As they waited, Patience kept close tabs on Harry and Braden. Although they were far more aware of death than the average human, they were still five-year-old boys who had lost the man who had stood in for their father over the past two years. So far they seemed okay; Harry was watching the funerary bundle intently, as if trying to convince himself that Woody was actually inside. Braden was off near the steps leading to the training hall, fencing against an invisible enemy with a leftover piece of wood, but he kept darting glances at Hannah, his parents, and the pyre, keeping his own tabs on the members of his family.
The adults hadn’t yet told the boys that they would be leaving after the funeral, but Patience suspected that on some level they knew. Hannah and Woody had always been very up front with them about why they couldn’t live at Skywatch with their parents, and although the boys seemed to have bounced back remarkably well from their brief captivity, the experience—and watching their parents fighting to save them—had made a major impression. Patience ached that she wouldn’t be there to talk them through the inevitable nightmares, and that they would all have to readjust to the separation.
But the twins would have Hannah and Carlos. And each other.
Brandt took her hand, threaded their fingers together, and squeezed. I’m here, the gesture said. I’m not going anywhere.
And she believed him.
Hearing footsteps, she turned to find Strike coming up the pathway alone. Aware that he was instantly the center of attention, he said without preamble, “Anna regained consciousness earlier this morning.” When an excited murmur started, he held up a hand. “Unfortunately, there seems to be . . . she’s . . .” He cleared his throat. “The doctors don’t know if the damage is permanent or if she’ll improve with time. She’s going to need time, rehab . . .” He trailed off, then said softly, “. . . prayers.”
Leah crossed to him and leaned her cheek against his arm, just above his hunab ku. “She’s a jaguar.
She’s too stubborn to give up.”
He nodded. Voice strengthening with disgust, he said, “Her husband called to tell me he wanted to sign her over—those were the words he used, too, the fucktard—to me as her closest blood relative.
He wants out.”
“Gods,” Brandt muttered. “He really is a dick.”
“Give him what he wants,” Lucius said flatly. His face was dull with anger and a disgust that mirrored Strike’s own. “He doesn’t want her. We do. It’s as simple as that.” Except they all knew that it wasn’t that simple, because she didn’t want them. Or she hadn’t before.
But Strike nodded. “That’s the plan. We’ll move her to a rehab facility in Albuquerque and go from there.”
“I want to see her,” Sasha said, voice thick with tears. “I might be able to help her now that she’s conscious.”
“I’ll take you after the funeral.” Strike paused, then looked over at Patience and Brandt, then beyond them to Hannah. “There’s something else.”
Patience’s stomach clenched. What else could there be?
“What?” It was Brandt who asked, his grip tightening on her hand.
“Mendez is also awake. From the looks of it, he came around at almost the exact same time as Anna.” He paused a moment to let the ripple of response die down. “Now, here’s the thing. . . . He seems to have come back with not only the Triad magic but with a whole new perspective on life.
According to him, when his ancestors got a look inside his head and saw what his winikin taught him —most of which was lies and twisted versions of the truth—they kept him under long enough to straighten out some major misapprehensions. I’ve got Rabbit confirming his story right now, but if it’s true . . . well, let’s say it’d be a far better outcome than I was expecting.”
“What does that have to do with us?” Patience asked. Granted, it’d be huge to have Mendez work out, not just as a Nightkeeper, but as a second Triad mage. But that would impact the team in general, not her, Brandt, and Hannah.
“When we told him where everyone was, he asked if he could come out for the funeral. He doesn’t want to take attention away from Woody, but he’d like to show his respect for Wood’s sacrifice.”
Strike paused. “Either he’s talking a really good game, or his ancestors did a hell of a job reprogramming him.”
Patience looked up at Brandt. “Your call.”
He nodded. “Yeah, let him come on out. Woody would like knowing there might be one more of us.”
