"All your questions can be answered if you come with me."

"Well, if you know so much, then tell me why Nïx gave the rhyme to me instead of Elianna. Or Jillian."

"Take my hand."

"You're only going to answer so many questions at a time, aren't you?" Mari narrowed her eyes with realization. "And like a classic, frustrating oracle, you're rarely going to give me extrapolation or edification."

The reflection grinned coyly. Great. A glassy magick eight ball. Mari began to suspect that this reflection was going to prove to be like that little computer paperclip assistant - at first it helps, but after a while you just want the paperclip to die.

In any case, Mari had her own suspicions about why it had been Nïx who'd given her the letter. Valkyrie grew stronger as they aged, and some in the Lore had begun to whisper that Nïx had become powerful enough to affect the outcome of an Accession. Nïx had even mentioned it in the letter.

Mari told the reflection, "If that's all you have to say, then I'm going to log off."

"Don't forget the apple."

As Mari accepted it, she mumbled to herself, "Don't forget the apple, meh, meh, meh," aware that she was making fun of her own voice.

Though she craved it, she was nervous, at once tempted to take a bite, but fearing to.

In fairy tales - which were almost always true - wicked witches proffered apples with evil intent. But apples were held sacred by all witches as symbols of knowledge and foresight. There was no more reason to think it evil than to think it good.

Holding it in both hands, she glanced around uneasily. Perhaps she shouldn't be alone in a shadowy cave the first time she made this leap. Yes, she would taste it... later. Decided, she slipped it into her hiking sack.

When she exited the cave, she found the morning mist was thick, the sky cloudy overhead. She blinked and lowered her face, disappointment settling over her that there was no sun to be felt. Vampires got more sun than she had for the last twenty-one days.

And she wasn't likely to get any in the hours to come. In preparing for this trip, she'd read about the jungles in the area and had learned that only a small percentage of the sunlight that hit a rain forest canopy made it to the floor. To catch the light, most of the trees were tall and spindly with an umbrella of leaves at the top. Which made for an odd environment - even as it was gloomy, the forest was open like a warehouse with intermittent pillars to support the roof.

She saw the others were gathered nearby, though MacRieve stood off to the side. All eyes were on her, with Cade's focus on her neck. Unnerved by their scrutiny, she wanted to blurt out, "We didn't do anything!"

Instead she turned to Rydstrom and casually asked, "Hey, top, what's the op?"

MacRieve grated, "Who made him the... top?"

"Rydstrom's like a king." She looked him up and down. "And you're... not."

"I'm third in line... " He trailed off at Rydstrom's amused glance.

Rydstrom answered her, "We're going to have to push hard to make it into Belize before you're to call in. But let us know if you need to rest." When she nodded, he continued, "Cade's on point. I'll take the lead, with the females between the males." To MacRieve, he said, "You bring up the rear."

She knew the Lykae's eyes were on her ass when he huskily rumbled, "Any day o' the week."

Then MacRieve stood right behind her, his toes to her heels, as if taking his job very seriously. "If you need help climbing, I'll assist you. And doona touch anything - moving or inanimate. Doona pull on vines - ever - and try to step exactly where the others do. Let them take the risk. There are snakes in this underbrush, some that'll go out of their way to strike. The fer-de-lance for one."

She'd read enough in her research to know that fer-de-lance equaled bad.

"And doona drink any water that has no' been boiled. I've a canteen in the pack that's already been processed for you. Just tell me if you need a drink."

"Are you done explaining to me things that are not counterintuitive?" she asked, huffily adjusting her knapsack.

Tierney laughed as he finished one banana and swiftly peeled another. "Looks like the werewolf struck out last night, huh, Scot?" he said between bites, seeming bent on regaining in one morning all the weight he'd lost.

Reminded that MacRieve preferred another version of her, Mari cast an overly pleasant smile over her shoulder. "He lost the entire series. All pennant hopes... dashed."

Cade cast a grin at her before starting off.

"Watch your step, witchling," MacRieve rasped at her ear, his temper obviously flaring. "I have no' even brought my A game yet."

Bowe was on edge after just a mile into their journey.

So much could harm her. While they were playing protect the mortal, it seemed everything out here conspired against them. Bad water, serpents, a certain frog could bloody drop her.

