The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1)

by Dela

  “Are you afraid that you’ll hurt me?”

  He laughed loudly. “Not exactly.”

  “Well then, what is it?” I hoped I sounded less nervous to him than I did to myself.

  His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “My parents can hear everything we are doing right now.”

  I sat up in shock, covering myself with the sheets as if it would help. Lucas chuckled softly and fluffed the pillows. He held his arm out, and I leaned into him, embarrassed.

  I tried to think of something else, something that didn’t have anything to do with his parents’ supernatural abilities, or his sultry abs, or me being the start of an apocalypse. I tried to think of something safe.

  As I twisted the edge of the blanket, resting my head on Lucas’s arm, a term I learned in high school chemistry came to mind. Covalent bonding. A simple term for when a chemical bond between atoms shared electrons. But I remembered that this bond was strongest when atoms shared similar electronegativities. That was Lucas and I. We were made up of different atoms—different cultures, different classes—but electronegativity formed that unseen connection between us, and I felt it every time we touched. Our relationship can work. I know it.

  Lucas stood. “Come outside with me.”

  I reached for my shorts in the dark, but he held his hand up.

  “No. We aren’t going far.”

  I followed him to the balcony, where my nightgown flowed in the breeze. Lucas picked me up and stepped onto the ledge. I hung on tight as he jumped to the sand below and carried me toward the shore. As we got closer, I saw something shining in the water. Lucas put me down, and I walked to the shoreline, curious. A bright aqua glimmer came and went, twinkling in different spots like pixie dust, giving the waves a constant sparkling glow. I looked both ways down the shore. The water shimmered along the coast as far as I could see.

  “Why does the water glow? Is it bewitched?”

  He looked to the black waters that sparkled so brightly. “No witch involved. It’s a bioluminescent organism that comes in with the red tide. When the waves crash, it sets them off.”

  “Bri would love this place.”

  Without a word, he knelt down and placed a hand in the water, catching one of the glowing specks on his fingertip. It was as tiny as a grain of sand. He took my arm, pressed the glowing seed to my skin, and began to draw. The small grain disintegrated as he moved, leaving a trail of glimmering, glowing light behind. When he finished, a heart shone on my arm in the same bright aqua as his tattoo. It was imperfect—dewy drops leaked down from the heart like dripping blood—but to me, it was flawless.

  “You are mi princesa, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making you happy,” he said, brushing windblown hair out of my eyes.

  His endearment didn’t surprise me, but the eyes that rose to mine—that I knew even with my eyes closed—still did.

  “Do I scare you?” he asked.

  “No. I—” I couldn’t find the words I wanted. “I never imagined my life would end like this.”

  “End?”

  “A fairytale.”

  “Hmm.” He smiled and gave me a small kiss. “A sick fairytale, if you ask me.”

  “Twisted,” I agreed, and then he pulled me into him.

  The soft sand crunched between my toes as the waves washed our legs. A cool gust of wind swooped up my gown, but Lucas was quick to hold it down with one hand, the other pressed against the hollow of my back. The kiss felt new. It was a fresh passion that fired every nerve in my body and left a warmth that settled into my heart.

  All too soon, Lucas backed away, his wet lips glimmering in the moonlight. He brushed my cheeks softly and tilted his forehead to mine. He was a beautiful creature in the dark. I couldn’t stop my heart from beating harmony, a soft percussive moan of wanting, craving, and needing everything Lucas.

  “You taste good,” he said.

  I reached for his cheeks, but his hands clasped my wrists and pulled them down.

  “Don’t, please. I need a break,” he pleaded, embarrassment coloring his request. I didn’t get it.

  “A human break or an immortal break?”

  “A man break.” He chuckled.

  I backed away. “Oh . . .”

  He reached for my hand as I began to step away and pulled me close. “Best to not go too far. It isn’t safe.”

  I played with my hair as I blushed. “Right.”

  He held his arms out. “May I?”

  I let him pick me up and carry me back to the room. The heart on my arm had faded, and I already wanted it back as he set me on the bed. I sat up, feeling a little clammy.

