On the Hunt

Page 41

"Mine," he rasped. And he leaned down and kissed her long and deep, trying to let his touch tell her what he couldn't say aloud.
Damn it. He was way out of his depth and sinking fast. He didn't know what she was or what the gods intended for them—if, indeed, the gods were still in charge. All he knew was that his life had been changing since she had come into it; he had been changing. And he didn't want to be alone anymore.
As he molded her body against his, rampant desire raced through him, a mix of sexual need and hard, hot protective urges. He wanted to lock her in the house and keep her safe, wanted to surround her with a protective force field, wanted to—hell, he wanted to put her in a bubble where nothing could touch her except him.
But as he gentled his kiss and slid his hands down her arms, so their fingers linked and held, he knew that would make him no better than the masters he had once served. Because it wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to be out there, in the thick of the action. She wanted to find herself, wanted to find answers.
"You scare the hell out of me," he said against her mouth.
Drawing back, she looked up at him, her eyes smoky with passion, her lips moist and full. "We have to go after the skull, JT. I just know it, deep down inside." She flattened her palm over his heart. "I know it in here."
He closed his eyes, for the first time in his life wishing that he were a magic user. Because then he could've hit her with a sleep spell and kept her safely snoring until the equinox was over. Except that she was right. They couldn't ride this one out. Something had to give.
And that something, apparently, was him.
"Okay. We'll do it your way." He pressed his forehead to hers, holding her a moment longer.
Then he let her go and stepped away. "Come on," he said, heading for the trick door that led to his office . . . and the weapons cache beyond. "If we're going after the bastards on their own turf, we're going to need some serious firepower."
Chapter Six
As they headed into the forest, Natalie didn't know whether it was the approaching equinox or the knowledge that the two of them were doing what they had been born to do, but the magic was working. She could see a golden sparkle in the air; it flowed in a thin, translucent ribbon, leading her onward as the blue-black of dawn became the gray of morning.
Behind her, JT was heavily armed and carrying enough explosives to collapse a dozen nesting tunnels. And if part of her worried that he would want to simply collapse the hell mouth, sacrificing the skull to avoid a direct fight, she had decided that she would deal with that if and when it happened. Because one thing was certain: She had to get the skull back. It was a tangible link to the magic. More, it was hers.
"This can't be right." He kept his voice low, but the concern in his tone was evident. "We've circled around. The village can't be more than five, ten minutes west of here, max. There's nothing in this area but a couple of carved pillars. No temple, no hell mouth."
"We're practically on top of it," Natalie said, looking back over her shoulder at him as she stepped between two wide tree trunks and through a waist-high layer of thick, leafy ferns. "Trust me."
"It's not about trust. It's—" He broke off. "Gods help us," he whispered, the words coming from both shock and prayer as he looked beyond her.
Natalie spun. And gaped.
The clearing that opened in front of them held the broken pillars he had mentioned. But that wasn't all. Where before there had been only a few scattered stones, now there were dozens of intact pillars as well, their carvings crisp and new, the bat glyphs prominent.
The pillars formed a circular perimeter around a huge opening where the earth had fallen through to reveal the path of an ancient underground river. The dry riverbed came up to almost the surface on one side, then sloped down and split into three dark-mouthed tunnels, where tributaries had once flowed. The cave walls were incised with hieroglyphs; the central tunnel had life-size camazotz carved on either side.
There was no sign of the creatures themselves, but the air smelled of rotting flesh. This was their home. Their origin.
Gods, Natalie thought, the plural seeming suddenly right.
She had walked right across the clearing a few days earlier and it had felt like solid earth. Either the equinox had opened the hell mouth, or the skull was somehow involved.
A shadow moved within the central tunnel.
"Get down!" JT hissed, yanking her below the level of the leafy ferns, where they would be hidden. Once they were both down, he parted several fronds and looked through. "Shit. "
A line of skeletal, patchy-skinned camazotz were emerging from the center tunnel, their steps slow and uneven.
He whispered, "They must've just come through the barrier, which means they'll be hungry and looking for hides." He glanced at her. "Can you still sense the skull?"
Her stomach shimmied. "It's down that same tunnel."
"Probably leads straight to the hell mouth."
"So what's the plan?" Her blood pounded with the need to reclaim the crystal skull.