Strike palmed his cell and made the call. A few minutes later, Mendez appeared on the pathway, walking slowly between Rabbit and Jox, not entirely steady on his legs yet. Awake, he looked pretty much the same as he had when he arrived—huge even by Nightkeeper standards, with sharp features, a Mayan nose, and a punch of edgy charisma that was notable even among the magi—with the addition of a pair of pale hazel eyes that seemed to be trying to take in everything at once.
When the small group joined the funerary circle, Rabbit took a moment to look at the pyre and make a gesture of respect, and then sent the twins a finger-wiggle. Finally, he gestured to Mendez and said, “He believes what he’s saying, and it checks out as far down as I can go.”
Strike nodded. “That’ll do for starters.” To Mendez, he said, “Consider yourself on probation. I believe you’re familiar with the concept.” He and Mendez exchanged a long, charged look before Strike glanced at the others. “Okay, everyone . . . this is—” He broke off, glancing back at the newcomer. “Mendez? Snake?”
After a pause, the big man said, “I go by Dez.” His voice was surprisingly smooth for his bulk, more rich baritone than bass. He scanned the crowd. “It’d be ridiculous to say ‘Don’t let me interrupt,’ so I won’t. Instead, I’ll say thanks for having me, and I look forward to meeting the rest of you after the ceremony.” He was looking at Brandt as he finished, as if he had recognized him as another Triad mage, and from there made the connection to Woody.
Brandt tipped his head. “Glad to have you.” Patience was pretty sure he meant it too.
For her part, she couldn’t get past the feeling that there was something a little too easy about Dez’s conversion. Then again, Triad magic was powerful stuff. She supposed it was possible.
As Strike had implied, they would let time tell on this one. Still, her fingers itched for her star deck.
She wondered what she would get if she asked about Dez. Would he be the Chuen trickster, sent to shake them up, or would she draw the Oc card, which symbolized breakthroughs and new beginnings?
Or something else entirely?
Strike began the funeral rites, and she focused on the ceremony as he invoked the gods and his kingship, and then ritually praised Woody for his strength and sacrifices, both those he had made in his life and the ultimate sacrifice of his death.
As Strike spoke, Harry and Braden joined the circle, fitting themselves between her and Brandt.
Braden kept looking up at Brandt to see if he was doing things right. Harry, on the other hand, had his eyes fixed on the mortuary bundle.
What do you see? Patience wanted to ask him, certain somehow that he was perceiving something more than human-normal. She wished she could spend longer with him, with them both, but that time would come. One year, three hundred and sixty-five days, she thought, only then realizing that she had started to count, not to the zero date, but to the day after that, when the new cycle would—gods willing—begin and life would go on.
When the time came, Brandt held out the torch to Rabbit, who lit it with a quick burst of fire magic and stepped away. But Brandt waved him in. “Get your ass in here. You’re part of the family.”
Rabbit’s quick surprise was followed by a rare smile. He nodded and stepped into the group as Patience, Hannah, Harry, and Braden all added their hands to the torch Brandt held. When Rabbit too was gripping the torch, they together touched it to the edge of the pyre. The fire caught and spread quickly, with Rabbit giving a little pyrokinetic encouragement. Within minutes
the whole thing was ablaze, driving back the circle of mourners.
The gray smoke spiraled up into the sky, twining tendrils of gray amid puffy winter clouds. Two tendrils crossed, darkening for a moment. When they parted again, an eagle flew where there hadn’t been one before.
“Did you . . . ?” Patience trailed off.
“Yeah. I did.” Brandt glanced at his forearm as if just realizing that he was now the only person on the earth plane who wore the mark of the eagle bloodline.
“Oh.” Hannah’s soft exclamation drew their attention back to the sky, where a dozen other eagles suddenly winged out of a cloud and bore down on the lone eagle. They split to surround the single bird, and then the thirteen eagles flew together, arrowing up into the sky, into the clouds . . . and disappearing.
“That didn’t just happen.” Patience’s voice was thick. “Eagles don’t flock. They’re loners.”
Brandt slipped an arm around her waist and leaned into her. “Not today, they’re not.”
It was a long time before anyone said anything else.
