He stretched out on the table like he was planning a lazy afternoon in the sun. I’d give him points for cool, but when you’re nearly a thousand years old, I guess it comes easier.
Me, I was bouncing off the walls. “Okay, A.B., here it is in a nutshell. In late February of 1519, when Cortes went to Cozumel— which is actually an island off the Yucatan Peninsula, by the way— he saw plenty of books. There’s also a rumor that he’s the one who took the Madrid Codex to Spain— that the Cortes family kept it for three centuries before it surfaced. That’s one of the four surviving books, you recall.”
“I recall.”
“Cortes left Cozumel at the beginning of March, so any time in the last week of February ought to be good.”
“Very well then. Let’s give him time to settle in. Shall we make it February 27?” Cool, did I say? He was Orange Ice.
“Okay, Orange Ice.” Offering my hand, I tried to match his tone. “Blast off.”
He flipped his snaky tail into my outstretched hand and that was it: No pause, no preamble, no “good-bye cruel world”— just the universe dissolving, the head-splitting noise, and the falling, falling into eternity… plunging more or less down a pitch dark hole that felt like rolling down a flight of stairs, except that there was nothing to touch— no body, no stairs— and it hurt! It seemed a thousand times worse than last time, and it lasted at least the five hundred years we shed. And then the familiar grinding noise punished my ears, and we were on a beach.
Anchored offshore was a fleet of boats that looked like pictures I’d seen of Columbus’s three— Cortes’s little armada, I realized. Goosebumps broke out on my arms.
It was a beautiful beach, with lots of surf, maybe the prettiest I’d ever seen, and really different from the ones in California, which are always cold even in summer. This one was warm, and stretched for miles, with a little breeze coming off the clear, crystal water. The sand was white and so inviting I had an uncontrollable urge to step out of my sandals and wriggle my toes. You really appreciate little things after a few months in Bad Girl School.
“Put me down, Traveler. You know I hate to be held.”
For a moment, I’d almost forgotten I had Catzilla in my arms. And how delicious the moment had been!
“Do it, human.”
I loosened my grip and let him leap. Which was pretty amusing because his precious paws sank an inch or so into the sand. One at a time, he freed them, shaking the sand off. “Ugh! Let’s find terra firma.”
For the first time, I looked behind us and saw the city from another galaxy that turned out to be a Mayan town.
“Shall we go there?” I said, and A.B. answered, “Just so long as I don’t have to walk in this accursed sand.”
We found a pretty good path, tree-lined but deserted, which we took, and then a weird thing happened. I couldn’t help it, but I found myself dancing like the Tin Man and belting, “Follow the Yellow Brick Road.” I hadn’t been in such a good mood since sixth grade.
“Be quiet, can’t you?” the Beast said. “Haven’t you ever heard of a sneak attack?”
“But, A.B., this is a once in a lifetime thing. It’s… enchanted!” And I swung into a chorus: “Follow, follow, follow, follow…”
“Quiet, before it’s too late!”
And that was when the three men and a woman stepped out of the woods and began walking towards us, two of the men short and tattooed, the other wearing sailor’s clothes about five hundred years out of style.
The woman was darker than the others, possibly black.
Now, I’d read that the Cozumel Mayans were shy folk who slipped off and hid when the conquistadores first arrived. The Spaniards had to coax them back in order to buy goods from them. So surely these people weren’t dangerous.
On the other hand, the men suddenly started shouting and elbowing each other, looking at me in a distinctly familiar way. They were giving me the all-too-universal onceover. The way they were yelling— and the little clicking noises they made— were the ominous sounds of construction sites everywhere.
“Male bonding,” I said nervously. “You can’t get away from it.”
“Warrior! Don’t underestimate your enemy.”
They were nearly upon us now, and one man broke from the group, one of the Maya. He got up in my face, saying something I didn’t get, but there was a look in his eye I did.
“A.B.,” I quavered, “do you understand Mayan?”
