“We don’t have time for this.” She tugged at his arm.
He didn’t budge. More, his normally easygoing demeanor had hardened and a glint had entered his eyes. “Yes we do. It’s important. Start talking.”
She didn’t want to think about it, because the link, too, was a lie. But she trusted Lucius. “It started when I was bitten by the makol.” She quickly described the thin trickle of energy that had fitfully connected them ever since their blood and energies had mingled. “And when we . . .” She faltered as a stab of grief ripped through her.
Lucius finished for her. “And when you make love, sometimes it seems that you can feel what he’s feeling and see the world through his eyes.”
Hating how the reminder brought a prickle of tears and made her yearn, she snapped, “Like I said, a blood-link.”
But his eyes had taken on a strange glint. “A blood-link comes from shared DNA—siblings, parents and children, that sort of thing. What you’re talking about is the early stages of the jun tan connection. The mated bond.”
“Bullshit.” The word burst out of her.
“Not bullshit. Jun tan.” He tapped his wrist, where he wore the curving glyph. “And, especially when it’s newly formed, the bond won’t activate unless the two of you are open to each other, not holding anything back. Which means he was telling the truth about why he locked you up.”
Shock took her breath and she sagged against the nearest wall. “You’re kidding.” Her heart leaped at the possibility, but twisted as she warned herself not to talk herself into believing what she wanted to. “The spirit guide said we weren’t meant to be mates.”
“Looks like you’re falling in love with each other anyway.”
Her mouth went dry. “No.” The whisper wasn’t a denial of her feelings, but of the hope that suddenly swept through her. “Oh, God.” Could it be true? She pressed a hand to her suddenly jittery stomach as her mind skipped around, thoughts jumbling into a mishmash of yearning and regret. “He’s a Triad mage,” she said, heart beginning to pound with excitement even as her practical side poked at the gaps in the pattern. “He could’ve manipulated the magic.”
“Not this kind of magic,” Lucius said with quiet assurance. “The jun tan doesn’t answer to anything but true emotion.”
“But I . . .” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, didn’t know how she felt, but as the new information sank in and the pattern rearranged itself into something that fit perfectly, she heard his parting words whisper in her heart. Maybe we missed our chance.
She must have looked suddenly panicked, because Lucius’s expression took on a tinge of empathy. “It’s early yet. If this isn’t what you want—”
“I need to talk to him,” she interrupted, her heart suddenly beating hard and fast in her ears. “I need him to know . . . No. Wait.” No distractions. Let him keep his mind on the fight. But what if he didn’t make it through? What if he died with her angry words and his quiet despair the last thing between them? He dies, we all die, logic said, because without the serpent king to stop him, Lord Vulture would arise.
“Come on.” Lucius steered her through the archway and onto the upper landing of the great room. “Let’s get some brownies and try the satellite feed again, and when that doesn’t work, I’ll introduce you to the suckfest called ‘stuck at home, waiting for news.’ ”
Reese let out a shuddering breath as they turned for the kitchen. “Okay. Deal.” She glanced over at him. “Fair warning. I’m not very good at waiting.”
“There’s a shock. I—” He broke off as his crutch slipped out from underneath him, then hissed as the move jarred his bad leg. Reese grabbed his arm, steadying him as she looked down, expecting to find spilled water, maybe a leak.
Except it wasn’t water. It was blood.
She hissed as all of her quick fears about makol in the compound came racing back. Yanking the .44 and going into survival mode, she said in a low voice, “Check on the others. If they’re okay, have them get armed and get out here.”
“Oh, shit,” he said, face going stark. “This isn’t good.” But as Reese moved away, she heard him activate his armband, heard a reassuringly calm answer from one of the winikin, elsewhere in the compound.
The blood started thinly—a few gravitational drops near the archway leading to the royal quarters, a couple of smears tracking to a nearby hallway. Then it got heavier as it turned down another hall and started weaving, then turned to bloody scuff marks as it turned through the doorway leading to the sacred chamber. Pulse hammering, she tucked herself beside the door, crouched, and took a look around the edge, staying low. Then she froze for a second, mind refusing to process the horror-movie scene.
Anna lay motionless near the altar, wearing blood-soaked pajamas. More of the red liquid was splashed on the altar, the floor, the curving walls, even the glass ceiling, creating reddish patches on the floor where the sun shone through. She was alone. There was no makol, and the ceremonial knife clutched in her hand, the vivid slashes on her wrists, said there never had been.
“Jesus.” Reese was up and into the room in a flash, jamming the .44 in her belt as she dropped down beside the motionless woman. The cuts were fresh and running, showing a sluggish pulse. Reese’s stomach grew queasy as the salty tang of blood invaded her lungs, her sinuses, but she grabbed the other woman’s wrists, gripped tightly, and lifted her arms above the level of her heart. Her blood was warm and wet, sticky in spots.
She heard Lucius’s uneven steps out in the hallway. “It’s Anna,” she called in scant warning, hurting for him. “She’s—”
“Oh, gods.” His voice was low and broken, as if he wasn’t all that surprised. He stood for a half second in the doorway, then limped to let himself down on Anna’s other side, his leg sticking out at an awkward angle as he wedged himself behind her, up against the altar, so he could support her upper body while Reese kept the pressure on.
“We found her quickly,” she said, but almost couldn’t hear herself over the thunder of her pulse. Then she realized the thundering noise was the sound of boots on tile. The others were coming. Natalie was the first one through the door; she gave a low cry and went pasty when she got a look at the scene. Several other winikin were right behind her; their faces mirrored her shock.
“Make a hole,” a voice barked, and JT came through carrying a medic’s duffel. He took one look, dumped the bag, and started yanking out IV materials. “What the hell happened? There wasn’t a damned thing on the monitors. Nothing got in or out of here.”
“She was holding the knife when I got here,” Reese said.
“The solstice must’ve triggered something inside her,” Lucius said raggedly. “But she should be healing. Why the hell isn’t she healing?”
Without warning, Anna’s eyes flew open and she gasped—a long, sucked-in breath that arched her body, tipping her head back and raising her chest until she was supporting herself on her ass and the crown of her head.
“She’s seizing!” JT went for the IV line with a loaded syringe.
Lucius grabbed his arm. “No, wait. Look!”
Anna’s mouth worked and her head lolled wildly, but then her movements smoothed out as she scanned the room . . . and locked on to Reese. Suddenly, her hands twisted in Reese’s, reversing their grip until she wasn’t holding pressure on Anna’s wrists anymore—the other woman was holding hers. Instinct told her to wrestle free, but she made herself stay put and meet Anna’s eyes, which were clear now, with none of the fog that had clouded them for more than a year. But at the same time they were vacant and uncomprehending. Which made it doubly eerie when she said, voice cracking, “The serpent staff cannot be wielded without balance—without it, the temple will become a doorway without a door and the vulture will be set free. You must stop the serpent prince from tipping the balance !” Then, like a switch had been thrown, the fog snapped back. She shuddered and let go of Reese’s hands.