Spellfire

by Jessica Andersen

  Magic hummed in the air and the golden pixels swirled and spun, beginning to break up. As Seth’s face melted away, though, he looked at Rabbit again, and sent him another of those terrifying smiles. “You are my pride, son of chaos. Never forget it.”

  And then the god was gone, leaving utter silence behind.

  Myr’s heart was lodged somewhere south of her tonsils, her fingers digging into Rabbit’s arm. He was the first one to move, taking a shuddering breath and unlocking his body to drag a hand down his face.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said raggedly. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  The lump in her throat turned into a tickle. “I’m pretty sure he’s the son of a different god.” The tickle turned into a laugh that was more than a bit hysterical.

  “Wow.” Strike shook his head. “Seriously. That was. Wow.”

  Conversation rippled outward from there, with a whole lot of “holy shit” and “did you see that?” Then Rabbit threw back his head and let out a howl of “Yahoooo!” It echoed off the confines of the sacred well and the distant ruins and came back to them.

  “Awoooo!” caroled one of the coyotes, and the second one joined in a beat later. And then everyone joined in, shouting and screaming, and making noise as it started dawning that they had survived—every one of them, with not a single fatality—and the barrier was sealed.

  “We won!” Rabbit swept Myr up and spun her around. “We won!”

  “Damn straight!” She kissed him on the lips—her beautiful, wonderful, chaotic man—and raised her hands in the air as he spun them both around. “First round’s on me!” she shouted to a chorus of cheers. “And the second one’s on Rabbit here, so save the expensive stuff for him!”

  * * *

  While the others whirled and cheered, shouting plans for a party to end all parties back at Skywatch, Anna stripped off her weapons belt and slipped away, heading for the fringes of the excitement.

  “Hey, sis.” Strike’s voice stopped her, had her turning back.

  “I’m just . . .” She made a vague gesture that wasn’t quite in the direction of the quarantine camp. “I’ll be back soon. If you need me to ’port before then, just—”

  “I just wanted to wish you all the luck in the world.”

  “Oh.” A tentative smile caught, then spread. “Thanks.”

  He waved her off. “Go on, take your time. I’ll cover the transport.”

  She glanced down at her marks. “Do you think the ’port magic will still work?”

  “While we’re still in equinox and the conjunction? Yeah. Tomorrow? We’ll have to see.” He paused. “Does it matter?”

  “Not to me.” She lifted a hand. “See you in a bit, little brother.”

  He was chuckling and saying something along the lines of “Little, my ass” as she spun up the magic, found the golden travel thread connecting her to her destination, and made the jump.

  The supply closet she ’ported into was deserted, but the hallway outside was anything but. She stepped out into a scene of utter chaos.

  It was glorious and fan-freaking-tastic chaos, though, because it didn’t come from doctors running around, trying to deal with some new medical crisis. Instead, it came from the johnny-clad people thronging the hallways, all talking at once in a mix of English, Spanish and Maya, and the shouts of the security officers trying to herd them along.

  Over the cranked-loud intercom, a woman’s voice blared, “Please follow the exit signs out to the central courtyard. Officers will direct you to the mess hall, where you will be given further information.” The message repeated in the other two languages.

  A bubble of joy lifted in Anna’s throat, coming out as a delighted laugh. They were awake! The xombis were up and moving, and out of their restraints. She wasn’t sure how that had happened or why, as it seemed there could’ve been a more organized release protocol in place. But that wasn’t her call; she wasn’t in charge.

  And speaking of the man in charge . . . she looked but didn’t see any of the volunteers she’d gotten to know, and the few scrub-wearing nurses and techs within range were wide-eyed, overwhelmed, and doing their best to keep the human tide moving. But that was okay. Anna had a feeling she knew where she could find David.

  It took her a long five minutes to make it to the far patient wing, even with some subtle magical nudges, but she finally reached her destination. She paused for a moment outside Rosa’s door, sudden nerves kicking. The panel was closed and the KEEP OUT signs were still posted. What if she was too late? What if . . . ?

