Jessica Andersen - Skykeepers

“It means all is forgiven.” She lifted their joined hands to her cheek, rested her face on his strength.

“It means we go on from here and do the best we can do.”

“That I can manage.” He gathered her close, pressing her against his broad chest and rocking her gently as the others ringed the bonfire once again.

Strike and Leah, Nate and Alexis, and Rabbit and Myrinne paired off, the mated couples wrapping together while the other magi and the winikin stood apart and alone. They watched the fire burn down, even knowing that Ambrose’s spirit had passed onward. Sasha suspected each of them saw something slightly different in the flames—scenes of the past, of futures near and far.

She had fulfilled three-quarters of the prophecy: She’d become a daughter of the sky, a ch’ulel ; She’d conquered death, bringing Rabbit, Michael, and Lucius back from the brink; and she’d defied love—or at least what she’d thought she’d known about what she wanted when it came to falling in love—by claiming Michael for her own despite all the reasons they made no sense together. As for the lost son . . . well, time would tell.

The next six months would be critical. They needed to call the Triad, deal with Moctezuma, and figure out where the Banol Kax would strike next. Each of those things seemed an insurmountable obstacle in isolation. In sum, they could be seen only as impossible. Yet rationality said that a dozen magi wouldn’t be enough to save the world when the prophecies spoke of hundreds. So far they might not be kicking ass, but they were holding their own. Over the next few months, the next three years, they would continue to do the same.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Sasha whispered, pushing slightly away from Michael’s chest so she could see the firelight play on his face. “The next few years, I mean.”

“No, it’s not. But whatever happens, we’re in it together.” He tapped the ring, the symbol he’d known she needed, and had come to need himself. “That’s a promise.”

She smiled up at him, touched her lips to his. “I like the sound of that.”

The next three years—and the future beyond—were wreathed in shadows and darkness. But she had a family now, and a lover. A fiancé. There was strength in that, and power. And, in the beginning and the end, there was love. And it was in that love she wrapped herself as stars prickled in the sky and the fire burned low, leaving the Nightkeepers in gathering darkness, standing together as a team, as a family.

Her family.

It was almost full dark when Strike materialized himself and Jade beneath the ceiba tree. The mansion was only dimly lit, making it seem far away, while the stygian silhouette of the training hall loomed very near. But despite the darkness, Jade appreciated the king’s tact; the absolute last thing she wanted to do was see the others. She wasn’t sure she could handle doing the Hi, how have you been routine right now, as she’d been gone nearly ten weeks, taking a crash course in ancient Mayan glyphs and language . . . and getting some distance.

Yeah, she’d needed the miles. At that, she’d still be far from Skywatch if it hadn’t been for Strike’s message. She wasn’t sure which was worse: the secondhand booty call, or the fact that she’d volunteered for it. It’s the right thing to do , she reminded herself. Lucius needs to trigger the Prophet’s powers, and he’s not getting it done on his own. This isn’t about us; it’s about the magic.

More, it was her chance to be on the front lines for a change.

“Okay,” she said under her breath. “Here goes everything.”

But when she headed for the mansion, thinking to sneak in through a side door, Strike shot out a long arm and aimed her in the other direction. “He moved into one of the cottages a couple of months ago. Said the mansion made him feel claustrophobic after being trapped inside his own head for so long.”

“Oh.” She tried not to let that rattle her, even though when she’d pictured what was going to happen, she’d always envisioned being in the safely familiar three-room suite a few doors down from her own.

Not a big deal , she told herself. It’s just a change of scenery . Experience, both as a woman and as a therapist, had taught her that people didn’t fundamentally change; only peripherals did. Human, Nightkeeper—it didn’t matter. Some people were good, some bad, most a mixture of the two. She knew Lucius, trusted him. Wasn’t scared of him. She could do this.

“Problem?” Strike asked, the darkness making his voice seem to come from the air around them rather than from the man himself.

Shaking off the thought—and the quiver of nerves it brought—she said, “Of course not. Which cottage?” There were thirteen of them in two rows of six, with lucky thirteen on the far end, off by itself.

“The very last one; you’ll see the lights. Nate and Alexis are spending the night in the mansion.

With Rabbit and Myrinne at school, you’ll have privacy.” He pressed something into her hand. “Take this.”

Feeling the outlines of one of the earpiece-throat mike combos the warriors used during ops, she didn’t ask why. “Who’s going to be on the other end?” Even knowing that the mike would only transmit if she keyed it on, she couldn’t help picturing a voyeuristic tableau in the great room.

“Either me or Jox. Unless you’d prefer Leah.”

The king was doing his best, she realized, to maintain the illusion of privacy while keeping her safe, letting her know the warriors stood ready to come to her defense if the sex magic went awry and Lucius’s dark tendencies once again drew the attention of the Banol Kax , or even opened him up once again to makol possession. Which had been just one of the numerous daunting possibilities that had been thrown around, only to be set aside because the Nightkeepers were running out of options.

“Whatever you think is best,” Jade said, just barely managing not to tack on “sire” at the end. I’m not following orders this time . This was my idea. My choice . Raising her chin, she said, “Don’t worry about me. I know Lucius.”

The king’s answer was slow in coming. “You know, becoming the Prophet has . . . changed him.”

Anna had said something along those same lines earlier, when Jade let her know the booty call had come through on schedule. Now, as then, Jade waved off the concern. “He’s not the Prophet yet. If he were, you wouldn’t need me. Would you?”

Strike didn’t have an answer for that one, and that fact pinched somewhere in the region of her heart. With the information in the archive virtually exhausted, her value as a librarian was almost nil.

Given her inability to tap her scribe’s talent, she didn’t bring much in the way of a unique skill set to the Nightkeepers . . . except in the matter at hand. She and Lucius had a history, and she was the only female mage who remained yet unmated. More, in the wake of her and Michael’s failed affair, she’d proven that she could be sexually involved with a man and not lose her heart. She and Lucius ought to be able to return to the friends-with-benefits arrangement they’d had previously, and use the generated sex magic to trigger the Prophet’s powers.

That was the theory, anyway.

Realizing that Strike was waiting for her to make her move, she inhaled to settle a sudden flutter of nerves, and said, “Okay. Wish me luck.”