Jessica Andersen - Dawnkeepers

“You want the knife.” One of the shadows moved, taking on the form of a dark-haired woman wearing a hooded black cape over a purple velour tracksuit. She was average height, average weight, with regular features that weren’t particularly noteworthy until he got to her eyes, which were dark and intense, and sent a nasty twitch through his gut. Don’t turn your back on this one, said his warrior’s mark, or his own gut instincts. Maybe both.

“We brought cash,” he said, wanting the deal done and them out of there. “Where’s the knife?”

“Here.” She withdrew the weapon from a pocket of her robe, balanced it on her palm, and held it to the light.

At the sight of it, something inside Nate went still. The ancient artifact was polished black obsidian, carved from a single piece of stone. The blade was maybe nine inches long, the haft slightly shorter, and carved with a repeating motif he didn’t recognize, at least not consciously. Something inside him recognized it, though, and the recognition brought a surge of possessiveness. He had an obsessive, overwhelming urge to reach out and grab the thing, but held himself back, remembering what’d happened when Alexis touched the Ixchel statuette.

Even as he did so, a burn of satisfaction raced through him. They’d gotten there in time. The Xibalban—or whatever the hell he was—hadn’t beaten them to the knife.

“Looks good,” Alexis said, moving up to face the self-proclaimed witch. “I believe we agreed on twenty grand?”

The corners of Mistress Truth’s mouth turned up. “Technically you offered twenty and I said I’d think about it.”

“You also agreed to give us right of first refusal,” Alexis added pleasantly, but with a thread of steel in the words.

“Did I?”

“You know you did.” Alexis’s voice went cool, and Nate got a really bad feeling, really quick.

Mistress Truth lifted a shoulder. “Maybe that was before I knew there was another interested party.”

Shit, Nate thought, and would’ve moved forward if Alexis hadn’t waved him back. “We’ll double the offer,” she said.

The older woman’s eyes glinted with avarice. “He offered fifty.”

“Then we’ll give you a hundred,” Alexis retorted without missing a beat. “Here and now, and let’s get it done.”

Mistress Truth pursed her lips. “Let me think about it.”

Which Nate knew really meant, Let me call the big redheaded guy for a counteroffer, which so wasn’t an option—not because Nate cared what they paid for the thing, but because he had no intention of losing to Red again.

Which begged the question of why the other mage wasn’t there already. He’d already shown that he could ’port. Why hadn’t he just zapped in and grabbed the knife?

Well, he hadn’t, so that gave them an opportunity they couldn’t afford to walk away from. Nate shifted to his left, then caught Rabbit’s eye and gave the kid a little nod, sending him a few steps to his right, so they were flanking the wannabe witch.

He was just about to move in when Alexis said, “My offer expires in two hours.” She turned away, headed back toward the light. “Come on, guys.” She walked out, leaving the room’s single exit wide-

open.

Mistress Truth looked straight at Nate and smirked. “You three should really get on the same page, you know.”

Having lost the element of surprise—and not sure he’d ever really had it—Nate followed Alexis out, with Rabbit at his heels. Nate crowded close to her and hissed, “What the hell was that?”

“It’s called a strategic retreat. And you’re not the negotiator here.”

“Fuck negotiating,” he said succinctly. “We should grab the knife, leave the cash, and get the hell out of here.”

Her eyes went cool. “We don’t all have the same set of flexible ethics as you, Nathan. And we can’t hold ourselves out as the saviors of mankind if we run around acting like street thugs.” She said the last very softly, letting him know that she too knew they were being watched. But if she was sharp enough to catch the furtive movement in the shadows, how could she not see that they were setting themselves up for disaster by leaving now?

Unless that was what she wanted to have happen.

Suddenly convinced there was something else going on here, something he wasn’t aware of, Nate growled, “Exactly what the hell are you up to?”

“Later,” she said as they moved from the bookcase labyrinth to the front of the store. She indicated the door. “Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

But when they hit the street, Rabbit wasn’t with them. Nate cursed under his breath and was just about to go back in when the kid came through the door with a strange look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Nate demanded.

Expression blanking, the teen shrugged. “Nothing. I thought I saw . . . nothing. I’ll take first watch.”

He turned away, heading across the street to a nearby bakery as though the only thing on his mind were chowing a couple of beignets, not setting up a surveillance post that faced the tea shop.

Alexis watched him go. “Creepy kid,” she said after a moment.

“Why?” Nate snapped, irritated. “Because he’s a half-blood? Watch it, princess, your winikin ’s showing.”

Her eyebrows climbed. “What’s up your ass?”

You, he wanted to say. The witch. The ersatz Xibalban. All of it. The entire setup stank, just like Edna Hopkins’s cottage had. His blood buzzed with anger, with impatience. He wanted that knife, hated that they’d just walked away from it, and resented his growing suspicion that Alexis had an agenda he hadn’t known about. How the hell was he supposed to watch her back if he didn’t know the whole plan? “You want to tell me what the hell’s going on here?”

“It’s an experiment.” She paused, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, gauging his response when she whispered almost soundlessly, “Strike thinks Rabbit’s mother was Xibalban. He wants to know if he reacts to the redhead’s magic.”

Stifling his first response, which involved the words fuck and me , Nate snarled, “So this isn’t just a recovery mission; it’s a science-fair project? Jesus, what kind of prioritization is that? Strike’s off his rocker.”

“We need information,” she said, but avoided his eyes.

Shit. This wasn’t the king’s plan. It was hers, or maybe a bit of both. “What are you doing, Alexis?”

Nate kept his voice low, but reached out and took her hand, feeling a buzz of contact that was a potent mix of sex, magic, and memory. He hung on when she would’ve pulled away, and said softly, “Talk to me.”

She lifted her chin. “Consider this an extended job interview.”

“You’re not going to earn the king’s trust by being stupid,” Nate said, letting go of her hand because he wanted to keep holding on. “Think it through. We go back in there, steal the knife, and bring it back to Skywatch. Mission accomplished. What more could Strike ask?”

“That’s the sort of thought process that got you thrown in jail, isn’t it?”

The universe went very still. “Don’t go there.”

Something flickered in her eyes—regret, maybe, or nerves—but it was quickly gone, leaving coolness behind. “Sorry,” she said, sounding unrepentant. “The point is that I’m not going to get what I want by doing the minimum. I have to prove that I’m ready for more, that I’m ambitious and aggressive.”

“That sounds like something Izzy would say.”

“ I’m saying it,” she replied evenly, but then her expression softened. “Look, I know you want to follow your own path; I get that, and I’m not asking you to buy into something you don’t believe in.