“Don’t—” Jax started, but the two men together forced his head down further.
Brave Jax. Evangeline was absolutely certain he’d been going to say “Don’t worry about me” and not “Don’t shoot.”
John Balin spoke evenly. “Don’t make me kill this boy for no reason. Even if you get out of this room, the hotel is full of my men and you are very far from home.”
Evangeline was outnumbered and outmatched, and Jax would die if she made the wrong move. Reluctantly, she uncurled her fingers and pressed her palms into the lining of the coffin lid. A loud poof preceded the combustion, and the fabric burst into blue flames. She stepped out of the coffin and slammed the lid closed to smother the fire.
Balin didn’t take his gun away from Jax’s head. “Donovan.”
The girl inched forward, sniffing inquisitively. Her eyebrows shot up, and her eyes went straight to Evangeline’s chest.
Evangeline’s heart sank. This girl was very talented; the ones with scent sensitivity often were. Even over the stink of magic fire in the coffin, she’d pinpointed the hidden honor blade. But then the girl stared Evangeline in the eyes and said, “She’s clear.”
Only then did Balin holster his gun, although the pinch-faced woman kept hers handy. The man who’d brought Jax in hauled him to his feet. Jax tried to walk toward Evangeline, but was pushed to the door instead.
“Leave him here,” Evangeline exclaimed.
“If my lord gives permission, you’ll have your vassal back. Until then, he stays under guard.”
“Then bring Wylit to me at once.” Evangeline snapped her fingers as if she were the person in charge, but her voice cracked.
Balin smiled coldly at her attempt to take control. “My lord has not yet arrived, but when he does, you will be summoned.” He looked her over from head to toe, and a spasm of distaste crossed his face. “In the meantime, you’ll change into something appropriate for the occasion.” The woman held up a dress of frothy white fabric. Evangeline snatched it, but when she started toward the bathroom, Balin ordered, “Donovan, go with her.”
They weren’t even going to let her into the bathroom alone. The girl, Donovan, didn’t look happy about it, but she slipped into the room with Evangeline and shut the door behind her.
The sole window was narrow and high up the wall. No escaping that way, even if she overpowered the girl. With an angry twist of her wrist, Evangeline turned on the faucet full blast and faced Donovan.
The girl eyed her sourly. “Let’s see it.”
Evangeline pulled the blouse over her head, revealing the dagger strapped across her chest. “Why didn’t you tell them?”
“So you’d owe me.”
“Why’d you tell them about my spell, then?”
The girl shrugged. “So they’d owe me.”
Evangeline drenched a washcloth in water and wiped her face and neck. She stank of fear and panic. No wonder she’d been sent in here to clean up. “You’re not a vassal?”
“I’m no one’s vassal.”
“Are you another prisoner?” The girl didn’t answer. Evangeline threw the wet cloth into the sink in frustration. “Can you at least tell me where I am?”
“Mexico.”
Evangeline shook out the dress they’d given her. It was a full length white dress with a train, like a bride might wear. Or a human sacrifice in a magic ritual. There were only thin straps instead of sleeves, and it was backless.
Donovan snorted. “You’re going to have to hide that dagger somewhere else.”
Late the next morning, Evangeline was escorted to a dining room in the hotel. The ceiling was crisscrossed by dark beams, and a mural covered one of the walls. A tall Kin man with long white hair stood in front of the mural, examining it with interest.
His vassals were lined up on either side of him. Balin stood at the head of one line, with the Donovan girl beside him. On the other side, Balin’s younger lookalike held Jax by the shoulder. Evangeline lifted her chin and straightened her back, bracing herself to face a man who’d made even her father nervous.
Then Lord Myrddin Wylit turned around, and she couldn’t contain a gasp of shock.
He was horribly burned—and not by fire. There was no mistaking the signs of magical backlash: the bluish tinge to his ruined skin, which hung from his face in peeling shreds. Some very powerful spell had gone terribly wrong.
