“I just told you—”
“You would’ve died!”
Brooks blinked back fresh tears. “I was going to be dead either way.”
One choice leads to victory, the other to defeat. Well, thanks, Pacific. That piece of wisdom was just great—and absolutely worthless! I thought about my so-called choices. They’d all led to one disastrous outcome: death. Rosie, Brooks… And now, if I didn’t beat Ah-Puch, he’d destroy everyone else I cared about and I’d become his servant, fighting on the wrong side of a bloody war. But even if I did defeat him, the gods would execute me for breaking some oath I’d never even agreed to!
(Are you gods catching on to how ridiculous this was?)
I sat back down. My head throbbed, filling with dark thoughts and confusion. Everything seemed impossible. I heard Hondo’s voice in my head. Find the soft spot and go after it with all you’ve got.
The only problem was, Ah-Puch didn’t seem to have any soft spots. I guess Hondo had never had to fight a god.
“I wouldn’t blame you for hating me,” Brooks said.
I had enough hate in me for Ah-Puch, for the twins, for…
“I don’t hate you,” I said. I gave a small shrug. “I guess I don’t even blame you.”
The air was tight and cold. And I really did want someone to blame, but everyone I mentally put up for the blame crown vanished, leaving me the only one left to wear it.
“So what’re we going to do?” Brooks asked.
“I’m going to try to find a way to finish this without everyone dying.”
“That’s impossible,” she whispered.
Maybe it was. But doing nothing wasn’t an option.
Brooks pulled the blanket tighter. “The gods might give you a trial instead of a death sentence?” she said quietly, but it sounded more like a question than a fact.
“Really?”
“No.”
“Then why’d you say that?”
“Because you look really awful, and I was trying to make you feel better.”
“Well, don’t. No more lies.”
“No more lies.”
I was sitting so close to Brooks our knees were touching. “I need to get Ah-Puch to come to the Old World. I don’t know why, but Hurakan said to challenge him there.”
Brooks tugged my sleeve up to reveal the mark on my wrist. “This is a tracking device, right?”
“So?”
“So, don’t be dense. That means he’ll follow you.”
“You’re brilliant!”
“You’re only seeing that now?”
“By the way,” I said, “I like your freckles.”
“What?”
“They disappeared when you were enchanted, but now they’re back.”
Her face flushed. “You’re annoying,” she said through a giant yawn. Then she put her head on my shoulder.
My whole body tensed. As her breathing slowed, so did mine. She fell asleep and I stayed still, not wanting to disturb her. She needed her rest, this girl who couldn’t swim but knew how to fly.
The world was quiet except for the purr of the engine, and for a minute I thought nothing could touch us. Not out here in the middle of the sea, where everything else was so far away.
A plan started to form in my head.
Carefully, I slipped out from under Brooks and eased her down onto the bench, covering her with the blanket. Then I went to the railing, leaned over, and whispered, “Pacific, are you there?”
No answer.
“I know you’re down there,” I said. “I could really use your help right now.”
The black waters swelled.
“FYI, I’m on the gods’ most-wanted list, and good old Puke has the twins, and the whole world is pretty much disintegrating while you hide out.”
A sheet of fog wrapped around the boat, and I couldn’t see more than a couple feet in front of me. And was it my imagination, or had the temperature dropped like fifty degrees? I was rubbing the chill off my arms when something began to materialize in the waters below.
I blinked and looked closer. It was a rowboat. Someone was inside.
And it wasn’t Pacific.
30
“You call that a boat?” a voice said.
I peered through the dark as the fog lifted around the figure in the dinghy. The sea was now frozen solid, as smooth as a sheet of glass. The man stood and stepped onto the slick surface. He had on a pair of jeans and a plain gray T-shirt. I couldn’t see his face very well, because it was hidden under the rim of a baseball cap that read chargers with a lightning bolt slicing the letters in half. His arms were covered in tattoos of snakes slithering through piles of red and blue feathers.
