glanced at the sunlit, grassy area, then back at her. When he nodded, he squeezed her hand tight, stepped to one side and waited.
Teresa inhaled sharply, deeply, and lifted her free hand. With Rune’s and her powers recharged from the temple, with the strength of her mate pushing through her as a focus, she drew down the lightning.
A tremendous jagged bolt shot from the sky with unerring accuracy. It slammed into the ground beside the group of thugs huddled together and three of them dropped instantly, dead before they hit the ground. Another bolt chased the first, but by that time the survivors were on the run.
Men screamed.
Miguel cursed.
Chico whistled and shrieked, his cries audible above the furious blast of the lightning.
Teresa filled the area with lightning. Her power sang inside her as it never had before. Magic coursed through her veins, alive, bristling with energy. Rune was her stalwart. Beside her, clutching her hand, he gave her the focus and concentration she needed to target her magic with efficiency. She felt his pride in her abilities. Felt his strength. His faith.
The sizzling bolts crashed to earth one after another, cutting off escape routes, driving the men as if they were being herded. And still she called for more, filling the heavens with her fury. With her need for justice. With the magic that was the very core of her.
As for Miguel, another wicked bolt of energy hit too close to where he continued to attempt to force his way into the temple. He slapped both fisted hands against the barrier keeping him from what he most wanted. “You bitch! This isn’t over, Teresa! I’ll find a way to end you!”
Teresa watched with a cool detachment and sent another jagged bolt toward him that slammed into the ground by his feet. Knocked over by the powerful blast, Miguel screamed. Fury claimed her and with that emotion spiking inside her, Teresa’s ability to aim was compromised.
Finally, he seemed to realize that if he stayed, he wouldn’t survive. So he ran like the dog he was and Teresa’s lightning chased after him, crashing again and again into the earth and trees.
When the esplanade was empty, Teresa quieted the lightning and all that was left was the sun, shining down on the ancient site. Hands still locked together, she and Rune stepped outside the temple. The dead lay scattered on the grassy surface and the others—like Miguel—were gone.
She hated that the man who had killed her grandmother had escaped. But she wouldn’t waste precious time chasing him down. Miguel had said himself that if he failed, his superiors would finish him. She didn’t wish death for anyone—but she couldn’t bring herself to feel sorrow for him, either.
“Wait for me here,” Rune said tightly, gaze narrowed in the direction that Miguel had fled. “I’m going to finish this.”
“No,” Teresa told him, releasing his hand long enough to wind her arms about his waist and hold on. Grief for her grandmother was still welling inside her. She felt the burden of what she’d done here with her magic. Men were dead. Yes, they were evil and probably would have killed her with no remorse if given the chance. She had done the only thing she could do to save both herself and Rune. To make sure they lived to complete the quest that was so important, not just to them but to the world. Still, guilt and regret pinged around the pit of her stomach like steel balls in an old pinball game.
Defending themselves was one thing. Deliberately chasing someone down—even Miguel—just to kill him was something else.
“Don’t, Rune. Just … let Miguel go to whatever end is waiting for him. He’ll be in hell soon enough.”
He shook his head and blew out a breath. “It’s a mistake to let him go. He’ll only report to whoever’s in charge of this mess exactly what happened.”
“Let him,” Teresa argued, burrowing closer to Rune’s solid strength. Tears filled her eyes and choked her voice. Grief for her grandmother warred with pride in what the old woman had done for them. She’d sent them here, knowing that Palenque’s magic would be enough to free them.
Although her abuela had known that the cost would be her life, she had set Teresa on the path she needed to walk.
“It doesn’t matter what Miguel does anymore,” she said, swallowing back the tears. She wouldn’t dishonor her grandmother’s sacrifice by weeping and wailing over it. Teresa knew that her abuela was now