Magic Unchained

by Jessica Andersen

  “Incoming!” Sebastian bellowed as the opacity blocking the tunnel bulged and tore for a third time, letting more camazotz into the space. But they weren’t like the others—these ones wore armor, and they had a plan.

  Fast and fresh, they dodged the shadow-familiars and zeroed in on the Nightkeepers. Time seemed to slow for a second as Cara saw three of them catch sight of Sven and make a dive for him. She screamed and turned back, but she was farther away than she had realized, and the camazotz were lightning-fast.

  “No!” She cried as the first one swooped down, unfurled its claws, and—

  The hellhound appeared as if from nowhere and snatched it from the sky. Then she spit it out and grabbed the others. With the third still dangling from her jaws like a chew toy, she spun and bolted for the tunnel and the oily blackness of the torn barrier. Bat demons were still flowing out like water, and the opening was a nasty churn of shadows.

  Stop enemies! The thought-glyphs appeared in Cara’s mind, but it took her a second to translate, another to understand.

  She surged toward the tunnel entrance. “No! Come back!”

  “Cara, wait!” Sven caught her arm and dragged her back, launching a fireball in the same move and toasting the camazotz that had been aiming right for her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Come back!” she cried again, her voice breaking on a sob, but the hound didn’t hesitate. She gathered herself and launched straight into the roiling blackness of the tunnel mouth.

  And disappeared.

  “NO!” Cara pulled against Sven’s grip, then clutched at him when the stone surface beneath their feet began to vibrate. The rattlesnake noise slashed through the space, growing louder and louder still.

  “Cover your eyes!” he shouted, and pulled her into his arms and shielded them both just as the tunnel detonated with a huge roar of rock and dark magic.

  Power blasted them, and shrapnel slammed into the shield. Cara clung to Sven, burying her face in his chest and trying to block out the sound of her familiar’s demise, her sacrifice. “No.” She didn’t weep, not now. But she would. She might have known the creature for only a short time, but without realizing it, she’d been missing that part of herself for most of her life.

  The noise died down, then faded to silence. She stayed pressed into him, though, not wanting to open her eyes and have it be time to move on.

  “Cara.” He eased her away. “Look. Look at what you’ve done.”

  She glanced around. The camazotz were all gone, vanished like they’d never been there. But they had left a disaster area in the wake of the fight. The beautiful cave was a shambles: The white sands were bloody red in places, warning that there had been injuries, maybe even more deaths than just Breece. The water was muddy, the tunnel a rubble-filled nonentity, and even the pretty green vines hanging down from above had burned, going withered and brown. “What a mess.”

  “No.” Sven pointed to the others. “Look at them.”

  The others were picking themselves up and dusting off, talking in low tones. Nightkeeper, winikin, human… it didn’t seem to matter anymore. There were handshakes and backslaps, and places where Nightkeepers had shielded winikin, and vice versa. And the shadow-creatures watched over it all, protecting the protectors.

  A lump of emotion balled up in her throat. “We did it,” she whispered past the tightness. “We won… and we did it as a team.”

  “You did it.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You and your magic.”

  She sighed and let herself lean into him for one last moment, closing her eyes and savoring his solid strength, his kindness, his… Shit. Don’t think about it.

  But if she couldn’t think about Sven and she wasn’t yet ready to think about the familiar she’d lost, what could she think about?

  Whatever comes next, she decided. She would put one foot in front of the other, and not think about how she’d lost her man and her dog, and was one pickup truck short of a flipping country song.

  Pulling away, she swiped at her eyes, took a deep breath, and faced Sven. “Well, I guess—”

  Trapped!

  The word was faint and pained, but she heard it loud and clear. And Mac must have too, because he let out a howl and bolted across the cavern to the tunnel. He sniffed and searched, racing from side to side and up the precarious rock slide, then gave an excited bark and looked back at Cara.

  Heart kicking, she started toward him.

  “Wait,” Sven said from behind her. “Let me.”

