The Shadow Crosser

by J. C. Cervantes

  Sort of? “What do you mean, ‘might need them the most’?”

  The goddess’s eyes ignited into blue flames. “My reputation has been sullied, which puts them in danger. Imagine anyone thinking I would assist the enemy! As if I would ever team up with that ghastly Camazotz or Ixkik’.”

  A girl’s voice sounded in the room: “Escorts to Pus River’s pier thirty-six. It’s backed up with clueless souls who keep asking if they can have fries with that.”

  Ixtab pressed a button on her bracelet and spoke into it. “And you’re bothering me with this because…?”

  “Oh…uh…many pardons, my queen.” The girl’s voice trembled. “Wrong extension. Oops. ’Kay. Bye.”

  “I’m surrounded by imbeciles,” Ixtab muttered, rubbing her brow. It made me think briefly of Scar from The Lion King, but I was pretty sure he’d said idiots.

  “Can’t you just tell the other Maya gods that you’re innocent?” I asked.

  “If only it were that simple. The Council of Gods is looking at all the details.”

  Knowing Ixtab, she had her own spy crew working on it, too.

  “Good,” I said. “Make sure they know Zotz and Ixkik’ want whatever it is the twins stole.”

  Ixtab flashed a terrifying scowl. “Are you calling my children thieves?”

  Well, it was a closed antiques shop, and they were dressed like burglars, and I’m sure they lifted something. “Er…no, not thieves,” I said nervously, followed by an even more nervous chuckle. “I’m sure they were just browsing.”

  She went on. “Right now, we need to be observant, diligent, intentional, and, above all, you need to report any and all odd incidents to me directly.”

  “Sure, but, uh…why would Ik join the baddies? She must think that Zotz will win, but how?” The demon’s confidence had me a little freaked. It told me we didn’t know everything, and whatever pieces were missing, they were big. I didn’t want to be around when the truth exploded in the gods’ faces.

  “Iktan will be dealt with, as will the bat god and his pathetic sidekicks.”

  Right. Jordan, Bird, and their mom, Ixkik’, aka Blood Moon. Yeah, if that nickname doesn’t spike fear in you, I don’t know what would. “But when?” I asked. “How? Like, who’s going to do it, and can they do it soon?”

  Ixtab clenched her jaw and looked like she might incinerate the entire room. Okay, bad question. Bad silence. Bad moment that I really wanted to exit pronto.

  But I’ve never been good at keeping my mouth zipped. I stepped closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She studied me carefully, like she wasn’t sure she could trust me to handle her answer. “Let’s just say that the day we were hoping wouldn’t come might be near.”

  “You mean the war that Zotz and his pathetic sidekicks want.”

  Her expression was deadpan.

  “But no one fights a war without an army,” I added. “And they already failed at raising the Mexica gods.”

  “There are other types of war, Zane. Wars that bring about worse things than dying.”

  “You…you think they’ve found a way to beat the Maya gods?”

  Frowning, she said, “This is a game of war, and no one is better at that than the Maya gods. We will not be defeated.”

  Game?

  “And whatever our enemies are after, it isn’t going to be obvious. It is going to be cunning, shrewd, and so unexpected it will have your head spinning. Remember that.”

  Blood Moon’s last words to me on that day at the Pyramid of the Magician rushed into my already panicky brain: Someday, when you least expect it, you’ll pay with your blood for this. My sons will show no mercy. Nor will I.

  That didn’t sound like a game to me—more like a real live threat. I knew Ixkik’ would try to make good on her promise, which made me want to throw up in the nearest trash can.

  “Go home,” Ixtab said. “Get ready for SHIHOM tomorrow.” Her eyes glazed over like she was somewhere else, then they flicked back to me. “And, Zane?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do not mention any of this conversation to anyone. No one is to know you were here. I have eyes everywhere and will know if even a syllable is breathed. Do you understand?”

  I hesitated, wondering why everything always had to be a secret where Ixtab was concerned. But then I realized I wouldn’t leave here with my head unless I gave my word. “I promise.”

  I was glad to get out of the underworld alive and grateful that Ixtab hadn’t taken me back to Blood River for our private chat.

