“Did he just say ‘Oh my stars’?” Alana asked.
“There!” Itzamna shouted. “Do you see it?”
“Where? I don’t see anything,” I said, frustrated that the god was stuck in my lenses. I mean, it would have been super helpful if the guy could point in 3-D.
“Take another step.” His voice trembled with excitement.
“Fine, but…” As I followed his instruction, the toe of my sneaker hit a bump under the sand and I nearly tripped. I squatted, and as I brushed away the thin layer of grit with my hand, my heart beat faster. “Guys? There’s something on the floor.” I stared down at the discovery. “Maybe a painting?”
“I told you I was helpful!” Itzamna said. “Oh, I feel so alive. I haven’t had an adventure of this magnitude in a millennium.”
Ren and Alana rushed over, and we went to work sweeping the sand to the corners of the room.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to touch anything,” Louie said. “You guys could get sucked into a void or dropped inside a trapdoor. Just saying…”
Once the floor was cleared, we stood back to get a better view. The image was of the night sky, including all the planets and a bunch of constellations, like Orion and Scorpius and others I couldn’t name.
“Whoa!” Louie joined us. “It looks like the genu-INE article. Check out how the stars sparkle. You think there’s lights under the floor?”
Ren’s eyes searched the length of the very real-looking galaxy. “Zane, you’re right. My mom wouldn’t trust the gods with K’iin,” she finally whispered. “But she would trust it to the universe.”
Alana studied the floor with a doubtful look. “I don’t see any calendar….”
“Do you know where it is?” I asked Itzamna.
“I can’t do everything for you godborns,” he complained.
“So you don’t know,” Alana guessed.
The god didn’t answer.
Ren had a look of pure astonishment on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“I was just thinking how the stars—the constellations—are the same ones the ancient Maya gazed at thousands of years ago and that…that somehow connects us to them.”
“I don’t want to be connected to no ghosts,” Louie said.
Ren looked like she was going to argue or call blasphemy, but instead she said, “Look for something out of place.”
“Like a missing planet?” Louie asked. But he wasn’t helping to look. His eyes were glued to his destiny thread bobbing a foot or so above him.
I shook my head. “That would be too obvious.” Pacific had stayed hidden for hundreds of years without the gods even knowing she was alive. She for sure knew a thing or two about playing hide-and-seek. Like, she’d stashed four hundred boys in a constellation….
“That’s it!” I shouted.
Everyone turned to me.
“K’iin is hidden in the stars!”
“I was going to say that,” Itzamna offered.
Ren got down on her knees and traced her fingers over the universe. She gasped, pointing. “Zane, you’re right. Look! There—at the bottom of Orion…. It’s supposed to have a triangle of stars, but there’s only two!”
“You seriously know stuff like that?” Louie said.
“She has a blog about aliens,” Alana said, peering closer at the star chart.
“The Maya called Orion Ak ’Ek, the Turtle Star,” Ren said, churning out the words so fast I had to focus to catch them. Her expression was nothing but tight concentration. She was puzzling it all out, and to be honest, it was amazing to watch her brain in action. If anyone knew the planets and constellations and all things astronomical, it was Ren.
“So what does Orion’s missing star have to do with K’iin?” Alana asked.
“For the ancient Maya,” Ren said, never taking her eyes off the night sky, “a turtle shell was a symbol for Earth.” She took a shaky breath. “They believed that time began with the planting of three stones on the tortuga’s back.” She held up three fingers, smiling. “The stones are the stars. Right, Itzamna?”
He hesitated, then said, “Yes, that’s correct. I told you to look more to the left, Zane!”
“Seriously?” Louie said. “The world was made on a turtle’s back?”
“Exactly!” Ren said. Her blue destiny thread hung a mere two feet over her head, swaying to the left like it was trying to peek over her shoulder.
“Louie,” I said breathlessly, “what did you just say?”
“The world was made on a turtle’s back?”
My heart did a little jig. Okay, maybe a big one, as Louie’s words reminded me of someone else’s. They rocketed out of my mouth. “‘The world was born on the back of a story,’” I said. “‘And the world might be saved—’”
Everyone threw sharp say-what? glances my way.
“Itzamna!” I said, pointing to the constellation. “Was that the part you didn’t finish that night in the boat? Were you going to say the world might be saved on the back of a story?”
“Affirmative. Very poetic, isn’t it, Zane.”
“But—” My mind was spinning. “How did you know? Did you foresee all this?”
“Of course not,” he said. “I believe everything is story—story is the greatest magic and power in the universe. It can paint something good or evil, beautiful or ugly. It can create believers and liars and murderers and kings. If I saw all this coming, don’t you think I would have warned the gods?”
“Excellent point,” Louie said, ducking away from his destiny string.
It felt like a million-volt electrical current was running through me.
Ren pressed her finger into the spot where the third star should have been.
We waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened.
“Try the watch,” Alana said like she’d just been holding her breath.
Ren closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and pressed her wrist against Orion. The second the watch met the floor, that section shook, then opened with a wide, grinding yawn.
A bright light poured out, as if the moon itself was rising.
