by J; P Voelkel
With one last almighty effort, Max tried to fight off the evil priest.
Tzelek’s lip curled in scorn.
“You little worm”—he sneered—“do you think you can spar with the mighty Tzelek? You disgust me. You are not even fit for sacrifice. Go and join your idiot parents in Xibalba!”
He raised Max above his head and prepared to pitch him into the blackness behind the altar. Max tensed and closed his eyes. So this was how his story ended.
“Drop the boy.”
Max opened his eyes and looked down in time to see Lucky Jim land a mighty punch on the side of Tzelek’s head.
There was a sound of bone crunching. The evil priest staggered in surprise and dropped Max onto the platform. Lucky Jim dragged him clear and took a flying leap at Tzelek. “You’re going back to Xibalba where you belong!” he shouted. His huge body hit Tzelek high in the chest, and the two men hurtled together into the void.
There was no flash, no scream, no smell of burning.
All that remained was silence.
In a daze, Max lurched to his feet and tried once again to pull out the Black Jaguar. It scratched and clawed him, but he didn’t care anymore. In one supreme effort, he wrenched it out and threw it down.
It was done.
Like a speeding car suddenly thrown into reverse, the whole pyramid shook from top to bottom.
There was a crashing sound like thunder. The stones of the pyramid jumped up and down; some even shot out of place. The edges of the black void were sucked back together. In an instant, the hole was gone.
For a moment, Max lay there, gasping for breath, replaying it all in his mind. Then he sat up and moved his head stiffly, like someone in a neck brace, to look around the platform for Lord 6-Dog.
The monkey-king was slumped against the temple wall. He was covered with blood, and chunks of his fur were missing.
Max crawled over to him and they sat there, exhausted, leaning against each other.
It was over. They had won.
“Tell me, young lord, who was that brave Maya warrior who sent Tzelek back to Xibalba?” asked Lord 6-Dog.
“His name is Lucky Jim,” said Max. “He works with my uncle. We owe him everything. We have to get him out.”
“All in good time, young lord. We have won this battle, but we have not won the war. First I must do what I should have done before and destroy the Black Jaguar. I will grind it into powder and scatter it to the winds, that it may never again menace the mortal world.”
Max pointed to the altar stone. “It’s rising! What’s happening?” he cried hysterically. “Is Tzelek coming back?”
The stone was hovering in midair, supported by a shimmering curtain of red light.
“Calm thyself,” whispered Lord 6-Dog. “I know not what sorcery this is, but as long as the stones are dormant, Tzelek cannot return.”
“So who’s that?”
A figure was stepping through the curtain. He had the head of an owl and the body of a man with four gnarled talons on each foot. He wore a feathered cape. The owl-man opened his beak to speak, and the voice that came out was raspy and screechy like a barn door swinging on a stormy night.
“I am Lord Muan,” he announced, pronouncing it moooo-an like the hooting of an owl. “On behalf of their lordships One Death, Seven Death, Scab Stripper, Blood Gatherer, Demon of Pus, Demon of Jaundice, Bone Scepter, Skull Scepter, Demon of Filth, Demon of Woe, Wing, and Packstrap, I bring a message for Massimo Francis Sylvanus Murphy.”
He looked at Max for a response, but seeing that the boy was paralyzed by terror, he unrolled a scroll and began to read from it. “My masters bid me thank thee for the sport thou hast provided since they summoned thee.”
“It was the D-D-Death Lords who summoned me?” stammered Max.
“It was indeed,” said Lord Muan. “They have greatly enjoyed watching thy tribulations and laying wagers on thy survival. They have now commanded me to reveal that thy parents await thee in Xibalba.”
“I know that,” said Max, finding his voice. “But how do I get them out?”
“That,” said Lord Muan, “is why I have come to speak with thee.”
He made a series of retching noises, stretched his neck forward, and slowly ejected an owl pellet. Max watched in disgust as the hard gray slug of compacted fur and bones rolled along the floor.
“As I was saying,” said the messenger, “their benevolent lordships wish for nothing more than to reunite thee with thy parents.”
