Questions flew at me, questions I didn’t have time to process, think about, or answer. Brooks gave Hondo and Ren the SparkNotes version as I rushed out to the platform and scanned the area. There. Ixtab stood near the waterfall across the field. I raced down the steps, followed by Hondo, Ren, and Brooks. We weaved between the sparring demons, who glared at us with murderous eyes, and made our way toward the waterfall.
“You can’t die!” Hondo shouted after me.
“Told you!” Brooks said.
I ran ahead, ignoring them both, thinking about Hurakan’s plea to trust him. “Ixtab!”
The demons’ shouts and grunts and clanging weapons were too loud for her to hear me. Ren tripped over a spear. Hondo helped her up without missing a stride.
By the time we got to the waterfall, a minute later, Ixtab was gone.
“Where’d she go?” I asked. I needed that death magic!
Brooks started to say something, when I spotted a flaming arrow zinging across the field. I watched in paralyzed horror as it zoomed right toward her back.
“NO!” I threw my hand up and leaped through the air, knocking her out of the way just as the arrow veered right. We tumbled to the ground, me landing on top of her.
“Zane! What’s wrong with you?”
I propped myself up and looked down at her reddened face. “The arrow—it was going to hit you! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
With a grunt, she shoved me off and rolled away. “What arrow?”
I pointed at the weapon, its flame now sputtering on the ground. “That one.” I looked around to see who had shot it. It was impossible to tell. Arrows zinged all over the place, and I realized we had just gotten caught in the middle of another drill. Or maybe the demon who fired it had wanted a moving target.
“Our clothes are like armor,” Ren whispered to me. “Remember?”
Hondo helped me to my feet. “Dude, I thought you said fire doesn’t listen to you.”
I went over to the arrow and was about to stomp out the fire with my foot, when I heard familiar faint whispers, but I couldn’t make out a single word.
“You made the arrow change course,” Ren said. “I mean, it all happened so fast, but you screamed and…it turned at the last minute.”
“I knew it!” Brooks said. “You have to be stressed out for the fire to listen to you. Let’s do it again. Maybe have a demon charge you or something.”
“But I didn’t even try,” I muttered. “And no, I’d rather not get attacked by another demon.”
It was like Ren said—everything had happened quickly. I hadn’t even thought about the fire, only that I couldn’t let Brooks get hurt. I picked up the arrow. As the flame died, I pulled its heat inside me and let it expand. Power raced through my body so fast I was sure I’d explode. The fire blasted out of my fingertips like a huge firecracker, throwing me back at least ten feet. I landed on my side with a bone-aching thud.
“Zane!” Brooks shouted, running over as I rolled to my feet.
“Are you okay?” Hondo said.
“That was awesome.” Ren was smiling. “Even the demons ran for cover.”
Trembling, I stared in shock at my fingertips—they were still smoking.
Quinn marched over, glowering. “Are you trying to blow up Xib’alb’a? We’re practicing our kill shots here and you’re shooting fire missiles?!”
“I…I didn’t mean…” I shook off the surprise, trying to stay focused. I wondered if I had gained power from being in Xib’alb’a, or did it have something to do with seeing Hurakan again? Stretching my fingers, I could still feel the aftershock of the eruption. Amazing!
At the same moment, Ixtab materialized in a column of blue mist. Rosie was right behind her.
“Did you decide?” she asked.
I cleared my throat and looked from Hondo to Brooks to Ren and back to Ixtab.
“Yes. I’m ready to die.”
I need to pause right here.
Mostly because what happened next was pretty much the beginning—or end—of everything, depending on how you look at it. It’s hard to explain, but it was sort of like this: Imagine you’ve spent your whole life as a sea creature and then one day you break the surface and discover you have lungs. And all of a sudden the world above is different and scary and so much clearer than it was under the water. Even if you don’t like what you see, you know you can’t ever go back to living in the ocean again, because, well, now you have stupid lungs.
Here’s the bottom line: Things were about to change big-time, and life was never going to be the same. Not for me or my friends or my family or any godborn. Sorry about that. If you want to murder me, take a number.
