Char rushed forward, turning him onto his back, out of the water. Angie stood behind her, the air rifle now loaded and ready.
There was no need.
The man, Native American by his looks, was unconscious. The long gashes in his chest bled more profusely than before, as if only his were-form had held his blood in. "The wounds remain," Char said, as if surprised, holding his head in her lap. "This is new."
"He's dying." Angie stated the obvious.
"Yes," Char answered. "He can't survive these wounds in human form." She looked up at Angie. "Quickly, the backpack, open it. Give me one of the bottles."
Angie opened her mouth to ask why, but at the glare in Char's eyes, she quickly fumbled her way out of the straps and opened the pack, handing Char one of the water bottles. "I don't understand."
"There is much here that even I don't understand, daughter. But not all were-creatures are like your friend Erin. Perhaps the differences outweigh the similarities, but there's a reason this man brought all those water bottles." She opened one, pouring a stream of water into the man's open mouth. He gagged and coughed much of the water out onto his chest, and his head rolled back. Char sat back, a look of disappointment on her face. "It would appear I was mistaken," she said in a small voice. "I thought for sure—"
"Wait!" Angie said. She snatched the water bottle from Char's fingers, kneeling beside her. "Look here, where he spat up the water." A portion of one long gash had healed, leaving only smooth skin behind. Angie poured a stream of water over the man's wounds. Everywhere the water touched, the fluid washed away the wounds, as if they were nothing more than makeup. In seconds, she had washed away every wound, leaving nothing behind but unblemished copper skin. He even breathed more easily.
"Well," said Char with a satisfied smile. "It would appear I wasn't wrong. We need to get both him and Ephix home. I very much wish to talk to this man."
"As do I," said Angie, staring at the man's uninjured chest. "As do I."
Chapter 20
Thick iron bars separated Angie from their prisoner. Char stood beside her, now wearing a flowing robe with a rose-petal design and soft slippers on her feet. She held the dream-catcher talisman in one hand, lightly tapping it against her thigh. In her other hand, she held a porcelain teacup. She looked, Angie mused, as though she were lounging in her sunroom rather than a small bunker beneath the zoo grounds.
The air within the concrete enclosure was cool, a pleasant change from the oppressive heat. It even carried that wet-stone smell found in most basements. This place had once been the polar bear enclosure, and thick bars separated two cells from the custodian area in which Angie and Char now stood. Their prisoner, completely healed and dressed in the clothing they had found, paced back and forth in one of the cells, casting glances at her and Char. At the sound of footsteps behind them, Angie turned and saw Andrej, Char's lover, leading Erin into the enclosure, her hand atop his arm.
"Everything's going to be okay," Angie told Erin, who smiled bravely, still wearing a bandage around her burned eyes.
Andrej patted Erin's hand where it rested on his arm. "If Mistress Chararah says she can heal you, she can."
"It's actually okay," Erin said. "We just need to wait for the full moon."
"We don't, actually," Char said, sipping her tea. "Although I do appreciate your bravery."
Angie considered the prisoner. He was just below six feet and thickly framed in muscle, with very little body fat. His oddly green eyes were out of place with his Native features, reminding her of the angry jungle beast he had been earlier. With his square jaw, chiseled features, broad nose, full lips, and bronze skin, he was clearly of aboriginal descent, but as to his exact ancestry, she couldn't tell. If she were to guess, she'd lean toward Mesoamerican, someplace more ... southern than the former United States of America. His hair was raven black and curled above his shoulders, looking stylishly windblown and unkempt, the type of natural look that some men tried to emulate. His age was hard to define, older than her but not that old, maybe in his early or mid-thirties. His shoulders were broad, his biceps rounded and vascular, his forearms powerful, with long, dexterous fingers. He paced back and forth in barely constrained agitation.
Whatever else he was, he was also a warrior. He exuded self-reliance, not the brash arrogance of Nathan, who had to be the center of attention all the time, but a quiet and absolute confidence.
