On the Hunt (Sentinel Wars #3.5)(64)
Author: Gena Showalter

For a second nothing happened. Then the camazotz disappeared.

The belch of foul, oily smoke dissipated quickly, leaving JT and Natalie together in a small oasis of calm, while around them the villagers 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 pulled away to look into his eyes. "I guess you are into me, after all."

"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 telling the truth. But I’ll work on it, I swear. You said once that you were falling for me. If you’ll give me another chance, I’ll —"

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 thrilled through her like liquid gold as she pulled away. "I’m not falling for you anymore. I already fell." 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 hell 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 all 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 hell 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 skull.

She dug in her pocket, hissing when the stone burned her fingertips, then whispering, "Holy shit," when she pulled it out.

The crystal skull was glowing gold, its hollow 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 skull 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. All the power was once again collected within the skull 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-filled 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 skull, 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 called to her, perhaps from the very beginning. And the stories said the magi would wield the skulls in the end-time war.

Yet the magi were gone. And JT had said a terrible sacrifice was needed to open a hell 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 call. More, he had led the others into battle, sacrificing what he believed in to save her.

Could she do anything less?

Raising the skull, 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 farewell. Almost a benediction.

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

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

Chapter Seven

The hell 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 hell mouth had been was nothing more than a plain section of cave wall, 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. still 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.

"Hell," JT rasped.

The others fell silent, and then several closed on the grief-stricken boy, while the rest dispersed to check on the too-still bodies scattered around the chamber. Rez pulled 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 villager 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 hell mouth sealed.