  But as I headed home in the driverless Mercedes, all I kept thinking was what Ixtab’s words had really meant: Get ready for the games.

  By the time I got home, I was fuming. Like literally, my head was smoking worse than a tortilla burning on the comal.

  If the gods thought they were going to make me (or any godborn) a pawn again, they had another think coming. I was tired of being played and used. Tired of being given morsels of madness that added up to nada. And even though Ixtab never said that the godborns would be used in this twisted war games scheme, she didn’t have to. I knew we had a role—I just didn’t know what it was yet.

  That day, I couldn’t help but watch Adrik and Alana closely, looking for similarities to the goddess of death or a clue as to their godborn gifts. It was pretty mind-blowing to think about all their possible powers. Like maybe one glance and—bam!—instant death for their victim. Or one fist bump and—pow!—total mind control. I mean, their mom is the queen of manipulation.

  Whenever they’d catch me staring, Adrik would give me what’s-your-deal-stalker? looks while Alana hid behind her shades, smirking. Then they would start talking telepathically, which was super annoying and only reminded me of their mom and all her secrets.

  They liked my mom, though. She gave them some light blue MAYA JOURNEYS tees from our isla tour business, since Adrik and Alana had arrived with only the clothes on their backs (Brooks had previously left a few of her things at my house for future use). But when Mom offered to wash their jeans, Adrik said, “No thanks,” like a grizzly bear guarding the last of his food.

  Right. He had something in the pocket he wasn’t about to let go of.

  Unfortunately, my over-the-top-generous mom also gave them a copy of my first book, the one the gods had forced me to write as a cautionary tale for anyone who might defy them.

  When I asked my mom why, she just said, “They deserve the whole story, Zane. How can they make buenas choices without it?”

  Ugh! I should totally burn all the truth paper in existence!

  “Besides,” she added, “you’re such a good writer. I’ve read the story at least ten times. I really like that part about me driving like a pro stunt driver.” She smiled and wrinkled her nose. “Do you really think so?”

  I laughed. “Heck yeah, Mom.”

  “And Brooks?”

  I stiffened. “What about her?” My face felt like it had been tossed into boiling water. Where was a rock when you really needed one to crawl under?

  “Does she know how you feel?”

  “Geesh, Mom…It’s not like—”

  “I know exactly what it’s like,” she said, grinning all goofy like. “And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

  She could be here all she wanted—no way was I ever, ever having that convo with her.

  The next morning, we all stood on the beach waiting for some air spirit to arrive to take us to SHIHOM. That’s what our invites had said, anyways. Mom stood at the edge of the patio and waved. I knew she was crying, which made me feel really awful. I mean, I’d just gotten home, and here I was, already leaving again.

  I’d already hugged her good-bye. Just as I’d pulled out of her arms, she’d whispered, “Your father promised to keep an eye on you.”

  “When did you talk to him?”

  Ignoring the question, she’d said, “Remind him that I will come for him if anything happens to you.”

  Yup. My pro-stunt-dr
iving mom was probably the one person whose threat would strike fear into a creator-and-destroyer god like Hurakan.

  Ren looked at her gold watch and frowned. “The air spirit’s late.” She would know, since the watch had come from her mom, Pacific, the goddess of time. According to Ren, it kept perfect Maya time, but it hadn’t done any other magical stuff yet. I had told her not to worry—that could change tomorrow night, at the claiming ceremony.

  “Maya creatures are hardly ever punctual.” Brooks took a bite of her pineapple empanada. My mom had given them to us for our journey, and I’d already polished off three.

  Hondo hoisted his pack onto his shoulder. I guess, as a teacher, he didn’t have to follow the same bring-nothing rules the rest of us did. Whatever.

  “What’s in the backpack?” I asked.

  Hondo shrugged. “Just some stuff.”

  Alana pushed her shades up the bridge of her nose. My mom had given her a blue neoprene MAYA JOURNEYS strap so Alana wouldn’t lose her glasses in case things got “adventuresome.”

  I was totally rooting for an unadventurous trip to SHIHOM.

  Just then, a thick wall of greenish fog swirled around us. So thick I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. Rosie whined and nudged me with her wet muzzle.

  “What the heck?” Brooks said.

