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Authors: Jessica Andersen
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could track the Xibalbans’ power draws, but also that Iago could sometimes reach him through a mind-link.
“It gets worse,” Strike continued. “I can’t zap us out of here. Either the resonance from all the stonework has fouled my ’port lock or Iago’s got some sort of ward going. Rabbit’s trying to burn his way through the ceiling into one of the exit tunnels.”
“How’s that coming?” Michael asked.
“Not good.” The reply came from Rabbit himself.
Michael grimaced, hesitated, then said, “All due respect, but my gut says we don’t have time to dick around. Is there a faster option?”
There was a murmur of off-mike convo for a moment; then Strike came back. “The second hidden chamber Leah and I found was clearly Nightkeeper in origin, not Mayan like the rest of them. Maybe the latent power of those stones, plus the group of us linking up, will give me enough to punch through.”
Michael hissed out a breath. “I thought solid rock fouled ’port lock, period.”
“It screws with my ability to lock onto a destination, but I can still trigger the ’port and get us into the travel flow of the barrier. From there—gods willing—I can lock onto a destination and get us the rest of the way home.”
Michael could’ve done without the “gods willing” part, but it seemed their best option, especially when he heard additional bootsteps in an intersecting hallway. “I’ll meet you there.”
He keyed off without waiting for Strike’s response, as his talent warned that he’d better get his ass moving. Dousing the chameleon shield, in case the approaching group included the Xibalbans’ magic sniffers, he moved out, tacking roughly westward through the labyrinth. Soon, the prefab steel-and-drywall construction gave way once again to stones that hummed with old magic. When he reached the place Leah had described as hiding the Nightkeeper-origin secret chamber, he trailed his fingers along the wall, searching for a pressure pad or something that would indicate the location of the hidden doorway. He didn’t— Ah! There.
He pressed the faint indentation. After a short pause, there was a grating noise and a section of the wall slid aside. Torches flared, lighting a circular stone chamber and providing a familiar ambience. Intricately carved walls arched overhead in a series of concentric rings, forming a circular temple reminiscent of the one that had housed the intersection beneath Chichén Itzá. In this sacred chamber, though, the ritualistic carvings showed a young goddess with vertical lines that looked like tears bisecting her eyes and cheeks. Her hair, worn in a high topknot, cascaded down around her like silk from an ear of corn, identifying her as the maize goddess, bringer of life and health. Which was just wrong in a place like this. How had Rincon gotten hold of such a powerful shrine?
Doesn’t matter , he told himself. Just be glad it’s here . Because sure as shit the stones held a ton of residual power; the moment he stepped inside the space, red-gold Nightkeeper magic hummed resonantly beneath his skin. And that was just the one of the one-two magical punch. Two was a hard flare of heat that his body translated instantly into a burn of lust. Sex magic , he thought, gritting his teeth as the stone doorway slid shut at his back, closing him in with the buzzing, tempting power, and the woman who’d become his personal quest to do something good for a change. Shit .
Not that he had anything against sex—far from it—but this wasn’t the time or place for him to put his impulse control to the test.
Swallowing hard, he keyed on his mike and grated, “I’m here. Where are you guys?”
“On our way,” Strike reported tersely, a burst of gunfire sounding in the background. “Might take us some time, though. We’ve got company.”
“Shit. Do you want me to—”
“Stay put,” Strike ordered. “Guard Sasha. We’ll get there as soon as we can.”
“Will do,” Michael
“It gets worse,” Strike continued. “I can’t zap us out of here. Either the resonance from all the stonework has fouled my ’port lock or Iago’s got some sort of ward going. Rabbit’s trying to burn his way through the ceiling into one of the exit tunnels.”
“How’s that coming?” Michael asked.
“Not good.” The reply came from Rabbit himself.
Michael grimaced, hesitated, then said, “All due respect, but my gut says we don’t have time to dick around. Is there a faster option?”
There was a murmur of off-mike convo for a moment; then Strike came back. “The second hidden chamber Leah and I found was clearly Nightkeeper in origin, not Mayan like the rest of them. Maybe the latent power of those stones, plus the group of us linking up, will give me enough to punch through.”
Michael hissed out a breath. “I thought solid rock fouled ’port lock, period.”
“It screws with my ability to lock onto a destination, but I can still trigger the ’port and get us into the travel flow of the barrier. From there—gods willing—I can lock onto a destination and get us the rest of the way home.”
Michael could’ve done without the “gods willing” part, but it seemed their best option, especially when he heard additional bootsteps in an intersecting hallway. “I’ll meet you there.”
He keyed off without waiting for Strike’s response, as his talent warned that he’d better get his ass moving. Dousing the chameleon shield, in case the approaching group included the Xibalbans’ magic sniffers, he moved out, tacking roughly westward through the labyrinth. Soon, the prefab steel-and-drywall construction gave way once again to stones that hummed with old magic. When he reached the place Leah had described as hiding the Nightkeeper-origin secret chamber, he trailed his fingers along the wall, searching for a pressure pad or something that would indicate the location of the hidden doorway. He didn’t— Ah! There.
He pressed the faint indentation. After a short pause, there was a grating noise and a section of the wall slid aside. Torches flared, lighting a circular stone chamber and providing a familiar ambience. Intricately carved walls arched overhead in a series of concentric rings, forming a circular temple reminiscent of the one that had housed the intersection beneath Chichén Itzá. In this sacred chamber, though, the ritualistic carvings showed a young goddess with vertical lines that looked like tears bisecting her eyes and cheeks. Her hair, worn in a high topknot, cascaded down around her like silk from an ear of corn, identifying her as the maize goddess, bringer of life and health. Which was just wrong in a place like this. How had Rincon gotten hold of such a powerful shrine?
Doesn’t matter , he told himself. Just be glad it’s here . Because sure as shit the stones held a ton of residual power; the moment he stepped inside the space, red-gold Nightkeeper magic hummed resonantly beneath his skin. And that was just the one of the one-two magical punch. Two was a hard flare of heat that his body translated instantly into a burn of lust. Sex magic , he thought, gritting his teeth as the stone doorway slid shut at his back, closing him in with the buzzing, tempting power, and the woman who’d become his personal quest to do something good for a change. Shit .
Not that he had anything against sex—far from it—but this wasn’t the time or place for him to put his impulse control to the test.
Swallowing hard, he keyed on his mike and grated, “I’m here. Where are you guys?”
“On our way,” Strike reported tersely, a burst of gunfire sounding in the background. “Might take us some time, though. We’ve got company.”
“Shit. Do you want me to—”
“Stay put,” Strike ordered. “Guard Sasha. We’ll get there as soon as we can.”
“Will do,” Michael
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