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  What the hell was he, if he couldn’t be injured?

  I had no time to think of it. More Caipora were surging toward me, as if I were the weaker link.

  Three of them charged, and I swiped out with my blade, taking out one after another. They kept coming though. More and more. They surrounded me, half a dozen closing in. I cut and stabbed, but no longer had the range of movement required.

  The ghosts reached out with transparent arms, grabbing and tugging. Everywhere they touched burned. I screamed and thrashed, swinging my blade and kicking out. I hurt them, managing to drive off some. But others came, too, overwhelming me.

  Panic rose in my chest, and my magic flared.

  From deep inside, the darkness rose. I didn’t ask it to. I didn’t call on it. But it came anyway, surging to the surface. A protective instinct that I couldn’t deny.

  It choked me, feeling foul inside my very soul. My eyes began to glow, brightening the faces of the ghosts who attacked. It felt like I was drawing from within as the magic filled up my body, filled up my soul.

  Then it burst from me, exploding outward.

  The Caipora shrieked and lunged backward, hissing and whirling. Some of them disintegrated right on the spot, their ghostly forms turning to ash. The rest raced away, disappearing within seconds.

  I stood, panting. The horror of the memories made me feel empty inside.

  I’d never before remembered with such clarity. But I’d relived it here, and the memories made me shake.

  I looked up and caught sight of Maximus and Eloa’s shocked gazes.

  Shit.

  Adrenaline pumped through my veins, driving off the thoughts of my terrible past.

  They’d seen my dark magic. Maximus, for the second time.

  7

  Eloa turned away, muttering, “I’m not going to ask.”

  I sucked in an unsteady breath. What happened in the jungle stayed in the jungle, apparently. At least with her. I could live with that. Maybe I could even move here, if everything hit the fan.

  Yeah, that sounded terrible.

  I avoided looking at Maximus and pulled a tiny vial of healing potion out of my leather belt. As I dotted it on the stinging wound on my shoulder, I could feel Maximus’s gaze on me.

  Once the wound was tended to, I looked up at him.

  “She might not ask, but I will,” he said. “What the hell is going on with you?”

  “Nothing.” I felt stupid even saying it, since I’d been so obvious this time. I tried turning away anyway, hoping he’d get the picture.

  He didn’t. Instead, he followed me to the bow and leaned on the railing.

  I stared out at the water, my mind racing.

  Okay, so maybe this had been a bad idea. Before, he’d seen me do something creepy and weird. It could have been a fluke.

  Now, he’d seen me do it twice.

  How was I supposed to damage control that?

  “What’s going on, Rowan?”

  I stayed silent, debating my options. Jumping overboard was the only one that appealed, and even that had the downside of piranhas. Maybe.

  His brows lowered, and he frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, exactly.” I searched his face, trying to see past the good looks to what was beneath. I couldn’t trust him, could I? He worked for the Order.

  But I wasn’t evil. My version of events—which was true, damn it—made me out to be a victim. On one hand, I hated that. Hated it. On the other hand, it made me not to blame.

  If I wasn’t to blame, maybe I wouldn’t be reported to the Order of the Magica and sent to the Prison for Magical Miscreants.

  Maybe.

  Did I suck it up and swallow my pride, explaining my shitty situation and the years I’d spent in captivity?

  Victim.

  Victim.

  Victim.

  I liked the person I’d become. Powerful, in control. I might have no magic, but I was in control of my own destiny now.

  Logically, I knew that admitting to my horrible past didn’t take away who I was now. I’d just really liked shoving it down deep and not acknowledging it.

  I wanted to keep hiding, but so far, that hadn’t been working. I’d thought I could keep it under control when I’d agreed to come work with him, but I’d been wrong.

  “Rowan, you need to explain. It can’t be that bad.”

  I laughed. “Of course it can.” I met his blue gaze. “I saw your past. You know as well as I that it can be that bad.”

