Moving to sit on Harry’s other side, Patience propped her elbows on the table and nodded. “You know what? I think so.”
In another lifetime, when she’d been young and so caught up in being in love that she hadn’t remembered to be herself, she would have been adamant about it, would’ve made sweeping statements about love at first sight and forever. Now she was far more cautious. But at the same time, now she knew what it took to make love at first sight last forever . . . and she had a partner who knew he had to meet her halfway.
As if he’d caught a hint of her thoughts through their vibrant jun tan connection, he looked for her again, sent her a “hey, babe” smile . . . and went back to consulting with his junior contractor.
Seeing the exchange, Hannah nodded firmly. “I know so.”
Patience smiled, because she knew so too, and also because Harry gave them a disgusted look, muttered something about girl talk, and headed over to join the engineering debate.
“How about you?” Patience asked the winikin once Harry was out of earshot. “Are you going to be okay?”
They both knew she was really asking, How upset are you over Woody? Did you lose a friend, a lover, or the one and only?
Hannah’s lips curved softly. Wearing a deep purple bandanna over her missing eye, along with a black, puffy-sleeved blouse, she looked particularly piratical, though Patience suspected she’d been trying to tone down her usual peacock hues to human-style mourning colors.
After a moment, the other woman said, “Woody and I worked together better as winikin than we did as lovers. We synced amazingly well when it came to raising the boys and making family decisions. In that regard, it was a perfect match. In the other”—she lifted a shoulder—“we kept each other warm sometimes, but he wasn’t my one and only and I wasn’t his, and that was okay with both of us.” Her eye drifted in the direction of the mansion. “I’m sad about Woody, and I’ll miss the heck out of him. He was a part of my life, and I’ll remember him until the gods call me up to the sky . . . but my heart isn’t broken.”
“Are you going to be okay working with Carlos?” It had been decided that the ex-wrangler would go with Hannah and the twins, in order to share the workload that came with raising a couple of bright, active boys, and—unstated but understood—to provide redundancy in case something happened to her. He had raised Sven and his own daughter, Cara, and had helped Nate through his rough transition into the Nightkeepers. He was a good choice.
But perhaps, Patience thought, not the absolute best choice.
“Carlos is a good man,” Hannah said. “A good winikin.” Which wasn’t really an answer. But before Patience could press her on it, the funeral procession emerged from the rear of the mansion and started heading in their direction.
Leah led the way, followed by most of the winikin. They carried the litter that bore Woody’s body, which had been intricately wrapped with cloth and tied into a mortuary bundle.
Hannah frowned. “Strike and Rabbit aren’t there.”
“Jox either,” Patience put in, though she suspected Hannah had noticed that first, then looked for Strike. She stood and started toward the procession. “Something’s up.” Please, gods, not something bad.
But Leah sent her an “It’s okay. Stay where you are” wave, and when she got out to the pyre, she said, “Strike and Jox will be out in a minute. They said for us to set up without them, that they’d be here for noon.”
As the winikin carefully placed the mortuary bundle atop the pyre, though, Patience noticed that Leah kept glancing back toward the mansion. When Patience caught herself doing the same thing, she made herself stop it, and focus on the ceremony.
Brandt, who had moved up to stand beside her in the loose ring of Nightkeepers, winikin, and humans surrounding the pyre, whispered, “Woody wouldn’t mind. He’d be dying to—” He faltered, then swallowed and continued. “He’d want to know what’s going on too.”
“We’ll find out when the time’s right. This is for Woody.” More, it was a way for the rest of them to say good-bye.
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?”
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