Chapter Seven

The hel mouth solidified in an instant and then shattered , sending oily brown shrapnel spewing through the chamber. JT grabbed Natalie and spun them, putting himself between her and the needle-sharp spray, which peppered his back and arms, burning him.

There was a roar and a flash. Then nothing. Even the pain faded; the shrapnel spray had left no mark, no blood.

And they were alone. Safe. The place where the hel mouth had been was nothing more than a plain section of cave wal , a powerless blank.

JT shifted his grip on Natalie as the chamber echoed with a sudden, unexpected silence. Her arms came around him, and for a moment they just held each other.

Then Rez let out a whoop. The cry was picked up by the others, their cheers echoing off the surrounding stone and heading up to the sky. It was less a victory cry than a battle shout, a clamor of defiance against the demons.

But one held longer than the others, rising up in a wordless howl of grief. Stil holding on to Natalie, JT turned to see a young man, little more than a teen, kneeling by the hanging corpses.

He had lost his headdress, and his war paint was streaked, turning the slashing stripes to black tears.

“Oh.” Natalie breathed the word, tipping her head against his to lean on him, taking comfort.

Giving it.

“Hel ,” JT rasped.

The others fel silent, and then several closed on the grief-stricken boy, while the rest dispersed to check on the too-stil bodies scattered around the chamber. Rez pul ed the teen to his feet and led him away, keeping an arm wrapped around the young man’s shoulders, talking to him in a low voice. A vil ager crouched down beside one of the bodies, shook his head, and rose, hands coming away painted red with blood.

“Damn it,” JT grated. He did a head count, didn’t like the number he came up with. But the air was clear, the’ zotz gone, the hel mouth sealed.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “If I hadn’t . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head. “No. This was what had to happen. I just wish they didn’t need to be involved. I wish . . .” She glanced over at him, her eyes going wary. “I wish we had real backup, real knowledge, and a plan for the next couple of years.”

He understood what she was asking. A week ago, even a day ago, he would have pretended he didn’t, doing his best to avoid the fight. Defense, not offense.

Now he turned to face her squarely, meeting her eyes when he said, “The old training compound was located in New Mexico, in a box canyon near the Chacoan ruins. They had— we had a saying:

‘What has happened before wil happen again . ’ If any of the Nightkeepers and winikin survived, they wil have rebuilt on the old site.”

She went very stil . “Are you sure you’re ready to go back?”

He leaned in, touched his lips to hers. “I’m not going back. I’m final y moving forward.” He didn’t know what the future held, knew only that they would face it together . . . and that he couldn’t hide anymore.

Her lips curved beneath his; the kiss deepened. And as the sunlight splashed through the opening far overhead, warmth hummed through him, and golden light sparked at the edges of his vision.

“Magic,” she whispered.

“Not magic,” he corrected. “Love.” But maybe in the end they were two sides of the same power. And maybe—hopeful y—that power would be enough to see them through the next two years . . . and beyond.

RED ANGEL

DEIDRE KNIGHT