The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1)

by Dela

  The Castillos and Tita watched me sadly as I returned to the house each day after school for training, their eyes apologizing for Lucas’s behavior. I realized that I respected them because they kept my crying jags a secret. It was the honorable thing to do.

  One afternoon, after I had just returned home from training and two hours before our parents were to meet for dinner, Lucas unexpectedly called.

  “Get ready. We’re going to dinner with them,” he said. Not an ounce of pleasure rippled in that sweet voice.

  I looked down at my sweat-sticky sternum. It would take me a while to get ready, but I didn’t dare disagree. I ran for the shower. Afterward, I sucked into a mint pencil skirt and a striped shirt and braided my natural waves for speed.

  “Mom, you do know that it’s an hour away, right?” I called when I went downstairs and they weren’t there. I figured they would be a few minutes, so I walked to the mirror and glanced at my new figure. My waist had shrunk with all the training, and I had curvier muscles. I turned to the side and glanced at my butt. It was firmer. I smiled, but then I frowned as I brushed the wrinkles out of my skirt. My stomach cramped with guilt. I don’t deserve to be saved. I’m a traitor. This shouldn’t be me. I shouldn’t be here—I should be dead.

  Moments later, as the lawns and streetlights were replaced by dark trees against the purple sky, images of the Underworld haunted me . . . burning piles of half-eaten limbs, heads on spikes dripping lines of fresh blood to the ground, trails of blood running down the temple’s steps . . . The blood—so much blood—had a scent that wouldn’t leave my mind, no matter how hard I tried. Over time, it had infused my brain and painted a picture of sweet desire—as if I wanted to go back! It was disconcerting. I pushed my elbows deeper into my hollow stomach, hoping it would ease the edge of my treacherous thoughts.

  We drove south in the black forest for forty minutes. I recognized the headlights of the orange car that trailed us all the way. It was Dylan’s Porsche Cayenne, which only passed us when we reached Carson Pass and turned into a small lake valley lit by the bright white lights at the base of Mount Kirkwood.

  As we turned the bend of Kirkwood Meadow, a large wooden sign twinkled the word Pearls in globe bulbs. It was staked into the snow at the turnoff that led us up a hill dotted with smaller aspen trees. The restaurant overlooked the vast blackness of Caples Lake from atop the hill. Andrés, Valentina, and Lucas, dressed in evening clothes and fine jewelry, waited underneath the black awning near the prelit potted greenery.

  Dad let out a prolonged sigh as he pulled into the carpeted valet drop. Lucas was opening my door and reaching for my hand before the engine died.

  “Buenas noches,” he whispered, kissing my cheek softly.

  He wore a slim, tailored beige suit and a black skinny tie. His hair had been gelled down, and his smooth skin seemed impossibly fine. Surprisingly, the images of blood vanished, and I remembered to breathe as we joined the others.

  Andrés kissed Mom gently on the cheek. “I’m Andrés.”

  Valentina put her arms around Dad, kissing him lightly before embracing him. “And I’m Valentina.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Mom and Dad said simultaneously, both stiff and unsure of this new custom.

  Andrés gestured toward the entrance. “Shall we?”

  We shuffled through double doors into a large room. The ceiling was high and draped with ivory fabric that fanned out from the center to the outermost edges of the room. Ivory wax candles topped candelabras and sat in votives on every flat surface, and some even flared in wall sconces so subtle they appeared to be floating.

  As Andrés passed a small desk, the young receptionist, dressed all in black, stood and motioned subtly to each of us to continue. But then, as Lucas passed, her lingering eyes became voracious. I looked back in time to see her whispering into the other receptionist’s ear, glancing at me with a conspiratorial look.

  “You look gorgeous,” Lucas noted from the side of his mouth, over a distance he had carefully measured between us. The compliment seemed odd when he didn’t even look at me.

  “You’re not too bad yourself,” I said, likewise distant.