  “If I show you mine, will you show me yours?”

  My eyes flared wide, then I got it. “Ah, you’d explain that scene? And in exchange, I tell you what’s up with me?”

  He nodded.

  “It’d better be good, then.”

  “It’s pretty good.”

  It was something to consider. Right now, saying nothing made me look definitely evil. I had to tell him something—try to explain. And if I was going to do that, I might as well get a story out of him in exchange. And, if he was a total jerk and wanted to throw me into the Prison for Magical Miscreants, I had a forgetfulness potion I could try on him. It’d be really hard to get him to drink it, but I could manage if I was desperate enough.

  Finally, I nodded. “You go first.”

  He leaned against the bow rail, turning to face the water. He didn’t want to look at me while he spoke, and I got that. Boy, did I ever.

  “I was kidnapped from my family farm when I was twelve,” he said.

  Oh, shit. Yeah, he knew about crappy pasts.

  “The Romans were coming through, doing as they always did. And I was big for my age. Strong.” He shot me a wry glance. “A lot of time with the plow.”

  I nodded as if I knew what that meant, but I didn’t. Spending my youth farming in the freaking Dark Ages wasn’t really in my repertoire.

  “They took me to Rome, where I was sold as a slave. I ended up in the ring as a gladiator.” His gaze riveted to my mouth. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Oops.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry. I’ve been calling you a gladiator in my head. You just…look like one.”

  “I spent ten years in the ring. I don’t think I’ll lose the bearing.”

  “Ten years? That had to be so many matches.”

  “Over a thousand. I was the best.” His eyes turned dark. “Which comes with a price.”

  “You had to kill.” I could see from the grief and guilt in his gaze exactly what he meant.

  “Kill my fellow slaves.” He nodded. “Not every time. Not even most. But more than once is enough. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “You revolted.” My mind went back to the memory reenacted by the Caipora. “You led a revolt, and it failed. So you and your men were supposed to be executed in the middle of the arena. That was your Caipora memory.”

  He nodded. “You’re quick. And correct. Over half of us died in the revolt. The rest were meant to be beheaded to make an example.”

  “How’d you escape?”

  “I used all the skills I’d ever learned. I killed the executioner and many of the guards. I was about to kill the emperor when I was struck down by his guards. I was bleeding out in the dirt when Virtus, the Roman god of bravery and the military, appeared.”

  I watched him, rapt. He was seeing far into the past now, his gaze on the river.

  “He’d been watching me in the arena for years. Apparently he liked my style. He liked how I performed in the revolt even better. A third of my fellow slaves escaped. I would have, too, if I hadn’t gone after the emperor.”

  “You wanted to put a stop to the institution itself, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “It’s more than one man can do, but I was angry and foolish. And it’s more than the gods would allow. They valued the institution of the Roman Empire.”

  “Did Virtus stop you?”

  “He may have aided the guards, yes. You see, the gods need people to believe in them. The Roman Empire supporte
d that system. The last thing the gods wanted was an overthrow.”

  “So Virtus smote you?”

  A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and my stomach flip-flopped.

  “No. He gave me some of his magic and made me a demigod. I was human before.”

  My jaw dropped. “A demigod? How?” And no wonder his magic felt so powerful.

  “He never liked the gladiator bouts. War is meant to be fought for real, not for play, as far as he was concerned. And he was impressed by my bravery, or something along those lines.”

  “It was your bravery.” It impressed even me, and I didn’t want to like him. But I’d seen how many guards there were in his Caipora memory. “And probably the self-sacrifice element, too. I bet gods love that.”

  “I think they do.”

  “So how’d you end up here?”

  “Well, I was dead. Or almost there. Making me a demigod by giving me some of his power was the only way to bring me back. But obviously I couldn’t stay in AD 99. He knew I’d just keep trying to kill the emperor, and that couldn’t be allowed. So he sent me forward.”

  “And you’ve been here. In the present. That must have been a trip.”