  He must’ve sent some silent command, because Mac jumped down and sat on his haunches nearby, watching expectantly. Then warmth washed through her as Sven tapped into his magic. And the rocks began to move.

  Huge gray slabs eased aside, boulders levered up, and smaller chunks floated as if on ghost wings while Cara stared in awe at the magic he could make.

  “There!” Sven said. “I see her. Stay here.” Without leaving room for discussion, he climbed up the rock slide and ducked into the hole he’d made.

  Frowning, Cara started to follow. “What are you…” She trailed off as he straightened and turned to her, carrying a dark-haired, normal-size coyote. “Oh.” Her heart beat off rhythm as he carried his precious cargo down the slippery slope. “Be careful!”

  “She’ll need to see Sasha,” he called, and got an, “On my way,” from the healer. When he reached Cara, he nudged her back to a soft spot in the sand, and knelt to lay the coyote at her feet. And when she crouched down and cautiously touched the sable fur, she got a wash of love and support in return, along with a sighed thought-glyph of, Found.

  Yes. She was found, all right. And she hadn’t even known she was missing until now.

  “She’ll be okay,” Sven said, looking at her across the coyote’s furry bulk with eyes that seemed to be conveying a silent message she didn’t understand. “I think she’s mostly bruised and shaken up.”

  “She’s not the only one.” It was amazing how quickly things could change, she thought, and turned to Mac, who sat nearby. She threw her arms around the bigger coyote’s ruff and buried her face in his dusty fur, choking out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you. I owe both of you.”

  “No owesies,” Sven said. “He loves you. He’d do anything for you.” He paused. “And so would I. Because I love you too.”

  And just like that, everything changed again.

  Stomach lurching, she let go of Mac and shot to her feet, hands balling to fists. “No,” she said quickly. “You don’t. That’s adrenaline talking.”

  “No, it’s me talking. I love you,” he said, loud enough that the low murmur of conversation cut out and they became the center of attention.

  A flush climbed up her throat and heated her face, even as she wanted to weep. “Adding volume doesn’t make it true.” Softening her voice, she added, “Let it go, okay? Just… let it go.” Because if he didn’t, she was badly afraid she would do something really stupid. Like give him yet another chance.

  “I can’t let it go, because I love you. And I know how to prove it.” There was something very determined in his eyes all of a sudden; the look brought a tremor of nerves and a quick, frantic thought that this was real. This was different.

  But she’d thought that before, hadn’t she?

  She swallowed hard. “What proof? More promises that you’ll take back when they get inconvenient?”

  “Not exactly.” Expression resolute, he reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and dropped down on one knee.

  And all Cara could think was, Oh, hell, no.

  For all that her inner seventeen-year-old—and maybe even parts of the woman that teenager had grown into—wanted to squeal, the rest of her, the smarter majority vote inside her, knew that this wasn’t the right answer for either of them.

  “Don’t…” she began, but then trailed off and stared, shocked, at the piece of paper he was unfolding. Or not paper, really. An index card filled with Carlos’s cramped writing done in pencil.

/>   It was the aj winikin spell.

  Cara gulped as Sven met her eyes. And started to read. “No. Stop.” She took a step toward him. “Don’t.”

  He didn’t falter, just kept reading. Tension snapped into the air; she recognized it from when she got her mark, back beneath the wide-open Montana sky. It was the winikin magic. The servant’s spell.

  “Seriously, stop. I don’t…”

  He kept reading, but his eyes flicked to hers.

  Panic gripped her. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t! The king, the other Nightkeepers, her father… Gods. But he wouldn’t stop. How could she… Then she knew. She hated it, but she knew how to make him stop. He was nearing the end and she was running out of time.

  Planting herself squarely in front of him, she raised her voice to carry over the spell and said, “I don’t love you.”

  He flinched. But he kept reading to the end of the card, and then locked his eyes with hers when, like magic—because that was what it was—a new mark appeared on his forearm: the image of a hand cupping the face of a sleeping child.