Louie jumped back. “What’s down there?”
I blinked and whispered, “I think we found K’iin.”
In a single blink, the iridescent walls around us flipped to reveal new ones made of intersecting mirror shards.
The piercing light coming up from the floor bounced off the shards and skewed our reflections, like fun-house mirrors that give you a giant football-shaped head or stunted elephant legs. Alana put her sunglasses on as we all stepped back and watched the beam dance around the room.
A woman’s soft voice echoed across the chamber. “Seekers.”
We all looked at each other like Who/what the heck?
“Yes. We are seeking K’iin,” Ren said with so much confidence I was kind of in awe.
“The calendar,” Alana added.
“I am very familiar with K’iin,” the voice said.
“Where is it?” Louie asked.
There was silence and then the voice said, “You are inside it.”
“You’re K’iin?” I practically shouted.
It was a big moment—I mean huge. We had been looking for a magical object that could see across time and dimensions. I’d been imagining a toy model of the calendar. But we were inside the artifact. Inside!
“Yes,” she said. “And I do not like trespassers.”
Itzamna’s voice dropped to a tiny whisper. “Take off the shades. Hurry.”
“Why are you whispering?” I asked quietly.
“Just do it!”
I figured the god had to have a good reason for wanting to hide, so I removed the shades as slyly as I could, hung them on my waistband, and covered them with the bottom of my T-shirt.
Ren blew out a long breath, standing taller. “It’s nice to meet you…er…We’re so glad to be here, and we’re not trespassers.”
“We kind of are,” Louie whispered.
>
“You were not invited,” the voice said. “Which makes you trespassers.”
My brain was on overload, and I felt a little woozy. I wiped my forehead, wishing I had Fuego to lean on. Then I took a couple of calming breaths like Hondo had taught me. They totally didn’t work, by the way.
“We’re here to ask a question,” I said, recalling what the earth spirit had told me. “Isn’t that how this works? If we stand before you…”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence before the mirrored walls rippled and the light dimmed a few watts. “I see who you are,” K’iin said. “Godborns on a mission. A futile mission to save what cannot be saved, to reverse a fate that was set eons ago.”
My chest tightened.
“We haven’t even asked the question yet,” Ren said, frowning. “How do you know our mission is futile?”
“Such limited thinkers.”
“What did you say about fate?” I drew in a sharp breath. “Are you saying the gods knew they would be devoured?”
“Not all fates are revealed, son of fire.”
Our destiny ribbons floated a few inches closer to each of us—so close to our faces that we had to step back.
Louie nudged my arm. “She knows who you are. That can’t be good.”
“I know who you are, too, son of Chaac,” she said. “And you, Alana, daughter of Ixtab. I see all.”
“Eep,” Louie chirped.
If she could see all, why hadn’t she detected Itzamna? And why didn’t he want her to see him?
Ren lifted her chin and said, “Then you know my mom is Pacific, the great goddess of time and fate. The one who hid you here.”
“Ah, yes. You look like your mother—in the eyes. Maybe the cheekbones, too. But you are here to ask a question, to discover what you cannot see on your own. And I am growing weary. So, let’s get on with it, shall we?”
We all nodded. I had just started to open my mouth, when K’iin said, “And before you speak, I must make you aware of the fine print. Knowledge is expensive. Your question will cost you. Nothing is free. And sacrifice is the price for all things worthy. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Ren said even before K’iin’s question mark hung in the air.
I jerked a Storm Runner chocolate bar out of my pocket, and the second I held it out, I knew I’d made a mistake.
“That will not do,” K’iin said. “Do you wish to proceed, or shall I carve you an exit?”
The four of us shared a worried glance. Everyone nodded, except Louie. He kept his head down and whispered to me, “Can I have the chocolate?”
“We want to proceed,” I said as my gut clenched.
“I will choose who asks the question,” K’iin said. “And who will pay for the answer.”
Ren snapped her hand up, careful to avoid her destiny ribbon. “It should be me. My mom is Pacific and—”
“Yes, we have established your bloodline.”
“I’m the one who saw your image in the labyrinth,” I said. “I should pay.”
Silence. A long silence. Like a something-is-broken silence.
“Hello?” Alana’s voice echoed across the chamber.
The mirrors shimmered pink, purple, green, and blue. “I’m processing. Looking across time, weighing consequences,” K’iin shot back. “Ah, yes. I have chosen.”
I held my breath.
“Renata Santiago,” K’iin said, “I choose you to ask the question.”
Ren’s expression was total shock at first, but then she managed a small triumphant smile.
“Wait!” I started to argue, when K’iin added:
“And you, Zane Obispo, will pay the price.”
“What?!” Ren cried, her smile gone. “No! That isn’t fair.”
My legs almost liquefied right onto old Orion/Turtle Star.
K’iin was silent for a couple of heartbeats and then said, “Nothing in this life is fair. Only death. Now get on with it. You are wasting my energy.”
Ren’s blue eyes met mine. They were filled with regret or sadness or maybe just an apology that I was the one who would have to sacrifice something. I was praying super hard it wouldn’t be a body’s worth of blood.