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “There was some…adjusting. Not just to the present day, but to magic. I have powers I never had as a human.”

  “Swords don’t hurt you, and you’re a conjuror.”

  “Very useful. I can conjure anything I need, from money to houses.”

  “Conjurors can’t create money.”

  “Apparently you can if your power is from a god.”

  Which made him immeasurably wealthy, though in the brief time I’d known him, he didn’t seem into things. He wasn’t wearing a fancy watch or expensive clothes. “So now you’re a demigod living in the modern world. How many years have you been here?”

  “Five.”

  “So that makes you twenty-eight?”

  “About. We didn’t keep precise track of birthdays, but that’s fairly accurate.”

  “Hmmm. What do you do, now that you’re here?”

  “Freelance security. Keeps me busy. Right now I’m working for the Order, but I don’t always. Sometimes I’m a mercenary, but only for causes I approve of. No drugs or weapons or any of that bullshit that’s ruining the earth.”

  I liked that answer. And it helped that he only occasionally worked for the Order. It gave me hope.

  “Now it’s your turn.” His gaze was intense. Patient.

  Dang. I chewed on my lip, debating what to tell him. There weren’t many lies that would get me off the hook. And while I was enough of a survivor that I didn’t mind lying, I wasn’t sure there was anything I could realistically make up.

  Ever since the Rebel Gods, trusting was hard for me. It felt like I was pulling out my fingernails to even consider telling him the truth. But there wasn’t any other option.

  So I went with it and told him about my captivity with the Rebel Gods. The words came slowly at first, painfully and awkwardly. I didn’t say why they’d wanted me or that I was supposed to be a Dragon God, but I did mention the new dark magic.

  I finished with, “And I have no idea how to get rid of it, but I think the demons know something. The one that I destroyed in The Vaults knew something, at least.”

  Maximus’s dark gaze searched my own. “Then the dark magic isn’t yours. I didn’t think the signature felt natural. It feels like an ill-fitting costume.”

  “There’s still evil in me.” Crap, I shouldn’t have said that.

  He nodded. “You need to pursue these clues to have any hope of fixing this.”

  “And I want to stop the murders.” They weren’t something I could ignore. And with the notes, which I hadn’t mentioned to Maximus since I didn’t trust him that much yet, they felt like they were my responsibility.

  “We’ll stop them.” His voice had turned grim.

  I nodded and leaned on the bow, staring out at the moonlit water. There was something up ahead, and I squinted. “Do you see that?”

  Maximus leaned forward. “It’s a temple, built over the water.”

  He was right. The massive stone pyramid blocked the river. Unlike Egyptian pyramids, which had smooth sides, this one was made of giant steps leading all the way to the top on all sides. Somehow, the water continued to flow through it, but it definitely looked like we couldn’t pass.

  I pulled the feather from my bag and touched my tongue to the spot of silver potion that had soaked in, wincing only slightly. Had the owner of this feather come this way? Were we still going the right direction?

  An image flashed in my mind of this temple from above. As if the monster had seen it while flying over.

  Yes, we were on the right path.

  “Hold on!” Eloa shouted. She ran out of the pilothouse and tossed a red rock into the boiler. The steam immediately halted, and the engines stopped pumping. Silence fell, allowing the natural night sounds of the jungle to reign. I hadn’t realized how loud the boat was until it stopped.

  The vessel drifted slowly toward the temple, and Eloa joined us at the bow.

  “Never seen this before.” She leaned forward, squinting. “There’s got to be a way through.”

  “You haven’t been this way?” I asked.

  “Nope. Don’t have a death wish. We took a branch of the river that no one is dumb enough to take.” She gave me a pointed look. “No one but you.”

  “Ha-ha.” I turned to the pyramid and studied it.

  We were close enough now that I could make out carvings on the vertical part of the pyramid’s huge steps. They looked ancient, in a style I always associated with a time long past.