With the force of thunder, it hit me. This was the Feathered Serpent. As in Kukuulkaan. As in Brooks’s Holy K god of coolness. AKA K’ukumatz.
“You’re… you’re… K’ukumatz. The guy who created the worlds with Hurakan.”
“Call me Mat. And for the record, he created the worlds with me.”
“Mat,” I repeated dumbly.
“Isn’t that what you humans do, shorten honorable names? Change them according to your wishes?” His voice was deep with a faint accent I’d never heard before, like a cross between Spanish and something that was sharper, harder.
The surface of the water rose around our boat until it was flush with the deck and Mat and I were standing on even ground. Except he was a head taller. And his eyes? They were a shimmering violet. His chin was sharp and his skin weathered.
“Some also call me Kukuulkaan,” he said. “But I hate that name. Imagine the nicknames: Kookoo, or Kook.”
I thought about my own insulting nicknames. “You can call me Zane,” I said quietly, trying not to wake Brooks.
He looked at his wrist like he had a watch on, but he didn’t. “So, Zane, I was sent here by an old friend.”
A lump formed in my throat. How much did Mat know? Had Pacific or Hurakan told him about me? Wasn’t I supposed to be a secret?
“I know everything,” he said, like he could read my mind.
“Okay.” I figured I shouldn’t say much. Find out what he knew first.
“I warned your father not to get mixed up with a human… but he didn’t listen. He never listens. And now look at the fine mess we find ourselves in.”
I didn’t want to talk about the stupid mess. I already knew all its tangles and knots. “So he called you,” I said. “Why?”
“He has always had the worst timing. I was at a Bolts football game, and they were actually winning. Well, with my help, that is.”
“You rig football games?”
He shrugged casually. “Sometimes I use the elements to others’ advantage. That makes me generous, don’t you think?”
I guess that was one way to look at it. Unless you were on the losing end.
Mat cupped his hands as if he were holding something fragile. A flickering light formed in his palms, and he blew on the tiny flame. It zipped into the black sky like a streak of lightning. A second later, thunder sounded. And not just once. There was a series of booms, like someone was knocking down gigantic pins with a bowling ball over and over.
“That should give us some privacy,” he said. “Now, where were we?”
How could I learn to do that?
“Uh… you rig football games,” I said.
“Yes… I mean, no. Stay focused, kid. I’m here to expedite your journey to the Old World.”
The air grew colder. “How?”
He shook his head and sighed with annoyance like I should’ve known the answer. “I control the elements,” he said. “The water does what I command, so I’ll kick some currents into high gear, put the wind at your back, and off you go. Then I can get back to my game.”
Maybe things would work out after all.
“There’s one little problem,” he said.
Why couldn’t things ever be simple?
“I can’t be too obvious—don’t want to draw attention to you
, if you know what I mean. So I’ll have to take it a little easy—as in no hurricanes or tsunamis. Get it?”
“Right,” I said. “No storms.”
Just then, Pacific materialized from the ocean mist. She perched on the boat’s railing, wearing the same jaguar-spotted cape as before. “Is he being nice to you, Zane?”
“I’m always nice,” Mat said to her.
“Mm-hmm… Tell that to the two worlds you destroyed.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Mat said. “They totally deserved that.”
Pacific narrowed her eyes and walked over to me. “So is he? Being nice?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “What’re you doing here? Did you hear me call—?”
“I’m going to tug on the time rope bit by bit,” she said. “Enough to buy you some time, but not so much that anyone figures out I’m not dead. But really, Zane, we can’t make this a habit.”
I had to admit, I felt a spark of hope in my chest. Then I remembered that in the end I’d still have to have a face-off with the god of death, destruction, and darkness, and the hope fizzled. “How much time will it give us?”
“A few hours… at most,” she said. “Anything more and the gods will notice.”
