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 col apse a dozen nesting tunnels. And if part of her worried that he would want to simply col apse the hel mouth, sacrificing the skul 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 skul 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 vil age can’t be more than five, ten minutes west of here, max. There’s nothing in this area but a couple of carved pil ars. No temple, no hel mouth.”

“We’re practical y 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 pil ars he had mentioned. But that wasn’t al . Where before there had been only a few scattered stones, now there were dozens of intact pil ars as wel , their carvings crisp and new, the bat glyphs prominent.

The pil ars formed a circular perimeter around a huge opening where the earth had fal en 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 wal s 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 smel ed 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 hel mouth, or the skul 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’l be hungry and looking for hides.” He glanced at her. “Can you stil sense the skul ?”

Her stomach shimmied. “It’s down that same tunnel.”

“Probably leads straight to the hel mouth.”

“So what’s the plan?” Her blood pounded with the need to reclaim the crystal skul .

“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 skul ?” 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 wel know it.”

In the clearing, the gaunt camazotz started disappearing into the forest in pairs, al headed toward the vil age.

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 skul back wil 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 skul brought me here. Hel , for al 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’l 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 skul back, no matter what it took. And she couldn’t afford to give him the chance to stop her.

So, chest hol ow with fear and heartache, she slipped out of the ferns and headed for the clearing, fol owing the ribbon of yel ow 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 fol ow her. She was his. He loved her, damn it.

He loved her sloe-eyed dark beauty, loved her damnable bravery. Hel , 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 ful -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 vil age, yanking his cel as he ran.

“Come on, come on!” But the cal didn’t go through. The barrier was in ful 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 vil age.

His gut clutched at the sight of the vil agers 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 vil agers 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.”

Beneath his feathered headdress and black zigzag paint, Rez’s expression firmed. “I’m with you. How many others do you need?”

Time telescoped, and JT felt the terrible weight of his decision. “Everyone.” And even that might not be enough. But the vil age’s fate would be decided one way or the other today. By the end of this equinox, they would al be free . . . or they would al be dead.

“Hurry,” he urged as Rez started snapping out orders, sending the older children to col ect the younger ones in a sturdy central building, which would be guarded by the few warriors they would leave behind. The rest would fol ow JT as soon as they had loaded up on ammo.

Hang on, Natalie, he whispered deep in his soul. We’re coming.

He just hoped to hel they weren’t already too late.

Natalie’s heart hammered as she crouched behind a broken pil ar as a pair of new camazotz passed way too close for comfort, headed into the forest. When they were gone, she exhaled shal owly and thanked the gods that the newborns’ perceptions were as weak as their bodies. She had gotten lucky so far. She only prayed her luck would hold.

Slipping from concealment, she headed for the central tunnel, shivering as she entered and the temperature plummeted. Stalactites dripped down from the tunnel’s ceiling, and a snail trail of water ran along one side, glistening in the pools of sunlight that were let in by a series of natural skylights created by fal en-in sections.

The ribbon of golden energy connecting her to the skul beckoned her onward, but she hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at the bright blue sky of a jarringly beautiful spring day.

“Damn it, JT,” she whispered. She would’ve given anything to have his solid, centered presence by her side. But he hadn’t come after her. She was on her own.

The tunnel went from dark to light and back again as she passed beneath the ragged openings, then mostly dark as it angled downward. She didn’t dare use her flashlight, but there was light once more up ahead. She fixed on it, kept moving toward it, feeling her way along the slippery stone track, which grew treacherous as the incline increased.

Breathing through her mouth to avoid as much of the stench as possible, she paused when she reached a sharp bend in the tunnel. Moving careful y and staying low, she peered around the corner. And caught her breath, stomach knotting. Oh, sweet Christ.

Beyond the corner, the tunnel dead-ended in a roughly rectangular cavern, which was open to the sky, with stalactites spearing down from the ceiling, dripping into pools of stagnant, slimy water. The opening was crisscrossed with vines and branches, turning the sunlight green and dank. In one corner, several reddish, glistening things hung in the shadows. Bodies, she thought, her stomach knotting with horror. But she fixed her attention on the chamber’s sole occupant: a huge black-furred camazotz.

It faced the far wal , where a tal panel of carved hieroglyphs rippled fluidly with strange energy.

The creature’s ful y intact wings were tucked tightly around its back, and it wore two heavy stone yokes, one around its throat and another that hung low on its hips, protecting its genitals.