  I looked at Maximus. “Recognize anything, Grandpa?”

  He looked at me, startled. Then choked a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He turned back to the temple and studied the images.

  The bow of the boat nudged up against the pyramid, and we halted. Water continued to flow around us, but we weren’t going to pass unless we figured this out.

  The carvings on the massive steps told a story. Something about a man and a journey through the jungle. Not unlike ours, really. In front of each carving was a blackened area, as if a torch had once burned there.

  And right in the middle of the pyramid, an area was carved out that was shaped like a huge, ancient spear.

  “I think we should put torches in the areas where there are burn marks,” I said. “They were once there. Maybe they need to be again.”

  “All right. I’ll do the torches.” Maximus raised his hands, and magic flared on the air. The cedar scent of a northern forest filled the humid jungle air, bringing with it the sound of a crashing waterfall.

  Eloa watched Maximus with interest as a half dozen torches appeared in his hands. They were lit and everything, which was really quite impressive. Fire was much more difficult to conjure—normally that was the specialty of fire mages.

  He climbed out of the boat and onto the pyramid, heading toward the closest illustrated carving that was located roughly in the middle of the pyramid.

  “Wait!” I pointed to the left-most carving. “I think the story starts over there. Do that one first.”

  He then strode over and set the torch into the indent that was carved into the stone. The light illuminated the carving, flickering over the face of the ancient warrior and the monkey that sat on his shoulder.

  Both seemed to come alive, moving slightly.

  Ted, Eloa’s monkey, chattered in delight.

  Maximus moved from carving to carving, lighting them up and showing the story of the man as he battled a giant snake and the Caipora.

  “He’s going on the same journey we are,” I said. It was more obvious when the light shined on the images, highlighting previously lost details.

  Maximus reached the last one and placed the burning torch. Magic flared on the air, bright and fierce. Light burst from the pyramid, and a massive wind blew out from it, bowling Maximus over.r />
  He fell off the step, managing to grab an edge and avoiding a plunge into the river. Quickly, he yanked himself upright and jumped back onto the boat.

  A beam of light shot from the top of the pyramid, going straight into the sky. Then it bent down, shining into the forest like a beacon. It landed somewhere in the woods, probably about fifty yards from shore.

  “I think we need to go that way.” I looked at Eloa. “Are you going to ditch us if we head over there and check it out?”

  She frowned, then shook her head. “As much as I want to, no. I lost that game fair and square, so I’ll get you to El Dorado.”

  I barely repressed a wince. The game hadn’t exactly been fair and square. But she had lost, and I wasn’t going to tell her any different.

  “Thanks.” I climbed onto the pyramid and followed Maximus across the lowest step, heading toward the jungle. At the edge, I jumped down onto the spongey ground. We cut through the bushes covered in huge leaves and purple night-blooming orchids. I plucked a few and shoved them in my potions bag.

  “Flower collector?” Maximus asked.

  “Sort of. For my potions, at least. Rainforest plants are supposed to have all kinds of cool properties.”

  He cut around the side of a huge tree that soared hundreds of feet in the air, then stopped dead. “I think we’ve found it.”

  I edged around him, staring at the massive beam of light that illuminated a golden spear.

  “Nice.” I hurried to the spear.

  “Wait!”

  I pulled up short at his voice.

  “Let’s be careful. Don’t touch it yet.”

  I turned to scowl at him. “Duh.”

  Though I vibrated with the desire to grab the damned thing, I knelt and inspected it. The weapon was about as tall as I was, and looked like it was made of one hundred percent gold.

  I reached into a tiny pocket on my belt and pulled out a minuscule vial.

  “What’s that?” Maximus asked.

  “It’ll reveal any latent spells.” I uncorked the vial and poured a tiny drop on the spear. The wooden shaft glowed red.

  “Some kind of poison or dangerous charm. We shouldn’t touch it.” I looked around, spotting a huge leaf.