by Kim Curran
“I still say volcano is the way to go,” Zek said.
“I said virtually,” Diaz said. “There is one way.”
“Go on,” Gail said.
“It can be destroyed by the first ray of sunlight that rises over the Teocalli-Ome pyramid.”
“I thought pyramids were Egyptian?” Connor said.
“Step-pyramids were built by the Aztecs too,” Zek said. “Which you would know if you bothered to pay attention in school.”
“We don’t go to school.”
“Fair point,” Zek said.
“Can you two shut up so Diaz can talk?” JD said. “Okay, so we get the blade to this temple and we wait for sunrise.”
“But it has to be the dawn of spring equinox, the first day of the new cycle of Quetzalcoatl.”
“Which is?”
“Two days from now. And, because the Aztecs worked on a fifty-two year cycle, this is our last chance to destroy it for decades.”
There was a pause as they all processed the information.
“Zyanya will try and get the blade back,” Zek said.
JD nodded. “So we’ll have to destroy it before she does.”
“I guess we’re off to Mexico then?” Tom said, smiling.
“Hi, this is Gail Storm.” Their manager was already on the phone, the silver briefcase still in her hands. “Yes, that Gail Storm. I need to book a private jet.”
When they had arrived to catch their flight at Chicago’s O’Hare airport the next morning, there was already a gaggle of fans screaming their names and paparazzi flashing their cameras. Gail sometimes leaked their locations to get their pictures in the press. Which was one aspect of their lives JD could really do without.
He’d pulled his beanie down low and climbed out of the jeep. Tom waved at the gathering like he always did, smiling as if it didn’t bother him that they barely got a moment’s privacy. Connor waved too and high-fived a few of the fans, leaving them swooning in his wake. Zek and Niv stared straight ahead as if there was no one there but the two of them, and cut past all the chaos without so much as a blink. And Gail smiled from behind her large, dark glasses, which meant that no one saw that the smile didn’t go anywhere near her eyes. JD wished he could be more like them, but he blinked at every flashing bulb and winced when his name was screeched over and over. Despite what Gail kept telling him, he would never get used to it.
It looked like Milly was finding it all hard to handle too. She walked behind them, twitching and blinking as the crowd screamed and cameras were pushed into her face.
“Who are you?” a journalist shouted. “Are you dating someone in the band? Are you married to JD?”
One girl grabbed Milly’s arm and yelled at her: “You can’t have Slay. They’re mine! THEY ARE MINE!”
“No…I’m not…” Milly tried and failed to explain herself to the screeching fan.
“Come on,” JD said, wrapping a protective arm around Milly’s shoulder and pulling her away. “It will be over soon.”
“Thanks,” Milly said, flinching as another camera flash went off. “I thought my mother had it bad, but this is next level. Where’s a toilet to hide in when you need it?”
JD laughed, strangely glad that at least he wasn’t alone in hating all the attention. “Didn’t I tell you it’s insane?”
They made it into the relative quiet of the private departure lounge. The airport had been warned of their arrival and they were quickly rushed through passport control and immigration. A man had turned up at Agatha first thing this morning, holding a brown envelope that contained a brand-new passport for Milly under a new name. JD never asked Gail how she managed to do these things. She also had ways of avoiding security, which meant that, along with their instruments, they’d also been able to carry on a variety of weapons, and one silver case containing an ancient Aztec blade. Gail hadn’t let it out of her sight since she’d locked it in there.
A G5 Gulfstream waited for them on the runway, along with two flight crew. A local team would already be setting things up for their concert.
“I’m Captain Delaney.” A tall woman of about forty stood at the top of the steps leading into the plane. A peaked blue cap sat on top of an immaculate bob. “My crew and I would like to welcome you on board.”
“Thank you for coming out at such short notice,” Gail said, shaking the woman’s hand.
“My pleasure, I’m a big fan.”
“That’s wonderful, isn’t it, boys?” Gail turned to JD and the others.
She’d ingrained in them the importance of remaining grateful to their fans. They nodded and thanked the pilot.
“Sorry, no, I meant a big fan of yours, Ms Storm. I saw The Cyclones play at Clontarf Castle in ninety-two. You were phenomenal.”
JD smiled when he saw a faint blush on Gail’s dark cheeks. It wasn’t often that she got the chance to revel in her old fame.
“That’s very kind.”
“Please,” Captain Delaney said, stepping out of the way and waving Gail and the others inside.
The interior was like every other private jet JD had been on. Cream leather and tasteful down to its last stitch. A smiling flight assistant offered him a canapé from a silver tray as he walked down the aisle.
“No thanks,” he said, quietly taking a seat and buckling his belt.
Zek plucked one off the tray and popped it into his mouth, then grinned.
Niv held up his index finger and waggled his hand from side to side, his expression quizzical.
“I don’t know what it is. Tastes good though. Kinda fishy.”
Zek grabbed another delicacy and, before his twin could complain, he’d shoved it into his brother’s mouth. Niv looked put out for a moment and then started chewing. He nodded in agreement. It was good. The twins took the tray and sat down, quickly devouring mouthful after mouthful.