  “Knock it off,” she told herself, then took a deep breath and let herself through.

  Rosa was there, still curled up beneath the teddy bears. And David was there, sitting at her bedside in jeans and a rolled-up shirt, with a beard-shadow and dark circles under his eyes, looking as if he hadn’t moved since last night. The lab coat tossed over the back of his chair said he’d been with the others, though, and the worry in his face told her the news wasn’t good, at least in this one room.

  When he saw Anna, his expression blanked for a second, then flared. He rose and crossed to her, stopping short with a move that made her think he wanted to reach out, wanted to touch her, but didn’t know whether he should. And she felt the same sudden shyness, the realization that their e-mails had gotten far more intimate than their physical selves.

  He cleared his throat. “I should probably snarl at you for still being in this area, but I’m not sure I’ve really got the right to yell at you, and, besides, it’d be a total lie because damn, I’m glad to see you.”

  And there it was, the e-mail voice she’d started looking for, needing. Fighting for, even. She grinned as his online and real selves merged once more in her mind. “Let’s just say I didn’t go all that far.” Her smile faded, though, as she looked past him. “She didn’t wake up when the others did?”

  “How did you know about that?” He waved it off. “Never mind. Rumor mill. God knows I’m surprised the families haven’t rushed the fence line yet to get to the patients, or vice versa. We need to run some tests first, make sure this isn’t some weird lull before another outbreak, or . . . shit. I’m stalling. Because yeah, Rosa didn’t wake up. Probably ninety percent of the patients just clicked on about twenty minutes ago, bing, the lights went on and somebody was home. Almost all of the ones who didn’t wake up had been really far gone before they went into stasis, so starved there’s a good chance they were brain-dead or close to it.” He turned back to the bed, eyes hollowing out. “Rosa, though . . . I just don’t know what’s going on, whether it’s still the disease, or if there’s something else. For all I know, she’s staying under because of the shock of seeing her parents kill each other. But even then, how can I help her?” His voice lowered, went soft as he said to the child in Spanish, “You can come back, little one. I know you’ve had a bad time of it, but you’ve got people here on your side. We’ll take care of you. I promise.”

  Anna’s heart tugged for them both, yet ached a little for herself. Because what she was about to do was a hell of a risk. “I brought something I think might help her.”

  His head came up. “More homeopathics?”

  “Something like that.” She reached into a pocket and came up with the sturdy stoppered bottle she had carried into battle as a talisman. The liquid inside was brown, greasy and brackish, and reminded her of dark magic. It was the good stuff, though. And maybe it would work.

  She’d gotten it from Sasha early this morning, along with the basic recipe if more was needed. The healer had taken a tonic she’d had on hand, and infused it with a jolt of equinox magic and a potent mixture of cacao, maize and sacrificial blood. It couldn’t cure the xombi virus, but Sasha had thought that once the spell was lifted—if it lifted—the potion might help bring the patients back by strengthening their chu’ul, their life force.

  The xombis hadn’t needed it, luckily. But would it be enough to bring Rosa back? There was no telling why the child was still out, if it was because o
f the virus or the shock to her system, or if channeling Bastet’s message had changed her irrevocably, perhaps putting her mind partly in this world, partly in the next. Anna knew she had to try the potion, though, had to do anything in her power to break through the little girl’s coma. Even if what she did was guaranteed to increase David’s suspicions.

  Already, he was looking at her a little sideways, like he wanted to quiz her, but was afraid to. Instead, he took a big step back, making room for her. “Go ahead.”

  She tried for a smile. “It’s not FDA approved.”

  “This does not surprise me.” He held her eyes, though she wasn’t sure what he saw, or what he was thinking. He inhaled like he was going to say something more, but then waved her forward. “Do it. I trust you not to hurt her.”

  “I don’t want to.” But she whispered an inner prayer as she sat and leaned over the tiny form. Please, gods, let your messenger awaken safely.