  Andrés stopped at a round table near the back, next to a wall featuring a shimmering indoor waterfall. Lucas drew my seat out. Going through the motions, I noted. I pretended not to care. It only hurt worse when I did.

  “Valentina, that is a nice necklace you’re wearing,” Mom said. It was fifty times wider than her own, full of jade and red stone.

  “Thank you. It was a gift.”

  “From Andrés?”

  Valentina smiled humbly, her hand brushing the stone. “No, from a dear old friend.”

  “Dinner is our gift tonight. Please, don’t be shy. Order anything you’d like, but may I add that the oysters here are my favorite?” Andrés said with a grin.

  I opened the heavy menu expecting multiple pages. There were only two. The cheapest thing on the menu was fifteen dollars, and that was for a house salad.

  After the waitress brought our drinks and we ordered, Andrés and Valentina made ordinary talk. It was nice, but I felt sick with worry about how my parents would handle the invitation. Dinner was one thing, but a trip to Mexico was completely different.

  I barely registered what I ordered, and it might have been McDonald’s for all that I tasted. But as the plates emptied, I knew it was nearly time.

  “Lori, Mitch, you know, Andrés and I have been thinking a lot about something,” Valentina started, and then she looked to the king. He was a fox in the dim light, and I could see the thin tracing of black eyeliner that rimmed his lower lids. It reminded me of the people of the Underworld, only their shadowed eyes came not from a tube, but from death.

  He spoke with a rich, heavy accent. “We would like to extend an invitation for your family to join us for Christmas this season at our home in Mexico.”

  I couldn’t move my head fast enough—I caught only the tail end of Mom’s jaw dropping open. Dad was in a different reverie: his eyes wouldn’t lift from Andrés’s black nail polish.

  “Well, honey, what do you think?” Mom asked, nudging Dad in the ribs.

  “Well, of course, you two can go home and think about it,” Valentina added. “We would really love for your family to join us, and there’s plenty of room in our house, so the twins would be welcome to come too.”

  “That’s very nice of you to offer. Did you have a certain date in mind?” Mom asked.

  “We were thinking December twenty-second. Stay for a week and return right before the new year,” Valentina suggested.

  Dad downed his water in a gulp and wiped his mouth. “That’s very generous. We’ll talk about it and get back to you.”

  “Please consider our offer,” Andrés urged.

  I sat back in my chair, amazed at Andrés and Valentina’s knack with people. They were smart and funny and very humanesque. Mom nearly giggled whenever Andrés said anything. Everything went more smoothly than I could have dreamed—until a cold, unwanted prickle crawled up the side of my head.

  It startled me, and I couldn’t stop a subtle jerk, like it was something I could throw off. Three pairs of Celestial eyes were on me before I could recover. I smiled nervously and looked down. My right hand was trembling now, and I dropped my fork. The sound of metal on the flagstone floor made Mom and Dad look too. I reached for the fork, annoyed, avoiding their eyes at all costs and mumbling under my breath.

  When the tickling expanded into a painful, frigid web over my brain, I chuckled awkwardly. “I’m just going to go outside for a little breather.”

  Lucas was half out of his seat when I reached for my head. “I’ll go with you.”

  I knew it would be pointless to try to get him to stay. His parents would insist he go. I didn’t bother to make eye contact and just walked toward the exit. It was freezing outside on the patio. The icic
les hanging from the roof were sparse but sharp. I stepped up to the railing and looked beyond to the black lake below.

  “Are you okay?” Lucas asked.

  I turned to him, upset. Cold pierced my head as I moved, pinning an image into my brain. No, not now!

  “Why did I have to come here tonight?” I asked. I couldn’t stop the tears rising in my eyes or the flash of images seeping in.

  “Because I wanted you to.”

  I pressed my palm hard against my head as the invasion drained my strength. I didn’t want to go back to that place, ever. It was changing me into someone horrifying, but I couldn’t help it. I was weak, and I was disgusted with myself. “What is wrong with you? What changed from that night you told me everything?”

