Magic Unchained

by Jessica Andersen

  Beneath the desperation, grief and anger blossomed. Huge, horrifying, crippling guilt. Of all the things he’d fucked up in his life—and there had been many—this was the worst. She had trusted him, loved him without reservation—he knew that now for certain. She had only been trying to help him. As always. And he had killed her for it.

  “Think, dumb ass.” There had to be some way to connect the skull’s power to Myrinne’s soul as it slipped away. Some kind of magic, or artifact, or…

  What about the eccentrics?

  He froze, feeling them weigh suddenly heavy in his pocket. They were powerful, they could forge a conduit to the dead, and the room was skewed so heavily toward light magic, his gut said there was no way the demon that had called itself his mother could break through.

  Fumbling, he pulled out the stones. The blood from his cut palms streaked along their slicked surfaces, muddying the black and ocher as he placed them together and put them on her chest, above her heart. “Please, gods,” he whispered, thinking it was fitting that he was on his knees already. “Please bring her back.”

  He clasped the skull between their palms once more, and whispered, “Pasaj och.” And—holy shit and thank you, gods—brilliant red light flared from the eccentrics and whizzed around Myrinne, wrapping her in a cocoon of magic. “Yes, that’s it. That’s it. Pasaj och!”

  The skull heated.

  Pulse racing now, he dug down and called all the magic he could will up from deep within him. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss, shuddering at the coolness of her lips, their unresisting softness. She was worth ten of him, a hundred, because what use was all his power if he kept losing sight of right and wrong? “Please, baby. Please come back,” he whispered against her mouth. “Pasaj—”

  Glass crashed suddenly overhead and shards rained down. Cursing, he flung himself over Myrinne, protecting her face and upper body as he cast a shield of pure fire energy around the two of them.

  Black ropes slapped the stone around him and figures descended through the unshielded skylights, and then dozens of winikin, lighter and faster than the magi, hit the ground running to fan out around him, weapons hot. One among them, though, was bigger and hit harder. Sven.

  “No!” Rabbit shouted, and gripped the skull, frantically casting a second shield around it so— Too late. Power surged, and the artifact dissolved from his hand and reappeared in Sven’s grip. “Noo!”

  “It’s over,” Dez said, stepping through the main doorway, which was open now that Rabbit’s shield was concentrated around him and Myrinne. “You need to let us have her.”

  Wild eyed and beyond himself, Rabbit grabbed the eccentrics, which burned to the touch, feeling strange and fleshy. “It’s not over. I won’t let it be over. I love her; don’t you get it? I love her; I’ve always loved her, ever since that very first day. Nobody but her.” He lurched to his feet, kicking his old man’s knife aside as he brandished the joined eccentrics like a weapon, and only then realizing that together they formed a sharply pointed sacrificial blade. How had he not seen that before? Had they changed, or had he? Reversing the blade, he realized the truth. He had changed the nightmare after all—it wasn’t his knife dripping blood anymore; it was the joined eccentrics… and he was the one who needed to be sacrificed. “Balance,” he rasped, finally understanding what he had to do. “A life for a life.”

  The fog rose up inside him again, reaching for him, calling to him.

  “Rabbit, no!” someone cried through the mist. “Don’t. Let us—”

  He drove the blade into his gut, angling up for his heart. It was like being punched in the stomach by a fist made of fire—a solid thud and then burning, radiating pain.

  Then something went pop inside him, and he knew he’d found his target.

  Sadness—sweet and profound—welled up with the tears that suddenly flooded his eyes. He collapsed across Myrinne. “Take me instead,” he grated to the gods. The knife was buried in his heart, and he was giving of his own free will. “Send her back,” he said, his voice bubbling with blood. “Take me inst…”

  His shield spell faltered and— Crack! A brilliant burst of power that originated from the eccentrics momentarily painted everything in the room with the oily brown sheen of dark magic. From inside it emerged the demon who had claimed to be his mother. She wasn’t a ghost anymore, wasn’t even human—her eyes glowed red and her teeth were pointed to fangs. Power surrounded her like an unholy halo, shielding her when the Nightkeepers attacked with fireballs, the winikin with guns. Seeming not to notice them, she grabbed Rabbit and dragged him off Myrinne.