“Hang on,” I said. “Shouldn’t we know what it’s going to cost first?”
K’iin said, “I must know the question before I can determine the value of the answer.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I gave Ren the go-ahead with a curt nod.
She shook out her hands, took a couple of deep breaths, and closed her eyes. “O Great K’iin, where are the Maya gods?”
Again there was silence. I figured K’iin was looking across dimensions, or thinking, or both. The mirrors glimmered. “Well,” she finally said, “the answer to your question is of incredible value.”
My heart pounded with the force of a charging bull. “How much?”
“The blood of a godborn is very powerful,” K’iin said.
I felt so queasy I gripped my stomach. “How much blood?” I asked again.
“All of it.”
The ground dropped away, and I felt like I was plummeting into a dark chasm.
“I have something better than blood!” Ren shrieked. She held up the watch with a trembling hand.
The air went still. Our destiny strands stopped moving.
“Why would I want your watch?” K’iin asked.
“It is made of the same time strands you’re made of,” Ren said, looking offended.
“Ren,” I said, grabbing hold of her arm so I could talk to her telepathically. We need that to stop time when we rescue the gods!
I will only give her a single strand, she said. That will leave us enough.
We all held our breath.
Alana’s eyes flicked in my direction. “What if—”
“What-ifs are wasted energy,” K’iin said. “I have made my decision, and the answer is no.”
Louie looked like someone had just slugged his dog in the jaw. “No?” he echoed.
Both my legs threatened to give out.
“But I’m not going to take the blood, either,” K’iin said. “I am going to give you what you seek for the sole purpose of entertainment.”
What was she, Itzamna’s long-lost twin? No way could it be that easy.
“And also a promise,” she went on, “that you will repay me with a favor someday, Renata Santiago.”
Boom! There was the fine print.
Ren nodded before I could warn her not to trust the ancient calendar.
K’iin went on to say, “You will only receive a single answer. Is this your final question?”
Why did I feel like a contestant on a really bad game show? Just then, I wiped more sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, and in doing so my fingers accidentally hooked my destiny thread. When I tried to pull them free, they got more entangled in it.
“Don’t tug!” Ren shouted.
“What do I do?” The words just barely got past the gran lump in my throat. If I moved my hand, I might mess up my destiny. But I couldn’t stand like that forever….
I wondered why I wasn’t feeling heat in my veins, and then I remembered that I had no fire power in this place. It was for the best. If it came out, I could’ve accidentally sent my future up in flames.
“Can you let go slowly?” Ren suggested.
Gingerly, I reached out with my other hand, which was quivering like mad, and unwound the single thread that had ensnared two of my fingers.
Everyone exhaled with relief.
But when I tried to let go of the thread, it stayed glued to my fingertips. As I struggled to get it off, the thread pulled the destiny ribbon, squinching it in the middle. Finally, the string separated from my skin, but when it did, it snapped back to the ribbon and made a knot the size of a cherry seed.
I bent over, completely winded.
“At least the ribbon didn’t unravel,” Alana said. “That’s good, right?”
At that, I straightened a little, and Ren’s eyes c
aught mine. She was clearly worried, but her words were confident. “Knots are always good. They probably keep out the bad stuff.”
“Actually, they cause congestion,” K’iin said. “Knots represent—”
“Wh-what was—” I stammered.
“Your future has been altered significantly,” K’iin said. “I cannot tell you how or when.”
“That’s so mean!” Ren cried. “Why would you dangle that in front of him?”
“Sooo mean,” Louie agreed.
K’iin said, “The moment was meant to be, godborns.”
“Guys,” I said in a voice that sounded too far away, “it’s okay. It’s done.”
“Then you did make him pay after all,” Ren said angrily. “Now give us our answer.”
The mirror shards spun and turned, seeking their puzzle partners, until we were looking at a perfectly smooth surface. Slowly, an image appeared in it. There was no mistaking what I was looking at—the same place where Hondo, Brooks, and I had gone to find the hero twins, and where I had met Jazz, the giant, and Antonio, the Fire Keeper. “It’s Venice Beach,” I whispered. “Again.”
“Why would the gods be in California?” Ren asked suspiciously.
She was right to wonder. It seemed like the worst place to hide the gods—unless Zotz and Ixkik’ wanted them to be found.
“We need something more specific.” Alana threw her head back defiantly.
Louie nodded. “Like an address.”
“Oh, I can give you an address, but it won’t help you,” K’iin said in a gleeful tone that made me wish I could launch a fireball into the mirror.
“What do you mean?” Alana asked.
K’iin told us the exact location. “But if you go to that address, you will not find the gods.”
“Zane just paid with his destiny, and you made me give you an IOU!” Ren spluttered. “Why would we do that for nothing?”
“You didn’t ask me how to get to the gods,” K’iin said, “only where they were.”
“You’re talking in circles,” I spat.
“Why won’t we find the gods?” Louie asked. “You just told us the address.”
The mirror began to crack and split. The image of Venice Beach shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Because,” K’iin said, “the gods are trapped in 1987.”
The Shadow Crosser Page 20