In case she was right about the hovering thing, though, she talked to him, reminding him that the Nightkeepers needed him, that they loved him. The words caught a little in her throat, though, because they felt like lies, or at least the sort of thing Rabbit would’ve snorted at and said, “Yeah, whatever.”

In terms of numbers and absolute power, the Nightkeepers were stronger with him than without, but from a more realistic standpoint, the amount of chaos he dumped into their lives probably came close to outweighing the benefits. And while Strike and Jox loved the kid like he was an exasperating family member, and Anna herself felt strongly about him because he was his father’s son, the feelings of the other Nightkeepers and winikin could probably be described as ambivalent at best.

Which, again, more or less applied in her case as well. At least it ought to. She’d brought Lucius into their midst and refused to sacrifice him. Somehow the makol had hidden behind Lucius’s humanity long enough to get through the wards and lull Jox into believing the danger was past. Then, as Jox had described, the creature had gone full makol and attacked. Then at the last possible second, the creature had frozen and seemed to struggle within itself, then shrieked in rage and agony and bolted from the compound. Anna wanted to think that had been the spark of Lucius retained within the creature, wanted to believe that he would come back to himself once the equinox passed. Unfortunately, Strike hadn’t been able to get a ’port lock on him, which meant he was dead or underground . . . or Iago had him.

Now, more than ever, they were going to have to find the Xibalbans’ encampment. They needed to recover Lucius before Iago got at the knowledge inside his skull. Ditto for Sasha Ledbetter. Both recoveries were going to present new problems, but it wasn’t as if they had a choice. Each cardinal day from there on out would bring another opportunity for the Banol Kax to assault the barrier, and now the Nightkeepers were going to be functioning without the help of the gods. It was unclear how much—if any—of their Godkeeper powers Leah and Alexis had retained, but they had to assume a massive power drop. Which brought her thoughts circling back to Rabbit.

They needed his power. Hell, in a way they needed his chaos too. He stirred things up, kept them thinking and guessing, which was going to be vital over the next few years as they got closer and closer to the drop-dead date.

“Which is why you need to come back to us, okay?” she said to the teen around lunchtime the day after the equinox, though time didn’t have much meaning down in the storeroom cell block.

Rabbit lay too still. His pallor was gray, his breathing slow and shallow. His profile was sharp and forbidding, his lips turned down in a sneer very like the one that formed his fallback expression when he was awake. The thought that she might never see that snotty ’tude again was a fist to Anna’s heart.

Leaning close to Rabbit, she kissed his cheek. “We love you. You hear? You need to come back.”

And, incredibly, his lips moved. A word emerged, breathy and faint, but still a word. A request. “Myrinne.”

Anna was on her feet in seconds. She pulled down the wards with a thought and yanked open the door. Jox, who’d been keeping guard out in the hallway, shot to his feet.

“Get the girl out of her cell,” Anna snapped. “I want her in here five minutes ago.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” the winikin said carefully.

I didn’t ask for your opinion, she wanted to snarl, but knew it was just another sign of the larger trend, the one where Strike had been leaning more on Nate and Alexis than on her. The others viewed her as an outsider, a commuter who showed up for the ceremonies and then left again. But all that was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? She didn’t get to complain now that she’d gotten the distance she craved.

“Fine,” she said to Jox. “Do what you have to do. Ask Strike for permission. Whatever.”

Strike agreed, of course, and less than five minutes later he and Leah brought Myrinne to Rabbit’s room themselves, locking and warding the door behind them.

Anna tried not to twist her fingers together, tried not to think that this could be a huge mistake, that she was making yet another call that would prove to have disastrous consequences. They didn’t really know anything about Myrinne’s ancestry, or her connection to the witch’s magic. For all they knew, they were about to throw gasoline on a smoldering fire.

But this was something tangible Anna could give him, something she could do. “He asked for you,” she told the girl, who was pale but defiant, and wore a sneer not unlike Rabbit’s own.