“They do?” said Max. “That’s fantastic!”
“Do not trust him, young lord,” gasped Lord 6-Dog through his pain. “That accursed beak vomits pellets, tricks, and lies.”
“I am but the messenger, 6-Dog. And I would rather talk through the beak of an owl than through the hindquarters of a howler monkey.”
“How darest thou speak thus to me? I will have thee plucked for thy insolence, thou hooting fool.” The monkey-king’s voice was growing weaker.
“I think not, 6-Dog. If thou wert worthy of my respect, thou wouldst now be sitting in the heroes’ heaven, not in a stinking bag of monkey fur.”
“Leave him alone,” shouted Max. “Can’t you see he’s injured?”
The owl-man’s ear tufts lay flat, his feathers bristled, and he opened his yellow eyes wide. “I must warn thee, young lord, this discourteous attitude may not be helpful in our negotiations.”
“I’m sorry,” said Max. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll do anything to get my parents back.”
“No, young lord!” cried Lord 6-Dog. “Do not bargain with the Lords of Death. Thou canst not win.”
“One moment, please …,” said the messenger. His ear tufts perked up and he seemed to be listening to voices in his head. Max assumed the Death Lords were giving him instructions, like ghoulish TV producers speaking from some cosmic control room. At one point Lord Muan broke off to check a technicality. “Thou didst say thou wouldst do anything?”
Max nodded.
Lord 6-Dog groaned.
The messenger stepped forward. “Good news: thou hast won favor with their lordships. They are prepared to release thy parents.”
Max’s face lit up. “Did you hear that, Lord 6-Dog?”
Lord 6-Dog was unimpressed. “It is a trick,” he said, “and it stinks like a rotting fish.”
The owl blinked rapidly. “Thy cynicism is unwarranted. In return for the release of Frank and Carla Murphy, my magnanimous masters ask only for one small favor, if and when they should ever need it.”
“That sounds fair enough,” said Max.
“No,” said Lord 6-Dog, sounding weaker than ever, “the Lords of Death cannot be trusted. Who knows what this small favor might entail? Thou canst not make a pact with evil.”
“I have no choice,” whispered Max to Lord 6-Dog. “At least it will buy us time to rescue Hermanjilio and Lucky Jim.”
“I warn thee, young lord, do not underestimate the Lords of Death.”
Max took a deep breath. “I will be honored to owe their lordships a small favor in return for the release of my parents.”
“Thou hast spoken wisely, Massimo Francis Sylvanus Murphy. My masters will contact thee at the appointed hour.” Like a used-car salesman clinching the deal, the messenger took a moment to attempt a cheesy smile and then launched into the small print. “I am required by cosmic law to inform thee that the size of the favor can go up as well as down. If thou shouldst break this pact, thy parents will be dragged back to Xibalba and sacrificed forthwith.”
“No good will come of this,” muttered Lord 6-Dog.
“Can’t you say something positive?” Max begged him.
Lord 6-Dog winced with pain. “I like the name Sylvanus.”
Meanwhile, Lord Muan was hunting.
His owl head rotated to scan the platform until his bulbous eyes settled on the Jaguar Stones. To Max’s horror, he picked them up, one by one, and balancing all three in his feathered arms, melted back into the curtain of red light.
“Did you see that?” asked Max indignantly. “He took them all!”
“I can talk no more, young lord,” sighed Lord 6-Dog. “This body needs to heal and I must rest. For the moment, it is over.” He stretched out his hairy little limbs and instantly fell asleep.
Seconds later, Frank and Carla Murphy stepped cautiously through the curtain.
Chapter Twenty-six
MORNING
His mother’s hair was greasy and matted. She wore a grubby white shift, and her face looked tired and old. His father, who always looked a mess, was even more disheveled than usual. But, for once, Max didn’t care what they looked like. He was just happy to see them.
But was it really them?
Or had Ah Pukuh sent two more demons to fool him?
He watched them closely.
Please let it be them.