Oily brown energy hung around it, moving from the camazotz to the pulsing wal and back. As she watched, a shadow moved on the other side of the swirling panel, and then the ripples parted and a stringy, skinny camazotz fel through. It landed wetly and struggled up with red hatred burning in its eyes as it glared around the cave.

Holy shit. Natalie swal owed a surge of fear that threatened to lock her in place. This was it.

This was the source, the hel mouth. More, as the big camazotz turned to shove the newborn aside, she caught a flash of yel ow hanging on a cord around its neck.

The crystal skull!

She was moving before she was aware of having made the decision, lunging across the chamber and unloading the pump-action into the newborn as she came. Black ichor splashed and the creature flew backward. She didn’t waste time finishing it off, but kept going, firing the rest of her jade-loaded shel s into the bigger demon’s abdomen, knocking it away from the wal .

With surprise on her side, she got inside the huge camazotz’s guard. As it roared and swung at her, she dodged, grabbed the skul , and used her knife to cut it free from beneath the stone col ar that protected the creature’s neck.

The camazotz shrieked and raked at her with teeth and claws, but the moment she had the skul clutched tightly in her hand, strange heat detonated inside her and the shimmering gold energy was suddenly inside her. It poured into her, fil ed her up, made her feel faster and stronger, like a trained fighter rather than her usual smal , scrappy self.

Pivoting beneath the creature’s next attack, she ducked, got the knife up, and carved a long furrow in its wing membrane. When the camazotz jerked back, screaming in pain, she spun and bolted for the tunnel.

Thud. Two more of the creatures dropped straight into her path, their intact wings spread wide.

Their eyes burned like coals and their mouths split in three-pronged shrieks. Fear slashed through the golden glow of magic as she spun, skidded on ichor, and went down. She rol ed and scrambled up, but more wings boomed, more demons hurtled down from up above, darkening the chamber as they blocked out the light.

Heart hammering, she ducked a claw swipe and rammed the butt end of the shotgun into a gaping three-cornered mouth. Then, breath sobbing in her lungs, she chucked the empty gun, pul ed her autopistol—her last real weapon—and started blasting away, trying to drive the creatures back.

But the pistol lacked the knockdown power of the shotgun. The creatures kept coming, then fel back, parting to let their giant leader through. His burning-coal eyes were locked on her, on the skul . The stench enfolded her, bringing panic.

Heart hammering, she backed up, slammed into the wal , and couldn’t go any farther.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit-shit-shit. Terror poured through her. She was done. She was dead. She was

—

“Natalie, down!” The shout paralyzed her for a second, but then her body took over and she threw herself on the slimy floor as a hail of gunfire cut through the space where she had been.

Black liquid sprayed and the big camazotz reeled back, mouth splitting in a shriek of pain that soared above her hearing, then was drowned out as dozens of other weapons opened fire in a deafening salvo.

She scrambled partway up, watching in gape-jawed shock as the past came alive and Mayan men and women wearing bright ceremonial tunics and headdresses, their faces daubed with war paint, poured into the chamber. But rather than stone clubs and wooden spears, they were armed with grenade launchers, shotguns, and knives. Moving with almost military precision, they formed two lines. The warriors in the front line mowed down the camazotz and advanced, while the second line went to work with their knives, cutting the bat-demons and banishing them to oily smoke.

And in the center of it al was JT. Wearing his hunting clothes, bandoliers, and a snarl of feral rage, he fought the huge camazotz knife against claw, trying to get past the stone yokes that protected its throat and genitals.

Her heart surged. He had come back for her. He was fighting for her, going to war for her. But he had lost his guns, and none of the other warriors had a clean shot.

And as she watched in horror, she saw his footing start to slip.

JT! Jamming the skul into her pocket, she bolted for the combatants. She wouldn’t let him down.

“Natalie, no!” he shouted. “Stay back!”

She ignored him and went in high with her knife, aiming for the tied sinew that held the col ar in place. She slashed through it and then, as the creature shrieked and spun, she went for the ties on the hip yoke. And missed.

“Natalie!” His voice was anguished, the demon’s rage palpable as it lunged for her.

A blur caught it from the side as JT rammed into the much larger creature, somehow managing to drive it aside and take it down. Roaring, he plunged his knife into its exposed throat, ripping through skin, tendon, and vessels with one convulsive slash.