Ixtab had changed into a long black silk dress that touched the terrace’s stone floor. This is how she dressed for a Desesperadas meeting? Didn’t look very desperate to me. “You’ve made the right choice,” she said.
“Don’t do it,” Brooks whispered.
Ren’s eyes widened. “Zane, what if…?” She didn’t finish, because there were too many what ifs to consider. What if I wasn’t strong enough? What if I didn’t succeed? What if the godborns died because of me? What if I became permanently dead? I thought about the ancestors’ message: In the dark, you shall choose the path, but beware. All roads lead to the gods’ angry wrath. Was I doomed no matter what?
Maybe it was the fire power I’d just felt, or the fact that I was standing in hell, but I decided in that moment to ignore the prophecy. Why should the ancestors get to call all the shots? They weren’t going to rule me anymore.
Rosie let out a small whimper as a spear sailed overhead. Hondo mumbled to her, “Those demons don’t have very good aim, do they, girl?”
Ixtab straightened. “Are you ready, godborn?”
“Zane…” Brooks warned.
There was no more time to think about it. Before I could chicken out, I shook Ixtab’s hand.
Hondo came over and hooked his arm around my neck. “I got your back, Diablo.” He looked at Rosie and whispered, “Dead or alive.” Then he turned to Ixtab. “If he doesn’t live through this? I’ll hunt you down.”
I love my stupidly brave uncle, but it’s never a great idea to threaten the queen of the underworld. I for sure thought Ixtab would shoot fire at him or choke him with her gold chain.
Instead, she ignored him and said to me, “You will only have one opportunity to return to Xib’alb’a. This will open a gateway where none exists.” She handed me something about the size of a quarter. It was blue and a little spongy. Was it…a kernel of corn?
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I stared at the seed in my hand.
“Even small, seemingly insignificant things can be powerful,” she said. “Maize is sacred to the Maya, Zane. Quinn will give you instructions on how to use it, and no matter what, do not misplace it.” She spun toward Quinn. “You know what to do. Please do not dally with death boy like last time.” And then she was gone.
Death boy? Dally?
All eyes were on Quinn. I have to admit, she looked flustered, and I had a feeling it had to do with whoever this “death boy” was. She spun and marched up the steps toward the waterfall.
“Hey!” I called after her. “Where are we going?” But she didn’t answer. I couldn’t wait to get her alone and learn more about the secrets she’d discovered about Ixtab.
“Does this mean we get to skip Pus River?” Hondo said.
Ren followed on my heels. I slowed to let her catch up. “What did you and Ixtab talk about when you used telepathy?” I asked her again.
Ren kept her gaze straight ahead. “She’s not my mom.”
“Yeah, you already said that. Does she know who is?”
“She didn’t say.”
I wanted to ask more, but we’d come to an overlook deck halfway up the stairs. A narrow twenty-foot bridge extended from it, leading straight into the pounding cascade. “After you,” Quinn shouted over the crashing water.
Scratching his chin, Hondo said, “Uh…you want
us to walk into that hundred-foot waterfall that looks like it could snap our bones? Are you kidding?”
“I never kid.” Quinn’s face was granite. “That’s where we have to go for Zane’s death ceremony.”
Rosie sniffed the ground and then sat on her haunches like she was waiting to see what we were going to do.
“I don’t do water,” Brooks said, backing up.
Quinn’s expression softened, and I could tell she wanted to say something to Brooks but was holding back. Then, with a knowing nod, she said “I’ll go first” and stepped onto the bridge.
“Isn’t there another way to wherever we’re going?” I asked.
“Pus River,” Quinn said over her shoulder.
Hondo nodded way too eagerly. “Come on, guys. We can do this. It’s just a waterfall. A baby one, too.” He walked next to Ren and leaned in to tell her, “Remember what I showed you…. Visualize, take deep breaths, meditate.”
Ren seemed uncertain as the two of them walked off after Quinn, who had already disappeared behind the curtain of water. When they reached the end of the bridge, Hondo took Ren’s hand and shouted, “Geronimo!” Right before they pushed through the torrent, I could swear it stood still for a nanosecond.