They were squinting in the early light. They must have come from somewhere dark. They were shielding their eyes with their hands and looking nervously around. Max’s heart felt like it would burst.
Please let it be them.
His mother saw him first.
“Bambino! It is you!” Carla Murphy hugged her only son and kissed his head. “How can this be? I thought you were still in Boston! I am so happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”
He stood there awkwardly, staring at her matted hair.
Please let it be them.
After his experience with the demonic doppelgängers, he needed proof that these two hobos really were his parents. He needed to test them in some way. But he was so tired, he could hardly think. He ran his fingers through his hair and wiped his nose on the back of his hand.
“Massimo Murphy! Use a Kleenex!”
No one else in the universe would fuss about manners at a time like this.
“Mom! It’s really you!” Now he hugged her properly.
She stepped back and looked at him. “What’s happened to you, bambino? Your head is hurt … and what’s that on your skin?”
Max looked down at himself. He was bare to the waist, having ripped up his T-shirt to make bandages for Lord 6-Dog. His arms were still red from dye, and his chest was smeared with black body paint from his tussle with Hermanjilio-slash-Tzelek. Blood from his head wound trickled down his face.
“It’s been a long night,” he said.
“It’s wonderful to see you, Max,” said his father, “but what are you doing here?”
Max smiled. “I’ve been testing my inner resources, Dad, just like you wanted.”
Behind him, the altar stone sank slowly back into place.
“Excuse me,” said a drowsy voice. “Could somebody please untie me?”
“Lola!” cried Max, jumping up and running to cut her free. To his relief, she looked fine—sluggish and hollow-eyed and covered with blue paint, but basically fine.
She sat up slowly and looked around her. “Where am I?”
“You’re safe,” Max whispered, “and so are my parents.”
“Ciao, Lola!” called Max’s mother, rushing over. “Are you all right?”
Lola regarded her blankly.
“It’s me, Carla Murphy—we met at Ixchel, remember?”
Lola looked from Max to his mother and father, then her eyes lit up with happiness. “Hoop, it’s your parents! That’s wonderful!”
“Yes,” said Max. “Yes, it is.”
A new day was dawning in the rainforest. The air was fresh, the sea was blue, and the forest below them buzzed with the sounds of early morning.
But there was another sound that was getting louder and louder.
It was the sound of someone puffing up the pyramid.
A look of terror crossed Lola’s face. “It’s not that snake Landa, is it?”
Frank Murphy looked over the edge. “No, but it is a snake.”
First Ted Murphy’s hands, then his hat, and then his sweaty face appeared as he hauled himself over the top step.
“Good morning, Frank,” he said. “It’s good to see you, even if you did just call me a snake. What do you say we bury the hatchet, right here and now? You’re the closest family I have, and I thought for a moment I might never see you again!”
He stood there on the pyramid, arms open wide, a big grin on his face, until Frank started laughing, too.
“I never thought I’d say this, Ted, but it’s good to see you—it really is.”
With that, Frank walked over and hugged his older brother, tentatively at first, but soon with a real rib-crusher of a bear hug.
“At last!” cheered Carla, who was laughing and crying at the same time.
Uncle Ted turned to Max. “I’m glad to see you in one piece.”
“We won,” said Max, “but we lost Lucky Jim.”
Uncle Ted nodded sadly and patted him on the shoulder. “Lucky knew exactly what he was doing, Max. He said it was time to accept his destiny.” He looked along the line of bedraggled people and saw Lola. “And you must be the young lady that Max has told me so much about.”
Lola smiled drowsily.
“She’s still recovering from the drugs,” Max explained. “And, of course, she’s not usually painted blue.” It wasn’t the greatest introduction to make for a potential girlfriend.
“It seems to me,” said Uncle Ted, “that you could all use a hot shower and a square meal. I hitched a ride over here with the police. I’m sure they’ll give us all a lift back. Is everyone fit to travel?”
Frank Murphy assessed the scene. “It looks like no one was hurt,” he said, “except for that howler over there.”