The camazotz leader arched and writhed, flailing with its now-ragged wings as JT cut through the hip ties and hacked the thing’s dick off with a grisly sawing motion.

For a second nothing happened. Then the camazotz disappeared.

The belch of foul, oily smoke dissipated quickly, leaving JT and Natalie together in a smal oasis of calm, while around them the vil agers mopped up the last of the creatures.

His eyes fixed on her, dark with emotion. His mouth silently shaped her name.

Relief hammered through her, alongside a hard, hot flush of victory. “JT!” She flung herself at him, wrapped herself around him, and burrowed in tightly when his arms came up to band around her. “You came back for me,” she said against his neck, then pul ed away to look into his eyes. “I guess you are into me, after al .”

“I love you.” He said it without pretense or preamble. It was stark. It was the truth.

She hadn’t been braced for it, hadn’t been expecting it, and the shock left her gaping.

His expression clouded. “I know I’m a bad bet. I’m barely civilized on a good day, and I’m more used to keeping secrets than tel ing the truth. But I’l work on it, I swear. You said once that you were fal ing for me. If you’l give me another chance, I’l —”

She cut him off with a kiss. It started soft, as a way to shut him up, but quickly gained heat and depth, becoming a grinding grapple of relief and the mad, powerful joy that thril ed through her like liquid gold as she pul ed away. “I’m not fal ing for you anymore. I already fel .” She met his eyes, saw the truth there, the solidity that anchored her restlessness. “I love you, too.”

His face blanked and then flushed; his eyes glowed with love. “Natalie, I—”

“Chan camazotz! ” Rez shouted.

They jolted apart and spun, dropping into defensive crouches, knives at the ready.

But there was no way to defend against what they saw. Not with knives. Maybe not even with jade-tips.

A huge shadow darkened the glittering swirl of the hel mouth. A harsh rattle gathered, stringing the air tight as the swirls thickened and took on form and substance, going from shadow to a deep, fiery orange that froze Natalie to her marrow.

Her stomach dropped. She didn’t know what was about to come through, but every instinct she had ever possessed, ever relied on, said that if it got through, they were al dead. “Christ.”

“We can leave,” JT said tightly. “We can blow the tunnel from topside. That might keep it trapped.” But he didn’t move, except to load his shotguns, eyes fixed on the hel mouth. Because they both knew that whatever was trying to come through, it wasn’t a camazotz. And it wasn’t going to stay trapped for long.

“I think—” She broke off on a low gasp when a sharp pain stung her upper thigh. She slapped for the spot, afraid she’d been tagged by a claw swipe. But her fingertips encountered a hard lump instead of blood. The skul .

She dug in her pocket, hissing when the stone burned her fingertips, then whispering, “Holy shit,” when she pul ed it out.

The crystal skul was glowing gold, its hol ow eye sockets gleaming red, not the fire of the camazotz, but a deep bloodred crimson that made her heart sing.

JT let out a low, reverent oath. “Magic,” he said softly. “You’re a magic user. A skul wielder.”

But she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think . . . I think I’m just its transportation.” She couldn’t feel the warm golden glow anymore. Al the power was once again col ected within the skul itself.

“Chan camazotz,” Rez said again, his voice low and urgent.

“I know.” JT lifted his shotgun as the fiery orange swirl bowed inward, the barrier stretching membrane-thin and showing hints of a smoky creature with six-clawed hands and a wide slash of a tooth-fil ed mouth.

Sacrifice hurts. The words whispered deep inside Natalie, though she wasn’t sure if they were a memory or something else.

She opened her hand and looked down at the crystal skul , the gleaming stone that was now streaked with blood and ichor.

It was gorgeous. It was powerful. It had belonged to the bloodline her family had served. More, it had cal ed to her, perhaps from the very beginning. And the stories said the magi would wield the skul s in the end-time war.

Yet the magi were gone. And JT had said a terrible sacrifice was needed to open a hel mouth.

Her gut said another would seal it for good.

“Stay or go?” he asked, voice tight.

He was offering to let her make the final cal . More, he had led the others into battle, sacrificing what he believed in to save her.

Could she do anything less?

Raising the skul , she balanced it on her palm and stared into its bloodred sockets. For a moment, she felt a stir of warmth, saw a spark of gold. Felt a farewel . Almost a benediction.

Then, as the bulging barrier shuddered and started to give way, she flung the skul into the split.

Red-gold light flashed supernova-bright as the skul disappeared into the hel mouth. And then the world went crazy.