The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1)

by Dela

  “Do you approve?” Lucas whispered in one ear.

  “How did you know?” I stared at it—it was another of Lucas’s recent gestures, proof he was changing, softening, weakening. I turned to him and saw the warm smile on his face.

  “How could I not? I would have to be an idiot not to notice how your face lights up at everything Christmas.”

  “This is beautiful, Valentina,” Mom said in awe.

  Andrés spoke from the other side of the tree. “Lucas, would you please show the boys and Zara where their rooms are? Your mother and I will show Mr. and Mrs. Moss their rooms. We will join you in the dining room in fifteen minutes for dinner.”

  I was wondering about the second set of stairs behind him when Mom shot her Our rules still apply glance at me. I understood clearly. No messing around, and no boys in my room. It didn’t bother me. I was used to her believing we were a couple. It was an easy story to explain the amount of time we spent with each other, but the stare was still uncomfortable. What does she think I’m going to do?

  Valentina quickly ushered her up the stairs. Short servants followed them with the luggage.

  Lucas took me up the spiral stairs. Thick, fresh evergreen garlands draped over the railing. It smelled like home. One flight up, we reached two rooms side by side that faced the ocean.

  “Max this is your room,” Lucas said, pointing to the left door. Max disappeared inside as Lucas pointed to the right. “Casey, this is yours.”

  Casey shook Lucas’s hand hard, overexcitement making his arm look like spaghetti.

  “Thanks so much, man. I’ll see you at dinner.” Casey practically leaped inside and shut the door behind him. I could hear them laughing and talking to each other through the walls. I’m betting these rooms are a major upgrade over their apartment.

  Lucas subtly tugged my hand, and we ascended the spiral stairs to the third floor. The two rooms on this floor were larger, separated by a vaulted great room. When we entered the door on the right, a summery breeze hit my face.

  “This is your room,” Lucas said.

  The ceiling was exceptionally high, but it had to be to fit the four-poster bed at my right. My reflection moved in the mirror of the vanity next to the bed. I looked away quickly, frightened by my hair. French doors across the white marble floor had been left open to the balcony beyond, allowing warm, salty air to sweep through the room. I could hear the waves below.

  I gulped. “Where is your room?” I asked, glancing at the sand-colored linen on the king-sized square of goodness and squelching a sudden, irrational thought that we’d be sharing it.

  Lucas chuckled lightly, walked to the balcony, and pointed left. “Right there.”

  Relief washed over me. I followed him outside and stared across a gap at another long balcony. The distance seemed miniscule. I gulped again, knowing it couldn’t keep him away.

  “Close enough to keep an eye on you. That’s all,” he added with longing eyes, predicting my human thoughts.

  “Your home is beautiful.”

  Beautiful didn’t seem like the right word to describe this mansion. Fit for a king was more like it. He stiffened uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

  “I’ll let you get comfortable. When you are ready, I’ll be waiting for you outside your door.”

  When he shut the door behind him, I hurriedly unpacked my belongings into the huge closet and dresser and moved to the bathroom. Its size was ridiculous. It reminded me of a honeymoon suite on TV. The same white-and-gray marble covered every horizontal surface, and turquoise crystals hung from a chandelier above, creating endless illusions in the mirrored walls. A beautiful Aztec mural of glass tile embellished the doorless walk-in shower, and the toilet had a nicely decorated room of its own that smelled like gardenia. Black feathers had been embroidered on the small jade towels that sat next to the sink. I looked in the mirror.

  Clearly, the humidity had gotten the best of me. I changed into a loose dress, but it was pointless: it stuck to me in a few strides. I tried taming my wavy frizz with some hair product Bri had lent me, but I quickly accepted the fact that my hair wasn’t cut out for this kind of weather, and I braided it before I got more upset.

  When I stepped out of my room, Lucas was leaning against the banister, looking at the top of the Christmas tree, which twinkled just a few feet from him. When he turned to me, there was a light in his eyes that matched his new smile, and the chambers of my heart swelled.