“Evangeline Emrys,” he said, drawing out her name between thin white lips. “I am very pleased to have freed you from your captivity.”
“I was not a captive,” she said, hoping her cold expression covered the tremor in her voice. “I was exactly where I wanted to be.”
“In hiding?” Wylit scoffed lightly. “With your one fledgling vassal?”
“Don’t presume to know the extent of my connections,” she said.
Wylit indicated his chief vassal. “Balin informs me that he found you a prisoner of Transitioners, cut off from the Kin, and that you only took the boy as your vassal at the last second. You may keep him, by the way. My gift to you.”
Jax looked startled when the younger Balin handed back his honor blade. Evangeline motioned him over with a subtle curve of her fingers. Jax took the hint, strapping his dagger around his waist and crossing the room to her side.
“It’s very kind of you to give me something I already had,” Evangeline said. “If you would like to win my trust with a more significant gift, you could grant me safe passage home.”
“I’m sure you understand that’s not possible. I brought you here for a purpose.”
“I don’t even know where here is.”
Wylit raised a hand toward the mural and stepped to one side.
Now that she gave it her attention, she saw it was a map titled Zona Arqueologica de Teotihuacán. Three pyramids were connected by a long road lined with smaller temples.
“Teotihuacán,” Wylit said. “City of the Gods. When the Aztecs rose to power in the thirteenth century, this city had already been in ruins for seven hundred years. The Aztecs had no knowledge of the people who built this place—only legends of their greatness. Do you know why?”
“Because the people who lived here were wiped from existence,” Evangeline guessed. “Their timeline destroyed.”
Wylit gazed at the mural. “Imagine a city with a population in the hundreds of thousands at a time when London was a Roman village—obliterated in the span of a few seconds by a handful of Indian shamans.” Wylit turned to Evangeline. “The perfect location to right an ancient wrong.”
“You want to bring them back?”
He laughed. “Hardly.”
“Then you’re still following my father’s plan to undo the Eighth Day Spell.”
Wylit’s voice hardened. “Your father’s plan was flawed.”
Evangeline said nothing. She knew her father had been misguided. Even when she was a little girl, his passionate speeches on the matter had made her uneasy, especially when she saw what kind of allies rallied to his cause and how her mother had grown more and more reluctant to participate. But she listened silently to Wylit’s reasoning.
“The Kin are scattered across the earth, hidden among Normals. We’ve had no more than ten generations to their hundreds and are outnumbered by billions. The Wylit line has been lucky, served for centuries by the Balin family, but most Kin were weakened by this imprisonment. What would Normals do if an unexplained race suddenly appeared among them? Mistake us for aliens? How long before they decided to kill us all?”
“Then what do you have in mind?” Spit it out, she wanted to say.
“To push the seven-day timeline off this world,” Wylit said. His Kin blue eyes gleamed. “To even the odds against our Transitioner enemies by giving us the same number of days they have—and to eliminate Normals entirely.”
“Leaving a world full of empty cities,” she whispered. It was a terrible, chilling image. Evangeline might not have known, at age eleven, the correct answer to give when the Taliesin men rescued her fr
om the attack on her father’s home. But in the five years of isolation since then, she’d learned about the Normal world as best she could from her position as an outsider. She knew what her ancestor Merlin had been trying to save—and on which side of the conflict she stood.
“It can’t be done,” she said loudly to Wylit, hoping that was true.
“I’ve seen it done,” Wylit replied. “In my mind, I’ve seen this world emptied for our use.”
Prophecy was the Wylit talent. In ancient times, people took great stock in the visions of a Wylit clan leader. But Evangeline had learned from her mother that prophecies had a way of unraveling. “Be wary of those who claim to know the future,” her mother had said. “Constant, multiple, contradictory visions will drive people insane and cloud what they see.” Evangeline’s mother knew that very well. Prophetic visions had been her family’s talent too, as well as their curse.
“Forgive me, Lord Wylit,” Evangeline said cautiously, “but your injuries suggest you’ve already attempted this and did not succeed.”
