Promises to Keep

chapter 24


THE SHANTEL LAND was neither empty nor lifeless. The wood buildings were centuries old and crumbling, roofs collapsed inside and taken by rot and woodland creatures, but the forest had not overgrown these open spaces the way it should have. Though Jay’s eyes revealed no shapeshifters prowling through the clearings, he did not feel alone. Echoes of power and personalities lingered—trapped by Shantel magic?

No animal smells, Lynx said, or marks.

Brina edged closer to both of them. This felt like a haunted place to her, and even if it was not malevolent, that didn’t mean it had their best interests at heart.

“What happened to the shapeshifters who lived here?” Jay asked. “Could they not survive after losing the sakkri?”

“I do not think they would have sold the sakkri if they could not survive without her,” Brina reasoned, “but the Shantel may not have been able to survive after losing Midnight. It was a hard time.”

“Hard for the vampires, I’m sure,” Jay replied, his mind distracted by trying to make out the currents of thought and power around him. He kept thinking he saw the sleek movements of hunting cats out of the corner of his eye, but turning made the illusions disappear. “The less-fortunate species rejoiced.”

Something glittered in the dirt, and Brina knelt to pick it up as she said, “They rejoiced in their freedom, but freedom and comfort rarely go hand in hand. Do you think Midnight was nothing more than an empire of slaves?” The item she had found turned out to be a silver pacifier, which she stared at for several moments, unable to avoid picturing little Angelica.

“Do you want to talk about her?” Jay asked.

Not yet, she thought. She had loved that child, the first infant she had ever held.

“This area is rich in silver these days, but in Midnight’s time there were no mines here. Where do you think this silver came from? For that matter, where did your ancestors get the silver for their hunters’ blades?”

“Wherever people got silver two hundred years ago,” Jay answered. The question wasn’t idle, obviously, though Brina’s thoughts were still too tangled in the image of Angelica’s blackening face and wheezing cough for Jay to get her point without asking, “I don’t know. Where?”

“Zacatecas, Potosí,” Brina answered. “Modern Mexico, Bolivia, even Peru. This silver traveled at least two thousand miles before it reached this spot, in a day when there were no planes or trains. Maybe it went to the avian shapeshifters first, since they are famous for their silverwork. They sold it to some Shantel mother, probably in exchange for furs or leather. And do you know where those trades would have taken place?” In her mind, Jay again saw the market they had found. “In an age when few humans traveled a hundred miles from their homes, Midnight had minds that remembered the great empires of the Aztecs, the Romans, and the Chinese. We maintained trade routes that humans wouldn’t discover for centuries. Your kind might not have openly purchased Midnight’s tainted goods, but I guarantee that you prospered from it even while you tried to kill us.”

“Prospered?” Jay snapped. “Most of us were wiped out!”

“And those who were not founded SingleEarth. You have your own empire now to control humans, and the shapeshifter kings who once bowed to us now bow to you.”

“We founded SingleEarth for protection, not to rule.”

“Why do you think Mistress Jeshickah founded Midnight?” Brina challenged. “The Inquisition killed dozens of those who thought they were immortal. Shapeshifter mercenaries helped.” She looked at his expression, and her shoulders squared defensively. “I am not saying this makes Midnight good or SingleEarth evil. But I know the modern Midnight fears SingleEarth. Don’t you think that should concern you?”

“I trust my kin.”

Brina smiled sadly. “And apparently you trust that your kin will always be in charge of a massive international organization that has its fingers in the governments and economies of every major civilization in the modern world. That makes it an empire—one with a branch devoted to mercenary work, if rumors of an alliance with the Bruja guilds are to be believed.”

“Okay, I’ll admit there is a potential for abuse, but that’s different from an empire totally devoted to slavery and subjugation.”

“I believe in two absolute laws of politics,” Brina admitted. “Power corrupts, and good intentions are the fastest way to hell. Oh, and none of us really wants to live on our own. That’s why we make these alliances in the first place. There’s no shame in not wanting to be alone.”

What had happened to the addled woman so known for obliviousness that Xeke had been surprised she had noticed her own brother’s death?

As Brina flinched instinctively from Jay’s hard stare, he learned the answer to his question: no one had ever listened to her before, or challenged her when she’d spoken up, no matter how outrageous she’d gotten. She was enjoying arguing with him.