Andrej led Erin to a small wooden chair and helped her sit. Andrej was still handsome despite the wrinkled skin and the gray in his once-blond hair. He was only in his late thirties but looked seventy, prematurely aged by the compact he had made with Char, but older was better than dead, and only Char's embrace had kept the cancer at bay all these years. Some people believed succubi were like vampires, like Ephix, and that they consumed their lovers through sexual congress. In a sense that was true; Char did feed from her lovers, but slowly, and their life-force was willingly given through years of blissful sex. There were far worse ways to go. Sadly, Andrej’s days were coming to an end; Angie could see it clearly enough. When he died, it would break Char's heart. But then, Char still mourned each of her many lovers.
Ephix was recovering from her wounds. Andrej had mentioned blood bags were kept on hand for emergencies like this, but Angie hadn't asked where the blood had come from. While Char had changed outfits, Angie still wore the same filthy clothing she had since escaping Sanwa City. She needed a long, hot bath, she knew—desperately—as well as ten or twenty hours of sleep, if the Cloridine could provide dreamless sleep. And maybe some real food. But before any of that happened, there were matters that needed to be resolved, questions that needed to be answered.
"Let us start with a name," Char said evenly, her gaze considering the prisoner.
He snorted, his face giving her a toothy but mocking smile. "You, of all creatures, should know that names are power, Chararah Succubus." His voice was deep, strong, and carried the trace of a Spanish accent but was laced with something else, an accent she didn't recognize.
Char raised her eyebrows in amusement. "For demons, dragons, and certain other beings, perhaps. Not men, not even were-jaguars."
He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowed, the trace of a smile on his lips. "I'd heard you were clever."
A were-jaguar, not a were-leopard or were-panther? Somehow that was significant, but Angie didn't know how.
Char moved closer to the bars, seemingly unconcerned he might lunge at her through them. "Not that clever. This is America, not Asia, not Africa, and you, my friend, are connected to this land. I feel it: a very powerful yet very old connection. Come, give me a name. Make one up if you'd like."
He paused, the silence heavy in the enclosure. Then he nodded. "Teccizcoatl. Tec to my friends."
"Teccizcoatl," Char repeated. "An ancient name. From a long-forgotten past."
"Not forgotten. Not yet."
Char nodded. "I've heard your name before. A warrior's name. A warrior who serves a mighty master. You are the knight, the Jaguar Knight."
"I am."
"You!" Angie practically spat the word at him. Then she rushed forward, gripping the bars and glaring at him. "You're the Norteno assassin sent to kill Marshal."
The man called Tec stared at her wordlessly as Char gently pried her hands from the bars and then, holding her firmly by the shoulders, drew her farther back. "Emotions, daughter. Do not go near this one. I do not think he is our foe, but I do not think he is our friend either, and such a man could break your neck in a moment."
Angie drew back, staring at Char. "What are you talking about? He's a Nortie assassin."
Tec chuckled and scratched his cheek, his green eyes flashing with amusement. "I've been many things in my life, including an assassin, but I've never been a ... Nortie. That word really has no meaning other than slang for ‘Northerner,’ you realize. It's a terrible nickname, very unimaginative, especially considering you're referring to people who live south of your precious Commonwealth." He shrugged. "I
f anything, you're the Norties."
Anger surged through Angie, and only Char's grip on her shoulders stopped her from approaching the bars again. "You deny you're here to kill Marshal?"
He sighed. "Where's Marshal?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Where?"
"Right now. Where is he?"
"Sanwa City."
"Is this Sanwa City?"
She stared at him wordlessly, not at all liking his condescending tone.
He continued. "Think about it, Captain Ritter. If I wanted to kill your precious chairman, why would I follow you and Sergeant Seagrave all the way here?"
"I..."
"Trust me, if I wanted Marshal dead, I'd have killed him days ago and then gone home to put my feet up and have a drink. And no one in your city could have even slowed me down. I'm not here for him, I'm here to stop the Tzitzime. I'm here for Rayan Zar Davi, the woman who calls herself Mother Smoke Heart."