“My previous attempt was premature,” he admitted. “I failed to procure everything necessary—including a spell caster as strong and spirited as you.” He smiled at her as if she were a pleasant surprise. “Additionally, we need representation of the three main bloodlines who led the casting of the spell. You, of course, are an Emrys. But we need to account for the Dulac and Pendragon bloodlines as well. It took a great deal of trouble to locate appropriate artifacts, but I have finally done so.” Wylit beckoned her to approach him. “Come, Evangeline Emrys. Meet one of your greatest enemies.”
Evangeline glanced at Jax in puzzlement, and they trailed behind Wylit to a table at the back of the room which held a large wooden crate. “Taken from a barrow in the Celtic foothills,” Wylit explained, “a long lost, once-famous queen, hidden in obscurity for millennia.”
After one peek inside, Jax recoiled, covering his nose and mouth. Evangeline had more restraint. Her life, Jax’s life, the lives of billions of people depended on Wylit being wrong. She needed to know what she was looking at. “It’s a well-preserved body,” she said at last. “Probably a Celtic queen or princess. But there’s no way of telling who she was.”
“She’s a Dulac,” the Donovan girl called out. “I can smell her from here.”
Silently, Evangeline cursed the girl. She could identify specific families? That was unfortunate—and probably the reason Evangeline’s hiding place had been discovered. It would have taken stronger wards than she could make to defend against that talent.
Wylit, meanwhile, looked pleased. “This is the recruit you spoke of, Balin? Quite a gift she has. Come, child. Tell me what you think.”
The girl’s eyes darted guiltily toward Jax, who shook his head at her. But she crossed the room anyway, gripped the wooden slats, and leaned over to sniff deeply, as if the crate were filled with roses instead of a mummified corpse two thousand years old. “This was a high-ranking Dulac,” Donovan said. “A queen, I think. I can’t say for sure she was Niviane of the Lake—but who else would be buried with that?”
“Spotted it, did you?” Wylit looked at the girl as if she were a dog with a clever trick.
“Can’t miss it. Reeks to high heaven.”
Wylit reached into the crate. “Who else, indeed?” he said. “She’s the one who gave it to him, and after his death, Sir Bedivere returned it to her.”
He pulled something free from the mummified remains and held it up in the air. “Behold, the blade of King Arthur Pendragon—Excalibur.”
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IT WAS A DAGGER.
Jax was shocked. Excalibur was supposed to be a sword. But a moment later, he realized it made perfect sense. Of course Excalibur was the honor blade King Arthur used to enhance his voice of command in battle. The iron weapon was black with corrosion, but in better shape than the mummy it came off of. Jax could still make out part of the engraved coat of arms on the hilt.
“Today we rest,” Wylit said to Evangeline. “My vassals have preparations to make at the site, and I’m awaiting arrivals not expected until this evening. We will commence after sundown. In my condition, I cannot tolerate natural light . . .”
“Of course not. Nature abhors botched magic,” Evangeline said matter-of-factly.
Jax sucked in his breath. He couldn’t believe how brave she was, standing up to this shredded-faced freak who looked like a cross between Emperor Palpatine and Freddy Krueger. The crack about botched magic seemed like it went too far, but Evangeline turned away from the creep and flared out the long skirt on her dress as if she didn’t care whether she offended him or not. “I require that you return me to my room now.”
Wylit signaled his men. Evangeline and Jax were escorted to the room where they’d held her last night. As soon as the door closed, Evangeline threw her arms around Jax. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He felt her trembling and hugged her back, realizing how much of an act she’d been putting on in front of Wylit. “I’m okay. I was worried about you.”
“Jax, I’m so sorry you were dragged into this.”
“I led the Donovans to your hiding place,” Jax said, swallowing hard. “They found you because of me.”
She smiled sadly. “People have been after me since before you were born. It’s not your fault.”
“Riley’s coming for us.”