  “I can’t see!” That was Adrik.

  Hondo gripped my shoulder. “Someone really should tell the gods to ixnay all the creep-factor stuff.”

  The fog lifted like a veil, revealing a pre-dawn sky that was pink with wisps of silver and blue. Then, like flipping a set of blinds, the sky changed to pale orange with streaks of lavender. The sand glittered with gold and red and green, as if bits of rubies and emeralds had been scattered everywhere. And the sea? It was a brilliant turquoise with not a single wave.

  “It’s like a kaleidoscope,” Ren whispered.

  “Whoa!” Adrik blinked furiously, like he had a sea gnat in his eye.

  Brooks’s mouth fell open.

  “Is this SHIHOM?” Alana asked, tugging off her shades.

  I spun to find my house gone. We were definitely no longer on Isla Holbox. There were no palm trees, no hammocks, no gulls. It was just us, the glittering beach, and the kaleidoscope sky. Or at least I thought so, until three massive tortugas with dark shells lumbered out of the sea. Their eyes were deep blue, like pools of iridescent ink. And let me tell you, they were muy slow.

  “Those…uh…don’t look like air spirits,” Hondo said.

  “That’s our ride to SHIHOM?” Brooks groaned. “Like, can’t we fly or take a gateway?”

  “How do we know they’re friendly?” Alana chewed on a pinkie nail.

  Her brother inched back and asked, “Aren’t turtles carnivores? Do you see any teeth?”

  “Definite flesh-eaters,” Hondo said, popping the rest of his empanada into his mouth.

  Ren smiled. “They look nice to me.”

  Rosie danced on her three paws. Her eyes glowed vibrant gold with flecks of green. And then she bowed, lowering her head to the sparkling sand as if to say I worship you, O mighty turtles.

  “Are they some kind of royalty?” Alana asked.

  I tugged on my dog’s collar, but she didn’t budge.

  “This could be a trick,” Adrik said, shaking his head.

  Alana rolled her eyes. It was the first time I’d seen her brother get under her skin. “For real, Adrik? You think these turtles are just some decoys to get us into the water so they can drown us and watch our bones drift to the ocean floor?” She looked at Ren. “That’s not a thing, right?”

  Adrik scowled at his sister. “You read too many books.”

  “You watch too many acting videos.”

  “Well, when I get famous, I won’t be thanking you!”

  The turtles continued toward us, their domed shells shimmering in the morning sunlight. As they drew closer, I noticed that the scutes on their shells were a repeating pattern of obsidian and jade. Their heads and necks were dotted with black and white spots.

  “That one in the middle has something in its mouth,” Ren said.

  Alana elbowed me. “Go get it, Zane.”

  “They’re tortugas,” Hondo sneered, “not demons.” He closed the sevenish-foot gap and we all followed. Well, Ren, Brooks, and I did. Adrik and Alana hung back a few feet.

  The center turtle blinked slowly and dropped a large clamshell onto the sand. I scooped it up and cracked it open with Fuego. Inside, instead of gooey flesh, there was a folded letter.

  “Who’s it from?” Ren said, ducking under my arm to get a better look. “What’s it say?”

  I read the words aloud: “‘For Zane. Air spirits are on strike.’”

  Brooks whispered, “Spirits go on strike?”

  I continued reading, “‘The aaks’”—I pronounced it awk as in awkward—“‘will take you safely to SHIHOM. Only they can get you past the magical borders, so don’t fall off or try any funny detours. Oh, and do not attempt to mount until the turtle chooses you. They can be quite moody, but don’t worry, I fed them before they left. Got it?’” I looked up at the group’s curious expressions. The last words came out in a whoosh. “It’s signed A.P.”

  “A.P.?” Ren squealed. “Hooray!”

  It had to be Ah-Puch. Ren and the god of death, darkness, and destruction had become BFFs during our last quest.

  Ren stroked the messenger turtle’s long, wrinkly neck. The creature closed its eyes in pleasure and stretched its head higher. “He doesn’t seem like he would bite off anyone’s head.”

  “The turtle, or the god of death?” Hondo asked with a smirk.

  “God of death?” Alana raised her eyebrows.

  “The same dude you trapped in fire?” Adrik said to me.