  His eyes softened as he concentrated on me. I wondered briefly if he knew how much I needed him. “Nothing did, Zara. Yes, I understand there is an unknown connection between us, but love is dangerous, especially in this matter.”

  It sounded thoughtfully planned out. “You’re a coward.”

  “You’re wrong,” he charged, though his gaze seemed less steady. “On the contrary, I find myself completely taken. I just choose to not act on it. You are better than this, Zara.” He sounded disgusted with himself.

  The right half of my head was now all ice. “What are you afraid of? That you’ll use me, or that you’ll lose me?”

  He was quiet.

  “Can’t you just let me be, Lucas?” I cried.

  He chuckled, but it sounded exhausted. “About as much as you can let me be.”

  “Then if that’s the case, why am I even fighting? You don’t want to save me, Lucas.” I glanced down; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d dressed up. This outfit was stupid. This dinner was stupid. All of it—all the cover-up lies—and I was the worst one of them. I brushed the palms of my hands along my thighs, pinched the fabric and pulled at it. “This isn’t me.” I looked through the windows into the restaurant. “I don’t belong here. And this skirt—I’ve only worn it once in my life—and the chauffeuring, and the fancy cars, and the special attention. I don’t deserve any of it. Maybe you should let me go . . .” He stepped closer, but I backed away. “No, don’t. I can’t be who you want me to be, because that isn’t me. I don’t want you to waste any more time on me. I’m ugly inside. I’m a horrible person.”

  He poked his chest and then waved his finger at me. A horror struck me, the way the creases of his mouth dropped. His eyes showed deep distaste. “And this isn’t me, either. Do you have any idea how hard it is to break a tradition you’ve followed nearly your entire life? Half of me is saying, ‘Take what you want, Lucas, you deserve her’—which, by the way, is another struggle, because I don’t even know what to do with your frail little body—and the other half is saying, ‘You do this, you die.’ I’m scared of you. I’ve never wanted something so little and so badly at the same time. It’s damn confusing!”

  And the tears rolled. “Why? I feel like you make it that way.”

  “No, Zara, there’s no way around it. Before I met you, I was eager to break the sacrifice tradition, but now . . .”

  “What? You regret it?”

  “I realized when I kissed you how hard making the right decision can be. I realized the risks it brings . . . the fears it brings. Back then I was pompous, and I didn’t care about anyone but myself, which made my decision to break the sacrifice tradition easy. But when I . . . when I kissed you . . . I knew that I wasn’t caring only for myself. I care for you, Zara. More than you know, and I need you to trust me.”

  The low light from the restaurant hit him straight on, shaping a symmetrical shadow along the center of his face, which hadn’t changed at all, except for the slightest droop in his eyelids. His blue eyes flicked away and then back to mine, and then he stepped close. In the startling nearness of him, I forgot to shut out the cold knives for a moment, and the contours of his face dimmed. I tried to regain control and focus on him, but a flash of blackness shot through me.

  I awoke to the familiar orange sky. My skin, which had been ice cold, now burned with the rush of blood returning to my limbs in the hot, moist air. I was standing barefoot on green leaves. A beetle squirmed by my toes, and I jumped away, glancing around me. I was on that same hill, above the city and the large pyramid. And then I heard that low, deep noise calling through a conch shell. My gut jerked. Not another one.

  My feet jerked suddenly and walked toward the city with a mind of their own. I pulled at my legs, trying to stop, and a bloodcurdling scream filled the air. I didn’t know what to do. A controlling power flooded my body, and I found myself walking more quickly toward the sound.

  I was climbing over a branch, crying because I couldn’t stop, when the pyramid came into view. It was the same scene: a girl trying to get away and a man at the top waiting for her. Go, Zara. Go now. See what’s there.

  I was taking my first step toward the small town over the lake when my body seized up and I fell backwards. Before I could rise, it happened again, and blackness began to cloud my vision. I fell on my back, paralyzed by a bitter cold that pricked at my toes and fingers and spread throughout my body.