He felt as if he were carrying the most delicate crystal through a war zone.

"So are you planning on dressing me in addition to everything else?" she asked once they'd cleared a challenging rise.

"I planned to pack as much as I could this morning, so you could sleep later," he lowered his voice, "or take care of what went unfinished last night." He'd amazed himself by behaving so unselfishly as that. Her unfulfilled desire made it more likely that he'd get her into bed with him, and yet, he couldn't stand to think of her suffering. "I was attempting to be considerate. Though I've little experience with it."

"I'm not talking to you about this. I'm just not."

"I can feel your need as strong as my own."

"Maybe I do have these needs - doesn't mean you're the one I'll choose to help me work them out." Her gaze drifted to Cade, who was greedily chugging water.

His voice low and seething, Bowe said, "You regard him with an appraising eye one more time, Mariketa, and you're going to get that demon killed. All he wants is to 'attempt' you. Do you ken what that means?"

"In fact, I do ken what it means. In the throes, you know. One of my boyfriends was a demon."

"Boyfriends?" He frowned. "You mean lovers. How bloody many have you had?" He stopped. "Are you free with yourself, then? With other males? Because that'll be ending - "

"What'd you think?" she asked over her shoulder. "That I was a virgin?"

"You're only twenty-three," he said, sounding very stodgy, even to himself. "And I try no' to think of any male before me. But if you were no' an innocent, then I'd hoped it would have been once, in the dark, with a ham-handed human who was so bad you had to stifle a yawn or fight against laughing."

She shrugged. "I'm sure the number of notches in my bedpost can't compare to yours."

"Aye, but I'm twelve hundred years old! Even if I had one female a year, you'd understand how they could accumulate."

"Well, I am young." Just as he felt a flicker of ease, she murmured in a sexy voice, "But, baby, I've been busy."

His fists clenched.

"Jealous?"

She probably wouldn't think he'd admit to it, but in a low tone, he said, "Aye, I envy any man that's had his hands on you." She gave him an enigmatic, studying expression. "Now, if I guess the number you've taken into your bed, then you'll tell me if I'm right."

She hastily faced forward once more. "Not playing. Get bent."

He narrowed his eyes. "One. You've had one." Her shoulders stiffened barely perceptibly, and he wanted to sag with relief.

"Why would you say that?" she asked in a nonchalant tone.

"Because any male worthy of you would kill a rival who tried to steal you from him. I'm guessing the demon was your first and last. And how did you get him to let you go, then?"

"What if I told you I was still seeing him?"

Bowe shook his head. "No' considering the way you were with me that first night. Besides, if he allowed you to enter the Hie without being there to guard you, he does no' deserve you. When we return, I'll kill him on principle."

25

The deeper they went, the more Land Before Time-esque everything seemed to Mari.

Something growing on the tree trunks made them look furry - and creepy - in the mist. The squirrels she spied weren't gray but red, and many of the leaves on bushes were larger than she was.

Though most of the spindly trees had roots that forked out above the soil, looking like the veins they actually were, the ceiba tree's trunk was gigantic, its roots as tall as she was and as thick as her desk at Andoain -

"Duck." MacRieve reached over her with his machete to cut an overhanging branch. He continued to clear away even more than the others in front of her had - until there was twice as much room as she needed.

"Are my hips wider than I'd figured?"

"Doona want an animal near you. There's more danger here than you're aware of."

At that moment, howler monkeys roared from the canopy just above, startling her.

"Your hips, for the record, are faultless."

She experienced a small - trifling, really - thrill at his compliment, as well as an impulse to swish her hips at him. Then she woke the hell up again and concentrated on navigating the jungle.

Trees fell where streams eroded the soil, so in the areas lining the banks, trunks were toppled over each other like Lincoln logs. The opportunistic underbrush shot up for its spot in the sun - an explosion of growth on the floor that was backbreaking to slog through.

Gradually, she and MacRieve became distanced from everyone - Rydstrom pushed hard with Tera right behind him, Cade scouted the trail ahead, and Tierney disappeared repeatedly to hunt for more food. This seemed to suit MacRieve fine as he took every excuse to touch her, wiping away a bead of sweat from her cheek or brushing a leaf from her hair.