Connor had his head stuck through the cockpit door, most likely trying to persuade Captain Delaney to let him fly the jet. Or at least jump out of it at some point.
Tom sat down in the seat facing JD, watching Milly as she took a seat at the back. It was hard not to notice the way Tom looked at Milly. The way he blushed when they touched. JD should be happy for his friend. He would be happy for his friend, even if he had to force himself. Even if he had to ignore the twisting feeling he got every time he saw them together. He wasn’t jealous, he told himself. He was only worried about what would happen when the time came for Milly to leave. They hadn’t discussed what would happen with Milly when this Blade of Shadows stuff was all over, but she couldn’t stay with them and JD didn’t want Tom getting hurt. At least, that’s what he was telling himself. He was only looking out for his friend.
“If you’re going to make your move, you’d better get on with it.”
“Move? What move? I have no moves. I am moveless,” Tom said, blushing to the roots of his curly hair.
“Oh, please, you’re all moves. ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe’,” JD said, imitating his friend.
“Is that meant to be my accent? You sound like Prince Charles.”
“Nice try, changing the subject,” JD said, laughing.
“I don’t even know what subject I’m supposed to be changing,” Tom replied, still pretending to be clueless.
“Milly,” JD said.
“What about her?” Tom said, glancing over at her.
Milly was staring out the window, listening to music on Tom’s old phone.
“You like her.”
“Maybe.” Tom picked at a thread on his jumper. It was black and white and had been hand-knitted by one of their fans. The fan had made them all jumpers, but Tom was the only one to wear his.
“And she likes you.”
Tom’s head snapped up. “Do you think so?”
JD ignored the acid taste at the back of his throat. “I think so. But, Tom, look…”
“What, don’t you like her?”
“Of course I do, it’s just—”
“She saved your
life.”
“And I will never forget it. But—”
“But what?”
“But nothing. I’ll stay out of it. Just don’t do anything stupid. More than usual anyway.”
“I’ll try.” Tom looked back over at Milly.
JD had seen Tom go up against all kinds of monsters and yet he didn’t think he’d ever seen him look so nervous. “Well, go and talk to her then.”
“I don’t know. You’re right, now is a terrible time. I can’t believe I was even thinking about it. She’s just lost her mother.”
“And if nothing else, she needs a friend.”
“A friend, right. I can be a friend.” Tom started to get out of his seat, then sat back down again. “If you say anything, I will kill you.”
JD mimed closing a zip across his mouth.
Tom finally got up and JD twisted around to watch as his friend pointed to the empty seat in front of Milly. She took her earphones out and waved him to sit down with a smile.
Zek took Tom’s place. He looked over at Milly and Tom and back to JD. “So.”
“So what?” JD said.
“It’s okay, JD. It’s good. Healthy. You know, we were worried you’d never have feelings for another human. That you might actually be a robot.”
“What feelings? I don’t have feelings. I don’t do feelings.”
“Come on, JD, I’ve seen the way you look at her, so why don’t you tell her? This isn’t a romance novel. You don’t have to bow out and ‘do the honourable thing’. You can, shocking as this might sound, let Milly make her own decision.”
“Seriously, Zek, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Shouldn’t you be having this little chat with Tom?”
“Tom isn’t the one with a problem expressing his feelings.”
“Look, I like her, sure, but as a friend and that’s it. And if I have any ‘feelings’ it’s worry about what we’re facing when we get to Mexico.”
Zek stood and held his hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, whatever. But you know… When your programming. Permits you. To access. Your emotion core…” Zek made jerking robotic movements.
“You will be the first one I come to,” JD said.
Zek joined Connor and Niv at another of the tables, leaving JD to himself. They all knew him well enough to understand that sometimes he needed his space. And now was such a time.
“Welcome aboard this private flight number 3780b to Cancún International Airport. Flight time will be approximately three hours and fifteen minutes. So please buckle up, as we’re about to…take off.”
With that, music started playing over the sound system. Heavy drums and loud guitars. It wasn’t till Gail groaned and covered her face that JD recognized the song. “Take Off”. It was one of The Cyclones’ numbers.
The rest of the band all caught on after the first verse, and started singing at the tops of their lungs, much to Gail’s annoyance. They knew the song as well as one of their own and even Milly knew it well enough to join in on the chorus. It had been The Cyclones’ only song to hit the charts and yet it was Gail’s least favourite.
“It was the nineties, okay!” she kept saying after every particularly cheesy chord riff or wail from her.
“I’m gonna fly you to the moooo-oooon and back,” Connor wailed, completely off-key. It was lucky he had rhythm.
The song came to an end with a pounding double kick of the bass drums. Gail took a bashful bow in her seat as the boys clapped wildly. JD laughed, his tension fading as the engines started up and they took off.
He looked out at the city below them, the houses and shops getting smaller and smaller till they were like models on a train set. He didn’t know what awaited them in Mexico, but for now, for the first time since they’d rushed to Milly’s house, JD felt like they were finally one step ahead.
Milly had never felt more in the way. Everyone else moved like a cog in a well-oiled machine: roadies unloading the instruments; stage crew erecting the set; electricians running back and forth with cables and lighting rigs. While Milly contributed absolutely nothing. Unless gawping could somehow be considered constructive, and she was pretty sure it couldn’t.
