Jessica Andersen - Dawnkeepers

It was Strike who said, “What else did you see?”

That implied he already knew about the visions, which just irked Nate more. If Alexis had kept this from him, what else was she keeping secret? But even as he wondered that, the rational part of him knew that it wasn’t like he’d encouraged sharing.

“They were in that long, narrow stone chamber,” she said slowly. “The same one I saw when I touched the statuette.” She bit off the word, making Nate wonder what she wasn’t saying.

Anna pushed through the crowd, moving between Nate and the bed, subtly easing him away. She shot Strike a look, and he started clearing the room.

“Go on,” Anna urged Alexis. “You saw your mother. What else?”

“I—Wait,” she said breaking off when Strike herded Michael toward the door. “I want him to stay.”

Nate muttered a curse and fought to stifle a flash of rage he had absolutely no right to feel.

Strike glanced from Nate to Michael and back, but raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. Michael stays.” But the look he shot at Nate promised a serious convo to come.

Alexis nodded, then said, “In my dream, Gray-Smoke and Two-Hawk were at the altar, which was made of stalagmites mostly, carved with scales and rainbows. They were working some sort of ritual —at least, they started to. Then they broke off and started arguing about something.”

“Did you hear the spell?” Anna asked. She was holding Alexis’s hands in hers, and Nate suspected she was either leaking the younger woman power or trying to see her dream through the contact. “Or what they were fighting about?”

“No.” Alexis paused and took a deep breath. “But here’s the thing: It was the same chamber, only the altar wasn’t the same. Well, it was, but there was a small door open on it, one that I didn’t see before. Maybe it was a secret compartment? Anyway, there was a little alcove behind the door, and inside the alcove there was a small carving.” Now she looked at Nate, their eyes locking. “It’s the other half of the Ixchel statuette. I’m sure of it.”

He nodded. It made sense that Ixchel would want them to find the other piece of her demon prophecy. Would’ve been nice if she could’ve beamed the missing text straight to Alexis or something, but he had a feeling none of what they were up against was going to be that easy. The gods had rules the Nightkeepers didn’t understand any better than they knew the extent of their own magic, or the limitations of the Xibalbans and Banol Kax . “What else did you see?” he asked.

“Nothing much.” She shook her head, grimacing. “There was this buzzing over everything, like interference. Static. I couldn’t hear any of what they said, and they were still arguing when I woke up.”

Strike shot a look at Nate. “Did you dream anything?”

“I was awake.” He didn’t think it necessary to mention that he didn’t dream, or if he did, never remembered anything but the nightmares.

“Damn,” the king muttered. “Anna, you get anything?”

The itza’at disengaged from Alexis, shaking her head. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Nate didn’t know whether that meant she had nothing to add from Alexis’s vision, or she hadn’t been able to pick it up at all. He cleared his throat. “Where does that leave us?”

Strike didn’t hesitate before answering. “After the first Ixchel vision, I had Jade start searching for references to a temple like the one Alexis saw: a narrow rectangular room deep underground, water access the only way in or out, with a carved crowd scene looking toward a naturally formed throne.”

Alexis straightened against the headboard. “And?”

“Last I checked she had it narrowed down to three possibilities. By now she may’ve gotten it figured all the way out.”

“I’m going,” Alexis said, her tone brooking no argument. “I’ll leave as soon as she’s sure of the location.”

Strike nodded. “Of course. I’ll transpo you and Nate once—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I want Michael.”

Nate hid the flinch as best he could. He’d known it was coming, of course, but that didn’t temper the instinctive kick of rage.

Surprised, Michael looked from him to Alexis and back. “Blackhawk?” he said, letting that one word ask several questions.

Michael was the only Nightkeeper to call Nate by his bloodline name; Nate had never been sure if it was intended as a sign of respect or a subtle dig. Whichever, it sparked his anger even higher now, but he throttled back the urge to rip, tear, and fight, knowing that this, at least, wasn’t anybody’s fault but his own. “It’s fine,” he said tightly. “Go ahead.”

“You don’t need his permission,” Alexis snapped.

“I’m not chattel.” Nate gritted his teeth. “Nobody said you were.” Knowing she was safe—for now, anyway—and that the convo was likely to go downhill fast if he stayed put, he headed for the door. He brushed past Michael harder than necessary, a body bump of warning, and growled under his breath, “Anything bad happens to her—and I mean anything —and you answer to me.”

Nate didn’t wait for a reply, just stalked into the hallway, and from there out the back of the mansion. He was nearly dead from postmagic exhaustion, and knew he needed to shut it down, but he couldn’t bear to go back to his room knowing that Alexis was nearby. Knowing she might already be making her move on Michael.

It would’ve been nice to head out to the Pueblo ruins and raid Rabbit’s stash up there for a sleeping bag and enough of the Nightkeeper’s fermented pulque to get seriously stoned, but Nate didn’t think he could make it that far. Instead he headed for a nearer goal: one of the family cottages behind the mansion, where he figured he could crash and sleep with a modicum of privacy, and without the sense that he was surrounded on all sides by expectations.

The small, four-room cottages stood in two neat rows of six each, plus one on the end to make lucky thirteen. Once, they had held the Nightkeeper families who had resided at the compound but preferred the privacy of a small house over the convenience of the mansion. Now all but one stood empty.

Rabbit was staying in the cottage his father had once lived in with his wife and twin sons, back before the massacre. Red-Boar had allowed only minimal restoration and Rabbit hadn’t changed anything, so the place was pretty much vintage. Jox had ordered the contractors to redo three more of the houses during the reno, on the theory that some of the resident Nightkeepers or winikin might want the privacy. Nobody had taken the offer, though, so the small structures stood vacant and unlocked, still smelling fresh and new inside.

The other nine cottages remained as they had been the night of the massacre, save for a new coat of exterior paint covering over where they’d been marred by smoke damage or the six-clawed scratches left by the boluntiku , lava creatures sent by the Banol Kax to slaughter the Nightkeepers and winikin .

Starting to feel seriously woozy, Nate headed for one of the redone cottages. He had his hand on the doorknob when something made him pause and turn away, then head for the cottage next door, which was the last one on its row. It was one of the ones that hadn’t been renovated, and the door was locked, but something in his spinning, overtired brain had him crouching down and feeling through the fist-

size pebbles in the rock bed beside the front step.

He found one stone that was unnaturally light and warm to the touch. When he flipped it over and felt the bottom, he found a sliding panel and, beneath that, a key.

Somewhere inside he knew it shouldn’t have been that easy, that there was no reason for him to have known to look for the hidden key. That knowledge, though, was dulled by the dragging exhaustion, and a sort of compulsion that drove him onward, compelling him to unlock the door and let himself inside.