by Holly Hook
I'm going to be human.
The thought played itself over and over as she stood in the doorway of the empty lobby, watching the rain beat against the glass. Gary appeared next to her and slipped his hand into hers. He was going with her, ready to leave the pain behind.
The red and blue pattern of the carpet spread out under her feet, the blue like the ocean and the red like the blood that she could feel getting washed off her. The monster inside her would disappear back into Huracan's rule where it belonged.
“Do you think your dad will quit being so pushy when this is over?” Gary asked. He managed a smile. “It's not like he can still nag you about what a Tempest High Leader needs to do all the time anymore.”
“I'm sure he'll still be like that,” she said, watching waves in the downpour dance around outside. “I'll still have school, for one thing. Some things won't change.”
“Good point,” he said.
Feet shuffled behind her. Manuel and Leslie hadn't said a word since they'd left the restaurant. They paused in the last calm before the storm. Sophia hadn't said a thing, either. What was done was done now.
“You ready to go up?” Gary asked.
“Yes.”
They didn't dare take the elevator in case the power went out and left them stranded. The march back up the stairs seemed to take years. Somewhere, the very last stragglers were getting packed, with hurried thumps sounding through the walls and behind doors. A heated argument flowed out of another one. Other than that, there were no sounds. Most of the guests had left by now.
Janelle made a polite knock on the door of her room as her stomach lurched.
This was it.
She pushed it open to find him still there in full Mayan regalia, sitting on the end of the bed and watching the television with his arms folded on his lap. He made a glance outside and then back to the TV. Huracan was starting to make sense of modern things.
Gods must be fast learners, Janelle thought. She would have to ask Kenna about that as soon as they found her again.
Her throat went dry and locked as he faced her, waiting for the answer. She turned to motion Manuel forward, but the man had disappeared. Paul and Leslie stood by the door, and Leslie shook her head and pointed down the hall. Janelle got what it meant. They were now without a translator.
Of course, she couldn't blame him for abandoning ship. It just would have been nice if he'd stayed just a few minutes for hear their answer.
She had to do her best, then.
“Yes,” she said, nodding vigorously, hoping that her body language got the point across. What was Spanish for yes? She should know this. “Si.”
Huracan rose as a fresh gust of wind rattled the windows.
Janelle hadn't fully realized how tall he was, how much height that headdress added. The feathers teased the ceiling. Even without it, he would have towered over even Paul. His features were stone, unreadable, as if his centuries of sleep had made him part statue. All of his relaxed, casual air was gone. She imagined the Mayans worshiping him in the ancient days and understood why they went to cenotes and temples in droves to part with their belongings to keep the gods happy.
He said something low, something that she knew definitely wasn't Spanish, as a second gust of wind hit the building again. Janelle wondered if it would come down. That was impossible, of course—wasn't it?
A wave of the deep fatigue swept over her, pulling her down farther than the drugs Thomas Curt and Andrina had given her in the car on the way to Mobley. Her legs came out from under her, forcing her down to her knees. Janelle was helpless to resist. Liquid metal filled her veins. The floor underneath turned into a magnet. Gary shouted something at Huracan—brave of him, she thought.
The god's strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and held on.
It was the most awful sensation she had ever felt, as if ants were crawling around inside her, under her skin, around her eyes, itching and pulling at every cell. The world made a rushing sound as if her head were underwater. She swam through a void of gray, far away from Gary and Leslie and everyone else that she ever cared about. Huracan had lied. She was vaporizing just like Elise and Mel and now she was flying up into the sky above--
The ants stopped their march, and Janelle fell to the floor. The hotel room snapped back into place. She gasped, too exhausted to scream and too tired to do anything but stare at the patterns on the floor.
Gary appeared in her vision as he hand clapped on her back. He lied on the floor next to her, hazel eyes wide and filled with terror.
“Janelle,” he managed, hugging her tight.
Janelle let out a breath. Gary was there. That was good enough. She couldn't hold her eyes open anymore.
She let them close and floated down into the darkness, to where her father and Mel waited, smiling to welcome her.
* * * * *
Kenna did not like the security guard she was riding with back to Cancun.
It wasn't that he chain smoked and had cigarette butts filling every possible ash tray in his car. She could deal with that. Smoke didn't bother a volcano goddess.
It wasn't even that his friends had interrogated her with too many questions back at the museum after they'd found her lying in the mud at the edge of the cenote. It was that, even though he had stepped in as her translator, he hadn't said a word to her for the entire drive. Kenna felt like a bag of luggage sitting there in the passenger seat.
The driver kept looking straight ahead, going around puddles forming in the road. Trees bent over under the stress of the wind. The weather was getting worse. Maybe that was why he wasn't talking to her and smoking so much.
Maybe she should be grateful that he'd even offered to take her back to the hotel after all, and grateful that the security had bought her story about getting lost in the trees and not being able to find her friends before closing. Or maybe they just wanted to close things up before the storm got here and get home early.