But when I asked Brooks if she’d seen it, she just gave me a why-do-we-have-to-do-this? look.
Rosie was next. She stretched her front leg in front of her body and let out a massive yawn. Then she stepped into the waterfall like it was the flap of a doggy door.
Brooks tilted her chin up, clenched her jaw, and said, “One day, Obispo, we will go on a quest that involves zero water!”
I trailed Brooks, wondering what her deal was. But the falls pounded so loudly I could barely hear myself think. Brooks waited for me at the end of the bridge.
“On three?” I said, taking her trembling hand.
But before I could even count to one, she closed her eyes and jerked me into the roaring water.
I was expecting a crushed skull, busted teeth, or a vomit-inducing free fall into some death pit. Instead, I stepped (totally dry, by the way) into a wedding reception, where pink and green strobe lights flashed across a garden plaza. I spotted the bride and groom jamming on the dance floor. Glasses clinked. The crowd’s chatter and laughter bounced off the perfectly pruned, rounded trees. A few guys stood in the corner doing shots and slamming their fists on the table while the sun melted into the dusky sky.
“Where in the heck are we?” I asked Brooks, looking around for the others.
“I’d say hell, except we just came from there.”
Quinn grabbed us and hauled us behind a tree. I was glad to see Hondo, Rosie, and Ren waiting there. Hondo kept trying to get a waiter’s attention, and Ren bounced to the beat.
“I hate weddings!” Quinn shouted over the music.
“What is this place?” Brooks asked.
Quinn shook her head. “How many times do I have to answer the same question?”
“San Miguel de Allende,” Hondo said to me, looking around. “Hey, señor! How about a drink?” he hollered at a waiter carrying a tray of what might have been champagne. The guy didn’t hear him, or maybe he was just ignoring my uncle.
“San Miguel de huh?” I asked.
“Mexico, you uncultured swine,” Quinn said.
The place smelled like a million different soups blended together with garlic, carne, and spices I couldn’t name. Rosie kept sniffing the air and licking her big chops. How could she already be hungry? Hadn’t she just feasted on snake heads?
The plaza was surrounded by little shops, and at the far end was a massive cathedral with pink Gothic-looking spires and towers that poked the dim sky.
“I’ve got strange news and bad news,” Quinn said.
“Give us the strange first,” Ren suggested. Everyone nodded. Even Rosie.
Quinn pointed to a clock on one of the towers. “Only a couple of hours have gone by in the upper realm since you arrived in Xib’alb’a. More time should have passed here. I’ve been keeping track, and you’ve actually been away for ten hours.” She shook her head. “But it’s like eight hours were erased, or time stood still or something.”
Stood still…like the waterfall.
“As if we could trust any clock in hell,” Hondo muttered.
I didn’t care where the extra time had come from—it meant I still had three whole days to find the godborns and get to my dad. “And the bad?” I asked.
“Aside from Zane having to get killed,” Hondo said.
Quinn turned in a circle, looking super confused. “This isn’t right.”
“Is that the bad news?” Brooks asked.
“We need to be over there.” Quinn pointed left. “Or is it there?” she muttered. “Yes, definitely over there. Come on.” She took off in the direction of the church.
“Are you lost?” I asked, trailing her. Because that’s what it looked like. And no offense, but I really thought that the person leading me to my death should have at least some sense of direction.
“No, I am not,” Quinn said. “I haven’t been here since last year, and the door can sometimes move, okay? That’s the bad news.”
“Lost is definitely bad,” Brooks muttered to me.
Rosie sniffed the cobblestone road. Her nub tail wagged as she trotted ahead, weaving between a couple of toddlers sharing a churro. One pointed, wide-eyed, while tugging on his mom’s sweater, and I swear it was like he could see Rosie in her hellhound form.
“Hey, can we stop in the churro shop?” Ren asked as we passed. I felt suddenly hungry, too.
“No,” Quinn said over her shoulder. “There’s no time to spare.”
“Distract her. I’ll catch up,” Hondo whispered in my ear before ducking into the panadería.