  “I need a moment,” I said, heading for the bathroom.

  When I returned, Lucas was resting on the bed with one arm behind his head, the other outstretched for me. I curled into him and inhaled his immortal aura. I yawned. Sleep was my new enemy.

  “You must rest,” he said.

  “Not yet.” I burrowed my face into his arm.

  I fought the urge to fall asleep for as long as I could. I told Lucas stories of past Christmases with my family, including one where my brothers told me that there was no Santa Claus and I cried for two days. Lucas laughed at my innocence. He asked and I answered for hours. He tried not to laugh, but there were some stories he couldn’t resist.

  “I’m glad I can amuse you,” I yawned again.

  “I’ve never had any of those experiences. And I thought my life was odd,” he teased.

  I pinched Lucas, partly because he deserved it for laughing, and partly to make sure he was still by my side. I yawned again, a deep one that reached inside, and a sullen blackness consumed me. I awoke on a cold slab in a still, quiet room. Torches burned in each corner of the small, square space. I tried to sit up, but thick leather straps tugged my wrists and ankles back.

  “Lucas?” I called, frantically looking from side to side as thunder crashed outside.

  Footsteps tapped toward me on the stone, and then an eerie laugh echoed around me.

  “Lucas’s precious virgin,” the voice said, its owner staying to the shadows where I couldn’t see his face.

  “Who are you? Where’s Lucas?” I asked, trying to wiggle free.

  “Lucas is looking for you.” The man taunted, sounding pleased with himself. He loosed a triumphant guffaw. “My plan worked perfectly.”

  “Where am I?”

  “You don’t know?” The man clicked his tongue. Shame on me, it said. “It’s your own sacrifice ceremony.”

  The skinny figure walked into the light of the torch, revealing a slightly concave face. Xavier.

  I forced myself up, heart shredding through my chest, but nothing held me back this time. My hair stuck to my face as I looked around, the pounding in my head unbearable. I was back at the beach house, in my bed, alone, the sun seeping through the closed patio doors. I rubbed my forehead. It was too vivid to be just a dream. It was different from a blackout. I sat still for a moment, pondering as my body pulsed, and then I realized what I had guessed all along.

  “Oh no, oh no,” I muttered, freaking out as I scooted to the edge of the bed.

  My connection isn’t with Xavier. It’s with Mictlan. That’s why I felt a connection to that executioner at Solstice—because it belonged to Mictlan. That’s why I felt it was a bad idea to kill Xavier. He’d be a casualty, a useless, messy death that would cause more problems than we’d know what to do with. That’s what Xquic meant, He’s not the threat.

  My hand flew to my mouth, covering its growing gape. “Mictlan knows,” I said, petrified.

  Your own sacrifice ceremony. Xavier’s words rang in my mind. Mictlan wouldn’t have done it like that. He’d have all of Xibalba watch, or he’d just have me. As what? His slave? His lover? I shivered. I had to warn Lucas about Xavier. He wasn’t working with Mictlan.
I needed to be there, to tell him he didn’t have to kill Xavier. To let his mother deal with it.

  I ran to Lucas’s room and knocked urgently. He didn’t answer. I ran to Gabriella’s room and knocked harder, but she didn’t answer either.

  “Gabriella, Dylan!” I called, pounding my fist on their door.

  Still nothing. I rubbed my head as the drumming grew louder. I ran to Andrés and Valentina’s room, pounding and pounding until my knuckles were raw.

  “Tita!” I yelled into the still-sleeping house. No one answered.

  I ran to the kitchen, hoping to find Marifer, but she wasn’t in the kitchen. Another short Alux with a big head stood at the stove, cooking something that smelled wonderful. He was a foot shorter than me, but underneath his uniform, I could tell that he was strong.

  I rushed over to him. “Hey you, what is your name?”

  He looked at me as if he didn’t understand and kept stirring the black contents of the pot. I stared at him relentlessly, but he didn’t change. Great—language barrier. I threw my hands in the air in disbelief and walked away.