At yet another pile of trunks, MacRieve simply picked her up and carried her. Then later, he did it again at a rivulet - and once more under a log pileup. Over or under and through the woods.

Over, under, over... under. At one point, he sat her on a high trunk, putting them face-to-face. "What're my chances of stealing a kiss from you right now?" His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway down and sweat sheened on his muscular chest. After last night, she now knew how breathtaking all of his body was - every inch of it.

Still she answered, "None point none. I don't want you to kiss me."

"I think you do a little." He brushed a damp lock over her forehead, then smoothly moved his hand just before she could bat it away.

"All I want is to get home, back to my Lykae-free life. Now let me down."

"I will no'. No' without a kiss for toll." He was easing closer as if she were a skittish animal he didn't want to scare away. And though she dreaded losing her tenuous control over her overstimulation, she still was tempted to close her eyes and accept his lips on hers.

"That's it, lass," he rumbled, gently cupping the side of her face with his big hand.

At the last second, Mari reached into her knapsack and snatched out her apple, bringing it between them.

His eyes went wide, then narrowed. "Doona dare," he said.

So, naturally, she did. Once she'd taken a hearty bite, he looked as if he'd just stifled a shudder and dropped his hand.

Around a mouthful, she said, "But I thought you wanted to make out!"

Stiffly setting her down, he turned from her and continued on, leaving her to roll her eyes at the succulent taste. It was like she'd eaten a super apple - crisper, more flavorful, and juicier than any before. She even felt more energized. As soon as she'd devoured it, she craved another and wondered when she could convene with the reflection again.

When she tossed the core, MacRieve glanced back at her. A thick lock of jet black hair fell over one of his eyes, making her want to sigh. Regrettably, Mari did find herself wanting him to kiss her. After everything, her attraction to him burned as hot as ever. Yet even if MacRieve was sexy - insufferably so - she wasn't going to be seduced into forgiving the hateful thing he'd said last night.

Especially not because he removed some foliage from her way.

He admittedly would be willing to forget her, and go back for some perfect fey princess. If there was one thing that Mari despised, it was to be passed up. And yet it kept happening to her.

What is it about me? she asked herself for the thousandth time.

Both of her parents had found something they preferred over raising her. It wasn't as if she'd been a demanding daughter. Hell, if her father hadn't died he could've returned at any time and she would've forgiven the past. He could've shown up on her fifteenth birthday with some unwitting-absentee-dad gift like a tea set or a Barbie oven. Mari would've been so grateful she'd have held off getting her learner's permit to bake cakes with a lightbulb.

Yet he hadn't come back - he hadn't even called her. Not once. It was like he'd disappeared from the face of the earth. One day she had a father; the next day she hadn't.

But Jillian's desertion had hurt her the worst. If things had been bad between Mari and her, then her leaving wouldn't have been so devastating. But life with her had been wonderful.

She remembered her mother blindfolded and smiling on the beach, arms out, as she'd tried to catch Mari, who'd been squealing with laughter. "Where's my little witch?" she'd cooed, with her red hair shining like fire in the sun. When Mari had let Jillian catch her, she'd swung her up, and then they'd collapsed laughing onto the sand.

Elianna had explained that her parents were - or had been - Important People, and that they had - or had had - Important Things to Do...

Acton, Mari's first love, had ditched her as well. For years, the young demon had been her boyfriend. He'd courted her when they'd been fourteen, taken her at sixteen, and then she'd taken him at every opportunity for the next three years.

She'd been happy with him until he'd thrown her over for a tall, willowy nymph with flowing golden locks. Well, not technically thrown her over. Because storm demons didn't have a single fated demoness, they often kept harems, and he'd still wanted a relationship with Mari as well as with the nymph. That was bad enough, but it was clear Mari would have been B team if she'd stayed in the game.

Of course she hadn't, but losing him had hurt so much and for so long. He was her first love and letting him go had nearly killed her.

Seemed Mari always was B team. Was that her fate?

She glared over at MacRieve. Ten-to-one odds said his fey princess was blond and tall.

And the Lykae wasn't merely choosing another woman over Mari - he preferred what he thought was another version of her.

As if reading her mind, MacRieve said, "Been thinkin' about the question you asked me last night."

"Oh, I have been, too," she said in a deliberate tone, her anger simmering. The werewolf had no idea he was sidling round a spring trap hungry for his paw.