  Cara looked down at her own wrist, where she wore the single coyote glyph with the double dot. “I don’t feel any different.”

  “That’s because it’s a one-way street. It’s my promise to you that I’ll protect you, care for you, support you, and be there for you from now on. Period.” He caught her hands and stood, and she suddenly realized they were back where their affair began, standing in the middle of Che’en Yaaxil, holding hands.

  Only this time it was real. His commitment was real.

  Her eyes flooded and she gripped his hands tightly. “I lied.”

  His shoulders eased. “About which part?”

  “The part where I said I don’t feel any different.” She closed the distance between them. “I do feel different.”

  He brushed his lips across hers. “That’s the only thing you lied about?”

  “You mean the other part?”

  “Yeah. That one.”

  And, with the Nightkeepers and their consorts, and the winikin and their shadow-creatures looking on, Cara smiled up into Sven’s eyes and said, “I love you. I may have crushed on the boy you were and resented the adventurer you became, but I’ve fallen in love with the man you are today.”

  He exhaled a long, relieved breath. “So you’ll give me one last chance to get it right?”

  “You already did.” She tapped his arm. “This is more of a sacrifice than I ever would have asked for.”

  “It’s not even a fraction of what you deserve.” He hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her to her toes to plant a real kiss on her, one that involved bending her back over his arm, elicited a few good-natured whistles, and lasted until Dez cleared his throat.

  “If you two are finished…”

  Sven let her go, grinning broadly. “I’d say we’re just getting started.”

  “Then put it on hold for now. We’ve still got work to do.” The king hefted the screaming skull in one hand and gestured toward the center of the cave. “If we could try this again… all of us this time?”

  A few minutes later, distinctions forgotten, the end-time warriors—Mac and the nearly recovered sable coyote included—all linked together to form a double circle around the king, with the shadow-animals ringing the outer edge. And they set out to call the First Father back to earth.

  This time the resurrection spell worked flawlessly. And Sven, with Cara—his mate, his love—at his side and their familiars at their heels, was in a perfect place to add his power to the whole and watch the magic unfold.

  The winikin were the key, as Cara had predicted, along with their shadow totems. Dez had barely gotten past the second line of the spell when the animals began to move. They filtered through the double line of the blood-link and into the center of the space, where they started circling, moving ever inward and kicking up the sand, until there was a whirl of dust, shadow and light in the center of the circle. And all the while, Dez recited the resurrection spell and the magic amped from mage to winikin and back again, growing ever hotter, ever stronger.

  The shadow-animals spun faster and faster; the power ratcheted up to a buzz and then a high-pitched whine that itched along Sven’s jawbone, and then boom! There was a thunderclap and the shadows fled back to their winikin, went insubstantial, and disappeared into their holders. At each entry, the winikin’s eyes glowed briefly gold and then went normal again.

  Cara smiled and said softly, “They’ll be with us when we need them.”

  Sven nudged Mac with his toe. “Some more obviously than others.”

  Her smile went bright and brilliant, and made his heart turn over in his chest. He was so damn proud of her, proud to be with her, and proud to wear her mark, that he thought he might explode like the tunnel had. And he was psyched for her to have a familiar of her own, a thought-link of her own… and for neither him nor Mac to spend their nights alone anymore.

  When the last of the shadow-animals disappeared, leaving only the coyotes behind, the storm clouds eased away and the sun finally shone through the overhead gap, chasing away the last of the mist… to reveal a brown-robed, hooded man kneeling in the center of the circle.

  The resurrection was complete.

  Despite not being much for religion, Sven got a shiver as the figure straightened.

  Hands shot from the long sleeves of the brown robe, and marks flashed—too quick to be identified—as the man reached for his hood, pushed it back… and glared at the double circle with hard eyes.

