The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1)

by Dela

  “I like to spend my nights here because the water drowns out a lot of the nuisance noise I can’t shut off,” Lucas said. “Dylan and Gabriella will join us shortly.”

  As chilled as I was, I turned and found the room warm in rich browns. A tufted leather couch with a deep sepia hue faced the window, and beside it sat a peculiar side table with exquisite gold trim. Atop it were old books stamped with gold foil and a sheaf of parchment paper bearing scribbled cursive text. On the other side of the couch was an antique-gold globe on a stand. Cartographic maps had been tacked up on every available wall space between tall oak bookshelves with intricate trim. Ancient-looking books, tattered with age, were grouped together on one side, while newer, shinier books were bunched together on the opposite side.

  The room looked staged. Everything was in its place—there was a desk with no computer, and even the linen drapes folded across one another perfectly. It all looked human enough until I saw strange objects of metal and stone tucked into the open spaces of the bookshelves, antiques that I knew no human historian would ever have a chance of obtaining.

  “What are these?” I asked, touching a round engraved stone.

  Lucas followed me closely, not allowing less than two inches between us. “Nostalgic mementos.”

  My hand left the stone and traced over the grooves carved into what looked like a piece of driftwood. I realized it was shaped into a weapon, a club of some sort. “Old?”

  “Very,” he said, watching me more closely. Nervous are you, Lucas? I thought, delighting in his edginess.

  Footsteps echoed in the hall as Lucas lifted my finger and pulled it away from the piece. Gabriella and Dylan walked in just as I stubbornly pulled my hand away from his. My attention fell on Dylan first; I was already intimidated by his unearthly might.

  “Zara, you decided to come after all.” Gabriella smiled and greeted me with a kiss on one cheek. “You know, we’ve never had a human over before.”

  I waded in with sarcasm. “Well, I didn’t really have much of a choice. The blackouts, the prophecy—the world’s going to end.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “I brought you your clothes back,” I said, speaking fast out of nerves. I’m not that funny, am I?

  Gabriella glanced at my attempt to make them look professionally folded, then looked up. “That’s very kind of you to remember,” she said, placing them on the table behind me.

  Dylan suppressed a smile as he studied me up and down. I picked at my nails, hoping my trainers and capri leggings would do. No fashion blog ever advised on how to dress when your personal trainer was a god. He stepped forward. “You’re funny.”

  Feet moved evenly along the hall’s marble floor, casting musical echoes. Valentina glided through the walnut door first, her arms stretched wide. She wore a tight dress that made her curvy immortal body look Photoshopped to perfection.

  “Bienvenido, Zara,” she greeted me in her beautiful accent. Her sleek hair tickled my cheek as she embraced me gently and kissed my cheek.

  Andrés followed and kissed my other cheek before I could resist. I stiffened nervously as they all stood staring at me, suddenly uncertain of how I got here, a house full of gods and immortals. I was probably doubly red from shock. I let my hair fall to cover my burning cheeks, feeling unworthy of their regard.

  “Thank you,” I finally muttered, remembering from Spanish class in high school that bienvenido meant welcome. She made the word sound so elegant.

  “Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for some hot chocolate before you get started?” Andrés asked.

  I accepted for both Lucas and I without question. Lately he didn’t seem to know what he wanted, and a warm drink sounded comforting.

  “Lucas, I will be waiting for you in the basement,” Dylan said.

  Lucas shot Dylan an enraged glance as we walked away. I looked in the other direction, sensing a long feud there that I didn’t want a part in.

  I wanted to look more closely at the rare items in the front room when we returned, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Andrés. He moved as a king should—back straight, chest lifted—and Valentina followed with her shoulders back and chin high. My trotting steps fell heavily as they flowed up the spiral staircase. They didn’t seem to notice, or pretended not to hear, as we headed toward the back of the house.