  Holding her breath, she unstoppered the small bottle and squirted a healthy dose into Rosa’s mouth, then used a finger to close her jaw and tip her head back. “Come on, sweetie. Swallow.”

  Nothing happened. And for a good two minutes, nothing kept happening, leaving Anna sitting there, staring at Rosa, all too aware of the flop sweats starting on her palms and the man standing behind her, waiting for a miracle.

  Frustration welled. Come on, come on. Please.

  And, suddenly, it felt way too much like all the times she’d tried to call on her itza’at’s magic. Back then, it had been a blessing in disguise that she’d never been able to make her own magic work properly—that was what had let the true gods contact her, after all. Now, though . . . there was no blessing here, no upside. This had to work, she had to make it work.

  Wake up, damn it!

  Sweat prickled down her spine as she filled another stopper. Then she tugged at her chain and brought out the yellow quartz skull, which felt heavy as it swung free, glinting in the light.

  “What is . . .” David trailed off, exhaling. “Never mind. Sorry. Keep going.”

  He moved, but she wasn’t sure if he was leaning closer or edging away, and she was afraid to look, didn’t want to know which it was. Not when she would need all her concentration and confidence to pull this off. Already, she could feel the conjunction moving on, the magic starting to fade.

  “Fuck it,” she said under her breath, and went for her worn pocketknife. She heard his startled oath when she carved sharp slices across her palm scars on both sides, but she ignored it, ignored him, and focused on the child lying there, motionless. Helpless. She’s there because of me. I can get her back. “Pasaj och.”

  The magic came at her call, flaring through her veins and lighting the air red and gold. She hoped to hell he couldn’t see the glimmer—most humans couldn’t. But she couldn’t turn back now. Come on, come on.

  The power was sluggish, thick and syrupy, but it was there. More, it reached out to wrap around the dropper containing Sasha’s potion, which started to throb with a low yellow glow, just as it had when the healer had first mixed it together.

  “Please gods,” Anna whispered. And dripped it slowly into Rosa’s mouth.

  This time, incredibly, something started happening. First the yellow glow spread to the little girl’s face, which flushed and pinkened, looking healthier than it had since the child’s arrival. Then it moved down, flowing through Rosa, warming her. Her breathing changed, deepening and speeding up, and Anna’s pulse jumped in response. “That’s it. Come on back. You can do it.”

  “Jesus Christ,” David muttered. She thought he might even have crossed himself.

  Her stomach hollowed out, but she couldn’t worry about him right now; she had to focus. “Wake up, sweetie. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  The girl stirred and straightened beneath the blanket, working her feet for a moment to kick free. Then she sighed, rubbed her cheek against the pillow, and opened her eyes.

  Holy gods. Anna stared, transfixed, as Rosa blinked up at her, puzzled. Then she focused, and there was acceptance in her eyes, not fear. “I know you,” she said drowsily in Spanish. “You’re the lady who sat with me at night and told me stories.”

  Anna’s breath left her in a soft whoosh. “You heard me,” she said in the same language.

  “Mostly just you and the nice doctor.” She didn’t seem to see David in the background. “And the cat-woman. But she wasn’t really here, was she?”

  “Only in your dreams.” Anna paused, wondering how much to say, and how. Not too much, she decided, as the little girl looked like she was already fading. “You’ve been sick, but you’re going to be okay now.”

  “I know. The cat-lady told me. She said . . . she said . . .” The child’s eyelids fluttered and eased shut. But this time her sleep was a more natural one, coming from her body issuing a shutdown command so it could have time to heal the physical damage.

  The emotional damage would take longer, Anna knew. Even the best support system in the world couldn’t undo the horrific loss of her entire family, or the trauma of watching it happen. Been there, done that. She had fought through it, though, and could help Rosa do the same, and do it better than she had. But although she could do that alone, could do all of it alone . . . she didn’t want to, damn it.

  And she couldn’t put off looking up at him any longer.

