by Dela
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You were much more fun when you were human. I’ve always liked you, Ecatzin, but never as an immortal,” X’Tabay teased. She smiled like a would-be mistress, trying hard to seduce us.
“That is enough. Leave at once, X’Tabay!” Mother warned.
X’Tabay laughed, twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she walked toward my mother. Mother, calm as always, didn’t move a muscle. If she needed to, she could wipe out X’Tabay with a swift movement of her hand. But that would destroy our meeting place and raise questions with the Council; we weren’t allowed to hurt one another. As X’Tabay neared her, Mother squared her shoulders.
X’Tabay stopped within reach and glared with a taut smile. “Make me.”
“Don’t do it, Valentina!” Dylan shouted, his voice striking the decaying walls with almost physical force. He stood motionless in the far corner near the candle. His body coiled; he was ready to pounce if needed. Valentina was the closest thing to a mother he had ever had. They shared a powerful bond, and he felt an innate duty to protect her. As his words soothed her rage, a disgusted scowl replaced Mother’s predatory expression.
“You make me sick,” Mother said, her lips curling downward.
X’Tabay’s smirk widened.
Father angled himself on the other side of X’Tabay. “Why are you here?”
“Thank you for asking . . . what was it? Andrés? I never understood why you took on modern names. The humans don’t care.” She snickered.
“Answer him!” I yelled, my arms stiff and shaking at my sides.
X’Tabay turned, pressing her lips into a line as she studied me. “Relax, sugar.” She glanced at Dylan with a flirting grin. “Hunahpu, you would understand, right, sweetie? I always did like you better than your brother.”
A low growl left Gabriella as Dylan’s jaw hardened. His crazed glare seemed capable of piercing her.
“Whose side are you on?” he snarled through clenched teeth.
Delighting in his reaction, X’Tabay began to stroll. “I’m curious,” she said in a malevolent voice. We wanted her dead, but we remained still, following her every move.
“About what?” Andrés spoke first.
“About the fifty-second, of course.” She flicked her eyes to me and then turned to Father. “Aren’t you?”
Her glance left me petrified, a stiffness that burned cold and drained the blood from my head. X’Tabay knew things I wished she didn’t. She knew the sort of things the Council mustn’t know. If they knew about the fifty-second sacrifice, it would sabotage the prophecy. They wouldn’t allow a sacrifice to be saved. Ever.
I nervously reached for the citla in my pocket and spun it hard between my fingers. How would X’Tabay know anything about the prophecy? My family and I were the only ones to hear it. Tita had promised.
Before I moved to silence her, Father closed in on X’Tabay and pinned her against the back wall in a chokehold. The stone behind her crumbled to the floor.
“The sacrifices are none of your concern and never will be. Leave at once. I warn you . . .” Father cautioned.
“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Her voice scratched as Father tightened his fingers around her neck.
Suddenly I found myself in X’Tabay’s face.
“What do you know? Who told you?” I demanded.
With his fingers fastened around X’Tabay’s throat, Father looked at me disconcertedly. He hadn’t caught on. I nodded with narrowed eyes. When it jolted his memory, he loosened his grip around her pathetic neck and glared at her, expecting an answer. But the light of the candle expanded into a large glow, and fine lights sparkled all over the room as the members of the Council appeared. Their eyes drifted to X’Tabay against the wall, then to Father and me, full of questions that would never get answered—not if I had my way.
There were seven members in the Council, Aztec and Maya both, all once glorious, fine breeds. Now they were diluted. Their aura had faded over years of inhabiting Earth, and they were unhappy, though none of them would ever admit it. They valued humans and thus would live another five hundred unhappy years on Earth, all to protect their charges from the executioners. I never understood them. Still, they were set in their ways. The power they held in the Celestial realm—leading, judging, protecting, sacrificing in all manners other than blood—remained, unchanging, in this realm. I was stupid for what I was considering.
I looked away from them and glared at X’Tabay, backing away with Father as Huitzilihuitl, the Council’s leader, stepped forward. He had a large nose and dark eyes that were set far apart. His black hair was pulled back into a knotted ponytail that hung past his broad shoulders, and his soiled work clothes were smeared with grease and stunk like oil.