  Gray light flooded through another wall of windows into their vast kitchen. Without the barricading trees, the sense of floating was even more intense; the lake was their backyard. Two crystal chandeliers lit a spotless granite island. Every surface was stark white and squeaky clean, including the lacquered dining table. The only spot of color was the red rimming the familiar fire-and-ice roses in a white vase on the table.

  Andrés pulled out a Lucite chair by the glass wall and motioned for me to sit. As I did, Lucas dropped into another chair by my side, but turned away from me. I gazed out at the cold whiteness frosting the large boulders in the water. Dad would kill to photograph this wintery manor, I mused.

  “Zara, honey, how are you holding up?” Valentina asked kindly as she checked the whistling teakettle. I thought about her question until she handed me a white hobnail mug steaming with a cocoa bean aroma. The contents promised to be thick and creamy, and my mouth watered.

  As I parted my lips to answer, Lucas shifted his gaze to me in a calculating sort of way, and suddenly I couldn’t remember what I was going to say.

  “I am, umm . . . can Dylan really get rid of my blackouts?” I asked.

  Andrés lifted his chin as I sipped the froth. “Lucas, did you have a chance to tell Zara what’s going on?”

  Lucas tilted his head and shrugged, looking offended. “Por supuesto, Papa.” He turned to me with more liveliness in his face than I had seen all day. “Didn’t I?”

  “Yes, yes, he did, Mr. Castillo,” I stuttered. I wiped my mouth. For some reason, I felt I should be saying Your Highness or Your Majesty.

  “Please, call me Andrés. And I am curious: what do you think about all of this?” His thick eyebrows furrowed. I froze at his blunt question, confused.

  “What do I think about you?”

  Andrés’s laugh was casually powerful. The dangling crystals on the light overhead shook. “No. What do you think about you, the fifty-second, the prophecy, the training?”

  I gulped, not really finding the drink pleasant anymore. “It’s a lot to take in.”

  “And what do you think about us?”

  I was beginning to see similarities between Andrés and his son. Both had sharp-cut jawlines masked by a grayness I knew would be darker by evening, and both were exceptionally forward. But the attention of all three flawless beings, intent on my words, still made me feel like a lab rat.

  “I think you guys are amazing.” I let out an awkward chuckle and shook my head, swiping hair behind my ear. “I don’t know how you guys do it. How you can watch people being taken.”

  Andrés scratched his chin and turned to Valentina with a disapproving grin. Did I say something wrong?

  “Zara, honey, it’s never easy. How do I explain?” Valentina pondered for a slight second. “Imagine our world held at ransom. If we didn’t allow all fifty-two sacrifices to be taken, the Underworld would come and take more. And the end result of that would be tragic.”

  I nodded, still processing.

  She lowered her chin, squinting as she deciphered my churning emotions. “I mean a war, Zara, a war I’m afraid we haven’t got the power to fight. Do you understand?”

  My eyes widened as I fought a sudden tide of tears. Lucas reached for my hand and squeezed. I didn’t want to look at him because I knew it would make me cry, but I appreciated his gesture.

  “Mama, por favor. You’re scaring her . . . apurate . . . tell her the rest,” he urged angrily.

  “What, hijo? I’m just making sure she understands what’s goin
g on. Now, Zara, I didn’t mean that we’re going to watch you be taken, because it’s obvious that we’re not. You are a precious thing to us,” she said as her bold eyes dissected me.

  I gulped.

  “See, you are not just the fifty-second sacrifice. You, my dear, are without a doubt the girl in the prophecy. And with that, we are all confused. We have been waiting for you for a long time.” She took a sip of hot chocolate with her lips gently pressed together, frowned once, then spoke. “You’re the gambling chip that changes our game. But all chips are at risk.”

  I felt a surge of regret as she paused and watched me, thinking further.

  “However, if what Tita says is true, than we could rid ourselves of the sacrificial ceremony forever,” she said.

  “How?”

  Niya and Malik walked in. It was unsettling having wild cats roaming around without chains, and yet strange that they heeled at Valentina’s side.

