Please tell me you’ve got an idea of what we should do.”
Sasha nodded. “Maybe.” Hopefully. “The ch’ulel talent didn’t work on Rabbit, but as Strike pointed out, those of you who’ve found your talents outside of a formal talent ceremony have done so in the process of saving someone you love. I think we can make that work for us here.”
Strike raised an eyebrow and looked from her to Michael and back. “How?”
She smiled, well aware that the expression carried an edge. “This doesn’t involve Michael. I’m talking about Ambrose. We had a . . . difficult relationship, but I did love him.” She paused. “If I can use that love, or what’s left of it, to trigger the ch’ulel talent and heal his spirit, I might be able to bring him back to his version of sanity. At a minimum, I may be able to prevent him from attacking us. Who knows? I might even get him to lead us to the scroll, or answer some questions.” Gods knew she had plenty of those.
There was a moment of speculative silence before Strike nodded, a smile curving his lips. “Yeah.
That could work. Let’s do it.”
“The hell,” Michael growled. “No way she’s going in there. Or have you all forgotten what the demi- nahwal did to Anna?” He rounded on Sasha. “He made her slash her wrists and she damn near bled out. Sound familiar?”
Her stomach knotted, but she forced a sharp-edged smile. “I’m an old pro, thanks. And I don’t remember asking your permission for any of this.”
His eyes snapped to her. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized he’d been deliberately not looking at her through most of the meeting. He’d touched her just twice, once playing footsie, and again during her formal acceptance into the group. He’d been banking his magic those two times, she realized, because now, when he reached out and cupped her chin in his hand, his touch all but seared her with red-gold power tainted with that strange, compelling power she’d sensed in him the previous night.
In a flash, the hormones were there inside her, wanting him. Damn them.
She nearly jerked back, but forced herself not to. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t touch me. Or if you’re going to touch me, then touch me, for chrissake. Make up your mind—do you want me or not?” In that moment she didn’t care that they had an audience of nearly two dozen, and that she’d be living with all of them for the foreseeable future. All she cared about was getting through Michael’s thick-assed skull that he couldn’t push her away with one hand while touching her with the other. It was making her crazy, and she didn’t do crazy.
For a moment she thought he was actually going to answer her, that he might finally let rip with what was really going on inside his head. Instead he shoved to his feet. “Shit.” To Strike, he said, “I’ll catch up with you later on the planning. Just keep one thing in mind: If she goes into the haunted temple, I’m going in with her. That’s not negotiable.” He followed up that declaration by stalking off along the path that bifurcated out of sight, one branch leading to the firing range, the other to the ball court. He didn’t look back.
“And there he goes,” Sasha murmured, too annoyed to be embarrassed, too tired of his inconsistency to be truly surprised, or even all that hurt, though she suspected that would hit her later, in private. “Pain in my ass.”
A muffled snort from Jade made her feel better, though it probably shouldn’t have. For a second, she was tempted to ask the others about the strange silver magic. But she didn’t.
Muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath, Strike turned away from watching Michael’s strategic retreat, and returned to the matter at hand. “We’ll start at the campsite and exhume Ambrose’s body. Maybe that will attract his spirit outside of its normal boundaries, allowing you to talk to it where it’s not necessarily at its strongest. We need to recover the corpse regardless.”
Sasha nodded gratefully. “I promised him a proper burial.” She flashed back on that last time she’d seen him, when he’d asked for the old promise once again. Working the time line, she’d realized that had been right after the summer solstice, when the barrier had reawakened. He must’ve sensed it somehow, despite having been severed from the barrier. He’d known, and he’d gone south to the temple. Maybe he’d intended to reconnect himself somehow, and bring her proof of the magic. Who knew?
“He’ll get his funerary rites,” Strike promised.
“Red-Boar . . .” Anna’s voice caught a little on the name, then steadied as she continued, “Red-Boar and I buried the remains near the cenote clearing. I didn’t have any trouble with the mad—um, with the demi- nahwal until we got closer.” She paused, then asked Sasha, “Do you have any thoughts on the dogs you saw in your vision?”
She’d thought about them numerous times, thank you very much. Big, gaping jaws tended to make an impression. But in all honesty she had to say, “Michael didn’t have much trouble neutralizing them, so I don’t think they’re an actual threat to us in this context. More bark than bite, and all that.
Besides, it was a vision. I’m not sure why, but my instincts say they weren’t really part of the scene, that they were in the vision to tell me something else. Question is, what?”
Anna pursed her lips. “Dogs play any number of parts in Mayan, Aztec, and Nightkeeper mythology, but if we stick with the big one that seems the most relevant at the moment, we’re looking at the sky. More specifically, the sun.”
A chill ran across Sasha’s skin. She wasn’t the only one who looked upward at the pale, orange-
tinted ball hanging midsky.
On the other side of the table, Jox frowned. “You think the dogs Sasha saw were the companions?”
“Companions?” Sasha queried.
“According to legend, the Mayan sun god, Kinich Ahau, starts at one horizon and travels across the sky each day, shedding light so mankind and his crops can flourish, et cetera, et cetera. When he reaches the other horizon, he enters the underworld and Night Jaguar takes over the sky. During the night, Kinich Ahau has to sneak through Xibalba without getting caught; he has two companions to help him get through the challenges of the underworld—a couple of black dogs. They help guide the sun god beneath the plane of mankind, until he comes out on the opposite horizon each morning as the sunrise.”
Sasha looked up into the strange orange sky. “So why would I see these companions in my vision?”
Anna turned her palms up. “If we’re lucky, the answer to that one too will be in the haunted temple.”
Sasha nodded. Forcing herself not to look in the direction of the ball court, she said to Strike and the others, “Okay. Let’s pick a day.”
Strike glanced at the sky. “The next conjunction of any real power is going to be the Geminid meteor shower.”
“Which is when?” Sasha asked.
“It peaks on the fourteenth.”
Sasha grimaced. That was eleven days away, and just seven days prior to the winter solstice.
“There’s nothing sooner?”
“Sorry, that’s the best we’ve got. Besides, there’s the connection between Gemini and twins. Could give us a bit more of a boost than otherwise.”
“Then that’ll be the day.” Suddenly realizing she’d taken over a meeting—and a decision—that wasn’t hers to take or make, she spread her hands in the king’s direction. “Sorry. Habit. I always got in trouble with the head chefs for overstepping.”