  He led me to the first floor, following the rich aroma of chili and beans. My stomach grumbled when we entered the kitchen. Marifer and a short man were standing at the stove. Every now and then, Marifer threw ingredients into a large pot, and the man stirred it, releasing that wonderful smell. She smiled at us as we crossed the kitchen and passed through another door.

  We arrived in a formal dining room. Three of the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows. The light spilling through them revealed palm trees just outside, and I wondered what view lay out there in the dark. A large, rustic chandelier, mostly iron but with some crystal, hung above a large table set for sixteen. Our families were already seated at the far end of the table when we arrived.

  Andrés stood, holding a crystal goblet. “Welcome to our home. We are happy you have chosen to share the holidays with us. Valentina and I couldn’t be happier. Now, it’s been a long day of traveling, and there is plenty of food, so please, eat up.”

  I sighed, exhausted, and pushed Xavier to the back of my mind, pretending he didn’t exist. Lucas smiled—it was different again, tender, maybe. Not as stiff or restrained as it was in Tahoe. Hungry, even. I wondered what he was thinking as I took a bite from the salsa-covered plate now in front of me. New flavors burst inside my mouth, and my thoughts stopped, aware only of the explosion in my mouth. I took in another forkful. It was splendid. Each bite was full of spices, and it filled my stomach to the maximum capacity as pleasurably as possible.

  When my plate was clean and my stomach so full it hurt, I set down my fork. Everyone else seemed to be engaged in quiet small talk. I stood up.

  “Excuse me, everyone. I’m about to fall asleep at the table. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed now.”

  My parents said good night, Max and Casey ignored me as they devoured an inappropriate amount of food, and the Castillos smiled. I could feel Lucas’s eyes following me as I left the room, and I imagined I felt them even as I closed the door of my borrowed room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Mulac

  To my mind, an overnight stay at a king’s estate, built on a beach in the Caribbean, should be exquisite: from the moment you nestle your cheek against that satiny pillow, to the dream about the prince behind your soft eyelids, to the sound of ocean waves as you wake up. You feel more beautiful each day than the day before, alive and renewed, ready to conquer the world, all because you slept on luxurious sheets in a cordially majestic house.

  My night was none of these. Try devilish.

  The humidity nearly suffocated me in my sleep, for one thing. As I fought against its invisible moistness, I tossed and turned for a good hour, frustrated that sweat drenched my pajamas and my body stuck to the sheets. Soon I realized I would not win the fight, and I stripped down to my underwear. When I finally did fall asleep, a young woman with creamy skin and braided black hair came to me in a gust of blackness.

  Her voice was muffled at first, but it grew louder until her faint words echoed.

  Please don’t kill my son. It would be treason. The Celestials would find you. You must stop Mulac, she pleaded.

  Mulac?

  Lucas? You mean Lucas? I tried to say, but I was mute. My voice didn’t exist in the dark, dingy space. However, the woman smiled gravely and nodded.

  Please don’t kill my son, she repeated.

  Who’s your son?

  In your tongue, you know him as Xavier.

  Her
hands reached out to touch me, but I backed away.

  Why? I asked.

  She looked to the abyss at her side abruptly, and then her dark eyes flicked back to me. I am out of time. You must stop Mulac. I have seen what will happen if Xavier dies. It would put you in a more dangerous place.

  What do you mean?

  Xavier isn’t the threat. I am out of time. Please, don’t kill my son. Let me deal with him.

  She vanished, and I lunged into consciousness, sweating and heaving for air. When the thickness subsided and it was easier to get breath to my lungs, I eased back down, pulling the silk sheets up to my chin as if they might protect me. I stared at the dark wall in discomfort until my eyes got heavy.

  It was sunny when I woke. I rubbed my eyes and walked unsteadily to the chaise on the balcony. The wild blue horizon went on for eternities. Lucas stepped out of his room, his sapphire shirt waving gently as he hopped over the gap between our balconies.