  “My name is Nicolás,” he called with a thick accent.

  I spun and rushed back to him on the verge of hysteria. “You speak English?”

  “Un poco,” he said, watching the pot as he stirred.

  “Nicolás, where is Lucas? Where is Gabriella?”

  He looked up from the heat and stared at me. I tried to retrieve a quick Spanish lesson from memory, but I just kicked myself for not paying better attention in class.

  “Donde es . . .” No, that wasn’t it.

  “They are gone, señora,” he said.

  My eyes zoomed to him. “Where is Marifer?”

  “Wow, Zara, nice pajamas.” Max walked in, yawning.

  “Nicolás!” I pressed, but he was watching Max now.

  I tapped my hand on the counter when Nicolás looked away silently and stirred the pot again. I was positive he knew what I needed to know, and I was determined to crack him, even if Max was here now.

  “Merry Christmas Eve to you too,” Max added with a stretch as he walked toward the balcony doors.

  That seemed to get Nicolás on his toes. He moved away from the stove and stepped toward Max. “Señor, the weather is supposed to be worsening this morning, so we will be dining inside today. Mr. and Mrs. Castillo had last-minute business to attend to. They will be back shortly.”

  I tapped my foot and crossed my arms, waiting for him to give me something. His eyes avoided me as they swiftly returned to the pot.

  “Nicolás, I really want to tell you about my dream.” I opened my eyes wide, hoping he’d catch on.

  “Hah, your dream! Why would he want to know about that?” Max sat at the bar. “Sorry about that, man, my sister thinks we all want to be bored with her dreams.”

  Nicolás only had one face and one speed for stirring. I watched him incredulously.

  “You know what, you’re right. Since Nicolás doesn’t want to hear about it, and you do, I will tell you all about it.” I watched Nicolás as I sat next to Max. He twitched a little, enough for me to think he was paying attention.

  “No, Zara, I really don’t want to hear about it,” Max said, bugged.

  I ignored Max and watched Nicolás. “It was really weird.”

  “Zara, he doesn’t want to hear it,” Max whispered in my ear.

  “So anyway, in my dream I woke up on a large stone, sort of like an altar, and I was tied down,” I said loudly, emphasizing the last part.

  Nicolás finally looked up.

  “I was alone, and then I heard a voice, a laugh, so to speak. This man would not show his face in the light. He was mad, saying something about my sacrifice ceremony. And then at the very end, he stepped into the light, and guess who he looked like?” I asked, turning theatrically to Max.

  Max glanced at me funnily. “Who?”

  “Dylan.”

  Nicolás took the pot off the stove and spooned the hot contents onto a plate, which he handed to Max before leaning against the counter with as much nonchalance as an Alux could manage.

  “Tell me, señorita, what did this man say? Where were you in your dream?”

  Max chuckled and then choked on his bite. “You care?”

  I leaned in to Nicolás. “Tell me where everyone is.”

  Nicolás stood there, face blank.

  Max set his fork down and looked at us suspiciously. “Am I missing something?”

  “Shut up, Max.” I stood in front of Nicolás and looked down at him. “Nicolás, this is important. You know where everyone is, don’t you? I think something is going to happen that shouldn’t, and you need to help me warn them.”

  A flash of lightning washed his brown face, and thunder rumbled the sky. I flipped around to view the backyard. Dark purple storm clouds rolled in so quickly that the sunshine was extinguished in moments. The churning clouds pulsed horror.

  Nicolás looked toward it. “It has begun. You have to stay here now, Zara. It is my duty to keep you inside this house.”

  “Wow, man, what are you talking about? Your duty?” Max was on his feet now with his I don’t like what you’ve said look on Nicolás.

  “Stay out of this, Max,” I hollered. I pointed to the black, cottony sky. “Valentina is doing this, isn’t she?”

  I couldn’t control my anger or my fear, and tears started to run down my cheek.

  “Nicolás, don’t you see? If Xavier goes, things will get worse. Much worse. We need to warn them.”

  “No,” Nicolás said, walking back to the kitchen.