We turned right at the corner, and as we passed by the cathedral’s iron gates, I glanced up. Gargoyles lurked on the corners of the building, their eyes frozen wide as if they were on the verge of a scream. That’s when I felt a strange tug. At first, I ignored it, but there it was again. Like something…or someone…was calling me inside. Was this Hurakan’s sign?
I slowed my pace. “Do you hear that?” I asked Brooks.
“The really bad party music?”
If Mom were there, she’d drag me inside to light a candle and say a prayer. But she wasn’t there. I know it had been less than a day, but I missed her and felt lousy that I hadn’t said good-bye. I wandered through the gates and told Rosie to stay and keep watch for Hondo so we didn’t lose him. Brooks and Ren followed me while Quinn circled back, shouting some choice words at us.
Inside, the place was empty. A crystal chandelier cast a dim flickering light across the vaulted brick ceilings and stone floors. Yellow flowers were tied to the ends of each pew, probably left over from the wedding.
Brooks’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Zane, what are you doing?”
“Do you want last rites or something?” Ren asked. “You know, before you die?”
Yeah, that was a depressing thought. I stood very still, waiting. Listening to the distant whispers. Where were they coming from? I made my way toward an altar where dozens of votive candles burned in little red glasses under a painted statue of Mary.
Even Quinn kept her voice to a hush, although it was clear she was furious. “Where’s that uncle of yours, and why are we here, Zane? We have to go! Every second you wander around without protection is a second closer to you losing your head for real.”
I signaled for everyone to be quiet. When I got to the altar, the whispers grew louder. That’s when I knew. The voices…they were coming from the tiny flames.
I couldn’t make out the voices or separate one from the next, but every few seconds I’d catch a name, like Ignacio or Charles, or a few words, like make him marry me, or heal her.
“I can hear them,” I said quietly.
“The candles?” Ren asked.
“The prayers,” I said.
“That’s creepy,” Quinn said, crossing her arm
s. “And voyeuristic. And creepy.”
Brooks tugged my arm. “You shouldn’t listen, Zane. Isn’t that, like, sacrilegious or bad luck or something?”
“Definitely bad luck,” Ren said. “I heard about a guy who erased people’s prayers from the book of intentions and got cursed for it.”
“Cursed?” I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“He went bald, like overnight,” Ren said. “And he was only eighteen.”
I ran my hands over my hair. Ren and Brooks were right. Listening to even pieces of people’s prayers felt wrong. Plus, I really wasn’t in the market for bad luck or curses.
“Zane, we have to go,” Quinn warned. “Fausto’s not exactly patient.”
I was about to ask who Fausto was, when Hondo and Rosie burst into the church. Hondo held out a dozen half-wrapped churros and smiled. “For the win, right?”
We all took one. Even cranky Quinn. Rosie got four.
Before we left, I struck a match, lit an unused candle, and said a silent prayer. Please help me find the godborns and save my dad and, oh yeah, please don’t let me go bald or have some other horrific curse fall on my head or anyone else’s. Okay? Uh, thanks.
Exiting the back of the church, we found ourselves on a narrow cobblestone street lined with tightly packed houses. The rising moon cast a cool glow over the yellow, red, and blue facades. Bougainvillea spilled over the rooftops and garnished the carved wooden gates of each house.
Every few feet, Quinn would stop and press her hand on one of the gates. Some had angel stone reliefs hanging above them and others had lion-head knockers. “Where is that door?” she muttered. “I’m sure it’s here. Or over there? He probably moved it again. Uggh! Not funny.”
I’d never seen Quinn so flustered. I mean, she’d been completely cool and in control when we’d flown over the Old World together, hunting the god of death. But now? You’d think she was getting ready to sing at the Super Bowl halftime show.
“Maybe if you tell us what you’re looking for we can help,” Brooks said impatiently.
“Finally!” Quinn smiled (shocking, I know), stopping in front of a brown puerta in a wall in front of a house. She traced her fingers over the wood panels. Two painted words materialized on the wood: EL GRITO.
The Fire Keeper Page 15
