Jessica Andersen - Dawnkeepers

They had sold off some of the artifacts immediately, and the proceeds had allowed the Nightkeepers to integrate into society. Their children were educated in human trades as well as Nightkeeper magic, and judicious investments, funded with artifact sales, kept them going for the next fifty years or so, while their numbers increased. In the twenties and thirties they’d liquidated the remainder of the artifacts—including those bearing the demon prophecies—to fund the construction of Skywatch.

“This was the cache site,” Jade confirmed. “Meaning that just because your dream-vision showed the statuette fragment in that hidden alcove, that doesn’t guarantee it’s still there. For all we know, your vision showed where it was before Painted-Jaguar discovered the cache.”

“True,” Alexis said, drawing out the word. “But I saw my mother and Two-Hawk with the statuette fragment, which would’ve made it sometime in the nineteen seventies or early eighties.”

Jade countered, “Right, but we’re not sure how the visions work, and whether they’re going to prove fully accurate. What if your dream . . . I don’t know . . . folded time or something, showing you parts of two different scenes in the same temple?”

“It’s still worth looking.”

Jade grimaced. “Which brings us to numero duo of the things I think you should know before you decide to ’port.” She tapped the paper map, indicating the loop that extended beyond the temple chamber, and the unfamiliar glyph below it. “This seems to indicate that there’s a loop of tunnel extending beyond the temple, under the waterline. The glyph is och ja-ja , which according to Anna has two translations: One is ‘enter the water,’ which is pretty benign, but the other translation is ‘death,’ which was often associated with entering a watery tunnel on the way to hell, sort of a reverse of the birth process.”

Alexis fought a little shiver as she looked down at the glyph and the map. “As in ‘you die if you enter the water’?”

“I’m thinking it’s something like that. Booby traps, maybe?”

“Well, that’s just great.” Alexis fought the shimmy in her gut. “Note to self: Don’t go into the tunnels beyond the temple room.” Fortunately, she didn’t see why she’d want or need to.

“You could call it off,” Jade urged.

“And do what?” Alexis asked, faintly irritated. “It’s not like I wouldn’t rather be doing something else, you know.”

“I know, that wasn’t very helpful, was it? I’m sorry.” Jade rolled her shoulders. “I’ve been in a mood lately. I’m just . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Frustrated. Sick of working in here by myself, pretty much functioning as a human Google.” She flicked the side of her laptop. “I can’t wait to finish scanning the last of the books into this thing and get the computerized system going. Then it’ll be up to you guys to query and find your own spells and stuff.” She paused. “Then again, once you can, I’ll be pretty much useless, won’t I?”

“No,” Alexis said quickly. “You’ll have more time to concentrate on developing your magic.”

“What magic?” Jade looked at her forearm, where she had her bloodline and talent marks, but no warrior’s glyph. “The scribe’s glyph is supposed to mean I can create new spells, but it’s not like there’s an instruction manual. I don’t even know where to start!”

Seeing the opening, Alexis said, “What about, um, boosting your power? You know, try some autoletting, or . . . something else.” Like sex.

Jade’s lips twitched. “Don’t worry, I already heard you all but propositioned Mike last night. It’s fine. Honest.” She even sounded like she meant it.

“Are you positive?” Alexis pressed, feeling like total crap. Theirs was too small a community for her to be making waves. What was she doing?

Getting away from a man who wants a woman who looks like you, but doesn’t act like you, thought her rational self, the one that’d suggested she switch partners in the first place.

“I’m positive,” Jade said firmly. She took Alexis’s hand and pressed her fingers. “Truly. Mike and I aren’t a good fit—he wants the magic, and I . . . don’t. I really, really don’t.” She looked almost surprised to have said the last part, but added, “I’m not even sure I want to stay here.”

“Wow.” Alexis rocked back, stunned. “What does Shandi think about that?” Shandi, Jade’s winikin , was quiet and ultratraditional; Izzy held her in high regard, which pretty much said everything that needed to be said.

Jade blanched. “I haven’t told her, and you can’t either. Promise? I’m just thinking aloud. I don’t really mean it.” But that last part sounded more like rote than reality.

“I won’t say anything,” Alexis promised, but her brain spun while she gathered the references Jade had pulled together on Belize and the ATM caves.

As she headed back to her rooms, concern dogged her footsteps. What was happening to the Nightkeepers? They’d been a team during the equinox battle. Now, only five months later, they were bickering and scattered. How were they supposed to build an effective defense against Iago if they couldn’t manage to get along on a day-to-day basis?

Complete the statuette, a voice whispered at the back of her brain. Alexis didn’t think it was hers.

Stopping dead, she whispered, “Ixchel?”

There was no answer, save for a flicker of color at the edges of her peripheral vision. That and a renewed determination. She was going into the ATM caves, and she was bringing out the second piece of the demon prophecy. They needed to figure out the meaning of the partial inscription . . . and time was ticking down to the next cardinal day, the spring equinox, which was when Jade’s nahwal vision had foretold that the first of the demon prophecies would be enacted. On that night, the magi would have to block the first of Camazotz’s death-bat sons from coming to earth and fulfilling the next step in the end-time countdown. And she was going to help them do it.

Alexis felt a kick of excitement at the prospect of playing a major role, finally. But alongside that was nerves, because she wasn’t her mother, wasn’t a powerful mage or a mated Godkeeper. What if she screwed everything up?

Nate woke far later than he’d intended or expected, and didn’t know where he was at first. Then he got his eyes focused, saw a plate-size copy of his medallion hanging on the wall, and knew exactly where he’d wound up. Exactly where he didn’t want to be.

He flopped back on the sofa. “Fuck me.”

Carlos had told him about his parents’ cottage early on. Or more accurately, the winikin had tried to tell him about the place, and Nate had cut him off midsentence with a stern warning that he had no intention of looking back. He didn’t blame his parents for how he’d grown up, hadn’t blamed them even before he’d known the circumstances. But he’d done just fine without a family history up to this point, and didn’t see the need to acquire one now. At least, he hadn’t intended to. Now it was looking like his subconscious might’ve had other ideas, probably egged on by the eclipse, maybe some sort of collective hawk consciousness bleeding through the barrier. Or whatever.

“Gods damn it,” Nate grumbled, and swung up to vertical on the sofa, which was seriously dated, but non-musty, making him suspect Carlos had sneaked in and done some cleaning, just in case Nate came for a visit. A long look around supported the suspicion; there was very little dust, and the air smelled suspiciously of Febreze.

The walls of the sitting room where he’d crashed were painted a warm putty color, and the floor sported an unfortunate shag rug a few shades darker. The sofa was beige and nubby, brightened with colorful pillows of red, green, and blue. Two large paintings hung on sturdy hooks on either side of the polished brass plate inscribed with the hawk-man emblem, giving the room a distinct personality.