  Max touched my back lightly. “Zara, I think you need to go back to bed. Maybe you’re getting sick.”

  I shrugged him off. “I’m fine, Max. Nicolás has information that he isn’t telling me.”

  Max raised his voice. “No you’re not, look at you. You are a wreck! I think you overdid it yesterday. Too much sun maybe.”

  The booming and the flashes of light outside grew more intense. I rushed to Nicolás and cuffed his forearm, afraid I was running out of time.

  “Please, Nicolás, please. Help me escape. We’ve got to help them,” I pleaded.

  “What do you mean, Zara? Help you escape?” Max grabbed my arms and tugged me upstairs.

  I kicked and shoved, trying to get away from him. “Let go of me, jerk!”

  “Zara, you’ve lost it. Seriously, let’s go!” he yelled as I clawed at him.

  “Nicolás! Nicolás! You’re making a big mistake!” I screamed as Max forced me to my room.

  Nicolás watched with no emotion as Max wrestled me around the corner. As his big flat head disappeared, I thought about how much I hated that Alux, and that if anything went wrong, I was going to blame him.

  Once we reached my prison of silk and crystal, I jerked my arm away and ran inside, trying to slam the door behind me. The door jammed. I looked down at Max’s foot and then up. His index finger pressed to his lips.

  “Shh.” He pointed downstairs toward the kitchen.

  I opened the door, puzzled, and Max slipped in and closed it softly behind him. He grabbed a pen and paper from the dresser and handed it to me.

  What is wrong? he mouthed. Then he pointed to the paper, motioning me to write.

  It was too dangerous to tell Max the truth. I swore to Lucas that I wouldn’t tell a soul, but I couldn’t have predicted this. I have to get out of this house, and Max might be the only one who could help.

  I scribbled as fast as I could, holding the pen so tightly my palm hurt.

  We are trapped in this house, I wrote.

  What? he mouthed, looking shocked. That simple response carried so many emotions on his stupid face, but the only one that mattered was belief. I let myself grieve for the shortest second. Max: my heckling brother, my accomplice.

  I n
eed you to help me get out of here, I scribbled.

  Why? Where is Lucas?

  I looked away bitterly as the rain pounded against my doors. The waves were now powerful enough to slap the idle boats against the small dock.

  No time to explain. Will you help me? I wrote anxiously.

  What is your plan? Max grinned, clearly thrilled at the thought of danger, not doubting the weirdness for a second. It worried me that he didn’t know the deadly potential in all of this.

  “Why are we trapped in this house? What’s going on?” Max finally said aloud, and when he did, the answer dawned on me.

  I bolted off the bed and ran to the darkened doors. I hadn’t actually tried to leave the house. Lucas just said that they were going to put a spell on it, but I had never officially tried to leave. I pressed my face against the glass and stared past the dripping streaks of water. Xavier was standing on the sand below with a bloodthirsty grin.

  I fell back and landed hard on my butt on the floor.

  “What the . . .? Zara, stop being ridiculous, and tell me what’s going on.” Max demanded.

  As he lifted me off the floor, his face shifted to panic. It scared me.

  “You are whiter than white, and your skin is all sweaty. I really think you are getting sick. You’re not having woman problems, are you?” He sounded grossed out.

  “Seriously?”

  “Because if I need to get you a cotton cigar, I won’t do it!”

  “MAX!”

  Without another protest, he helped me to the bed. As he eased me down, I felt imaginary spiders rushing over my limbs, prickling like a shot of novocaine at the dentist. It stung coldly a few more seconds, and then I lost all sensation in my feet and my hands. But the stinging sensation didn’t stop. It moved upward and inward toward my torso.

  I turned to Max in panic. “Hurry, I think you need to go get Nicolás, like RIGHT NOW! Something is happening!”

  Max looked scared, but he zoomed out of the room without another word. I listened to his footsteps until they faded down the stairs, and then I waited, alone and numb, as the storm pushed against my door. I tested my leg, trying to lift it, but it wouldn’t respond to the orders my mind issued. I was paralyzed.