As the uncomfortable moment stretched, Brina dropped the silver pacifier and said, “All I see here are cracked plaza tiles, collapsed buildings, and an ancient stone wall. What are we hoping to do?”

Jay wanted to prod her back into the fight, both because he wanted to come up with a retort to defend SingleEarth and because she was entertaining to wrangle with.

There will be time for that if we can figure out how to save the world.

“I don’t know,” Jay admitted. “I had thought maybe we could reason with the elemental, but if it knows we’re here, it’s ignoring us. We need Rikai and Xeke.”

“What I know of Shantel magic is that you could not step a foot in their forest without the sakkri knowing. The sakkri controls the magic, and it controls where you go,” Brina said. “Right now, you’re the only witch this woods has. Bring Rikai and Xeke here.”

It was on the tip of Jay’s tongue to point out that a Marinitch empath and a Shantel sakkri were very different, but maybe it wasn’t as crazy as it seemed. Jay had been able to mingle with the woods around the new Midnight, even though that magic had been outright hostile toward him. The Shantel elemental had tried to help him the last time he’d communicated with it. If this forest considered him an ally, maybe he could speak to it, albeit in his own way.

“I’ll try,” he said, earning another sunlight smile from her. “I’ll probably space out while I do this. Touch me if you need my attention, okay?”

Brina nodded.

Jay sat on the ground, where he could put his bare hands against the cobblestone ground, then closed his eyes. Beneath the cobbles was raw earth. Through that earth, he stretched his awareness as far as he could, not looking for animal minds but drifting in the ebb and flow of the power around him.

Impressive. The magic wrapped into this land was so complex, it dazzled him. He envisioned it like a spiderweb, with crystal drops of mist stuck to it. Each bead of moisture was a living being, hanging on the gossamer strands.

Except spiderwebs were fragile. This had existed, and would continue, for ages.

Brina was a bright glow near him. Yes, her vampirism was gone, but he realized she had power in her, like a witch’s magic, lingering, dormant in her blood. Could that power wake?

He skipped his awareness along the line of Shantel territory, through the leaves and winter breezes, the pine trees stretching in the cold air, and the deciduous trees tranquil in their long sleep.

He reached for Brina’s hand. She hesitated before taking his, concerned that he had told her to touch him only if she needed to interrupt him, but then followed his lead.

Look.

It was clumsy, like a child’s first steps, but once she realized what he was trying to do, she worked with him. Her artist’s mind was able to manipulate the patterns of magic in an instinctive way, so she was able to “see” as he did. The trees were his nerves, and the animals, his eyes. He could feel the power like a heartbeat and a pulse, a thought that made Brina nervous, until she recklessly submerged herself in the forest’s awareness.

They both could have drowned that way, forgetting their purpose in the lazy pulse of the forest’s slow life, but then they touched Rikai and Xeke. Those unwelcome powers were an irritation, like hot ash falling on the skin. Both of them were in pain, exhausted and starving, not for food but for power … and for hope. They had been lost since Jay and Brina had disappeared.

This way, Jay called.

Brina echoed him, lending her power to his. This way, she said. Hurry.

Together, they siphoned some of the forest’s abundant energy into the Triste and vampire, giving them the strength to stand and walk.

Once Rikai and Xeke drew near, though, their efforts drew the elemental’s attention. Until then the forest had responded to Jay and Brina, but now the elemental itself noticed what they were doing. As Rikai and Xeke hoisted themselves over the stone borders of the plaza and hurried to Jay and Brina, the spiderweb of magic shook itself, flinging Jay and Brina away.

When they opened their eyes, disoriented, a figure loomed in front of them.

She did not register to any sense but Jay’s eyes; to his magic, she was an extension of the land itself, in no way a separate being. Once, this body had belonged to a shapeshifter with ink-black skin and hair marked with white. Now, it had been claimed by darkness itself.

True darkness wasn’t evil. It was the ultimate neutral. People could kill each other under its cover, or make love. Like so many things, the only value the darkness held was that which others gave it, often based on its use—or ancient fears, of course, since so many things had used the darkness for their own nefarious purposes.

This darkness might once have been the neutral coolness of a deep cave, beyond the interference of fire’s light, but now it had been tainted by pain and loss and anger. It looked at Jay, and in its face he saw the fury of betrayal.