Cancun had emptied. The ocean beat against the coast, angry and gray. Curtains of rain flew between the hotels. A single taxi pulled away in front of them, a few passengers crammed into the back. The last stragglers leaving before the storm. But they weren't Janelle or the others. Nobody she knew wore a straw hat complete with flowers.
“Thank you,” she said as she got out, holding onto the door tight to avoid getting thrown down in the wind. It was worse than she'd thought, and this was behind the shelter of a ten-story hotel. The wind had to be worse coming in right off the ocean. The gray plains of water heaved up and down, its waves giant fists wanting to crush everything in their path.
“Be careful and get inside,” the man said at last. “This looks worse than we thought.” He took one look at the ocean throwing a tantrum less than a hundred yards away and looked back to her. His cigarette fell out of his mouth. “Are you sure you want to be here?”
“Sure.” Maybe this guard wasn't so bad after all. “I'll be okay.”
He gave her a look that said that he doubted it, but it wasn't like Kenna could explain that she couldn't die out here. The worst that would happen was that she'd be weakened or paralyzed for a while from the rain. Unless, of course--
“You take care.” The man reached over and closed the passenger door, stopping the legions of raindrops from getting inside of it. Kenna backed away, closer to the building to where the rain wasn't hitting as hard. The wall of rain blew horizontal now, with the hotel acting as a shield. She shook off as much of the water as she could as feeling returned to her arms. Was it just her, or was she slowly getting better at dealing with the constant onslaught of her least favorite element?
The man drove away, hydroplaning on the smooth pavement as he went. She watched the car go, mentally thanking the man as he disappeared into the curtains of rain. Hopefully he would make it home safely to his family.
Now to find the others. Had they even stayed here? It was a chance she'd have to take.
Kenna turned to run inside and met a sight that made he
r insides turn into mashed potatoes.
Runny ones, that was.
The ocean rose as if a giant were on its side rolling underwater, ready to crush the entire strip of Cancun under its massive weight. Waves topped it, towering up two stories, ready to slam down on her without mercy.
Kenna sucked in a breath, smelling the very last of the smoke and safety, and broke into a run.
At the same time, the water breached the seawall and crashed onto the beach with a roar like a million trains. Walls of it flowed down over the concrete seawall and swirled around the buildings in a mass of white and gray.
The hurricane was making landfall.
She reached the door.
Pulled it open as the first of the water grabbed at her shins and then at her knees, trying to pull her down. It took all of her strength to stay upright. If she went down, it was all over. Kenna needed to get inside, to where the water wouldn't be able to pull her away.
The water rushed across the blue and red carpet of the empty lobby, sweeping her in, covering the floor in the space of a breath. She could barely feel her feet touching the floor as the surge shoved her along. How could six inches of water be this powerful?
She turned, and the main desk to the lobby rushed at her. Kenna raised her arms for the impact.
She fell forward, grabbing the other side of the desk as if she were lunging across at someone on the other side. But she was alone. Anyone with sanity was out of Cancun by now.
"Janelle!" she yelled. "Leslie! Paul!"
If anyone yelled back, she couldn't hear. The wind screamed outside. The water sloshed against the glass windows of the lobby, gray and menacing. It grew higher, pouring in through the open door. White foam formed around the chairs. Whitecaps rose and fell on the street outside. The world was a sea with hotel mountains and glass cliffs. A tree nearby bent down so far that it pointed across the street.
Kenna was very, very sick of water.
Her only hope was to get on the desk until this calmed down.
And there was something about the ocean.
Something alive and hungry.
Chapter Fourteen
"It's not there anymore."
Gary's words broke through the cozy darkness that Janelle had drifted down into. No. She didn't want to wake up. It was too comfortable lying here, too much of an escape. This world of dreams and darkness was so far away from the real nightmare she inhabited.
But she had to.
Janelle opened her eyes.
Gary sat on the bed next to her, holding her upper arm and rubbing his thumb along the skin there. The room was silent except for Sophia walking across the floor and making it squeak. Leslie and Paul sat on the opposite bed while Huracan stood in front of the television, watching the silent weather report again with his arms folded and his back to her as if she no longer mattered.
Janelle felt tempted to just close her eyes and go back to sleep. Gary rubbing on her arm felt so good...
“It's gone,” he said, jarring her back completely.
The words didn't make any sense. “What's gone?” She sat up and faced the floor where she had been lying seemingly seconds before. “I thought I was--”
“We put you on the bed,” Leslie said. Opposite her, Paul had his arm around her waist. It might just be her drowsiness, but Paul seemed more alive, more vibrant and hopeful than she had ever seen him. “We were wondering if you were okay or not. That's why we're all still waiting for Huracan to turn us."
Sophia muttered something that Janelle couldn't make out over the noise outside. The window rattled and the entire outside world roared. Janelle went back in that living room with her father, the place where it had all started, watching the trees in the yard bend over so much they might snap and fly away.
The storm had arrived.
“What's gone?” she asked Gary.
He looked right at her with those hazel eyes. His eyes smiled. “Your gray spiral. It's not there anymore.”
Janelle jumped.
Brought her arm up in front of her.