Myrinne looked like she was going to say something snotty in return, but then she got a look at Rabbit, and the sneer gave way to rage. “What did you do to him?” She crossed the room in quick, angry strides and checked his pulse with efficient movements that suggested training. Then she glared at Anna. “What did you give him?”

She shook her head. “It’s not drugs; it’s magic. He fought Iago.”

Myrinne stared at her, eyes narrowing. “And?”

“And he didn’t get out of Iago’s mind fast enough. I think he’s trapped somehow. I think he needs to be reminded that there are people here who care about him.” Anna paused. “He saved our lives last night.” Which was true. When all was said and done, he’d been a hero when they’d needed one.

Myrinne nodded, seeming satisfied. “That I believe.” Implying that she could think the best of Rabbit, but would cheerfully think the worst of everyone around him.

Which, Anna realized, was exactly what he needed.

Turning her back on the others, Myrinne spun the chair Anna had been using, so she could sit sideways on it and lean over Rabbit’s limp form. “Hey,” she said very softly. “You did good. Now it’s time to come back, okay? We’ll figure out the rest of it together.” She leaned in and touched her lips to his.

And damned if he didn’t react, jolting like he’d been zapped with a Taser, then drawing a deep, shuddering breath very unlike the shallow rasps he’d been taking up to that point. A long shudder racked his body. Then, slowly, his arms came up to her shoulders, her face. His eyes opened as he traced her cheekbones, then her lips. And he smiled, probably the first pure smile Anna had seen from him since her return to Skywatch.

“Now, that was what I forgot to do,” he said, his voice husky from disuse, and probably a few other things as well. “That was what I wanted to come back for.”

Then, as Strike, Leah, and Anna looked on, Rabbit kissed Myrinne for real. And magic hummed in the air.

After sleeping off her postmagic hangover and eating way too many Oreos from the bag she’d brought back to her suite with her the night before, Alexis pulled herself together and went in search of Nate.

She’d just gotten out the door of her suite when Izzy turned the corner, headed in Alexis’s direction. The winikin ’s face softened to a smile. “You look better.”

Before, Alexis might’ve checked what she was wearing, and maybe straightened her ponytail. Now she just nodded. “Thanks. I feel better.” She’d been pretty ragged by the time they’d made it back. Sleep and food had fixed most of what ailed her. Now she needed to deal with the rest, which meant heading to the cottages out back. To Nate.

Izzy fell into step beside her, but stayed silent, as though unsure of what to say, or how. Which was a huge change in itself, because Alexis had never known her godmother to be at a loss for words.

When they reached the doorway leading out to the pool deck, Alexis stopped and turned to the woman who had raised and shaped her. “I owe you my life,” she said simply. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve died during the massacre. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have known who and what I am when the time came to find out, and I wouldn’t have been able to deal nearly as well with the transition. I love you with all my heart, and much of who I am I owe to you.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ coming?”

“Because you’re a smart woman, and you know me well.” Alexis risked a small smile. “I love you. But I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“Sweetheart, you already are. You always have been.”

It took a moment for the words to penetrate. Another for confusion to set in. “Huh?” Okay, that wasn’t brilliant, but still.

The winikin’s smile went a little crooked. “Okay, maybe not always, but close enough.” She caught Alexis’s hands, squeezed them. “You’re not your mother, and I never wanted you to be. You’re what you were meant to be: a strong, independent woman, and a royal adviser. You helped save the world last night, and you’re probably going to do it again before all this is over. Just because I don’t agree with your taste in men, that doesn’t make you a failure.”

The look on her face when she said the last part brought a bubble of laughter to Alexis’s throat. “You sure about that?” But then she sobered. “He’s a shifter, Izzy.”

“I know. Who are we to argue with the gods?” The winikin gave Alexis a little push. “Go on. Do what you have to do.”

Alexis opened the door, but turned back to say, “Don’t you want to know what I’m going to do?”

“Whatever your choice, I’ll be proud of you. I always am. Now go.”