“What are you doing here, X’Tabay? I will spare you if you tell me who sent you and why you are here. If you do not, I can make no such promise,” said Huitzilihuitl.
He ran his fingernails, packed with black crescent moons of grease, along X’Tabay’s shoulders. She wasn’t accustomed to being touched. She would normally kill anyone who did, but because it was Huitzilihuitl, she gulped and stayed still.
“Child, if you do not speak now, you will surely perish,” said Chac, Mother’s father. He looked like a Mayan carving with his wide nose and square jaw, so still and calm. Mother had his sleek black hair.
My lips curled. I wanted to rip X’Tabay to shreds.
“She is not here of her own accord. She’s a messenger,” Xquic spoke up, her emerald eyes on X’Tabay. Xquic was Dylan’s mother, a refugee goddess from the Underworld with skin the color of vanilla liqueur and a long, messy black braid. Most Xibalban gods didn’t know all the Celestials, but Xquic knew precisely who the interloper was. Xquic was one of the more important gods of the Council. Using the ornate mirror hidden in a locket around her neck, Xquic had the power to see those chosen by the Underworld gods for sacrifice, a list she would soon deliver to us. “Aren’t you?” she accused X’Tabay.
X’Tabay erupted into a mocking laugh.
“Speak!” Tez bellowed from the far right corner. His shout, so powerful his gelled hair loosened, rippled through X’Tabay and struck her silent. Tez shook in his gray designer suit. Wall Street was doing him good. He harnessed his shudders and stepped closer, a calm, political smile parting his face. He spread both hands out with palms up and raised his eyebrows. “Last chance,” he warned.
Tez and I had worked hard to keep the prophecy a secret. But if X’Tabay got in our way, stopped us from saving this foreseen sacrifice, it could dissolve our plans of a peaceful society. Tez warned me with the slightest glint in his eyes to watch myself. I swallowed and looked away, trying to disguise my flaring emotions. Tez wouldn’t have a problem getting rid of X’Tabay in front of Huitzilihuitl, even though killing another Celestial was forbidden.
“What’s it to you?” X’Tabay spat.
“You don’t ask the questions,” Tez said, stepping back to deflect the Celestials’ curiosity in his sudden interest.
Tez looked at me again, differently than he ever had during the previous five Councils. Tonight, strain showed in his subtle nod and around his eyes. As I stared back, making sure I had seen him clearly, I couldn’t prevent my own eyes from growing wide with shock. My heart now pounded uncontrollably. Is this it?
X’Tabay surveyed the Celestials. Their eyes were like marbles, hard and shiny. They didn’t blink as they gazed on her. X’Tabay straightened up uncomfortably.
“I wasn’t sent by anyone. I came on my own,” she finally admitted.
“What for?” Huitzilihuitl asked.
“Let’s just say it’s about an old legend.”
“Speak!” Huitzilihuitl ordered.
X’Tabay’s glare snapped to mine, and she took a few slow steps toward me. “Years ago, I heard there would be a change at the end of the Long Count. The type of change that
would mean a new monarchy, new ownership, and that it would come in the form of a pitiful sacrifice.”
“You’re lying,” Huitzilihuitl said, throwing me a suspicious glance.
She looked at him. “Am I? Why would I risk coming if it was only a fable?”
“Which sacrifice?” Huitzilihuitl asked.
“I suspect it will be the fifty-second. I came because I wanted to see whom was chosen. I’m curious.”
“Preposterous!” I shouted. “The treaty was signed because there was no other alternative, and now you think a nobody sacrifice is going to change all this? You’ve lost your mind!”
Chills flooded through me, even though I hadn’t physically felt a fluctuation in temperature for nearly five centuries. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Father watching me closely. Have I said too much? Did I give anything away? Father and the rest of my family knew of the prophecy, but they didn’t care about it like I had all these years. For some reason, I always felt cautious about it, the idea of saving a sacrifice for the first time, like I was protecting more than a prophecy.
“Silencio, Lucas,” Huitzilihuitl ordered. He turned to X’Tabay. “Who is your source?”
“Like I said, years ago. This was a leak . . . there are no sources,” she said.