  So they’d already read my book? Every time someone mentioned it, my skin got all prickly and annoyance reared up like a zombie. Maybe because it reminded me of the gods’ greed and exploitation.

  Hondo said to Adrik and Alana, “Different guy. Lots of gods and lords and demons of death. Can hardly keep up with all of them.”

  “Except the initials are the same as Ah-Puch’s.” Alana wasn’t buying it.

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “He’s not evil anymore.”

  “He’s so sweet,” Ren chirped. “He risked his life to save us. Actually, he died and then Zane saved him.”

  I wondered if maybe I should let Adrik and Alana read my second story, which explains all that. They deserved to know everything, including why the Fire Keeper was so important, who the baddies were, and why the gods had finally decided to welcome their half-human kids. Knowing Itzamna, though, the book was already sitting on everyone’s pillow at SHIHOM.

  Alana and Adrik looked at each other, no doubt communicating telepathically.

  Brooks harrumphed. “Shouldn’t we all be more worried about turtles cruising us across a million-foot-deep ocean? Not doing it. Nope. I’ll fly, thank you very much.”

  “You heard Ah-Puch,” I said. “Only they can get us into SHIHOM.”

  Dark wings sprouted from Brooks’s back and stretched toward the sky. “Then I’ll fly until we get close.”

  The turtles started to scratch at the sand like bulls getting ready to charge.

  “Great,” Adrik said to Brooks as he backed away. “You’ve gone and made them mad.”

  The god of death was wrong. The turtles did not choose who they wanted to ride on their backs. They marked us! First, they closed their eyes and sucked in what seemed like a gallon of air.

  We all held our breaths.

  And then Pshhhhkkrrrttt!

  We got hosed.

  The thick pink substance was like Silly String.

  And it had some serious distance, but worse was the smell: like vinegar mixed with Raid. I was super glad my mouth was closed. Hondo? He wasn’t so lucky. And no, you do not want to know what curses flew back at the turtles. But the tortugas didn’t seem to care. They just blinked slowly while my uncle
turned red in the face.

  “Couldn’t they have just tapped us or something?” Adrik looked disgusted.

  “Hondo,” I said, trying not to laugh as I peeled the sticky goop off my T-shirt, “what happened to Mr. Chill?”

  Hondo shot me a death glare that pretty much said I will turn you into turtle soup. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been in a good battle? Three months. Three!”

  “Say your peace mantra,” Ren insisted. “Don’t even think about fighting. It’s not good for you.” She blinked. “I mean, unless you’re defending yourself.”

  The messenger turtle placed its forehead against my dog’s. Both sets of eyes shimmered the same coppery gold. Then the tortuga’s shell began to glow in alternating blue and yellow like a cheap neon motel sign.

  “Rosie speaks turtle?” Hondo muttered.

  “They’re glyphs,” Brooks said, coming closer.

  Rosie whined and walked backward toward me, wagging her body like a fish.

  I looked at Brooks. “What do the glyphs say?”

  “Forget about speaking,” Adrik said. “The turtles can spell?”

  Pressing her mouth together in concentration, Brooks said, “I’m not, like, a hundred percent sure, but I think it’s saying, These kids are smelly like…elephant breath. Or maybe it’s lizard breath?”

  “Smelly?” Alana echoed. “They sprayed us!”

  The turtle waded over and blinked up at Rosie again. This time my dog grunted twice, stomped her front paw once, and disappeared in a cloud of black mist.

  Great! She got the shortcut to SHIHOM? Sometimes I think being a hellhound has way more benefits than being a godborn.

  I changed Fuego into a tattoo as we all climbed onto our assigned turtles’ backs. I rode with Alana, Ren was paired with Adrik, and my uncle went solo. A minute later, we were floating across the sea. A thin layer of mist rose in curls from the cool surface, chilling the quiet air. The tortugas stayed in their own lanes, evenly spaced about fifteen feet apart, and swam at a snail’s pace.

  Brooks soared high above. Hondo seemed to be meditating, or envisioning his next battle, and Adrik was completely focused on the ocean, as if preparing for a monstrous shark to chomp on his foot. Ren sat in front of Adrik and stroked her turtle’s neck.