Alexis went, and she went with a lift beneath her heart, a benediction she hadn’t expected, hadn’t needed, but one that mattered nonetheless. She wasn’t sure if she’d changed or if Izzy had, but she had a feeling things were going to be different between them from now on.

The buoyancy brought by that revelation sustained her all the way to Nate’s bungalow, then deserted her in an instant. In its place nerves flared as she raised a fist and knocked.

He opened the door immediately, as though he’d sensed her approach, or had been waiting for her. Maybe both. His big body filled the doorway; he was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt that was open at the throat, revealing the medallion and the eccentric. Business casual with a twist, she thought, and felt a lump gather in her throat. She saw his laptop open behind him, his cell phone beside it. “You working?” she asked, her nerve faltering a little. “I can come back later.”

But he shook his head. “Just talking to Denjie about the new VW game. I guess between the writing delays and sagging sales on the other installments, the parent company that’s been handling the games doesn’t want Hera’s Mate. They’re ending the series instead.”

She winced, thinking that as far as omens and signs went, that wasn’t a good one. “I’m sorry.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’m actually relieved. It’s time to move on.” He hadn’t leaned toward her, but it sure felt as though he had. His energy reached out to her, enveloped her, made her yearn.

“That’s new,” she said inanely, pointing to a carved black wrist piece that peeked out from beneath his left shirt cuff.

He shook it down and showed her the carvings. “I’m pretty sure it is—or was—the obsidian knife. Part of the whole Volatile thing, I guess.”

She smiled a little. “Magic.”

“Yeah.” Now he did move, stepping out of the doorway and crowding her, looking down at her with everything she’d ever wanted or needed in his eyes. “You come out here to talk about my new man-bracelet?”

Nerves shimmered just beneath her skin, warming her and making her jittery. “No. I came to ask you to take me flying.”

His eyes blanked, and he exhaled a long, slow breath. “Whoa. That was so not what I was expecting you to say.”

Her lips curved. “Well, actually I came out here to take you to bed, and stay with you for good, if you’ll have me. But I figured we should go flying first.”

Now it was his turn to smile as the shock in his eyes gave way to heat and a slow build of joy. But he said, “You don’t have to do this if it freaks you out.”

“I have to do it because it freaks me out,” she corrected. “At least, it does a little, and I need to get past that.” She leaned up and touched her lips to his. “This is your talent. I’ll love it because it’s part of you, and I love you.”

He leaned into her, leaned into the kiss, then murmured. “I love you too.” And as though the words had been the trigger, he stepped outside and began to change, the lines of his body blurring and shifting; his clothes tearing and falling away to reveal feathers and wings as he became a raptor the size of an SUV.

When it was done he stood there opposite her, his clawed feet balancing oddly on the flat ground, his wings half spread, as though he were ready to take off at any second, or shield her from an attack. “Well?” he asked, the word a soft scree aloud, a translated thought inside her head.

“You’re amazing,” she said simply. “You’re perfect. And you’re mine.”

He had nothing to say to that, but she didn’t mind, because she was pretty speechless herself, and tears were starting to film her eyes and leak a little, because this was all so important.

“Yeah,” he said, and she felt his mental touch as a kiss. Then his mood shifted, and he said, “Grab the knapsack just inside the door, okay? I packed clothes.”

Grinning at the memory of him wearing a makeshift loincloth, she did as he’d asked. Once she’d grabbed the bag and was back outside, he dipped a shoulder and she climbed up, settling herself in the hollow between his sleek head and powerful shoulders, and twining her feet and hands in his chains as she had done before. Nerves kindled, sweeping her burst of excitement away.

“Hang on!” he warned, and then hunkered down and kicked off, then began beating the air with powerful strokes of his wings, a fast tempo at first as they skimmed the ground alongside the ball court, headed for the mansion, then slower as he gained altitude. She halfway thought he would head the other way, straight out the back of the compound to the emptiness beyond, keeping this between them, a private thing.

