He hesitated. “You’re not going to like it.”
Probably not. “Try me.”
“Phee never really mentioned the crossover, or what she was going to do with my magic once she had it. Which makes me think she didn’t know everything about it . . . and that would mean the Banol Kax don’t, either. If that’s the case, then we can assume that Anntah’s soul never made it to Xibalba, because sure as shit they would’ve pumped him dry.”
“Okay. So you’re thinking . . . what, that his soul was destroyed?” It sounded logical enough, but didn’t do anything to ease the shimmies in her stomach.
“Not exactly. He used a seriously powerful dark-magic spell to anchor his soul to his body, so he could talk to me when I got here. So I was thinking . . . what if his soul got stuck?” He gestured to the fire pit. “What if he’s still here?”
Myr’s mouth went dry. “You want to summon Anntah’s ghost.” It wasn’t a question.
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, but there was nothing casual in his expression as he said, “It’s the best theory I’ve got right now. Unless you’ve got another idea?”
“How about anything that doesn’t involve summoning another one of your relatives from beyond the grave?”
“It’s not like I want to do it this way, especially not with you here.”
“Because you knew I would argue?”
“Look around you.” His gesture encompassed the village. “The whole place reeks of dark magic. I used it to bring Anntah’s soul back the last time, and I’m going to need to use it again.”
She lifted her chin. “I won’t run away from you this time. I sw—”
“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Don’t promise me that, not ever. In fact, promise me that you’ll run if you need to, call for help, whatever it takes. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
Suddenly, it didn’t feel like he was talking about just here and now. She remembered what he’d said back in the cave, about not wanting her beside him during the final battle. She hadn’t really thought about it at the time—too many other things had been going on. Now, though, as he faced off against her wearing combat black and bristling with weapons, with his eyes fierce and his jaw set in a stubborn line, she could picture him standing alone in the final battle, so damn determined to make things right that he wasn’t thinking of anything else. Even himself. “Rabbit . . .” she began.
“Promise me.” He looked away, voice roughening. “I’m not kidding, Myr. I’ve kept the dark magic under control so far, but it hasn’t been testing me. It is now, though. It wants out. And once it’s out, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to handle it.”
Oily brown magic surging in the air, pulsing and writhing as if something was trying to be born from the other side of the barrier. Rabbit looming over her with his ceremonial knife at her throat and dark-magic madness in his eyes. The images came straight from her nightmares.
She shoved them aside. “Stop trying to scare me.”
“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to protect you, damn it.”
“Well, knock it off.” She called her magic and cast a crackling green shield around her body. “I can take care of myself. What’s more, I can keep an eye on you and make sure things don’t go very wrong . . . or I can deal with it if they do.” She tapped her armband, indicating the dead man’s switch she’d had JT install. “One way or another.”
He stilled. “You knew.”
“I guessed it would come to something like this. Why would you come to Oc Ajal otherwise? And I figured I was the best one to stand guard, both over you and against you.” She paused. “Besides, I think I need to do this. It’s one thing to say I can handle myself and another to actually prove it.”
Phee’s ghost had nearly killed both of them. Anntah’s wouldn’t get the same chance. Not if she had anything to say about it.
He hesitated, then blew out a breath. “Shit, Myr.”
“You can do this,” she said, and heard the words echo back to her old self, the one who’d had his back no matter what. “Just remember whose side you’re on, okay?”
For the first time in days, she caught a flash of his grin. “Okay.” Then he sobered. “Okay. Let’s do this.” Turning to face the fire pit once more, he pulled his combat knife from his belt and used it to cut his palms.
Red blood welled and flowed, the air stirred around them, and Myr’s heart stuttered. Oh, hell. They were really doing this. Reminding herself that she had asked for it, argued for it, she held her ground as a faint rattle hissed to life, as if a giant snake had been disturbed. Her heart thudded, but where the other day the syncopated beat had sounded like I’m-alive, I’m-alive, now it sounded like oh-shit, oh-shit, oh-shit.
She stayed put, though. Not because there wasn’t anywhere to run to, but because she wasn’t going to leave Rabbit behind.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Chichén Itzá, Mexico
Anna’s mind raced as she stared at the child and tried not to let Dr. Dave see how thoroughly freaked out she was, or how sudden sharp hope flared through her, making it hard to breathe. “Tell me what to do,” she whispered in the ancient language.
The little girl—or whatever entity was speaking through her—said, “There is a ruby skull hidden within the chac-mool at the center of your home. It holds the key to your powers and the secret of the true gods.”
Anna fought not to gasp. According to the archive, thirteen life-sized crystal skulls had come out of the sinking city with the earliest of the Nightkeepers, the ones who had built the barrier to contain the demons in Xibalba. Four had been sacrificed to the underworld, four had been sent into the sky, and four had been given to mankind. The last and final one had been split into thirteen smaller amulets, one for each of the itza’at bloodlines. As far as she knew, hers was the only one left.
What if there was another? What if it could awaken her powers? Excitement whipped through her and her voice shook as she said, “Who are you?”
But Rosa’s expression didn’t change and she didn’t answer. After a moment, she said, “Greetings, seer.” And Anna’s heart sank as she repeated the message, word for word.
“She just keeps saying the same thing, over and over,” David said. “What does it mean?”
Anna jolted at the doctor’s question. Keep it together, she warned herself. Don’t let him guess what’s really going on. How could he, though? The truth was so far out of normal reality that it wouldn’t even compute for most rational humans. He’d think she was insane.
She chose her words carefully. “It’s ancient Mayan, sort of. But it’s gibberish, like someone taught her a few words, but not their meanings or syntax.” There was no reason for her to feel guilty about lying. It was for his own protection.
“You’re sure?” Behind the face shield, his eyes were too perceptive.
“I’m sorry.” That was no lie. “What were you hoping for?”
“Something . . . more.” Expression going rueful, he shot a glance at the now-dozing child and said in an undertone, “The way that woman was calling her the devil and blaming her for the outbreak and all . . . Intellectually, I know she was raving, that both cases are just atypical presentations of the virus. But after reading the stuff you sent over, about bloodletting, rituals, sacred incense and gods and stuff, when one of the volunteers told me she thought Rosa was speaking an old Mayan dialect . . . well, I guess I was hoping she might tell us something useful.”
She did. Thank you for calling me. “Like what?”
“More herbal remedies, maybe, or an incantation.” At her startled look, he shrugged. “The station where I grew up put the ‘out’ in outback. I was making potions long before I learned about chemical drugs, so you’re not going to get any guff about traditional medicine from me. Some of the other doctors, maybe, but not me.”