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. My throat was scratchy. “I’m so tired, I . . .”

  “I know,” he cut me off. “I was checking on you last night.”

  I looked up at him, ignoring the spontaneous twittering in my gut, and replayed my sleepless night.

  “When?”

  “Three times. The first, you were tossing and turning, cursing at the humidity. The second, you were covering your head with a pillow. The third time, you were stripped down to . . . well . . .”

  He raised his eyebrows and looked down at my boy shorts and barely-there tank top. I looked up, embarrassed.

  “No need to explain. I will have Marifer bring you something better to sleep in for tonight,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  It was peaceful this warm morning. We stared across the limitless December sea together while I gnawed at my tongue, trying to figure out how to tell Lucas about my dream. I knew his mind was already made up. Xavier would be dead soon. I wanted him dead too. But somehow I knew that wasn’t what needed to happen.

  “The red tide is coming in,” Lucas said.

  I stayed silent. My knees shook as I attempted to count the number of hours I’d slept in the past forty-eight.

  “We have a couple of days, and then it will be time,” Lucas said.

  I picked at my nails. Lucas’s hands suddenly wrapped around mine and squeezed mildly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Xavier’s mother came to me last night,” I choked out.

  The change in his expression concerned me. The fine lines were harsher.

  “In a . . . in a . . . in my dream.”

  His unearthly features froze as his eyes dissected me. “How are you feeling? You pretty much haven’t slept in two days.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just listen.”

  He sat next to me. “I’m listening. But I should warn you that whatever you tell me will not change my mind.”

  “How did you know what I was going to say?”

  “Why else would Xavier’s mother come to you, save for her poor, bastard son? She wants you to stop me, doesn’t she?”

  “Lucas, she said that Xavier isn’t the threat. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  He stared away from me because that’s what he did when he didn’t want me to see his emotions, but I still saw his jaw tighten.

  “She said that she has seen what would happen if we kill him. She said that I would be in a more dangerous place,” I finished.

  “Of course she did.”

  “Look, I believe you, and I know that you are trying to protect me. But,” I looked at my hands in shame, “I believe her more.”

  He rose tall, and his chest ballooned out as he breathed in deeply.

  “Get dressed; pack a swimsuit. I will wait for you outside your door,” he said. Without another word, he hopped back over to his room and disappeared inside.

  I could hardly remember when I’d showered last, so I let Lucas go without argument. I sniffed my hair and gagged. I dragged my feet to the shower and let the spray from the large showerhead soothe my hot skin. When I stepped out, my skin remained warm and wet. After three attempts to towel dry I surrendered. I controlled my frizzy waves with wax, smacked lip-gloss on, and slipped cutoff shorts and an old T-shirt over my bikini.

  Lucas was waiting as promised, leaning casually on one arm against the wall. He straightened as I came to him. His intense stare and closed grin proved he was thinking that I looked nice. He didn’t need to say it. I just knew. And I also knew that he was still thinking about Xavier’s mom.

  He led me down the other set of stairs to the second floor. In the daylight the place seemed larger, the central ceiling vaulting higher over the Christmas tree—even the ocean beyond the glass wall seemed bigger. I marveled at the hieroglyphic murals of antique metal that adorned the walls, wondering as we passed what each one meant, who each one was.

  The door to Gabriella and Dylan’s room, which was directly below Lucas’s room, was open. Lucas barged in.

  “Her way is getting stronger,” he said, sounding stressed as he threw his hands in the air.

  Gabriella and Dylan were playing a card game on the king-sized bed. The fluff of the duvet hid the cards.

  “My what?” I asked.

  “Your way. It’s an alter ego. How a god can contact you in your dream,” Dylan responded without looking up, still in his game.

  “You can thank Lucas for that. He’s your wayob,” Gabriella added. Her smoldering eyes were glinting brown gems in her mermaid’s face. She ignored Lucas’s disapproving scowl as she set her cards down and rose to her feet.

  “My what?”