With a prolonged inhalation, Huitzilihuitl narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. “X’Tabay, the sacrifices are our duty. If we felt something was amiss, we would know. How dare you enter our Council with such nonsense? You have no authority here. Leave now, or face the consequences.”
As X’Tabay pivoted toward me, my breathing slowed and my stiffness returned. She watched me with hateful, beady eyes and leaned to whisper into my ear, “Be grateful I can’t touch you, otherwise you’d be dead right now. If I am correct, and there is a change, I will end your pathetic immortality more quickly than anything I’ve ever done.”
“GO!” Tez screamed.
My body loosened when X’Tabay turned back to the Council, but the tightness didn’t ease completely until she snapped her fingers and evaporated, leaving the rest of us in silence.
“What does this mean?” Chac asked. “Is this true? Have you seen something?”
“No, I have not,” Tez lied. “X’Tabay has never been up to any good. You can’t trust her.”
He turned to Xquic, who raised her eyes from her locket with a concerned look. “You were right. X’Tabay is working with someone,” she said.
“Have you seen something?” Huitzilihuitl asked, staring at the locket.
Xquic embraced the tiny piece and swiveled it between her thumbs. “I haven’t, but I don’t open it during the dry years. It’s only meant to be opened during the Council.”
I moved to the entrance and waited as the bickering I had predicted began. It was fairly common for the Council, and as it escalated, I listened to the sounds outside to escape. Below me, an iguana hunted in the forest, and a refreshing breeze gently blew against my back. I stared back at the Council, irritated with their endless arguing, unchanging each time we met. It was obvious that everyone was sick of this system, but still, no one did anything about it.
First the small god, Chico, condemned Xquic for something she might have prevented, even though he had no idea what he was talking about and was reacting in anger. Then Ix Chel, the old goddess, fought with Tez over something she assumed he would have foreseen. And just like that, one by one, the Council members descended into yelling at one another, fueled now by pure frustration at X’Tabay’s revelation.
I couldn’t help but notice that Huitzilihuitl stood motionless, avoiding the quarrel and watching me with accusation in his eyes. Had I leaked too much information? I froze within the power of his stare.
“Lucas,” he called, arms folded across his chest.
As my defiance shriveled up like a raisin, the room gradually grew silent, and all eyes fell on me.
“Yes?” I answered. I tried to sound brave, but I felt weak.
“I wouldn’t have expected you to speak up against X’Tabay. All these times we’ve met, and you’ve never spoken more than two words. Why did you speak up? Do you know something?” he asked.
“I haven’t got a clue. She’s mad.”
“Aren’t we all?” Chico barked at Huitzilihuitl. “Who are we to decide the fate of the worlds? Every one has reached its end. We’ve been doing this for four hundred and eighty-five years! Haven’t you at least thought that something would change? We aren’t the only Celestials out there—X’Tabay could be working with anyone by now.”
Mother stepped closer to the Celestials. “Chac, Huitzilihuitl, have you thought of any alternatives if our arrangement with the Underworld comes to an end?”
Chac rocked his head side to side.
“Dylan, what say you?” Huitzilihuitl asked.
Dylan glanced at Gabriella, as he often did to check her well-being. She didn’t look good. Her shoulders slouched, and her eyes drooped. Dylan turned back to Huitzilihuitl, his face drawn with empathy. “It’s only a matter of time until Mictlan finds another way to get to the Middleworld and take unchartered sacrifices,” he said.
Huitzilihuitl’s face didn’t change as it turned to the right. “And you, Andrés?”
“I agree with Dylan,” Andrés said, “but only because we have a different perspective than you. As Watchers, we are forced to see the executioners carry out their task. There have been occasions when an executioner was tempted to take an additional sacrifice. We haven’t had to interfere with a mission yet, but I fear we need to start thinking of alternatives to keep the peace, in case the treaty is broken.”
My eyes zoomed in on Huitzilihuitl as Father spoke. Judging by his aloof attitude, he still did not trust me, and another piece of my confidence shriveled. I remained still.
“What other options do we have?” Ix Chel spoke up, worried.