  “That’s the problem,” she said. “We don’t know yet. We just need to focus on one thing right now, and that’s keeping you alive until Winter Solstice. Saving a sacrifice is a first for us. You understand that, right?”

  Though I appreciated what she said, pressure tightened my lungs. “Yes,” I managed.

  “And as such, I am afraid this change brings the chance of retaliation. That being the case, you mustn’t be left alone until this situation is settled.”

  She paused another moment and looked to her son, her finger bobbing back and forth between Lucas and I. We glanced at one another, confused. His hostility, so clearly visible, hurt me, and I squirmed in my seat.

  “I’m aware of your relationship,” Valentina said, “but Andrés and I decided that it would be best if Lucas stayed with us at night and someone else took the night’s watch. Until we can understand the force that connects you two a little more, we need to be careful to not take anything too lightly.”

  “All right,” Lucas agreed rather too quickly. I wanted to kick him underneath the table for being such a jerk. Instead I sat up straighter and pressed my hands together.

  “That’s probably a good plan,” I agreed, a little relieved I didn’t have to see Lucas twenty-four seven. His moods were exhausting. “Valentina?”

  “Yes?”

  “This connection that Lucas and I have . . . is it the one talked about in the prophecy?”

  “Yes.”

  Lucas straightened up, his eyes boring into me. I pretended not to notice, even though amazing tingles flooded my body.

  “Well, haven’t you ever thought about the consequence of that force . . . of me?” I wondered.

  Valentina froze. “Of course. It scares me to death. But how do you feel when you are with Lucas?”

  The balloon in my chest that had been popped by Lucas’s uncanny behavior was inflating again with giddiness. Lucas waited wide-eyed for my answer. This was on another level than the ordinary Do you have a crush on my son? question.

  “Like there is an invisible force that wants to push me to him, like he’s the one I chose. I can’t explain it,” I responded. I felt embarrassed, but I hoped it would comfort Valentina’s worries about the prophecy. Lucas just looked angry—almost disgusted—and the tingling had started to sting badly.

  Andrés moved from his statue’s pose. “But you have not been faced with the Underworld yet. They are very powerful and very convincing. You may wince now, but it may be that you have a connection with the Underworld like the one you have with Lucas. It could be just as strong,” he warned.

  My stomach turned at the inconceivable thought. I felt the immortal royal eyes on me and wondered whether I was actually turning green.

  “That will never happen,” Lucas interrupted, partly to comfort me. But partly he looked . . . jealous?

  “We hope not,” Andrés said. He reached for my free hand. His nails were polished black, but his warm smile was the complete opposite of Goth. “Zara, we aren’t going to let anything happen to you. We promise. We’ve never seen Lucas this happy, and we have lived long together.”

  Lucas, happy? That has to be a joke. Hostile, yes. Angry, yes. Moping, sure, but not happy!

  Lucas stiffened and stood, coughing under his breath. “We’d better get started.”

  I shuddered when he placed his hand on my back. I jumped to my feet so that I could brush his hand away.

  “By the way, Tita will be here tonight. She’ll be attending school with you as a precaution,” Valentina noted.

  “Tita?”

  “Very well,” Lucas said, stretching his hand over my back again to push me gently out of the kitchen before Valentina could answer.

  I shrugged Lucas’s hand away once we turned the corner. “Quit touching me.”

  Lucas nodded. I noticed his jaw muscles tighten as we descended to the first floor, through another door, and down another flight. Beyond a corner landing, a room opened before us. I placed my hand on the wall to steady myself. This isn’t a room. It’s a training facility.

  “Just a few obstacles?” I joked sourly, staring at the corner pyramid. It reminded me of the one in my dream in miniature, with only ten steps, each the height of two normal stairs. There was a rope wall, metal trapeze bars and rings dangling from the ceiling, mats, weights—and racks of weaponry ranging from bows and arrows to spears and wicked-looking knives.