Angie's breath caught in her throat. Tzitzime. She had heard that word before. In a flash of insight, she remembered the slaughterhouse and the leering face of Ixtil as she’d brought her obsidian dagger close to Angie's eye. When asked why, Ixtil had told Smoke Heart that she had wanted to teach Angie to “respect the Tzitzime.” So, who are the Tzitzime?
"The Tzitzime," Char repeated. "The Children of the Star-Eater? I have heard rumors of a dark power behind the Aztalan emperor. It is true then?"
Tec inclined his head. "I'm afraid so."
"Wait," said Angie. "Aztalan? This isn't the Norties?"
"And the other rumors, the Obsidian Butterfly and the Lord of the Smoking Mirrors?"
Tec nodded, once, quickly, his eyes tight.
Char inhaled deeply, her posture stiffening. "This is ... regrettable. I'll need to contact Elenaril and the other council leaders. We had hoped they slept ... or died long ago."
"They don't just die," Tec said softly. "You Fey should know this better than most. If anything, they’ve been much more active since the Awakening."
Angie looked from the man to Char, her confusion growing. "What the hell are you talking about? Stone Butterflies, Smoky Mirrors?"
Char sighed. "As our guest says, names are power, and I will not speak their true names aloud. Understand this: those mages, the Tzitzime, they serve ancient masters, two very powerful beings. This is most disturbing."
Angie watched Char's face, noting well the trace of fear in her adopted mother's voice—a rare occurrence. And that bothered her more than she wanted to admit. "Okay," she said, her thoughts racing. "Fine, but that damned Mother woman, Smoke Heart? What does she want?"
"Rayan Zar Davi," Tec answered. "She wants her." His gaze went to Erin, seated behind her.
"Why me?" Erin asked, somehow understanding they were all now looking at her. "And where are my brothers?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know," Tec said. "We knew Davi came here to find the Seagraves, so I came to stop her."
"Why?" Char asked.
"Because the Tzitzime wanted them."
"That seems very simple," Char stated, doubt in her voice.
"Sometimes it's just that simple."
"And you're not working with the Nortenos, the Brujas Fantasmas?" Angie asked, feeling as though the conversation between Char and Tec was levels beyond her understanding.
"I work with Constance Morgan and her Brujas on occasion," Tec stated. "I wouldn't call us allies, but our goals are often interlinked. I serve a ... different master."
Char made a “go on” motion with her hand. "I have no desire to interfere in your master’s business."
"Then let me go."
"In time," Char said. "Your presence within the Enclave is a violation of the Concord. And you have injured my sister."
"Regrettable, but your sister attacked me."
"You trespassed in our territory."
"Not on purpose. I had to shift to protect the women, but in my beast form ... sometimes I can't think as clearly. It doesn’t happen often, but on occasion, I lose myself in the beast, with only a jaguar's intellect. I remembered I had to protect the women, and so I followed them. Then the vampires started stalking them, and I ... well, I’m sorry. Did I kill anyone?"
“No,” Char answered. “Although my sister will not be fond of you—or perhaps she’ll respect you more. Ephix is odd at the best of times.”
"It's true," said Erin. "During the full moon, we're ... we're driven by the need to hunt, to kill and eat. That's why we always leave, to get as far away from people as we can before we change." Erin's head rose, and she faced Tec, even though blind. "But you ... you just shifted on your own, without the full moon? How?"
"It's different for me," he said simply. "I'm not bound by the moon's cycle but by other factors. And I can't always change back as easily."
"Mother," Angie asked, "what of these Tzitzime, these Children of the Star-Eater?"
"An ancient cult that practices blood magic," she answered. "Some believe their worship is so old it predates the Mayan and Aztec civilizations." She glanced at Tec.
"It's true," he said. "But the cult has been underground, dormant for centuries. It only resurfaced when the dragons broke the Fey Sleep and brought about the Awakening. Everything changed that day. The Tzitzime are behind the rise of the Aztalan Empire. They are the power behind the throne."
