Jessica Andersen - Dawnkeepers

His head spun with the worst postmagic hangover of his life, and his body throbbed from his fight with the nahwal . For reasons known only to the gods, the magic healed cuts but not bruises.

“Screw the bruises. You’re lucky to be alive after the stunt you pulled,” a voice said from behind him.

Jolting hard in panic, Rabbit turned and scrambled to his feet in a single motion, calling the fire to his fingertips in an instant. He took one look at the redheaded man sitting in a folding chair and let rip with the fire magic.

The flames stopped dead three feet or so from Iago’s face, spreading along an invisible liquidlike barrier, shield magic the likes of which Rabbit had never seen before. Groaning with the effort, he increased the power, but though the fire magic roared higher, it still wasn’t denting the shield.

“Cut the blowtorch, will you?” the other mage called over the crackle of fire. “I’m not going to hurt you. Hell, I’m the one who pulled your ass out of that funnel last night.”

Rabbit called back the fire but kept it close to his fingertips as his heart drummed against his ribs and he tried to remember what’d happened after the nahwal collapsed. He came up blank aside from a wash of terror and the sound of his own screams. Ignoring the chill that brought, he demanded, “Where the hell are we? What do you want? And how did you know I was thinking about the bruises?”

“We’ll get to all that.” Iago leaned his chair back against the wall and stacked his hands behind his head, all casual. He was wearing black canvas flannel-lined pants, and heavy work boots that had tracked wet spots across the floor, along with a black turtleneck and a heavy blue fisherman’s sweater.

The sleeves had pulled some when he stretched his hands over his head, baring the bloodred quatrefoil on his arm. The mage’s dark red hair was partially hidden by an earflap hat, which would’ve looked dumb if it weren’t for his eyes, which were hard-edged emerald.

“You look like a lumberjack.” Rabbit jammed his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and whistled a few bars of the transvestite lumberjack song from Monty Python, pushing back the fear some with

’tude.

“Stuff it, kid. I was a bigger snot at your age than you’ll ever hope to be.” He paused. “Besides, the digs are only temporary. We’ve got a sweet homestead down south. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

“How about I leave now and you go fuck yourself?”

Iago just rolled his eyes. “Hello? You’ve torched more real estate than a California wildfire, turned the museum job into a train wreck, and killed the three-question nahwal . If I were you, I’d be looking at my options right about now, because the Nightkeepers give fuck-all what happens to you.”

“Shut up,” Rabbit snapped, but his voice cracked on the words.

“It’s not like they came looking for you when you took off, right? And that was before you nearly got the new Godkeeper and her mate killed.” One reddish eyebrow climbed at Rabbit’s confused look.

“Oh, right. You were unconscious for that part. Congratulations, two of your former teammates tried to use the three-question spell right after you offed the nahwal . They got barriered instead. Barely made it out alive.”

Rabbit pressed the heels of his hands against his ears as the guilt amped. “I said shut up!”

“Reality sucks. Get used to it.” Iago stood and moved toward him. Rabbit tried to throw up a shield, but he’d lost the magic to emotion. Getting inside his space, the mage leaned down to him, his face so close that Rabbit could see the flecks of magic that flickered in Iago’s green eyes. “I’m offering you a choice, kid. You want to switch sides, we’re happy to have you. Otherwise you’re going to be our guest until the equinox. We could use some powerful blood for the sacrifice we’re planning.”

“Fuck you,” Rabbit spat, but all of a sudden his words were slurring and the floor was doing a slow roll beneath him. He couldn’t tell if he’d just hit the end of his reserves, or if there was something else going on—drugs, maybe, or sleep magic. Either way, he was fading fast.

“Think about it,” Iago said. “I’ll have some food brought for you. No sense trying to figure it out if you’re half dead.” The mage headed for the door, which swung open at his approach. He looked back and smirked slightly at Rabbit, as if to say, See how much more powerful I am than your precious Nightkeepers?

“Wait,” Rabbit croaked when he was partway out the door.

Iago turned back. “What?”

“Why me?”

That seemed to startle the Xibalban. Then he started laughing. “Have they honestly not told you?

Gods, that’s pathetic.” He turned back, eyes alight with mockery. “Why do you think they’re so afraid of your magic? Your mother was one of us.”

The kick of emotion that hit Rabbit square in the chest and drove the breath from his lungs probably should have been surprise, only it wasn’t. Something inside him said, Of course , as though he should’ve known all along, or maybe a piece of him had guessed long ago. “Oh,” he said, only it came out more like a groan.

“Think about it, kid. I’m offering you a family, and more power than you could possibly imagine.”

Then Iago turned and left. Moments later the door swung shut and a lock clicked into place from the outside. A few seconds after that, Rabbit felt a buzz of unfamiliar ward magic settling into place, sealing him into the cabin.

He lay there for a long moment, unmoving, thinking about Iago’s offer of more power than he could possibly imagine.

Well, Rabbit could imagine a whole lot of power.

As far as Nate was concerned, by inviting Iago for a parley, the Nightkeepers were just asking for trouble.

Strike thought it was imperative that they at least talk to the bastard, given how few Nightkeepers there were. Nate thought it was fucking stupid, and told the king that in so many words the day after the opposition ceremony, when he was still running hot on magic and frustration, and an edge of hurt that Alexis didn’t need him anymore. He and Strike had gotten into it, had gotten loud, and then Alexis had waded in, shouting right back. Nate wasn’t sure if she really thought the meeting was a good idea or if she just wanted to argue with him, but they’d gone at it for a bit before the king separated them and announced that he wanted Nate to be part of the group that would meet Iago outside the front door of the training compound, beyond the wards.

Which was why, two days after the opposition ceremony that’d nearly killed him and Alexis and had liberated her instead, Nate found himself standing beside her, with Strike and Leah on his other side. Anna was there too. She and the members of the royal council had spent a chunk of the prior evening hashing something out, so Nate had a feeling they were planning more than a simple parley, but he wasn’t in on that piece of things. He was just window dressing, another body standing by the front gate, waiting for Iago.

Who was late.

“Maybe it’s a trick,” Nate said after ten minutes had turned to fifteen and there was no rattle of

’port magic in the air. “A distraction.”

“Allowing them to do what?” Alexis asked. “If he had the ability and the desire to ’port straight into Skywatch, he would’ve done it by now.” She didn’t look at him; at least, he didn’t think she did. It was hard to tell, when she was wearing a pair of three-hundred-dollar sunglasses that shaded her eyes and hid her expression.

“Isn’t the whole point that we don’t have a clue what he can and can’t do?” he challenged.

Before she could say anything, Strike interrupted. “Incoming.”