  “Zara, Zara! Can you hear me?” The familiar voice rose through the frozen darkness.

  When I opened my eyes, Lucas was there, his face tormented.

  “I hear you,” I answered. I tried to raise myself up, but my head spun and I fell back, winded. I whimpered into Lucas’s shoulder as he held me. “Please, help me. I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to go back.”

  His breathing was rough as he hugged me more tightly. “We’re taking a break from training tomorrow.”

  He helped me to my feet and wiped my tears with the pad of his thumb. I could tell his helplessness frustrated him by the way his eyes narrowed underneath his dark eyebrows. Our parents were merrily finishing up slices of chocolate cake when I returned. Valentina’s smooth face turned worried with once glance at me. Andrés gracefully rushed the after-dinner coffee along, and soon we were saying our good-byes and heading home.

  I rode home with my parents, and as we rolled through narrow bends past large, white-topped boulders in the dark woods, I rested against the door. I wondered what she looked like, the sacrifice whose screams echoed in my ears, and where her family was. How long was she held captive until she finally met her fate? I glanced at the rearview mirror and watched the beam of Lucas’s headlights through snow drifting like white confetti. They followed as far as the hidden turnoff to his house, where they disappeared and a new set emerged to follow us all the way home.

  I peeped out the window when we got home. Dylan’s orange Cayenne was parked across the street atop a new layer of snow. I lay back on the flannel sheets and pressed my palms together, wondering what Lucas could possibly want to show me.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Utopia

  A raspy ringing shot through the silence again and again, vibrating against my belly. Still more than half-asleep, I fumbled my hand under the tangled sheets and found the bugger.

  “Why are you calling me at six in the morning?” I moaned to Bri.

  “You’re busted. Come outside right now.”

  “No.”

  “Zara Moss, you come outside right now, or I will go upstairs to your room and dump cold water on your face. I know where the spare key is,” she reminded me.

  I groaned. My feet were still asleep, and it felt like needles were spiking through my heels as I trotted to the window. Bri was standing in the middle of the lawn in her robe, hair in curlers, snow piled to her ankles.

  “Bri, what are you doing?” I looked behind her. Dylan’s car was still parked across the street with a light layer of cold cotton on top. I feared he was laughing inside it.

  “Ten, nine . . .” she began.

  “Okay, okay! I’m coming, geez.”

  I chucked on my boo
ts and fled downstairs in a mere cami and boxers. It was pearly outside as the sun peeked above the horizon, but the frost nipped hard at my body.

  “Are you crazy? It’s six in the morning!” I yelled, hunching over from the cold.

  “Friends tell! And you’re not telling me something!” Bri said, her nose a bright pink.

  I looked past her shoulders to the orange car. “Okay, come inside. We’ll talk.”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me right now.”

  “Why right now?” I whined. My feet were freezing in my boots.

  When she didn’t budge, I glanced over her shoulder once more, then back to her, and stomped immaturely. “Dang it, Bri, you’ll be the death of me.”

  “Try me.”

  “What do you want me to say? Lucas and I sort of have a thing, and I didn’t tell you because I’m not sure what it is.”

  She stood there dissatisfied. “It’s not just a thing, is it? You really like this guy.”

  I nodded sheepishly, knowing the god across the street was prying with his perfect hearing.

  “Have you told Jett yet?”

  “No! Don’t, please. I was waiting to tell him, maybe when it’s more official. And don’t blab this to Tommy either. I know how your mouth works,” I added with a sneer and a shiver. “Now, can we go inside? I’m freezing.”

  “I’ve actually got to get home. I’ve got plans with Tommy later today.”

  “What are you doing up so early then?”

  Her face turned absentminded. “I don’t know. Just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. Misery loves company.” She shrugged.

  “There’s something seriously wrong with you,” I hollered as she walked away.

  “Ha! And just so you know, I like Lucas for you. He makes you vulnerable.”

  There was that word Dylan loved and I detested. It made the strings in my gut snap. “What did you say?”

  “You’ve finally let your guard down.”