Jessica Andersen - Demonkeepers

The shimmering nearby grew more distinct, then flared bright white with a boom of detonation.

When it cleared, the other Nightkeepers stood on the canyon floor, bloody and bedraggled, staring around in themselves in shock.

Gods . Lucius sagged as greasy brown vapor wisps surrounded him, but he managed to make his mouth work enough that he could croak, “Win the game. Free the god.”

Then his vision washed green and he wasn’t just himself anymore. He was Akhenaton too.

Akhenaton?

It didn’t make any sense, but it was true. He could see the pharaoh’s thoughts, his history, his greed —everything that made him the monomaniacal murderer he had been. The makol seemed equally shocked to find itself inside the human male rather than the mage woman; Lucius caught the demon’s thought-pictures, though no language was transmitted. Then Akhenaton saw the Nightkeepers: Michael and Sasha were freeing Jade from the guard, while the others raced toward Kinich Ahau, who still had control of the ball but was under siege by the five animal-heads. Seeing its plans crumbling, its opportunity to rule the sun sliding into jeopardy, and fearing the wrath of its Banol Kax masters, Akhenaton’s demon spirit thrust itself brutally into Lucius’s psyche, grabbing for control of their shared body.

No! Lucius roared inwardly. Never again! Using every iota of mental discipline he had learned from Cizin, he slammed mental shields around Akhenaton’s essence and forced the damned soul away .

Power surged and magic swirled, forming a vortex Lucius remembered from the Prophet’s spell.

Added to that now was the power he’d felt before, that hollow, rushing sensation of a connection forming between worlds. He caught a glimpse of black nothingness, and pushed the demon’s soul toward it.

Akhenaton howled in outraged protest. Too used to commanding through fear, the demon didn’t know how to dominate someone who wasn’t afraid.

Die , Lucius grated. Die!

The pharaoh’s spirit scrabbled for purchase, lost its grip, and tore away, pinwheeling. A terrible, thin scream trailed off as the makol ’s incorporeal soul was sucked into the void.

There was a flash of luminous green. Then the pharaoh was gone.

For a moment, there was only emptiness inside Lucius. Then fierce triumph roared through him.

He’d done it. He’d defeated a makol ! He wanted to scream victory, wanted to pump his fists, wanted to snatch Jade up and spin her in a circle, kissing her until she admitted that she loved him too, that they would muddle through, make mistakes, and make it work.

But Lucius’s eyes wouldn’t open. His body wouldn’t move. In fact, he was looking down on his body, which was lax and slack- muscled. He saw Jade racing toward him, bending over him. And, strangely, he seemed to be floating up to the pale brown sky.

Jade crouched down beside Lucius. Tears stung her eyes when she couldn’t find his pulse. Akhenaton was gone; she’d seen its shadow leave Lucius. But then she’d seen another, glowing mist rise from his beloved body. The faint shimmer was gone now, but she thought she knew what it meant.

He’d sacrificed himself for her, in all possible ways. And she’d be damned if she would let that be the end of things for them.

Leaning in close, she whispered in his ear, “I love you, so stay the hell alive.” Then, nearly blinded by unshed tears, she scrambled up and lunged toward the field of play, where the magi were jockeying for position as the pharaoh’s guards and animal-headed minions passed the ball among them, heading for the sun god’s goal. For a moment, she didn’t understand what was going on; Akhenaton was gone, so who were they playing for? Then she saw that beast-shadows lined the high walls of the ball court.

The Banol Kax had come to watch, lending their weight to the play.

If the Nightkeepers’ team won, they would be free and Kinich Ahau would return to Earth. If not, they would all remain trapped in Xibalba. Forever.

Habit and instinct told Jade to hide on the sidelines. Instead, she bolted straight for the action. Her breath whistled in her throat as she dodged a spiked club, spun past a snake-head that snapped and hissed at her, and lunged for Sasha. Tapping her on the shoulder, which had been their signal for a player to rotate out of the game, Jade shouted over the game noise, “Go help Lucius. He’s hurt.” She pointed toward where he lay, steeling herself against the sight of his motionless form.

Sasha nodded and took off, leaving Jade to play her position. When she was just barely clear of the field, the sun god screeched an avian war cry. Holding the head-ball under one arm, it raced across the canyon floor, headed for the opposite team’s goal. The slack whipped out of the sinew ropes, which snapped tight and yanked the god to a roaring, thrashing standstill. The animal-heads boiled in pursuit, regenerating as quickly as the Nightkeepers cut them down. Kinich Ahau fought the bonds, which stretched but didn’t give.

They’re too pliable! Jade thought suddenly. Heart pounding, she summoned the last dregs of her magic and shaped it into the now-familiar iceball spell. Cold touched the air and raced through her veins as she let the ice magic fly. It hit the ropes, which froze with a hissing, crackling noise. And turned brittle.

With an exultant howl, Kinich Ahau snapped free, tossed the head-ball into the air, and leaped after it. As if the bonds themselves had contained the god’s magic, the man-form became the firebird, morphing midair to the fierce flame- clad creature. It flapped its wings once, twice, and on the third sweep, it caught the head-ball in its beak. Banking, the god swept past the hell-team’s goal, and flung the head through the hoop with a shriek of triumph. As the ball passed through, white light lit the sky and a soundless detonation rocked the firmament. The animal-heads and the last of the pharaoh’s guards dropped where they stood and lay, unmoving. Atop the high walls on either side of the ball court, shadows rippled and the Banol Kax disappeared, beaten by a game that was part of the fabric of the planes themselves.

Drained of the last of her magic, Jade collapsed to the canyon floor and buried her face in her hands.

She didn’t weep, not yet. Not until Sasha told her Lucius was gone. But somehow she knew, she knew that had been his soul leaving his body and heading for the sky, where warriors went after they died in battle.

“Gods, please, no,” she whispered behind her hands. The pain was incredible, overwhelming, impossible to bear. But she didn’t wish it gone. She embraced it, wallowed in it, held it to her. And if that put her on the level of the most heartbroken patient she’d ever counseled, then it was a good level to be on, because she had finally taken the risk. She had loved. She had lived .

“Jade.” It was Strike’s voice, oddly hushed. “Look up.”

“I know,” she said, sighing as she let her hands fall. “He’s—” She broke off on a gasp.

The firebird stood in front of her, flanked on either side by the big black dogs that guarded it. The flames that had wreathed it before had turned to soft red-gold feathers. It looked like a giant eagle with the plumage of a parrot, and it towered over her, dwarfed her as it stretched out one wing, unfurled its long flight feathers, and brushed them across her face and down her right arm. The touch tingled; it burned, but not unpleasantly . . . and in a familiar way.

Pulse suddenly hammering, she looked down at her forearm. There she wore a new glyph, a third mark. It wasn’t static, though; as she watched, it morphed from one glyph to another and back again, oscillating between the two.