They’d set up in Valladolid, a small town five hours’ drive from Teocalli-Ome – the pyramid in the heart of the jungle Diaz had told them about. The first day of the spring equinox was tomorrow, so they’d travel to the temple late tonight and be ready for the dawn that would destroy the Blade of Shadows, and with it the chance that Zyanya could complete the ritual to bring back Tezcatlipoca.
Where was the demon priestess now? she wondered. Most of the boys seemed to think she’d been defeated back in the museum, Diaz’s symbol banishing her and turning her to dust like they’d seen happen to Mourdant. Milly wasn’t so sure. The demon who had killed her mother was still out there, she sensed it somehow.
But one thing at a time. Destroying the blade was the most important thing. Then she could go hunting for Zyanya.
She’d spent the afternoon wandering around the town, enjoying the feeling of the heat on her skin. Sun-faded buildings painted in ice-cream pastels nestled next to sweeping colonial arcades. The narrow streets were lined with taco stands, craft workshops and men and women selling a never-ending variety of fruit and vegetables. Women in sharp outfits that wouldn’t look out of place in New York or London chatted with women wearing traditional dresses embroidered with flowers as bright as their smiles. Milly bought an iced coffee from a stand and took a seat on a bench in the central square. A large Mexican flag flew in the light breeze, with the image of an eagle crushing a snake in its strong talons in its centre. Nobody paid her much notice as she sat and watched people come and go. Around the square, scooters wove in and out of brightly coloured taxis and vintage cars. Milly even saw a man on horseback clip-clop down the limestone streets. No one seemed to be in a rush. Apart from Slay. They had a show to put on.
With a population of just 50,000 people, Valladolid wasn’t exactly on the tour circuit – which, Tom had explained, meant it was exactly the kind of place Slay loved to play.
“We do this,” he’d said earlier. “Put on gigs with only a day’s notice. The fans seem to love it – they have forums dedicated to checking our every move to see if we might be about to announce another one. And as soon as the word goes out, they go wild! It’s fun. And it gives us the excuse to go anywhere we’re needed.”
The concert was going to be held outside the Convent de San Bernardino de Siena, a pink-walled fortress located just on the edge of town. They were expecting over five thousand people to turn up that night and Milly could feel the air of anticipation take over the quiet town.
Milly didn’t understand how it was even possible to put on a performance of this size with only a few hours’ notice. But the roadies were well used to it. And by the time she’d finished her stroll and joined the boys at the Convent, the stage had been built and the lights turned on.
Now she kept being told to get out of the way by grumpy, bearded men. Milly had been told the roadies were chosen because they could be trusted with the band’s secrets. But she wondered if they’d actually been chosen because of how terrifying they were. Wherever she ended up, she’d only be moved on again by another grumpy, bearded man. She started to wonder if it wasn’t just the same man making fun of her.
She finally found a spot, halfway up a lighting rig, from where she could watch events without being shouted at. Below her, the band was in the middle of rehearsing a cover song they’d decided to add to the set. They bickered about harmonies and when the drums should kick back in. But when they started to play, something magical took hold. It was like the five of them could read each other’s minds – each one bouncing off the other, adding their own particular touches to the song.
It must feel amazing to be a part of something like that, she thought. Her whole life, Milly had always felt out of sync with everyone else. As if the rest of the world was zigging while she was zagging. Up in this lighting rig, feet dangling
, she felt it more than ever. She was just a spectator in these boys’ lives. She was even, now she thought about it, a spectator in her own life. Always overthinking, overanalysing everything. The only time she felt free was when she played music.
Without really thinking about it, she found her fingers dancing on the edge of the rig, playing an invisible piano. She could hear the notes in her mind, a harmony to the song the boys were playing. She longed to be back at her piano at home, where she could hear the notes for real. The song finished and the boys seemed satisfied that they had it down tight.
Milly found herself humming the chorus, which had already earwormed itself into her head. JD and Niv wandered offstage to go and check the sound quality from the back seats, while Connor thrashed out a drum solo.
“You okay up there, monkey girl?” Tom peered up at Milly on her perch.
“Oh, sure, fine. Some guy threatened to rip my arm off if I got in his way again. So I thought I’d be safer up here. Good acoustics too.”
“What do you think now you’ve heard us live?”
“I liked it! Catchy, like a virus. Only you know…a good kind of virus, not the kind that makes your face melt off.” Milly wanted the rig to collapse and take her with it.
Tom laughed. “Well that’s good, because I have a favour to ask.”
“Sure, anything.”
“You play piano, right?”
“Yeah but…”
“No buts!” Tom said, waving her down. “Get down from there and come and help me work out a song that’s stuck in my head.”
Milly shimmied her way down the rig, but got her feet tangled on one of the last rungs.
“Here.” Tom grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her gently onto the ground.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, pulling her T-shirt back into place.
She followed Tom out onto the stage. As she did, the lights slammed on, blinding her. She lifted her arm to cover her face. “Are they always that bright?”
“Yeah, apart from when they turn them all off for the laser shows.”