  Shock rattled through Sven. “What the fuck?” He was pretty sure everyone else was thinking it. He was just the first to say it. Because the sharp-featured man with the big hooked nose, heavy brow, and buzz-trimmed skull was no stranger. “Red-Boar?”

  Because that was who it was. Rabbit’s father, who had died in one of their earliest skirmishes, was back.

  Gods help them all.

  Cara’s hand squeezed his and she pantomimed a holy crap! face that Sven returned.

  Red-Boar scowled. “Who the hell else did you expect?” His eyes went to Mac and the new coyote, and his eyebrows drew together. They nearly touched as he looked around, seeming to be counting up the new faces, only two of whom were full magi.

  A low-level hum of whispers caught fire and spread, and headed quickly for hubbub territory.

  “What are you doing here?” Strike asked, voice a little shaky, though Sven wasn’t sure whether that was from shock or trying to suppress hysteria-tinged laughter.

  The grizzled mage’s scowl deepened. “Don’t ask me. I wanted to stay dead. But the boar nahwal said my idiot kid got his ass in trouble again and I’ve got to bail him out if I want to get to the real afterlife rather than just the fucking in-between. So what’s the deal?”

  The air went tight as hell and everybody clammed up.

  Silence.

  More silence.

  Red-Boar zeroed in on Anna and stabbed a finger at her. “You. Start talking. Where is he?”

  Something flashed in her eyes, but she said simply, “We don’t know.”

  “Then why the hell did you summon me?”

  “We didn’t. We were trying to get…” She trailed off. “The Father. Oh.”

  More like, Oh, shit, Sven thought. But if Red-Boar had come back with a message about finding Rabbit, they must have summoned the right Father.

  He hoped. Because if not, this was a serious fucking train wreck.

  A little while later, once the sheer what-the-fuckery of Red-Boar’s return had died down and Dez declared it time to head for home, Sven caught Cara’s hand and tugged her to the sandy spit to steal another kiss.

  She was smiling when they parted, but her eyes held worry. “I wonder if the gods knew what they were letting us in for, bringing Red-Boar back.” She glanced to where groups started forming, mixing winikin with Nightkeepers to make sure the teleporters would have enough magic to get them home. “And how he’s going to deal with everything that’s c
hanged since his time.”

  “He’ll adjust,” Sven predicted—though, remembering the irascible old mage, he wasn’t so sure about that. He covered it, though, with another kiss. “All the changes have been good ones… especially this one.” Another, deeper kiss.

  “And this one.” She dropped a hand to the top of the sable coyote’s head in a gesture that was both proprietary and loving, and somehow sexy as well. All three tugged at his heart. He loved that she had a familiar, that she had magic of her own. And that she loved him back.

  “What are you going to call her?” he asked with a nod to the sable female.

  “Pearl.” The answer was immediate and final. “I’m going to call her Pearl.”

  It took him a second before he got it. “As in ‘Black Pearl’?” When she nodded, he made a face. “You’re going with Pirates of the Caribbean? Really?”

  “Says the guy who named his coyote after a character on CSI: New York.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the eyes.” When she rolled hers, the laugh that bubbled up out of him felt free and easy for the first time since… gods, since he didn’t know when.

  And, for the first time in just as long, he wasn’t looking forward to the next adventure, the next destination. He was content right now, in this place and time, with the woman he loved. They would deal with whatever came next, and they would do it together.

  That was a promise he would keep… or die trying.

  EPILOGUE

  September 24

  Eighty-six days left until the zero date

  Coyote Cave

  Despite her sunglasses, Cara had to use her hand to shade her eyes from the sun’s glare, trying to see across the rolling hills that surrounded the mouth of the empty cave. “He said for me to meet him out here.”

  Out. Pearl’s tail whisked the hardpan, stirring little dust devils. Although she was adjusting to life inside the compound, she still preferred the wide-open spaces beyond the canyon. Risky or not, she liked being free.

  “I don’t see another Jeep, though, and he’s not in the cave.” And the flat, barren expanses between the hills weren’t talking. “What gives?”