  He tried to struggle, to reach out for her, but couldn’t move; he was too far gone. He hung limp in the demon’s grip as she summoned the magic of the eccentrics and began a transport spell.

  “No!” Dez shouted, and lunged, only to come up against the demoness’s shield.

  Rabbit saw the king’s face etched with rage and horror, saw the others trying to get to him, saw their despair. But what mattered in the last instant before the ’port spell took effect was seeing the faintest flutter of Myrinne’s lashes. Then the spell took hold and crack! Skywatch was gone.

  Over the next hour, even though her heart was heavy with Rabbit’s disappearance and the inability of the magi to track him, Cara did her damnedest to hold herself—and her winikin—together as the minutes ticked down to their planned departure for Che’en Yaaxil.

  Myrinne was barely alive, and nobody had a clue what had happened, or what sort of apparition had taken Rabbit. It hadn’t been a god or nahwal, hadn’t been anything the magi had seen before. So what, exactly, was it? How had it gotten inside Skywatch? What did it mean for the coming battle? They still had the screaming skull and it appeared undamaged, but would it work to bring back the First Father? Gods, she hoped so.

  Regardless, the winikin had their marching orders: Defend the magi, and no matter what happens, don’t let the enemy interrupt the resurrection spell.

  “Fifteen minutes to teleport,” Strike called from the hallway, his voice ragged. He’d been hit particularly hard; Rabbit was his younger brother in every way that mattered.

  Cara and several other volunteers were cleaning up the sacred chamber, which had originally looked like something out of a TV crime scene. It was still pretty bad, though, so when a broad-shouldered figure filled the doorway, she held up a hand, thinking it was Strike. “Stop there. Don’t…” She faltered at the sight of Sven. “Oh. Hey.”

  He tipped his head toward the hallway. “Can I have a few minutes?”

  She hadn’t forgotten that he’d called her right before the alarms went off, or how serious he’d sounded. And, as she took in his grim expression, she knew that was a big part of why she had found some busywork to do with her last half hour before the teleport. She tried to tell herself it was a good sign that he’d come looking for her now, that he wouldn’t do anything to damage their rapport right before the battle… but her heart lumped in her throat as she stripped off her gloves and moved to join him, and her stomach shimmied as he guided her through a little-used door off the east side of the mansion.

  It opened to a small tree-filled courtyard that was tucked behind the garage and faced away from the main compound, so all that could be seen beyond the mansion was sand and sky, and a lone bird riding an airstream high above them. The sight stirred something inside Cara, making her want to run fast and far, and never look back. But that was his MO, not hers, so she faced him squarely and said, “Tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

  “I know you can.” He brushed a few strands of hair back from her cheek, tucking them behind her ear. “I think you can handle anything you set your mind to. I just wish you didn’t have to. I wish… Shit. I’m not doing this right.” He took both of her hands in his own, so they were facing each other, fingers intertwined.

  The scene was suddenly very like that first vision, making her instantly aware of their clothing. He was wearing combat black and she wa
s in a white T-shirt, albeit with camo pants and combat boots. Black and white, hands joined beneath a bower. Her heart went thudda-thudda and her throat dried to dust at the sudden crazy thought. No, impossible. There’s no way. He’s not—

  “I need you to release me from the promises I’ve made to you.”

  “You… Wait. What?” That was so far from where her head had gone that she stuttered for a second while her stomach went freefalling. “Which one?”

  “All of them.”

  “Bullshit.” But his expression held grim apology rather than any hint of an ill-timed joke.

  He squeezed her hands like he never wanted to let go. But he said, “I’m sorry, Cara. I need you to set me free.”