“He’s actually Lord 6-Dog, the greatest king of the Monkey River,” said Max, “and his mother is inside the temple. We need to get them to a vet.”
Frank, Carla, and Ted stared at him in bafflement.
“I think he has a concussion,” said Carla, feeling Max’s forehead.
“Back me up, Lola! It’s true, isn’t it?” Max demanded. “Lord 6-Dog came back as a monkey.”
“Yes, I remember that bit,” said Lola, still sounding dazed, “but who was that maniac pretending to be Hermanjilio?”
“Hermanjilio Bol?” said Carla. “Is he here? Is he all right?”
“It’s a long story, Mom. Can we talk on the way down the pyramid? I’m starving.”
“Follow me,” said Uncle Ted, “for the best brunch in Central America.”
Which was how, on the morning of 5-Death, Max came to be speeding along the coast in a police launch, headed back to Villa Isabella. The monkeys were laid out on banquettes. Frank and Ted were deep in conversation on deck. Carla was in the bathroom trying to fix her appearance. And Lola was sitting in the cabin with Max.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
“Much better, thank you,” she said, “but it creeps me out to think about it. Can you believe that Tzelek was inside Hermanjilio all that time?”
“Remember when he clashed with Lord 6-Dog and we put it down to the dominant-male thing?” Max reminded her. “And how Lord 6-Dog kept saying Hermanjilio seemed familiar? No wonder Hermanjilio wanted us all to think that Tzelek was inside Landa.”
“I should have known something was wrong,” fretted Lola. “I kept wondering why Hermanjilio didn’t take advantage of having a real, live Maya king at Itzamna, ask him more about the history of the site and so on. It all makes sense now. Poor Hermanjilio. I feel like I let him down.”
“You couldn’t have known. Even Hermanjilio didn’t know.”
“We have to rescue him, Hoop.”
“Yeah, and Lucky Jim. Any ideas?”
“Well, how did your parents get out?”
Max lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad, but I promised to do a favor for the Lords of Death.”
“What favor?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“It’s been nice knowing you,” said Lola.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“It’s just that the Lords of Death are ruthl
ess; you can’t trust them an inch. They lie and they cheat and they’re compulsive gamblers, all of them. And they’re completely barbaric. I’ve heard they like to flay humans and wear their skins as capes.”
“I’m dead meat,” groaned Max.
He laid his head on his arms. Lola ruffled his hair. He didn’t stop her. He turned his head to look at her.
“You’ll help me, won’t you, Monkey Girl?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“What? You can’t just go back to your old life and forget about me. We’re a team.”
“What about your old life, Hoop? You’ll want to forget that any of this happened when you get back to Boston.”
“No chance,” said Max. He was already imagining how cool it would be to tell the guys at school that he had a Maya girlfriend.
He tried to take her hand.
“What are you doing?” she said, pulling it away.
He decided to tell the guys she was his girlfriend anyway. It wasn’t like they were ever going to fly to San Xavier to check it out.
And so, eleven days after he’d followed the monkeys into the rainforest, Max returned to Villa Isabella. As he tramped across the beach with Lola, his parents, and his uncle, he could see Raul waiting at the door.
Max waved enthusiastically, but Raul’s smile of welcome wavered as he took in their appearance. For a second, Max thought he might shoo them away like beggars.
You could see his point.
Max was black with red arms.
Lola was blue.
His mother, with her grubby shift and crazy hair, looked like she’d escaped from a lunatic asylum.
His father and his uncle were carrying what looked like dead monkeys.
Raul surveyed them, one by one, and quickly regained his composure. “Brunch will be served in twenty minutes. Please make yourselves at home.”
Lady Coco stirred.
“I smell food,” she said, springing out of Frank Murphy’s arms, her nose twitching furiously to identify the various cooking smells.
“It’s a talking howler monkey!” exclaimed Raul.
“Raul,” said Max, “may I introduce you to Lady Kan Kakaw, First and Most Glorious Wife of the great King Punak Ha and mother of the immortal Lord 6-Dog. That’s him lying over Uncle Ted’s shoulder.”