Then, too soon, it was time for Hannah and the boys to hit the road. She had insisted on taking one of the Jeeps rather than having Strike ’port them, staying off the magical radar from the very beginning. She and Carlos planned to ditch the vehicle by night-fall; Sven would track the GPS the following day and retrieve the Jeep . . . and Hannah, Carlos, Harry, and Braden would be in the wind.
Gone.
Most of the teammates said their good-byes on the way back to the mansion, including Rabbit, who had to snuffle back tears as he hugged the twins good-bye. That left just Patience and Brandt to accompany Hannah and the boys out to the looping driveway at the front of the mansion, where Carlos was going to meet them with the Jeep.
While Brandt took the boys a few steps away and crouched down, talking to them earnestly, Patience threw her arms around Hannah. “Take care of them,” she whispered. “And you take care too.
Be good to yourself.”
“I will. I promise.” Hannah hugged her back fiercely. But when they parted, the winikin’s eyes glittered with a mixture of hurt and anger. “He didn’t say good-bye.”
Patience nodded. “I know.” For all that Jox had followed Hannah with his eyes when she wasn’t looking, he hadn’t spent any real time with her. Worse, he’d made only a brief appearance at the funeral, and he’d slipped away once the good-byes started.
Granted, the royal winikin had a heavy burden of responsibility to his blood-bound charges and as the leader of the winikin, and he’d had to prioritize those duties over Hannah. But as far as Patience was concerned, their situation might suck, but that didn’t give him the right to be cruel.
“You should go after him,” she said. “If nothing else, you could corner him, kiss the hell out of him, and have the satisfaction of imagining him pining after you for the next two years.”
One corner of Hannah’s mouth kicked up. “I tried that a long time ago. It didn’t help.”
The Jeep cruised around the corner of the garage then. Seeing the vehicle, the twins strangle-hugged Brandt and bolted for Patience.
Faced with the reality she’d been trying not to think about, she sat on the paved pathway as her legs practically gave out. She opened her arms to her sons and gathered them close, trying her best not to clutch too hard and freak them out more than they already were. When they drew away, faces solemn and swimming with tears, she said to Braden, voice cracking, “Promise me you’ll behave for Hannah and Carlos?”
He nodded. “I promise.”
“And you’ll look out for Harry?”
“Of course.” His look of offense cheered her immeasurably.
She turned to Harry. “Promise me you’ll get in trouble every now and then? Not big trouble, but some little, fun trouble.”
His too-serious eyes glinted. “I promise.”
“And you’ll look out for Braden?”
“Of course.”
“You’re sure you’ve got them straight, right?” Brandt asked from behind her. “I’d hate to think you mixed them up.”
Her laugh came out as a sob, but she was grinning through her tears as she held back a hand for him to help her to her feet. “I never mix them up.” Okay, almost never. But as Brandt pulled her vertical and urged her back against his strong, warm body, she felt better for having laughed, and the twins looked far less tragic than they had moments earlier. In fact, Braden was starting to glance at the Jeep.
“Okay, guys.” Carlos climbed down and pushed the driver’s seat forward so the twins could get into the back, where he’d installed a pair of kiddie seats. “Last one in is a rotten . . . er, something.”
Braden was the first one to break away and head for the vehicle. Harry followed soon, though. He shot several looks back at Patience and Brandt, but then faced forward and climbed in. Carlos strapped them in, then slid the seat back into place. Leaving the door open, he approached Hannah, looking distinctly wary.
“Do you have everything you need?” she asked diffidently.
“Change of plans.”
Hannah stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not going.” Carlos jerked his chin toward the mansion’s front door. “He is.”
Jox stood there with a knapsack slung over his shoulder and a resolute expression on his face.
“Oh,” Patience said as her heart thumped a couple of times and her eyes filmed with a new wash of tears at the thought of Hannah and Jox finally getting a chance to be together after more than twenty-
five years.
Hannah stared at him with an expression that bordered on horror.
After a long moment, she blurted, “Is that all you’re bringing?”