  Nausea surged as she flashed on the sight of him standing at the window last night, staring out at the world. But that didn’t do a damn thing to take the edge off the shock that raced through her, didn’t come close to filling the yawning pit that opened up inside her. Yes, she’d seen his restlessness, felt him pulling away, but she’d thought they had more time. She had thought he would settle down, get into the rhythm of being back at Skywatch… and being with her. But he hadn’t even given it a chance.

  Anger flaring, she burst out, “Seriously? You’re doing this now?”

  “I have to.” His face was stark, his voice flat, and something in his expression made her think that this wasn’t just about him getting squirrelly.

  She took a deep breath. “Talk to me, Sven. Help me understand what’s going on in your head, because by the gods, right now it feels just like old times. Only it’s worse. Much, much worse, because I care about you so much more now.” She swallowed. “Please tell me you’re not bailing already.”

  “I’ve been having dreams, Cara. Dreams and waking visions of being in the rain forest near Che’en Yaaxil, searching for something. They’re like the flashes I started getting right before Mac and I bonded, only they’re more… I don’t know. Frantic, I guess. Like something really bad is coming.”

  She exhaled softly. “You’re afraid you won’t be able to react the way you need to if you’re caught up in managing the winikin and trying to watch my back.” She squeezed his hands, tried for a smile. “We can work with that.”

  “That’s part of it, yeah. There’s something else, though…” He returned her squeeze, but didn’t smile. “I’m blocked, Cara.”

  “You’re…”

  “Blocked. My magic isn’t working right. Mac can hear me but I can’t hear him, can’t tap into his senses. Worse, I nearly used myself up zapping the skull away from Rabbit, and that was a short-range translocation. Power-wise, I’m back down to where I was before Mac and I bonded, maybe less.”

  She glanced down at their joined hands, and stretched her senses toward the small trickle of warmth that was so new yet already a part of her. “I can still feel you.”

  His eyes went sad. “I can feel you, but I can’t tap into that connection for power. I can’t tap into anything, and that’s a huge problem.”

  Panic sparked. They were… what, ten minutes to teleport? Less? “Maybe it has to do with the cave, or the skull. Maybe—”

  “I don’t think the blockage is related to the visions, at least not directly.” He glanced away from her, toward the horizon. “I think that it’s coming from inside me.”

  Ah, she thought, and then… Oh. Disappointment surged through her—disappointment in him for being who he was, in herself for forgetting. “Because you’re fighting your nature.”

  His eyes flicked to hers. “You knew?”

  “I… Yeah. I didn’t want to see it, though.”

  “I didn’t want to feel it. These past few days have been like a dream, a fantasy. A few times I’ve woken up in the middle of the night or early in the morning, and just watched you sleep for a minute, thinking to myself, ‘There she is. After all these years, there she is.’ And I was as happy as I can ever remember being.” He met her eyes fully, and she saw everything she had been hoping for in him as he said, “I wanted—I want to stay here with you, be with you. I swear it, Cara.”

  “Then stay. Be with me.” Emotions raced through her, jamming in a huge lump in her throat.

  “I can’t. I tried to ignore it, but… this is who I am.” He raised their joined hands and pressed his lips to her knuckles in a move that shouldn’t have put distance between them, yet somehow did. “We don’t have much more time. I’m sorry as hell to do this to you, but I need you to release me from my vows to protect you and help you with the winikin.”

  The blood rushed in her ears. “Then what?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Pressing his forehead to hers, he said, “Then I’m going to block our bond and open myself back up to the urges of my bloodline. I’ll stay and fight with you for as long as I can… but I can’t promise anything more than that.”

  She told herself not to ask, to let it go until after the resurrection spell had been cast. But she asked anyway. “What about us? Is this it?”

  “I hope not. I don’t want it to be.” He eased back, searching her eyes. “Cara, I’m crazy about you. I want to be right next to you every moment that I can. I want to help you, protect you, show off for you.… Hell, I’ve never felt like this about anybody, ever, and I need you to believe that.”

  Her eyes filled, damn it. “So what are you suggesting?”