The skin on her upper arm was a blank easel, free of the gray spiral she had been so used to her entire life. It was someone else's arm. Not hers. It just didn't seem right or real, like she was still dreaming. Any second now she would wake and it would be back, taunting her and reminding her that she would never have a normal life.
Sophia said something again, but it was lost in the roar of the storm.
I'm not a Tempest anymore.
The thought rang like a bell, echoing through her whole being.
It's over.
I'm human.
Normal.
Here it was, the moment she had dreamed of for the past year.
And yet she had nothing to say. All words had left her.
“And you're okay?” Gary asked. She'd never heard his voice so soft, like he was afraid his words would break her.
“Yes,” she managed. Her heart raced like a horse free of its stable. “Who wants to go next?” She thought of that awful sensation she'd had while Huracan was taking the Tempest out of her, that legion of ants crawling through her whole body. It was best not to tell her friends what was coming.
“Janelle!” Sophia yelled, appearing at the foot of her bed.
She jumped. “What?” It wasn't time for another argument.
“It looks like the storm surge is coming in,” she said, pointing out the window. “I can't see the road anymore. It's completely covered in water. And Hyrokkin says that Kenna is pretty close.”
Janelle got up and rushed to the window, the last of her drowsiness gone.
Her eyes--now sky blue instead of storm gray--stared back at her.
Human eyes, not Tempest ones.
"Look down," Sophia said, joining her at the window.
Water blew around below, turning their hotel into an island. A car was already flooded up to its windows, but thankfully, no one seemed to be inside. A man waded into a door across the street, pulled it open against the wind, and fought his way inside.
The power went out, casting their room in darkness.
A spike of fear raced through Janelle, sharp and cold.
She was human now.
She could die in this storm just like anybody else.
And now, Andrina might let her.
“Where's Kenna?” she asked.
Sophia closed her eyes. It seemed to take a long time for Hyrokkin to respond—they weren't in the freezer and things were slow going—but at last, she spoke. “Below us. Her signal's pretty strong, but it's getting weaker again.”
Janelle rushed for the door. Leslie and Paul leapt off the bed. Huracan still stayed put, watching the TV and waiting for the show to come back on. Could he be a little lazier at a time like this? He probably would be until they paid him whatever he wanted.
She wanted to slap him. For a god, he sure hadn't done much.
But doing that would be suicide. Literally.
There was no choice but to run down the stairs now. She led the way, past the elevator and down the hall to where the emergency exit still glowed in red. Some backup generators, probably. "Downstairs!"
“Janelle--” Gary started.
"Kenna's down there," she said, thinking of the water.
The storm's roar was more distant in the stairwell, but water dripped from the ceiling in places as if they were under a raging river. She gasped for breath by time she reached the bottom flight.
It was lighter down here towards the lobby, but the roaring grew louder. Water pushed against the stairs, growing higher by the second.
“You're not going down there.”
Gary pushed his way in front of her and stopped near the water.
“You're the one who can't go in,” Janelle told him, taking a deep breath. Gary was the only one who couldn't go into the water now. She could. There would be no awful roar in her head if she touched the ocean water. No threat of the transformation. No terrifying, swirling storm clouds in her eyes. The ocea
n hadn't risen too high in here yet. “Kenna!”
No answer. Or if there was one, she couldn't hear it over the noise.
Paul cupped his hands around his mouth. “Kenna!”
“Down here!”
The words barely carried over the storm, but it was there.
Janelle braced herself and descended. “Let's go get her.”
"No!" Gary shouted. "You don't have the strength anymore. Send me."
"Fine." If he wanted to go all stormy-eyed and roar his words at Kenna when he touched the water, so be it.
“I don't think this is a good idea,” Leslie said as Gary stepped down into the foaming torrent. “He could change—couldn't he?”
But if Gary was about to, he didn't show any signs of it. Janelle watched for the tremors to start when he stepped down into the water. He sank his feet in. Then his knees. He remained steady, with no sign of the violent shaking.
Then Gary turned and faced her.
No storm clouds spun in his eyes. He spoke with his normal, even voice. “I don't get this. I'm not feeling anything and this is ocean water.”
Janelle tapped her feet as Kenna yelled something again. She remembered something. “That's because there's already a storm going! Just go get her!” Maybe Gary was the best person for the job after all. Janelle crouched down on the steps to watch, feeling useless.
But if she didn't have to go goddess, she could deal with it.
The lobby came into view. Kenna had pulled herself up onto the receptionist desk. The ocean swirled around it, growing higher by the second and threatening to crest over the tabletop. The bottom half of her pants were wet, but Kenna looked very much alive and wide-eyed as her gaze landed on Janelle. She grinned, then made a barfing motion as she pointed at Gary.
“Hey,” he said, slogging through the lobby. The water had risen up to his waist. “Consider this my apology for being an--”
The glass shattered at the front of the lobby and water rolled inside.
Gary swore. He raised his hand to the water in an effort to take control of it and drive it back. The water froze like a still image, towering only feet from Gary, but it didn't retreat. It remained in place as if debating which master to obey, the one in front of it or the one somewhere outside.