  “Your spiritual companion,” she added lightly as she walked to her dresser.

  Lucas paced, distraught. “Xquic came to her. Begged Zara to change my mind about Xavier.”

  “Change your mind about what?” Dylan huffed.

  “What do you think?” Lucas snapped.

  Dylan looked bewildered. “Why?”

  “Zara, I have something for you,” Gabriella said.

  She handed me a small turquoise box wrapped with soft, white satin ribbon. Under the ribbon, embossed letters read Tiffany’s.

  “Gabriella, I can’t take this.” I held the box back out toward her.

  “Why?”

  “It’s too much.”

  “You haven’t even seen it.” Gabriella looked to Lucas like I was crazy for not wanting jewelry.

  “Zara, if you don’t open that, Gabriella will make me force it on you,” Lucas commented. He strolled past me, one hand on a hip, the other rubbing the stubble on his chin.

  I opened the box obediently and pulled out stone—lots of stone. Jade, turquoise, and smoky topaz stones, each angled differently, concocting a long bracelet rimmed with gold. It was heavier than any bracelet I’d ever worn.

  Gabriella’s soft hands tugged it from my rough fingers and wrapped it around my wrist three times. I noticed the same bracelet on her wrist. It looked better on copper skin. When she finished, she stepped back and put a hand to her cheek proudly. Her fingernails were painted a pearly color.

  “It fits perfectly,” she said, satisfied. “I told you, Dylan, she has tiny wrists just like me.”

  Dylan came over and examined the evidence, then chuckled. “Zara, I have never met anyone with wrists as small as Gabriella’s. Congratulations.” He pivoted to Lucas. “Enough of the drama talk—when are you guys heading out?”

  Lucas shifted his feet and looked at me awkwardly as he cleared his throat.

  “Right after breakfast. We have to tell her parents first,” he said stiffly.

  “Tell my parents what?” I asked.

  “Oh, parents.” Dylan snorted. “Right, well, don’t screw this one up, Lucas. Humans can be relentless.”

  “Thanks for the encour
agement,” Lucas grunted.

  It was like they were speaking a different language.

  “Is this a date?” I asked incredulously.

  “What are you guys doing?” Gabriella added in her melodious voice.

  Lucas’s eyes inched to mine uneasily. Dylan laughed harder. It didn’t bother me to be laughed at like this. I was used to it with Max and Casey. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Lucas, as guilty as he was. Why’d he have to make life so difficult? He wanted me, and I knew it.

  “What are you laughing at?” Gabriella asked Dylan. “Once upon a time you used to do that for me.”

  As I blinked, a burst of air blew past me. Gabriella was now pinned to the bed beneath Dylan’s hands and knees.

  “So Paris doesn’t count? What does a god have to do for you?” Dylan asked—playing offended, but his voice was cheery.

  “Oh, sorry babe.” Gabriella kissed him and then gracefully escaped through his arms like it was a dance. She shrugged innocently as she walked back to the door. “I forgot.”

  “See, man. You do something nice for them, and they just keep wanting more,” Dylan said with a wink at his lovely wife.

  A short servant I hadn’t seen before, wearing a white dress shirt and jade tie, entered with a soft knock. “Desayuno, señor.”

  Lucas answered politely in Spanish and then said to me, “Breakfast is ready.”

  Breakfast was served on a patio behind the house, half a story above the beach. The salty air rose up and kissed my skin. My parents, Max, and Casey were already waiting at a table decorated with fresh red and pink flowers. There were matching napkins and placemats splashed with bright primary colors. The glasses were the thick, bubbly green of recycled material, and the plates were traditional-looking stoneware with colorful hand-painted designs on them.

  Valentina and Andrés rose and bestowed gentle salutatory kisses on our cheeks.

  “Buenas dias,” they said.

  My parents observed from their seats. Dylan smirked when he noticed the twins gawking at Gabriella.

  “Zara, how did you sleep last night?” Valentina asked as the small, dark-haired Aluxes brought in large platters.