  “We could take it day by day, see what happens.” He brushed a thumb across her lashes. “You could take me as I am. A coyote… but one who cares for you very much. Can we make that be enough for now?”

  Part of her wanted to say, Yes, absolutely. We can make it work. Anything to not give in to the heartache that was beginning to claw at the thought that this was the end of the fireworks. Gods, in a few short days he had become part of her world. He had been everywhere with her, done everything.

  Can we make that be enough for now? It echoed in her head, in her heart. And the thing was, it should have been enough. It was just supposed to be fireworks and good times, a way to live the next three months to their fullest in case they were her last. So it shouldn’t matter if he was there some nights and not others. She was fine on her own, after all.

  But it did matter. She had learned many things over the past couple of weeks—about herself, about him, about the two of them together—and although there was plenty she didn’t know yet, plenty she didn’t understand, she knew one thing for certain: Day by day wasn’t going to work for her. Not when it came to Sven.

  Maybe a different woman would have been able give him the “I’ll see you when I see you” that he was looking for. She couldn’t, though. After a lifetime of being low-priority for everyone except her mom, she wanted more, damn it. She wanted what she’d had for the past few days. And she wanted to know he was there for good, and that he was staying because of her, not because of the gods, or the nahwal’s message, or the coming battle. For her. If she gave in now, she’d be giving up what she wanted, what she needed, so he could regain his power. But in doing so, she would lose her own power, and that was just as important.

  And that wasn’t just the woman talking now; it was the winikin’s leader.

  Her heart tore as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, then ached when she saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. “I release you from your vows,” she said. “You are a free man, not bound to me in any way.”

  “That’s not true. You have my heart.”

  She yanked away from him to stand on her own with her hands balled into fists. “Don’t! You don’t get to say things like that if you’re not going to back them up.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You won’t. There’s a difference.” Aware that she was shouting, she took a breath, tried to level off. “You say you want to be with me? Then be with me. You say you want to stay? Then stay.”

  “But the magic won’t—”

  “Bullshit. The way I’ve heard it, the magic gets blocked when a mage shuts himself off from his emotions. Which means the problem
s you’re having aren’t because of your bloodline or your visions… it’s about making a commitment.”

  And damned if he didn’t wince. “Cara. Babe. You don’t know for sure that’s what’s going on.”

  “You don’t know it isn’t, and don’t call me ‘babe.’ Save that for your endless string of beach bunnies.” An inner churning warned her that they were out of time, but she knew that they needed to settle this now, that they both needed to go into battle as strong and whole as possible, whether together or apart. Swallowing, knowing this was her last-ditch, she continued. “You say you’ve wanted me for years, but you stayed away because of my father. Now you’ve got me—you can keep me—but you’re turning away because of the magic. Well, I’m calling a final ‘bullshit’ on that. More, I’ll bet you ten bucks—a million, name your ante—that if you open yourself up fully to our bond, your magic will come back online, maybe even stronger than before.”

  It didn’t escape her that neither of them had much practice with love and healthy relationships. If they had all the time in the world, they could have let this one develop more slowly… but time was something they didn’t have. Her throat was raw, her heart a wound in her chest, her pulse a fast, syncopated thudda-thud that seemed to be urging, Say yes, say yes, say yes.

  But he shook his head. “Cara… I can’t. I’ve got to go with my gut on this one, and it says I need to be true to my bloodline.”

  She tried not to hear the echo of her father’s voice in that, tried not to think he’d finally come between them for good. Because this was it. She’d given Sven his last chance to prove that he could stick it out and be the kind of man she knew he could be, and he was blowing it.

  “Don’t do this,” she whispered. “Please.”

  His eyes glistened. “It’s already done.”

  As if on cue, the compound’s alarm system gave a two-note bleep-bleep of warning. It was time to go.

  She instinctively clutched at her wrist, as if covering her mark could prevent him from blocking her out. For a second, she thought he was mistaken; the glimmer of connection was still alive. But pain pierced her as she realized that it wasn’t the same. It was muted now, sluggish and still. A one-way street now rather than two.