“He said, ‘nice rack,’ girlkin. You don’t need Berlitz for that one.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Sweat popped out in my pits. I waved at the Spanish sailor. “Buenos Dias, señor,” I called. “Could you please tell your friend to go f– off?” My Spanish was really coming along.
“Make love?” the Spaniard said. He turned to the woman. “Tell my friends she wants to make love.”
“Did I ever mention,” A.B. remarked, “how much I truly despise profanity?”
“Well, you just converted me.” Sweat dripped into my eyes, but I was trying to match his cool. I went over my fighting lessons in my head— Fight smart, not strong! But that could only work if I were smart.
Choose your battles. Well, I’d blown that one. Choose the time for your battles. Likewise. Never engage an unworthy opponent… and certainly not a superior one. Too late to interview the guy.
I’d just flunked Fighting 101.
And then I remembered about available materials. I had a knee, the first Mayan had a groin— and he’d felt perfectly free to cop a generous feel. What was there to do but ram his equipment up his male chauvinist spine? I’d had practice at this, and despite the totally unfair punishment, had been quite pleased with the effect. It worked just as well the second time.
“Die, pig!” I yelled, for good measure. The guy fell down moaning and rolling around, which made the woman and the Spaniard burst out laughing.
But the second Mayan must have felt he had to protect his buddy. He got this look on his tattooed, flattened face that I can only describe as very unfriendly. I was about to turn and run when he passed one hand over my head, grabbed a handful of my hair, and spun me around like a Barbie doll, so that I faced away from him, towards the Spaniard and the woman. I didn’t actually see it, but I could tell from his bloodcurdling scream— and their petrified expressions— that the famous Planet Guardian had finally been moved to action.
I flipped back around and wrenched myself free, to find A.B going up in the man’s face— and believe me, only the Alpha Beast can make that phrase truly come alive. He had his paws wrapped around the pony-tailed head, claws biting into the guy’s scalp, and his razor teeth were tearing out chunks of face as if he were eating an apple on a deadline. The Mayan man was trying to fight him off, but A.B. twirled his tail around the guy’s right wrist and pried it off him, using his back feet to peel the skin off the left one. I actually felt sorry for the guy.
But not very.
I grinned at the Spaniard. “Abandon ship, sailor,” I said. “Or you’re cat food like your pal.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Apparently, the woman— who must be Dona Marina— understood Spanish as well as he did, because both of them pivoted and burned shoe leather, which was the good news— the bad was, they were running toward the Emerald City. I had a nasty feeling we were going to be famous by the time we arrived.
I turned back to my fuzzy defender. “Okay, A.B., that’s enough,” I said. The man was now on the ground, kicking and screaming in pain, the cat still covering his face, working on his eyes. The second Mayan, the one I’d kneed, seemed to have recovered slightly. He was crawling towards the battle, but slowly, either out of fear or because his balls were killing him.
“Behind you, A.B.” I yelled, but the Beast was way ahead of me. He used his tail like a whip, flaying the guy’s face with one stroke. I looked on in amazement— he’d hit me with that tail and now I realized it was just a love tap. ‘Gentle as a kitten’ was not a phrase that applied her
e.
The man jumped back, touching his face and staring in horror at his bloody hand. He spat his two front teeth out on the ground. For the moment, he was pretty much in shock, but he was about to get a second wind and I was going to have to get the Beast’s back. The problem was, I wasn’t sure how.
“Stay out of it, Novice,” a familiar voice said. I was crestfallen at the demotion.
A ripping noise tore the air, and A.B. lifted his head toward the crawling man, his jaws dripping blood, more blood pouring out onto the road— from the first man’s throat.
“Aiiyeee!” the second one hollered. “Aiyeeeeeeeeee!”
I figured that was Mayan for “Time to kiss my ass good-bye.”
For some reason, the Beast opted for mercy. Instead of springing, he flattened his ears and hissed, giving the man enough time to struggle to his feet and start galloping.