Evangeline sank down on a corner of the bed. “But?”
“But I don’t know what kind of plan he has or even if he knows where we are.” Jax hated to squelch her hope of rescue, but she needed to know. He sat down beside her and explained how Riley had planted a man among Wylit’s vassals who could be sworn to more than one liege. “Riley said to trust him. But Miller told me that if he couldn’t rescue you, he’d have to . . .”
“Kill me.” She didn’t look surprised. “If it comes to it”—Evangeline lifted her chin—“you let him do what he has to do. Billions of people are a lot more important than I am.”
Jax shook his head but didn’t argue with her. It didn’t matter. Miller wasn’t here; Riley probably wasn’t going to get here in time; Jax and Evangeline were on their own.
“If you see any opportunity to escape by yourself,” Evangeline said. “I want you to take it. Don’t stick around for me.”
“No way.”
“You’re the only friend I’ve ever had. I want you to be safe. I can order you to go.”
He thought that over and tested it against what little he knew of magic—and his new vassalhood. “You don’t have Riley’s voice of command. You can’t compel me to leave if my place is with you.”
“Jax, I’m only pretending that Wylit owes me any courtesy or respect, and he’s only pretending to give it. When I refuse to do what he wants, it’ll get ugly.”
Jax thought of her brother and knew that now was not the time to tell her what happened to him. “Then let’s do more than refuse.” He stood up. “Let’s mess up his ritual. If everything isn’t exactly perfect, it won’t work, right?”
Evangeline stared at him. “A small thing could throw a massive spell like this off, but it’s also dangerous and unpredictable.” She paused to think. “Wylit’s not going to let me cast a spell in the middle of his ceremony, and if I set something up in advance, that Donovan girl will know. Whose side is she on?”
“Her own.”
“Everyone’s going to be watching me, but they might not keep as close an eye on you.”
Yeah, what am I going to do? Ask a bunch of questions? Jax doubted that revealing someone’s bedwetting issues was going to get them out of this kind of trouble. “The Balins aren’t affected by my magic,” he said. “They don’t think I’m much of a threat.”
“If I give you a spell to hold, maybe your friend won’t tell.”
“She’s not my friend,” Jax
said. Then her words sank in. “Can you actually give me a spell? Like what you had last night?” He didn’t understand the difference between a spell and a talent, but she’d set a coffin on fire with her bare hands, and if he could do that . . .
“That spell’s too hard to hold for more than a couple minutes,” she said. “It would have to be something else. Do you think you can remember a brief incantation in Welsh?”
“I’ll be freakin’ Harry Potter if you need me to be.”
“If I send you out to tell them I demand food or something, can you steal a candle and matches? If natural light hurts him, I can work with that.”
He nodded. “There’s candles on the tables in the courtyard outside this room.”
“They might kill us if we do this,” she warned him.
“So what else is new?”
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AFTER SUNDOWN, Jax and Evangeline were moved from the hotel into one of the Land Rovers and driven down a cobblestone road to the Avenue of the Dead. Information on Teotihuacán swam up from Jax’s memory, although he would’ve sworn he’d never paid any attention to Extraterrestrial Evidence. There were three famous structures in this ancient city: the Pyramid of the Moon at the end of the avenue; the Feathered Serpent Pyramid, hidden behind hills almost a mile away; and the Pyramid of the Sun—the third largest pyramid in the world.
It was going to be one heck of a climb to the top.
Wylit couldn’t do it. His men had brought a sedan chair to carry their lord like a king. Heavy and wooden, with carvings on the legs and back, it was cushioned in red velvet and topped by a canopy. Two poles were bolted to the arms so that four men could carry it. When Jax saw Wylit emerge from one of the Land Rovers, he didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up.
The Kin lord had dressed himself like an Aztec king. He was bare chested, which exposed more of his flaky, peeling fish skin, and bare legged beneath a short skirt. To top it all off, he wore a headdress of feathers fitted around the carved wooden face of a serpent.
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