Instead, he buzzed the mansion.

He banked around the ceiba tree with a fierce cry of joy and sent them flashing past the residential wing, then the pool. She saw the windows and openmouthed faces, saw Sven holler with joy and backflip off the diving board as they skimmed directly over him.

Then they were away from the mansion and Nate was powering up, sending them arrowing toward the thermal currents high above.

On a whisper of love, Alexis cast a light shield spell around them. When he glanced back, she sent, We’re in radar range, and too close to Area 51 for comfort.

Yikes. Good thinking. He paused, then sent a soft, Well?

Which was when she realized she’d forgotten to be weirded out, even a little. Maybe sleeping on it had helped adjust her perceptions, or maybe her psyche was ahead of her brain for a change, but his shifting talent was the last thing on her mind as they winged over the canyonscape, with the sun beating down on them from above, warming her skin.

It was the first full day of spring, she realized suddenly. A time for rebirth and growth, for starting over. A new dawn for the Nightkeepers.

“It’s perfect,” she said, speaking aloud, though she knew he’d catch the words from her head. He didn’t seem to be able to ’path in human form—for which she was grateful, because a girl needed some privacy—but she liked the mind-link they formed while flying. She liked flying too, she realized as she watched the ground flash past and listened to the wind song rustle through his feathers. “You’re perfect.”

He started angling downward, spiraling through the layers of air, his wings outstretched in a glide that took them to a small cave, one he must’ve sighted from the air, or maybe scouted out earlier in the day, who knew?

When they touched down, Alexis had a moment of nerves at the sight of the dark cave mouth. Given her last couple of cave adventures, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to going in there. But it wasn’t a hellmouth, didn’t have a river. It was soft and dry and welcoming, and when they moved inside she saw that the walls were marked with pteroglyphs, images painted by the men and women of another time, another culture than their own.

She dropped down from astride the hawk and looked in the knapsack, knowing he would’ve packed a blanket in addition to clothes. She turned her back on him as she spread the blanket on the dusty cave floor, giving him a moment of privacy, and by the time she turned around he was back to human form, stark naked and aroused. They lay together, loved together under the warm desert sun of springtime, and when the moment came they climaxed together, the orgasm punching through even stronger than before, because it was love now, not just sex. . . . In that moment she felt a sting on her forearm, and thought she saw a shimmer of rainbows reflected on the cave wall.

A few minutes later, as they lay cooling together, she raised her forearm and held it beside his. They each wore a new mark. A loving mark.

He leaned over and touched his lips to hers. “Jun tan.”

Late that night, when the stars and the moon had turned the world outside his cottage windows to something mysterious, Nate lay awake, watching his mate sleep.

There was no panic in his soul, no regret. Nothing except an absolute and perfect rightness that might’ve made him suspect that he and Alexis had been destined for each other all along . . . if he believed in that sort of thing. Which he didn’t. Just in case, though, he sent his thoughts skyward and whispered, “Thank you, gods.”

Little was actually settled in real terms, of course. Rabbit was awake and talking, but there were major questions about his connection to Iago and what it would mean going forward. Myrinne was another consideration, as was the search they were going to have to man in order to find Iago’s compound, and Sasha and Lucius. And the library.

The next few months—and years—were going to be complicated and dangerous, but he wouldn’t be facing them alone, or unarmed. He had a talent, a purpose, and a role within the Nightkeepers. More important, he had Alexis. Tipping his head back so he could look at the painting hung above the bed, which glowed shadows-on-gray in the moonlight, he whispered, “I get it now, Father.”

The paintings didn’t symbolize detachment at all, he’d realized. There were two people in every one of them: the artist . . . and the woman who’d clung to his shoulders and laughed with joy as they flew the skies together, looking down on the canyon, the ruin, and the sea. The paintings were his mother and father. They were love. And, as Nate curled into Alexis and breathed her scent, he knew that one thing would remain constant in the months and years and battles to come: With her, he was finally free.