"There isn't any plan." His expression went hard and closed, becoming that of the man who had dumped her. "We can't go down there."
Her heart clutched. "I thought we had an agreement."
Regret flickered in his eyes. "Natalie, be reasonable."
"And let those bastards have the skull?" Panic kicked at the thought, coming from the instincts that hadn't ever failed her. Except, maybe, when it came to him.
"Going down there would be suicide."
"So is doing nothing. This isn't just about one equinox. It's about the next two years, and you damn well know it."
In the clearing, the gaunt camazotz started disappearing into the forest in pairs, all headed toward the village.
JT's eyes darkened. "We need to help them fight off those things," he said urgently. "You're right that this isn't about one grand gesture; it's about a long-term war. And you don't know for certain that getting the skull back will do a damned thing to change the outcome." He paused. "Or do you?"
She hesitated. The lie would change his mind, and he'd lied to her plenty. But she couldn't do it.
"It's an educated guess." A wish. A hope. "The skull brought me here. Hell, for all I know, it brought you here, too. We can't just let the bastards have it. This is our . . ." She trailed off, knowing he didn't want to hear about duty or destiny. Not after what he'd lived through.
His eyes softened. "Natalie—"
A crash in the brush behind him, away from the tunnel mouth, had them both going for their weapons.
"Stay here," he hissed, his expression shifting to that of the hard-eyed hunter in a split second.
"I'll be right back." He disappeared noiselessly, with only a faint swirl of foliage to show where he had been.
She hesitated for a moment, but knew she didn't have a choice. She had to get the skull back, no matter what it took. And she couldn't afford to give him the chance to stop her.
So, chest hollow with fear and heartache, she slipped out of the ferns and headed for the clearing, following the ribbon of yellow light.
Counting himself damned lucky that the commotion had come from a sleek jaguar that had been in no mood to rumble, JT slipped back into the fern patch. And stopped dead.
She was gone.
He had known on some level it was going to come down to this. But he hadn't known that it would make him feel like a thousand toxic claws had just dug into his soul. Pain lashed through him, and he lunged across the ferns to scan the clearing.
The ' zotz were gone and there was no sign of a commotion. But there was no sign of Natalie, either.
"Godsdamn it," he grated under his breath. She hadn't waited for him, hadn't trusted that he was trying to do the right thing, too. And now she was down there alone.
Every instinct he possessed screamed for him to follow her. She was his. He loved her, damn it.
He loved her sloe-eyed dark beauty, loved her damnable bravery. Hell, he even loved the fact that she wanted to find her past, her place.
He had to go after her, protect her. But how? He was only one guy with some guns. He didn't have an army backing him, didn't have—
He froze as the terrible idea came to him full-blown, as though it had been sent by the gods themselves. Or their dark counterparts. Oh, holy fuck, he thought, his gut clenching on the, No way.
No fucking way.
It was an unbearable answer. And it might be the only chance any of them had.
He bolted for the village, yanking his cell as he ran.
"Come on, come on!" But the call didn't go through. The barrier was in full flux. "Shit. "
He ran hard, sacrificing stealth for speed.
A blur came at him from the side. He nailed the ' zotz with both barrels of his shotgun, but didn't stop to finish it off, just kept going.
At the gunshot, shadows oriented on him, closed on him. He fired as he ran, blasting a hole in the demons' net and dodging a claw slash on the way through. Then— Thank fuck! —he burst through the trees into the clearing that surrounded the village.
His gut clutched at the sight of the villagers dressed in the ceremonial garb of their Mayan ancestors, ready for the equinox rituals they hoped would push back the demons for another few months. The shotguns and grenade launchers they carried were a stark contrast to the brightly colored woven textiles, feather-and-jade headdresses, and bold, geometric face paint they wore.
When he saw JT, Rez shouted the equivalent of, "Make a hole!" in his native language. The villagers opened fire, knocking back the pursuing ' zotz as JT lunged through the defensive perimeter, his heart hammering for him to hurry, hurry, hurry!
He gripped Rez's forearm. "I need your help."
"Anything, chan camazotz."
He had known that would be the answer, but it only added to the weight of responsibility that suddenly descended on him, nearly crushed him. "Natalie found the main temple. I want to attack it and shut them down for good. But I can't do it alone."