Thunder shook the sky and Brooks stirred, mumbling something in her sleep. Mat tucked Pacific’s pale hair behind her ear, looking at her all goo-goo-eyed. They were an item? Maybe that’s what happens when you live together for centuries.
“The gods are looking for a fight,” Mat said, turning his gaze back to me. “We’re choosing sides, getting ready for war.”
“But I thought you said you were at a football game.”
“You have a lot to learn, Zane Obispo. Gods can be in more than one place at a time. But what matters is that war is coming.”
I started to pace. “What if I can defeat Ah-Puch? Will there still be a war?”
“Trust has already been shattered,” Pacific said. “And no one wants to admit to breaking the Sacred Oath.”
“Why doesn’t Hurakan just tell them it was him?” I said. “Maybe he could ask for forgiveness.”
Mat shook his head. “Gods don’t forgive.”
I was starting to wonder if I wanted to be related to a bunch of crazed, coldhearted killers. “When will this war start?”
“You have to move quickly,” Pacific said. “Get to Ah-Puch first, because if you don’t—”
“We will.” Mat’s jaw tensed.
And I’d become a soldier of death, because I hadn’t gotten the job done myself. “Hey, Mat?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“If, as a godborn, I could have chosen not to release Ah-Puch, why didn’t my dad tell me that? None of this had to happen.” Anger pulsed through my veins. Rosie wouldn’t have had to die. Brooks wouldn’t have lost her powers. I wouldn’t have had to make the deal of death with Pukeface.
Pacific stepped closer. “Yes, a godborn can ignore the magic, but only when he has come into his full power. And you haven’t done that yet. So telling you wouldn’t have made a difference.”
Full power?
Mat folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t become a god automatically, with the snap of a finger, or because of your bloodline. Godhood has to be earned. Fought for. Your power arrives gradually, and when…” His sentence trailed off.
“When what?”
Pacific shot him a glare then turned to me. “We can’t say any more. Consider this your head start.” She smiled at me softly. I knew that dumb look. Teachers and school nurses and strangers at the grocery store had given it to me plenty: Poor kid.
“We’re doing this as a favor to your dad,” Mat said. “But remember, Ah-Puch has powerful allies, too.”
“Yeah, like the Yant’o Triad,” I said. “Those guys are creepy.”
“You met them?” Mat pulled off his cap. Dark curls fell over his eyes.
I told him and Pacific how the twins had been captured. I lifted my wrist and said, “He’s tracking me.”
Mat’s eyes zeroed in on the skull tattoo with moving eyelids. “He’s so uninventive. But not to worry, Zane. He’s busy trying to figure out his enemies’ next moves right now. He won’t come for you until it’s time.”
Oh, well, that made me feel better. Not!
“What’s so important about the Old World anyway?” I asked.
Mat and Pacific shared a glance, then Pacific whispered, “It’s the only place where you have a chance of defeating Ah-Puch.”
“What? How?” My heart drummed loudly. “How do I beat a really angry god, especially without my own godly powers?”
Mat inched back and looked down at the frozen ocean. “Water takes many forms. It becomes what it needs to become. You, Zane Obispo, must become… what you were meant to become. The Old World is the only place you can do that.”
Why did people always give me vague responses? Why couldn’t anyone just provide a straight answer, preferably with a step-by-step diagram? “You mean become the Storm Runner.”
Pacific slipped off the railing and onto the water’s still-frozen surface. “Yes.”
“But I can’t run! How am I supposed to become the Storm Runner if…” I thought about Hurakan, about the Empty he had created, and anger shook my bones. “Why can’t he ever tell me anything himself? Why does Hurakan always have to send messengers? He’s a coward!”
“Shhh,” Pacific warned, looking around.
“We’ve got to get a move on,” said Mat, putting his cap back on. “We’ve done our favor.”
“One more thing….” I fished the jaguar jade from my pocket. “Other than letting me talk to my dad, what exactly does this oldest magic do?” I asked. “The twins said whoever gives it away can fill it with any power…?”