“None right now,” Huitzilihuitl answered hastily, locking his eyes on me. “We stick to what we all signed up for.”
“We need to move on,” Xquic said, eyes closed as her fingers wrapped tightly around the locket on her neck. “It’s almost time.”
When Huitzilihuitl turned to Xquic, my body loosened. “Same kind?” he asked.
Xquic slowly opened the metal locket and focused on the mirror inside. Her brown irises changed to the deepest black. Her face went blank, and her body began swaying.
“Virgins,” she began, then she paused. My heart pulsed with adrenaline. “Women. They’re young.”
Huitzilihuitl turned to my family. “Same rules apply. You get in. You watch. You disappear.”
We nodded.
While Xquic waited to see more, Gabriella glanced over her shoulder at me. I clenched my teeth and ignored her, my eyes on Xquic. At the edge of unbearable anticipation, Xquic finally let out a soft sigh. Her irises grew larger.
“The first sacrifice is Shannon O’Brien from Limerick, Ireland; second sacrifice is Jane Miller from Miami, United States; third sacrifice is Mariama Adeyemi from Bandundu, Congo; fourth . . . Lucie Bennet from Clovelly, England . . .” Xquic glanced up to Andrés with her possessed eyes, making sure he was paying attention, then looked back down into the ornate adornment.
As Xquic spoke the name of each sacrifice, I felt my blood run thick throughout my body. My heart drummed faster, as if she couldn’t get through the list quickly enough. It was all I could do not to rip the locket from her fingers and see for myself. I had to settle for pacing back and forth. The citla in my pocket made a star-shaped imprint on my thumb as I pinched it tighter.
“Forty-eight . . . Laily Alam from Rajshahi, Bangladesh; forty-nine is Jiao Gao from Dunhuang, China; fifty is Julia Oliveria from Guimarães, Portugal . . .”
I held my breath to hear the words more clearly.
“Fifty-one . . . Alina Epple from Fribourg, Switzerland. And the fifty-second sacrifice . . . Za
ra Moss . . . Lake Tahoe, United States.”
A new substance pumped into my bloodstream, and the loose pebbles crunched as I fell to my knees. Her name. It was . . . familiar. A fragment from a dream; the memory was too scarce to remember details. Her name stung me. Sharp palpitations cracked my heart’s hardened surface and exposed feelings I hadn’t felt in a long time. And then, for the first time since my transformation, my heart immobilized me.
I felt the others’ stares. Gabriella knelt by my side, knowing danger was imminent if the gods suspected ulterior motives on our part. She had approximately half a second to fix me before the Celestials started their questioning.
It was forbidden for Watchers to show remorse for a sacrifice. With the exception of child offerings, the rule had never been a problem. Forgetting about a sacrifice came easy. But for the first time in my life, I felt terribly wrong inside, a good wrong—I knew I had to protect this girl . . . Zara.
“Lucas, levantate!” Gabriella whispered in my ear. “Get up, now!”
Confused about how this news had affected me so uncontrollably, I wiped the back of my hand against a tear and looked up. Tez’s dark eyes were waiting, confirming with softness that finally this fifty-second sacrifice was the one of the prophecy.
I felt a spark of the happiness I had wanted for so long, a burst of energy, and my lips lifted in a smile as I stood. Even after hundreds of years of silent nods and shakes, I understood Tez perfectly. It was she, the girl of the prophecy: Zara Moss.
Zara
CHAPTER TWO
Encounter
Nine months later
The roads were wet from last night’s drizzle as I drove to the other side of the lake. The warm breeze danced past my open window, feeling sweet against my skin, but my blonde waves were becoming unruly, so I spun my hair into a quick pony and pinned it between my back and the seat.
When I was twelve, my parents moved me to a quaint town called South Lake Tahoe. It’s hidden in the mountains in the elbow of the Golden State. Spanning the border with the Silver State, Lake Tahoe is the largest alpine lake in North America, surrounded by granite mountains with impressive snow terrain during ski season. For those two reasons and only those two reasons, I’d decided to stay for my first year of college. My friends convinced me I’d be better off enjoying one lenient season with fewer classes and more snowboarding time before burying my nose in books far away from home.
