Jessica Andersen - Magic Unchained

“Come back!” she cried again, her voice breaking on a sob, but the hound didn’t hesitate. She gathered herself and launched straight into the roiling blackness of the tunnel mouth.

And disappeared.

“NO!” Cara pulled against Sven’s grip, then clutched at him when the stone surface beneath their feet began to vibrate. The rattlesnake noise slashed through the space, growing louder and louder still.

“Cover your eyes!” he shouted, and pulled her into his arms and shielded them both just as the tunnel detonated with a huge roar of rock and dark magic.

Power blasted them, and shrapnel slammed into the shield. Cara clung to Sven, burying her face in his chest and trying to block out the sound of her familiar’s demise, her sacrifice. “No.” She didn’t weep, not now. But she would. She might have known the creature for only a short time, but without realizing it, she’d been missing that part of herself for most of her life.

The noise died down, then faded to silence. She stayed pressed into him, though, not wanting to open her eyes and have it be time to move on.

“Cara.” He eased her away. “Look. Look at what you’ve done.”

She glanced around. The camazotz were all gone, vanished like they’d never been there. But they had left a disaster area in the wake of the fight. The beautiful cave was a shambles: The white sands were bloody red in places, warning that there had been injuries, maybe even more deaths than just Breece. The water was muddy, the tunnel a rubble-filled nonentity, and even the pretty green vines hanging down from above had burned, going withered and brown. “What a mess.”

“No.” Sven pointed to the others. “Look at them.”

The others were picking themselves up and dusting off, talking in low tones. Nightkeeper, winikin, human… it didn’t seem to matter anymore. There were handshakes and backslaps, and places where Nightkeepers had shielded winikin, and vice versa. And the shadow-creatures watched over it all, protecting the protectors.

A lump of emotion balled up in her throat. “We did it,” she whispered past the tightness. “We won… and we did it as a team.”

“You did it.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You and your magic.”

She sighed and let herself lean into him for one last moment, closing her eyes and savoring his solid strength, his kindness, his… Shit. Don’t think about it.

But if she couldn’t think about Sven and she wasn’t yet ready to think about the familiar she’d lost, what could she think about?

Whatever comes next, she decided. She would put one foot in front of the other, and not think about how she’d lost her man and her dog, and was one pickup truck short of a flipping country song.

Pulling away, she swiped at her eyes, took a deep breath, and faced Sven. “Well, I guess—”

Trapped!

The word was faint and pained, but she heard it loud and clear. And Mac must have too, because he let out a howl and bolted across the cavern to the tunnel. He sniffed and searched, racing from side to side and up the precarious rock slide, then gave an excited bark and looked back at Cara.

Heart kicking, she started toward him.

“Wait,” Sven said from behind her. “Let me.”

He must’ve sent some silent command, because Mac jumped down and sat on his haunches nearby, watching expectantly. Then warmth washed through her as Sven tapped into his magic. And the rocks began to move.

Huge gray slabs eased aside, boulders levered up, and smaller chunks floated as if on ghost wings while Cara stared in awe at the magic he could make.

“There!” Sven said. “I see her. Stay here.” Without leaving room for discussion, he climbed up the rock slide and ducked into the hole he’d made.

Frowning, Cara started to follow. “What are you…” She trailed off as he straightened and turned to her, carrying a dark-haired, normal-size coyote. “Oh.” Her heart beat off rhythm as he carried his precious cargo down the slippery slope. “Be careful!”

“She’ll need to see Sasha,” he called, and got an, “On my way,” from the healer. When he reached Cara, he nudged her back to a soft spot in the sand, and knelt to lay the coyote at her feet. And when she crouched down and cautiously touched the sable fur, she got a wash of love and support in return, along with a sighed thought-glyph of, Found.

Yes. She was found, all right. And she hadn’t even known she was missing until now.

“She’ll be okay,” Sven said, looking at her across the coyote’s furry bulk with eyes that seemed to be conveying a silent message she didn’t understand. “I think she’s mostly bruised and shaken up.”

“She’s not the only one.” It was amazing how quickly things could change, she thought, and turned to Mac, who sat nearby. She threw her arms around the bigger coyote’s ruff and buried her face in his dusty fur, choking out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you. I owe both of you.”

“No owesies,” Sven said. “He loves you. He’d do anything for you.” He paused. “And so would I. Because I love you too.”

And just like that, everything changed again.

Stomach lurching, she let go of Mac and shot to her feet, hands balling to fists. “No,” she said quickly. “You don’t. That’s adrenaline talking.”

“No, it’s me talking. I love you,” he said, loud enough that the low murmur of conversation cut out and they became the center of attention.

A flush climbed up her throat and heated her face, even as she wanted to weep. “Adding volume doesn’t make it true.” Softening her voice, she added, “Let it go, okay? Just… let it go.” Because if he didn’t, she was badly afraid she would do something really stupid. Like give him yet another chance.

“I can’t let it go, because I love you. And I know how to prove it.” There was something very determined in his eyes all of a sudden; the look brought a tremor of nerves and a quick, frantic thought that this was real. This was different.

But she’d thought that before, hadn’t she?

She swallowed hard. “What proof? More promises that you’ll take back when they get inconvenient?”

“Not exactly.” Expression resolute, he reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and dropped down on one knee.

And all Cara could think was, Oh, hell, no.

For all that her inner seventeen-year-old—and maybe even parts of the woman that teenager had grown into—wanted to squeal, the rest of her, the smarter majority vote inside her, knew that this wasn’t the right answer for either of them.

“Don’t…” she began, but then trailed off and stared, shocked, at the piece of paper he was unfolding. Or not paper, really. An index card filled with Carlos’s cramped writing done in pencil.

It was the aj winikin spell.

Cara gulped as Sven met her eyes. And started to read. “No. Stop.” She took a step toward him. “Don’t.”

He didn’t falter, just kept reading. Tension snapped into the air; she recognized it from when she got her mark, back beneath the wide-open Montana sky. It was the winikin magic. The servant’s spell.

“Seriously, stop. I don’t…”

He kept reading, but his eyes flicked to hers.

Panic gripped her. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t! The king, the other Nightkeepers, her father… Gods. But he wouldn’t stop. How could she… Then she knew. She hated it, but she knew how to make him stop. He was nearing the end and she was running out of time.

Planting herself squarely in front of him, she raised her voice to carry over the spell and said, “I don’t love you.”

He flinched. But he kept reading to the end of the card, and then locked his eyes with hers when, like magic—because that was what it was—a new mark appeared on his forearm: the image of a hand cupping the face of a sleeping child.