  She braced herself to see David all the way across the room, plastered to the back wall, staring at her like she was off her fucking rocker—or, worse, something he should be afraid of. Gods knew that most human scientists didn’t like the unknown.

  Already planning on hitting him with a sleep spell, bringing Rabbit back to do some mental remediation, and never seeing her doomsday crush ever again, she turned—

  And found him very close, practically breathing over her shoulder, his eyes full of awe, excitement and wonder. When their eyes met, his lips turned up in a perfectly approving smile. “You did it,” he said softly. “You . . . I don’t know what you just did, but you did it.”

  “I want her,” she said in English. All the other things she’d planned to say suddenly backed up in her lungs, trapped there by the look in his eyes and the knowledge that this moment, here and now, was as important to her as facing off opposite her parents’ spirits and sending them to the sky. That had brought the past full circle. Now she wanted to start the future of her choosing. “If her family won’t take her back—”

  “They won’t. Her uncle signed her over when she first came in.”

  “Then I want her. I can provide for her, love her. I know what it’s like to lose both parents the way she did, and I can help her through it.” She looked down at her wrists, with their crisscross scars and the line of tattoos, saw the gleam of yellow as the crystal skull swung into view, and wondered just how crazy this all sounded to him, how crazy she looked right now. “I know I may not seem like the stablest bet right now from your perspective, but I promise you—”

  “Stop,” he said. “Anna, stop. Christ, you don’t need to sell me. I’ve seen you with her. I’ve seen . . . well, what I’ve seen. Anyway. I can pull some strings, get the paperwork expedited.” He hesitated, searching her eyes. “Though I get the feeling you could handle that on your own, too.” And now he really did take a big step back.

  She reached out to him. “David. Don’t.”

  “I won’t. I don’t mean to. But . . . Christ, Anna. That was . . . it was . . .”

  “An herbal remedy with a little bit of faith-based healing thrown in for good measure. It was the tonic that did the trick. The prayer just made me feel better.” She let her hand drift back to her side, unclaimed. “Don’t,” she said again, softer this time. Don’t look at me like you’re debating between a psych consult and an exorcism. “It wasn’t anything weird. I’m just me.”

  “You’re not ‘just’ anything, are you?” But his eyes were regaining some of the wonder she’d seen in them earlier.

  Hopefully not too much of it. The last
thing she wanted was for him to put her on a magical pedestal of some sort. “You said it yourself: Even Western science is starting to recognize the validity of some native remedies.”

  “That was more than some herbs. And the things Rosa was saying . . .”

  “I snuck in to visit her sometimes when you weren’t here, that’s all.”

  “What about the cat-woman she mentioned?” He looked around as if searching for something hiding in the shadows.

  “It was nothing. Probably just a dream.” Or a god. It seemed that Bastet, too, hadn’t been able to leave the child to wander the darkness alone. Now there was a god Anna would be proud to serve, one she would be happy to pray to on the Cardinal Days. But oh, how she hoped she wouldn’t have to spend the other three hundred and sixty-something days of the year without the dream she’d just started allowing herself. The dream of a daughter and a lover. A family. “Please,” she said softly. “Don’t make what I did seem like more than it really was.”

  “I won’t. I’m not. It’s just . . .” He moved back toward her, and now it was his turn to lift a hand and let it fall, like he wanted to touch her but didn’t quite dare. “Who are you?”

  She didn’t let herself wince. “I’m exactly what you’ve seen, exactly what I’ve written to you. None of that has been a lie.”

  “But there’s more to you, isn’t there?”

  “Not anymore.”

  She expected him to push harder, was thrown a little off balance when he didn’t. Instead, he took the last step separating them, and lifted his hand to brush the back of one finger softly down her cheek. “I thought you might disappear after today.”

  The shiver that ran through her body wasn’t just from the caress. “Not unless you want me to.”

  “No,” he said. “That’s exactly what I don’t want you to do. In fact, I want you to stick around for a long, long time.”