"And what have you come up with, then?"

"No, no, you first." When he hesitated, she added, "I insist."

"I doona know that I'd answer it the same," he finally said. "The more I'm around you, the more I... the better you appear - even for a witch."

Suave, Lykae, melt my heart.

"Now you tell me."

She met his eyes. "I was thinking that if you don't come to a different conclusion, I'll be forced to protect myself."

He hesitated, clearly not presented with the answer he'd expected.

"It's a simple matter of self-preservation, MacRieve. If this reincarnation could possibly have taken place, then there's no way I'll allow you to go back and wipe me out. I'll destroy you first."

"Could you do it? You could no' kill me yesterday."

"You weren't intent on erasing me yesterday." She cast him a menacing smile, feeling very witchy. "Besides, I'd already killed my quota for the day."

26

"I've always wondered what goes on behind coven doors," Cade said to Mari when he'd returned from recon several miles ahead.

"I really can't speak for all covens, but mine is pretty worthless. Lots of soap opera and internet addiction." She was supposed to lead them to greatness, but then, Mari liked her soaps, too. "Have you pictured a slew of hoary old women cackling over a cauldron?"

He raised his brows. "Yes."

"If someone busted out a cauldron, we'd chortle with laughter and make fun of them for being 'old skool' for months. And you rarely see hoary old women because most witches use glamours of some sort."

She noticed MacRieve seemed to be listening intently. Even Rydstrom and the archers appeared interested in this topic.

"Do you really chant spells and make blood sacrifices?" Cade asked.

"We chant spells when they're new, but they quickly become second nature. It's like you wouldn't say to yourself, 'I am walking to the kitchen, and there I will boil water for tea.' You would just do it. But if it was the first time you'd ever walked to a kitchen or had tea, you might talk yourself through it."

"And the blood sacrifices?" MacRieve prompted.

Mari gazed around at everyone. "Do you guys really want me to talk about witchery?"

Cade hastily said, "Yes," just as MacRieve grated, "Aye." MacRieve in particular seemed absorbed in everything she was explaining. Could he really feign interest like this?

"Well, some witches still do the blood thing. But in our coven, we look at it like this - giving up whatever is prized and personal is a sacrifice. In the old days that was a lamb or a chicken because giving up food would be a great sacrifice. But now... if I wanted to call upon Hekate's altar, I could give up my iPod and feel the sting."

"What were you awaited to do?" Tera asked.

"I have no idea," she replied. "No one does - there's nothing but speculation."

Cade said, "Maybe you were supposed to destroy that tomb."

MacRieve gave a humorless laugh. "Do you think that's all the witch has in her? You've no' been on the receiving end of her powers as I have."

Mari was startled - she'd been thinking the same thing. She hadn't wanted to hit the high point of her life at only twenty-three.

"What enemies do the witches have that you could vanquish?" Tierney asked, plucking at the meat of a cracked-open coconut. Exactly how far had he run toward the coast to reach a palm tree?

She answered, "There are some wizards who went rogue, a sorcerer who likes to murder pregnant witches - "

"If you're to be the greatest witch," MacRieve interrupted, "then you've been put here to fight the greatest evil. Fate does no' blow her bullets for nothing."

"That's not possible," she said. "No mortal or even immortal can defeat our greatest enemy."

"Why no'?"

"Because she's a goddess." Mari drank heartily of the processed water, then wiped her mouth on her shoulder. "Or she was. Her name is Häxa, the Queen of False Faces."

"What's her damage?" Tera asked.

"Again, do you really want to hear this?"

MacRieve's "Aye" just beat out Cade's "Yes."

"Okay, then," she said slowly. "In the beginning of the Wiccae, there were three goddess witches, sisters. Hela was all good, Häxa was all bad, and Hekate was both."

"But you said you worship Hekate, right?" Tierney said, between chews. "That means you worship a goddess who was part evil."

"She was a balance of good and evil. We believe it's all about balance. All good is bad. The universe can't handle all creation without destruction."

"All sunshine makes a desert," Cade offered, and when she smiled and said, "Exactly," MacRieve shot him a killing look.

"When Häxa kept growing stronger, Hekate and Hela bound her powers - made her an immortal instead of a goddess."

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