The Aztalan Empire. For Angie and the other residents of Sanwa City, the tales of a new power rising from the ashes of what had once been Central America were little more than whispers. No one traveled beyond a day's journey from the walled settlements and rarely even that, let alone all the way across old Mexico. Besides, the Norteno nation, the Democratic Republica of Mexico del Norte, stood between the Cascadian Commonwealth and this new power, a buffer against its expansion, but if even half the rumors Angie had heard were true, then there was cause to fear its existence: at best, it was an empire built on the bodies of slaves; at worst, its rulers practiced human sacrifice.
"And the rumors of war?" Char asked.
Tec nodded gravely. "We think it's inevitable. If the Aztalan Empire doesn't continue to expand, it'll fall apart under its own weight."
Char ran her palms over her face, looking far more tired than Angie could remember having seen her look before.
"But they won't ... they won't come this far north?" Andrej asked in a timid voice.
Neither Tec nor Char answered, which was answer enough for Angie. "Why the Seagraves? Why Erin?"
"I don't know," Tec stated bluntly, "but I'll do everything in my power to stop them, whatever it is."
"Sacrifice," Char stated sadly. "There is power in the blood of shifters." She looked to Erin, considering her sadly. "How many other female werewolves have you known?" she asked her.
"None," Erin stated.
"How many have you heard of?"
Erin shook her head. "Only me and my mother, but… she’s dead."
"Which leaves just you," Char said. She turned to Tec. "You of all people, Teccizcoatl, should know how rare a creature Erin Seagrave is."
He met her eyes and nodded, saying nothing.
"This priestess of the Tzitzime, Rayan Zar Davi-Mother Smoke Heart, no doubt she intends to sacrifice the Seagraves to her masters, particularly Erin. She will not stop trying to capture her. I suspect she is far too rare to let go. Nor am I certain she fears me or even my sister."
"You have to do something." Erin stood up, her chair falling over behind her with a crash. "Please, my brothers—"
"Are safe enough for now, child of the wolf. Until the full moon, when they change. For now, their blood holds no more power than that of any human."
"The full moon?" Angie asked. She glanced to Erin. "How long?"
"Sufficient time yet, daughter," Char stated. "Weeks yet."
"It's true," Erin confirmed. "The twenty-eighth it starts: three days of full moon."
Today was the twelfth. That gave them just over two weeks to find and rescue Erin's brothers. "Can you help, Mother?"
"I can,
but first we must see to your friend."
"What of me?" Tec asked, stepping forward and gripping the bars. "You know who I serve, how important my mission is."
"Later, Jaguar Knight," Char said. "I do not believe you are an enemy, but I must explain your presence to my people. Nor can I free you while my sister remains injured. Even I can't risk such an insult to Ephix Lamia, sister or not. The moment her servants saw you openly walking about my home, there'd be bloodshed. Be patient."
He was clearly unhappy but didn't argue any further. "Don't delay me too long, Chararah Succubus. Rayan Zar Davi is dangerous, and she doesn't care about your Concord."
Char turned to face Erin. She motioned to the other cell with its open door, even though Erin couldn't see. "Please, Erin Seagrave, allow Andrej to lead you into this cell. What I need to do will be dangerous to the rest of us."
Angie understood. "You're going to use that talisman again, aren't you, to change her into her werewolf form?"
"I am." Char produced the dream catcher and held it loosely at her side. "Even in human form, werewolves heal far quicker than others, and in a few months, Erin would grow her eyes back, but we do not have that long."
"It's true," Erin said.
Andrej approached and placed Erin's hand on his forearm.
"But how can you make me change without the moon?"
"An ancient Anasazi talisman," Char answered. "Their shamans used it to help those members of the tribe suffering from the Wendigo curse, a form of shifting."
Andrej led Erin into the cell and left her in it, securing the door with a clang. Erin's shoulders trembled. "Just how strong are those bars? Because if they're not really, really strong..."
The Awakened World Boxed Set Page 19