“Father,” Strike said, his voice a pained rasp, his face etched with grief over what he was giving up— for himself, for his bloodline. But the nahwal smiled as he held up a stone scepter carved into the shape of a rampant, large-nosed god. Then he brought it over his knee. And broke it.
Pain tore into Dez’s biceps, high up where the muscles intersected. He gritted his teeth, smelled burning flesh. Sacrifice, he thought, and held Strike’s eyes, saw agony as the hunab ku, the king’s mark, transferred from one to the other.
Something shifted in Dez’s chest, then in his head and heart. And, suddenly, he felt the fealty oaths and responsibilities truly interconnect within him, felt the mark stabilize on his arm, felt the weight of generations past and future weighing him down and buoying him up. He locked eyes with Reese, with his mate and queen, as he became king. Lightning flashed and both the nahwal and the Manikin scepter disappeared in the brilliant flare of light. And the air went still.
Dez crossed to Reese, took her hands, raised them to his lips, and whispered, “Thank you for making it here in time.”
She rose up on her tiptoes and returned the kiss, ramping the heat to a humming in his blood. “Thank you for turning down whatever the star demon offered you when you killed Iago.”
He went still. “How did you know?”
“I know patterns. And I know you.”
Yes, she did. Better than anyone ever had or would. And she still loved him, which was the fucking miracle. He drew her in, crushed his lips to hers, and took them under with a kiss.
Reese’s thoughts raced almost as fast as her blood as they kissed, but there were no reservations, no regrets. He was arrogant and imperfect, yet perfect for her. And he was the only man she had ever loved, would ever love. And loving him wasn’t a trap. She wouldn’t let it be. That was what she put into her kiss, and what she took back from him.
“Look!” Anna cried softly, pointing upward.
High above the temple, the cloudless sky had begun to glow. The firebird screamed, launched itself from the highest pillar and took wing, spiraling joyously up into the sky, trailing flames from its wings.
Leah gasped and sagged, nearly hitting the ground before Strike could catch her. There was another flurry as Alexis lurched against Nate.
And then, as a clarion trumpet call sounded from far away, Leah and Strike laughed with joy, their faces lifted to the sky. “Kulkulkan!” she cried, reaching up as if to touch a flash of red, a slide of scales, a glimpse of the creator god she had been separated from for so long. Then, suddenly, the temple pillars brightened, becoming colors—not the compass points this time, but the full rainbow. The glows lifted, headed skyward, and then shot straight up to where the firebird circled, wheeling and dipping.
“Ixchel,” Alexis whispered, her face alight as she was bathed in the rainbow light of her goddess.
“Look!” Sasha gasped. “More!” And it was true: high above, through the glowing gap in the sky, they could see a wing here, a flash of scales, clothing, jewels, and stones as the gods acknowledged their lost children.
Then, as the height of the solstice passed, the sky solidified, the glow disappeared, and even the firebird was gone, the sun shining brightly where it had last been.
Reese gripped Dez tightly, then sucked in an awed breath as the rainbow light drew back into itself, returning to the temple. As it hit the pillars, the stone shimmered and changed . . . and when the glimmer faded, where the undulating serpent had been, there were four columns, one at each compass point. Each of them was a jaguar, with Strike, Leah, Sasha, and Anna standing ranged in front of them, looking stunned.
In the center, a huge chac-mool altar arched over a linteled doorway that led into the earth. As they watched, the doorway shimmered and went solid, closing until the next cardinal day.
“Holy shit.” Reese breathed, gripping Dez’s hand tightly and getting a squeeze in return.
In sacrificing his kingship, Strike had won them a new intersection. The Nightkeepers had fulfilled the prophecies. And their luck had finally turned.
Dez whooped, lifted her, and spun her in a dizzying circle while cheers rose up into the sky. Tears glistened, crazy grins flared, kisses met and melded, and Sven’s coyote tipped up his nose in a joyous howl. More, movement rippled in a concentric pattern moving outward from the temple as the villagers began to stir. Dez tugged Reese so they could look over the edge to where a clamor of noise was suddenly swelling. The villagers weren’t makol anymore. But from the looks on their faces, they were sure as hell confused, headed toward terrified.
“I’ve got this,” Rabbit said. He turned to Dez. “Cheech and his brothers are out there—I can feel his echo. They’ll help me translate.”
“And me.” Myrinne put herself next to him.
Dez nodded. “Keep in touch, let us know if you need anything, blah, blah.”
Rabbit’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Dez lifted a shoulder. “I don’t have the history with you that the others do. And”—he glanced down at Reese, eyes softening—“I’m learning to deal with the person standing in front of me, not the one I remember, or think I remember, from before. So, yeah. That’s it. Try not to make me look like an idiot.”
“Will do.” Rabbit grabbed Myrinne’s hand and headed into the milling crowd.
Reese watched them go, instincts pinching. “Are you sure about that?”
“No. But I can’t blame him for what he might do.” He watched Rabbit a moment longer, then turned to the others. “Time to head home.” He looked at Strike. “Can you handle it?”
Strike grinned and held out his hand to Anna. “We’ve got this one. No more misfires. Promise.”
Reese was laughing as she linked fingers with Dez, lifted up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his, so they were kissing while the world lurched sideways, went gray-green, and the Nightkeepers headed back to Skywatch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
One month later
Denver
“I still can’t believe it.” Reese spun in a wide circle, hands outstretched, head tipped back so she could take in the transformation.
Warehouse Seventeen was being rehabbed into Skywatch North.
Local crews and contractors crawled over the place, shouting questions and answers, and wielding power tools that sounded like makol buzz-swords, but creating rather than killing. The charred warehouse ruin had been stripped back to its girders and was being rebuilt, not just to its former questionable glory, but into an entirely new incarnation, with three tiers of offices and bedrooms surrounding a central atrium that was open to the sky through tinted glass panels. The Nightkeepers’ ceremonial objects and armaments would be put in later. For now, it was all about bringing the building—and the neighborhood—up several notches.
Standing a few feet away with his hands in the pockets, Dez raised an eyebrow. “Can’t believe I bought the place, can’t believe how far the renovations have gotten, or can’t believe that I did it on the sly?”
“All of the above.” She stopped spinning and grinned at him, her heart catching at the sight of her man. Her mate.
Wearing jeans, combat boots, and a brown bomber that hid his marks and his .44, he looked as tough and capable as always, but there was more now. The heavy weight of his responsibilities had added new lines to his face, new tension in his jaw. But those were balanced by the glow that lit his eyes when he looked at her, crossed to her, and brushed his lips across hers.