  Lucas walked ahead of me into the weird arena. I watched his back incredulously. I wanted to storm back up the stairs and call Bri to have her pick me up.

  “Zara, Lucas, you’re here. Finally,” Dylan said. He sounded bored.

  Lucas approached Dylan, his back blocking my view. Next thing I knew, Dylan threw his hands up and backed away.

  “Wow, brother. Relax.” Dylan chuckled as he turned to me. “Zara, you ready?”

  “What did Lucas say?” I asked, pretending Lucas wasn’t here as I approached them.

  Lucas spun around. His blue eyes were hard. “I said if he did anything questionable, I would stop it before he could finish it.”

  I shivered, wondering again what I’d gotten myself into. But I couldn’t let Lucas know that. I squared my shoulders and laid my jacket on the floor.

  “I’m ready, Dylan,” I said.

  Lucas looked shocked at my defiance. I smiled as Gabriella shooed him and his livid look to the stairs.

  “Ignore him,” I whispered to Dylan. “I don’t know what his problem is.”

  Dylan laughed harder and glanced at Lucas. “I like this girl,” he said. Then he turned to me, leaned in, and winked. “And he heard everything you just said.”

  I pivoted around, frightened at first, then embarrassed when I saw a smirk on that mad, fascinating face.

  “Let’s just get this over with, please,” I said.

  “Right.”

  Dylan walked to the corner opposite the pyramid, where a cage woven of two-inch rope sat beneath a platform ten feet above the floor. A rope ladder hung from the platform. Above it, I realized, the dangling rings made a path across the room to another platform.

  “If you want to live, you have to be more than what you are. Forge yourself into a weapon. Got it?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He looked up to the platform above him, then back to me. “Your blackouts have a greater chance of occurring when your emotions are high.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because it makes you vulnerable. A god can exert mental power very easily over someone who is swayed by strong emotion. So, we start by making you vulnerable. I want you to climb up to the top of the platform and swing across the rings to the other edge of the room.”

  “I’m not sure I can even do that,” I argued, staring at the rings ten feet above my head. I probably couldn’t reach the end even if I was fast. The room was too long.

  “Vulnerable,” he reminded me.

  I gru
nted and headed for the platform’s ladder.

  It looked a lot higher up once I was looking down on everyone’s heads. I placed a hand on a ring and waited. Dylan had his arms folded.

  “Waiting for you,” he said.

  Lucas was still there, just a body in the room, good for nothing, watching me too closely for someone who said he didn’t care. I stared angrily at him as my knuckles tightened around the metal. And then I swung.

  It was like I was in elementary school. I gripped each ring tightly and swung from one to the next. It was a breeze—until my skin started to burn underneath my fingers. The burn became a sting when I touched the metal. Then I started to sweat. It made my fingers slippery.

  I stopped midway and looked at my feet. Ten feet felt much higher when my shoes were dangling aimlessly in the air. Dylan watched me with a grin. I tried to catch the next ring, but I had no more momentum. As I clung desperately to one ring with both hands, my head started to pound.

  “Ow!” I yelled, fingers slipping.

  “Feel that?” Dylan said. “I am inching my way into your head. When I do this, it sends an abnormal rush of electrical impulses to your brain, until eventually your blood vessels dilate and the blood drains from your brain.”

  “Well, how do I stop it?” I barked.

  He circled underneath my body. “Focus. Concentration.”

  “Ow!” Frost shrouded the left side of my brain.

  “Dylan!” Lucas yelled from afar.

  I looked for Lucas, but there were black flurries in the air, shifting in the same direction as my irises.

  “Zara, you must fight back. I want you to find the image I’m transmitting to your brain and crush it. If you don’t, you will black out,” Dylan yelled.

  My arms shook. I closed my eyes and focused on what I could see. There was nothing, only pitch-black behind my eyes. Sweat slimed the metal rings. I flung my eyes open, scared. “I can’t hang on!”

  “Destroy it!” Dylan ordered.