CHAPTER TWENTY—A TRIBE IS BORN
I gaped in horror at the dead man lying in the road. Yeah, I knew he was dead, but I felt like I should take his pulse, just to be sure.
“Leave him alone,” the Fiend said. He was washing his face in that cute kitty way, rubbing it sweetly with his paws and licking them clean. Only it was human blood he was sucking off them.
For the first time, I was afraid of him. “A.B, we have to talk.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. I told you how I work.”
“You didn’t have to kill him,” I whined. “A simple maiming would have been awesome.”
“Once started, I fight to the death. The Alpha Beast is as much a predator as Mommy’s sweet little mouser— as precisely engineered a killer, and as merciless.”
“Are you going to eat him next?” I asked sarcastically.
He was unperturbed. “I had a few nice bites.”
“Omigod!” I almost wanted my mommy. “What am I doing here?”
“I so thoroughly wish I could sigh properly! This is the part I hate worst. You train them, you explain to them, you prepare them, and they still go soft at the first kill. I told you what I was. You knew I killed the men who attacked Abuela. You heard the vampire stories yourself.” He stopped grooming, his peachy fur still faintly pink with blood. “Listen up, Warrior! The Alpha Beast is not a pet!”
“Okay! You’re the devil in a fur dress. I get it.”
His cable of a tail coiled round my wrist and tightened. “Has it occurred to you that I just saved you from rape and murder?”
“They wouldn’t have raped me. I’m only fifteen.”
“Do you realize how absurd you sound? Here, a fifteen-year-old girl is probably already a mother of two or more.”
“Okay, but they might not have killed me.”
“They would have.” He freed my arm and resumed spiffing up. “Have I lived more than nine hundred years for nothing? They would certainly have killed you. Perhaps the other woman too.”
“But they couldn’t. She’s the—”
“Thanks are in order, Novice.”
“I guess they are. Okay, thanks.” I couldn’t fight what he was any more than he could.
“Well. Thank you for not falling apart. You did well, Soldier. You showed grace under pressure. Not a bad first encounter.”
He was switching ranks on me so fast I could hardly keep up. Okay, so I’d acted like a Soldier, not a Warrior, which was good but not great. That much I got. I was a Novice for doubting him on the execution issue, but what about the other time I was a Novice? When I wanted to help him.
“That was nothing,” The creature said. “I was only annoyed about the singing.”
The singing. There was something about that.
“Get it out of your head, girlfellow. It was poor strategy, but it did not cause this, understand? This man’s blood is not on your hands. He saw someone weaker than himself and he tried to crush her like a moth. The human condition in living color. End of story. Let’s move on, shall we? Do I look all right?”
“You look fine.” We proceeded once more down the Yellow Brick Road, this time without the childish clowning around.
More with quiet dignity, I like to think— two Warriors out to conquer the enemy, whatever it might be. And I had a really bad feeling it could be an entire city of outraged Mayans.
A.B. must have thought so too. “Shall we review the Tactics of Combat?” he began. “Somehow, I fail to remember, ‘When in doubt, go for the groin.’ ”
“That’s my contribution,” I said cockily. “I’ve got it down really well.”
“I know you’ve got it down, Traveler. But you might consider using your imagination now and then. Tactic One, as it were.”
“Oh, yeah. Fight smart. It’s pretty hard to think fast in these situations.”
“You could take a trick from my fellow felines. Have you ever seen a kitten face down a German shepherd?”
“Sure. They just arch their backs and fluff out their fur.” I snickered. “Works with majorly dumb mutts.”
“Whereas you should never underestimate your enemy, also don’t overestimate him. Tactic Eleven, and second most important, is this: When all else fails, bluff.”
“Awesome, Wise One. But you know what? I really hate it when all else fails. Also, I kind of like to know what ‘all else’ is. Would you happen to have a plan for when we get to Oz over there?”