He lifted a shoulder in a casual, knapsack-burdened shrug. “I’ve always traveled light . . . except where it came to you.”
Her eyes filled. “You rat. I thought you weren’t speaking to me. I thought . . . damn it, I don’t know what I thought. But it wasn’t good.”
“I couldn’t say anything until I told Strike I wanted to leave. He . . . it wasn’t easy, not for either of us. Then I had to talk to Rabbit. And now . . .” He glanced back at the mansion where he’d been born, the one he’d renovated from top to bottom and run as his own kingdom for the past two and a half years. The one that represented humanity’s single hope for survival, even if humanity didn’t know it.
“Now I’m ready to leave. That is . . . if you’ll have me?”
“But, but—” Hannah went speechless for a few seconds as a tear tracked down her face. Her voice dropped to a disbelieving whisper. “What about the war? What about the other winikin? Who’s going to run things around here?”
Jox came down the rest of the pathway to join her in the semicircular drive, stopping a few feet away. “The war won’t be won or lost by a single winikin, but you and Woody already proved that one person can make a difference when it comes to protecting the next generation. As for the other winikin and keeping this place on an even keel, they’ll manage. If they can’t put together some sort of a workable democracy, with Strike as the buck-stopper, I’ve left instructions. One way or the other, they’ll be okay without me.”
“But . . .”
When she didn’t say anything else, just stood there looking scared and confused, he said softly, “I know I’ve put my duties ahead of you for way too long, that maybe it’s too late for us. But I’m asking you to let me come with you. This doesn’t have to mean we’re dating, or courting, or, hell, so fucking crazy about each other that we can’t keep our hands to ourselves.” A distinct gleam entered his eyes as he said the last part. “We can take our time. Whatever you want. Just say you’ll bring me with you. I can be a good winikin to the boys. I’ll teach them, protect them, love them like they’re my own. And I’ll put you equal to that, with nothing above you three, I swear it. I—” She launched herself at him and cut him off with a kiss. He rocked back under the impact, and his hands stayed out to his sides for a fe
w seconds, as if it had been so long since he had kissed someone or been kissed that he couldn’t quite remember what to do with them.
Then his arms folded around her, and they merged, for a moment, into a single unit.
Carlos walked past them, back into the mansion, whistling tunelessly. Patience blew out a happy, relieved breath. “Well. That was a long time coming.”
“Really?” Brandt asked, looking honestly shocked at the turn of events. “Where have I been?”
When she glared at him, he held up both hands. “Don’t answer that.”
“Men,” she muttered, but she was grinning faintly, and her smile broadened as Hannah and Jox separated, both looking more than a little awestruck.
Then it was time for more good-byes; Patience climbed halfway into the Jeep to kiss and hug each of the boys again, and then hugged Jox, and then Hannah. As they parted, Hannah said, “Keep that card close to your heart, sweetling.”
Patience nodded. “I will. I promise.”
Brandt finished with the boys, kissed Hannah’s cheek, and did the manly handshake-backslap thing with Jox. “I owe you one,” Brandt said with a pointed look at the backseat.
Jox nodded. “I’ll collect in a couple of years, gods willing. I’m toying with the idea of rebuilding the garden shop that Rabbit torched; I never got around to putting the property up for sale right after the fire, and then the market tanked. So I still own it.” One corner of his mouth kicked up. “If I decide to rebuild, I’ll be looking for a good architect.”
“You’ve got one,” Brandt said firmly, then echoed, “Gods willing.” He waved them into the Jeep, and then joined Patience as she moved back toward the covered entryway.
As they crossed the drive, she caught several flashes of movement from various windows as the inhabitants of Skywatch waved to Jox, Hannah, and the boys. It was the single unmoving figure in an upper window of the royal quarters that caught her attention, though.
Strike stood staring down, his body etched with weary resignation. “He looks so sad,” she said softly.
Brandt followed her eyes. “I bet you never thought you’d feel bad about the idea of him being cut off from his winikin.”
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