided pieces of the library prophecy because it specified the magi, and I’m human.”
“You find me a loophole and I’ll owe you a beer.” Hell, a lifetime supply.
“Deal.”
Strike looked around the room. “I’m not giving up,” he said, giving each word extra weight. “I’m going to fight this thing in my head every step of the way, and I’m sure as shit not going to roll over and play—” Bad word choice. “I’m not going to throw myself on anyone’s knife voluntarily. But in the meantime, I can’t ignore the other shit that’s going down here. And neither can any of you.”
Leah shifted beside him, tense. This was where she wanted the conversation to end, period. She wanted to pour every resource and every waking minute into figuring out what was going on with him and how to stop it. And, yeah, if the situations were reversed, he would want the same thing—hell, he would find a way to make it happen, even if it meant knocking her out and locking her in the basement for her own good. Been there, done that. But the thing was, as much as he considered her his equal in most things, his superior in some, she wasn’t the jaguar king of the Nightkeepers. Saving her had created ripples . . . but if he went against the gods now, it would make waves. And putting everything they had into this fight would be self-indulgent, which had never really been an option for him.
For one, Jox would kick his ass. And, damn, he missed the old guy. He had lost his winikin, was watching Anna slip further away each day . . . and now this. Where was it going to end? Or was that the point? Was this it for the jaguars?
“Which brings us to Dez,” Nate said, as if reading his mind.
“Exactly.” Strike scrubbed a hand over his eyes to clear the grit, then stopped when he realized the problem wasn’t with his eyes. The fog was back, creeping in around the edges of his vision. Swallowing, he said, “I’m sure some of you have issues with my naming him heir and putting him in charge of ops—trust me, I’ve been through all the what-ifs.” He paused, sobering. “The thing is, the prophecies are there and the logic is sound. If you guys can poke holes in it, be my guest. But if not . . . then he needs to be the guy, and you’re going to need to deal.” Which would be easier for some than others.
There was a round of low murmurs and some curses, but nobody spoke up. In the relative silence, he was conscious of a faint hum coming from the strange, knotted pulse that had taken up residence at the back of his brain just that morning. He was very carefully not thinking about it, because when he did, the fog got worse and his mind started playing tricks on him, replaying one fragment of Anna’s message over and over again: The prophecies must be fulfilled or Vucub will reign.
“Oh, come on!” JT jerked to his feet, eyes gone nearly molten silver with frustration. “This is bullshit.” Beside him, Natalie winced a little, but stayed quiet. Which meant she agreed with the content, if not the delivery. JT continued, “Tell me you’re not serious. The guy’s unpredictable, and as far as trusting him, forget it. There’s a big difference between a guy who comes out of prison having learned his lesson and one who comes out having learned to beat the system. He’s not the first kind, I’ll bet my right arm on that.” He paused, looking around the room. “Yesterday morning, half of you wanted to kick him out of the compound for hiding the truth about the serpent staff. Now you’re acting like it makes sense to not just put him in charge of tomorrow’s op, but to make him the frigging heir apparent.”
Strike moved to get in his line of sight, knowing JT wouldn’t look at him unless he was forced to. The unbound winikin might have agreed to become part of the war effort but he was far from ready to forgive and forget. When the other man sent him a sidelong look, Strike said, “The situation has changed. We’re talking about prophecies and nuclear freaking winter here, so you’ll have to forgive me if I think we should hit things with the biggest hammer we’ve got. Right now, whether we like it or not, that’s Mendez.” He paused. “This isn’t what I had planned for. It’s not what I want . . . but it might be the only way for most of us to get through this solstice intact.”
Leah made a soft noise, but didn’t say anything.
Some of the tension went out of JT. “Look, I’m sorry about what you’re going through. Seriously. If I could do something to help, I would. And if it comes down to it, I’ll follow orders. But I’ve gotta ask . . . Are you sure this is coming from the right place?”
“Because a jaguar king acting on his dreams is your worst nightmare?”
“You said it, not me.” The unbound winikin looked around the room at the others. “And you guys are all oath bound. You’ve got to go along with it.”
Lucius grated, “What would you rather have us do, sit around and count votes for the next thirty-six hours? There’s a structure here, a way of doing things that’s evolved over thousands of years and exists for a reason. Strike knows what he’s doing . . . and so does Leah. I’d follow either of them into the heart of the nuclear storm. So, yeah, even without the prophecies, I’m on board . . . and I’m not bound by any oath.” He rose and held out a hand to Jade. “Come on. Let’s crack some books.”
Natalie got to her feet, too, and when JT glared at her, she glared right back. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that I came here to help the Nightkeepers protect the barrier, not to play politics.” But she reached out and straightened his collar. “Don’t be too big of an ass, okay?”
He stared after her as she followed Jade and Lucius out through the sliders that led to the pool deck, shoulders slumping a little as the fight drained out of him. “Shit,” he said under his breath, following that up with, “Damn it all to hell.”
With any of the others, Strike would’ve clapped him on the shoulder. Instead, he said, “You’d be an idiot not to be scared.”
“I’m not . . .” He shook his head. “It didn’t use to matter so much. Bosnia, the Middle East, the death-bat caves down south. I didn’t care if I died, really. Now I do.”
Strike glanced over and caught Leah’s eye. “I know the feeling.” But as much as he couldn’t imagine leaving her behind, he couldn’t do what she wanted either.
JT slid him a look. “I’ll fight alongside you and the others. But I’m fighting for her.”
“Better watch it or I’ll start liking you.”
The winikin snorted. “Give it five minutes, it’ll fade.”
As he moved off, Strike saw that the meeting was breaking up slowly, awkwardly, with lots of looks in his direction that said each of them wanted some one-on-one with their king. But he was cold and tired, and the humming whine in his ears was pissing him off. He just wanted—Shit, this wasn’t about what he wanted. They needed face time, and he would give it to them, even if it was going to feel too damn much like saying good-bye.