“No doubt something will present itself.” No doubt the voice of experience again. Something certainly did present itself. In fact, someone did— an entire party of Mayan men in ceremonial costumes with feathers down their backs to their bootys.
“Oh, help, A.B., we’re probably about to get our hearts ripped out! Do you think it hurts?”
“Maybe they’ll give us some of that fermented chocolate to ease our way to the other side.”
“My way, Orange Ice. You’re not going there, remember?”
“Look at them— I don’t think they mean any harm.”
They were smiling and beckoning in a welcoming way. “I’ve read,” I said, “that it’s considered an honor to be sacrificed. They probably think they’re doing us a favor.”
“You know that phrase you girlaroos use— chill? Can you please perform that simple operation?”
“Easy for you to say, Mr. Thousands of Lives. I think I forgot to ask something— how many assistants have you lost over the last millennium?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“Is this a serious situation?”
“Pah! Hardly a handful.”
“Uh-huh— how many?”
“Two or three hundred. No more.”
“I feel tons better. What are they doing now?”
They were lowering some sort of appliance to the ground— a sedan chair kind of thing. They seemed to want us to ride on it.
“Calling us a taxi, I think. Upsy-daisy.” He said the last part as they lifted us into the contraption.
“A.B.,” I said, “what do you think this means?”
“Let’s wait and see, shall we? Meanwhile, can’t you smile and wave or something?”
So I did a fair imitation of Queen Elizabeth as they carried us through the streets. I tried to take the Beast’s advice and chill. Deep breaths, Reeno, make like a yogi, I coached.
It did change the focus, I admit. I mean, I thought, If I have to die, I’m sure going out in style. These guys had tattoos from Salvador Dali-land. And the hats! Wooo. Drag queens of the world, eat your hearts out, I said silently. There couldn’t be enough birds in all of Latin America to make those things— no wonder we had so many endangered species.
And that only covered our escorts. The people of the town were out in the plaza, in finery varying from jaguar and feathers to simple cotton work clothes. Up close, the buildings were breathtaking— much larger than they’d seemed, and elaborately carved as well as painted.
Everyone was chanting, like in my dream. Oh, good, I thought, maybe they’ll just pierce my tongue and let it go at that. I clutched A.B. like a teddy bear, and for once he didn’t try to rip
my arms off.
There was a stone in front of a temple like in the dream, for their sacrifices. And they set me down near it. Next to it, in fact. Then someone in a jaguar cape and the snappiest chapeau on the plaza pulled me out of the taxi, but gently, as if politely helping a lady. Someone else made a grab for A.B., but he gave them the hell-hiss and wriggled away, landing on his haunches at my feet. Acting like he was the king instead of Cat-Man.
Without further ado, the Maya began to strip me for the sacrifice. Cat-Man reached down, pulled my polo shirt out of my pants, and popped it over my head. I was about to pull the old knee-trick, but then this loud “Ooooooh” went up, and everybody bowed. Got down on their knees and touched the ground with their flat foreheads.
“What’s going on?” I yelled, and not just in my head. I really screeched out, waving my arms like a hysterical two-year-old.
At this, they lifted their heads, and A.B. said, “They think you said to get up.”
“Well, who’s giving the orders here? I could have sworn it wasn’t me.”
The Cat-King— and I don’t mean the Beast— stepped forward and gave a short speech, whereupon the rest of them got up and began to dance.
A.B. said, “They’re performing for you.”
“Ever the optimist.” But it really did look like it.
“They seem to have mistaken you for someone else.”
“Just don’t mention I got their pal killed.”
“Pretend it’s a school play. Be who they want you to be.”
So I smiled and waved, and generally acted grateful, and then the king made another speech. I couldn’t understand a word, but I liked his voice. He had what my dad would call a “nice persona”. A good aura.
But that didn’t mean I needed him to help me into the next world.
I was scanning for possible escape routes when the dark woman from the road appeared, along with the man I’d kneed earlier, escorted by four other men in quilted pants and jackets. They carried spears.
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