Pacific tugged on a dreadlock and looked at me expectantly.
“So who am I supposed to give it to?”
“That’s up to you,” Pacific said.
“Chatting time is over, kid,” Mat said. “It’s too dangerous for us to linger.” As he stepped into the rowboat along with Pacific, he ran his hand across the icy sea. In a blink, it turned back to liquid and dropped to its normal level. I heard him mutter, “If they knew I found you and didn’t…”
He didn’t have to finish his sentence. He was expected to kill me on sight. If he failed to do so, he’d be killed himself. I got it. Zane Obispo: the gods’ Public Enemy Number One.
A curtain of fog rose from the ocean and I watched as they floated into it. The sea began to churn again, glossy ripples under the moonlight.
It was weird to live with death breathing down your neck. It changes your mind and your heart and your choices. Did Brooks feel the same way, I wondered, knowing Ixtab might come for her anytime?
“Zane?” I turned as Brooks sat up sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “I had the strangest dream. There was thunder and…”
“I met Kukuulkaan,” I cut in.
She rocketed to her feet. “Where? Here? Why didn’t you wake me up?! Did you get his autograph?”
“He’s going to help us,” I said, feeling pretty cool, because Brooks was looking at me with something like admiration. “Speed up the currents, give us some wind.”
Her look of admiration vanished. “You didn’t get an autograph.”
“Uh—sorry. Had more pressing things on my mind, fangirl,” I teased.
“Mm-hmm… Why would he help you?”
“He and my dad go way back.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course!” She reached into her backpack and pulled out her socks and boots. “They worked together to create and destroy—”
“Right.” Why couldn’t I have been born to the god of leaving everything alone?
I looked down at death’s mark on my wrist. The eyelids shifted like before, and I had a creepy feeling they were going to open very soon.
31
Brooks and I lay on opposite ends of the bench with only our feet touching. I gave her most of the blanket as the winds kicked up, speeding the
currents. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep, where I dreamed of the strange metal forest like before, but this time there was no Rosie. Only Ms. Cab as a chicken the size of a rhinoceros hollering, “Find his blind spot!”
“Ah-Puch doesn’t have a blind spot!” I yelled. Then I felt relieved to see her. She was my link to home. “How’s my mom?”
“Your mom? You’re worried about her, when every day I’m becoming more of a chicken? Today I craved birdseed, Zane. Birdseed! You must hurry.”
“I get it! But I need to know… is she okay?”
With an annoyed cluck, Ms. Cab said, “If you must know, that fool Ortiz has us under constant surveillance. And when I’m no longer a chicken, I swear I’ll…” She let her pending threat die on her chicken lips.
Good. The three of them were safe and sound.
“Now back to old Puke,” I said. “Unless you have some secret up your sleeve, you badgering me in my dreams isn’t exactly helping. And it really hurt when you jammed your beak into my hand!”
“Yes, well, you deserved that. I agree that dreams aren’t the best way to communicate. Only some of my words are reaching you, and it’s quite maddening. But it’s all we have.”
“So what do I do? Once I’m in the Old World?”
“Kill him.”
“Great idea!”
“Zane, I’m a chicken! My legs are chicken legs. My eyes are chicken eyes. My brain? Well, you get the point. I’m not exactly… DID I MENTION I’M A CHICKEN? And You-Know-Who sings out of tune to me every day!”
I hoped I’d make it back to tell Mr. O that La Muerte was as powerful as he’d dreamed. He’d be so excited. “And Rosie?” I asked hopefully. “Any word from your friends?”
“Do I look like your secretary?”
The metal trees shimmered with warped images I couldn’t make out. Then Ms. Cab squawked. “Time to wake up. Remember the blind spot, Zane. Find it!”
There was a terrible explosion, and a cloud of smoke filled the air. I jerked awake, hacking up my lungs. Brooks pulled the blanket over her head and jammed her foot against my leg.
The Storm Runner Page 25
