“What’s an innocent?” I asked.
“I didn’t understand before, but now I get it. It’s someone who has no knowledge of his lineage. As in you’re not ruined by your power yet.”
Power? But I didn’t have any. Unless you counted seeing in the dark, and I guess now, telepathy. “So if gods can read minds,” I said, “then how can you read my thoughts? Are nawals gods?”
“No.” Brooks dropped her gaze. “It means you trust me. Or else you wouldn’t let me in.”
It was dangerous to have Brooks in my head, knowing my secrets. Like that I thought she was beautiful and… “No offense, but how do I keep you out?”
Her eyes searched my face and I could tell I’d hurt her. “Just put up a wall. Easy as that.” She spun on her heels and began walking back to the house.
I followed, not knowing what to say. I mean, could she blame me? It was like reading someone’s diary, but way worse!
“Brooks, hang on.” I couldn’t keep up. Yeah, some demigod I was.
“You think I want you in my head?” She whipped around to face me. “You think you’re the only one who has problems? The only one who’s in danger? Well, let me tell you…” Her face was red with anger as she poked me. “Not everything is about you, Zane Obispo!” Brooks froze in mid-thought, her finger still on my chest. “Holy K! You made a deal… to save me?”
“Um—you were sort of out cold. I don’t think your memory is exactly running on all cylinders….”
Tears filled her eyes and she socked me in the arm. “You’re such an idiot!”
Oh boy. I hated it when Mom cried, and this felt infinitely worse. “Don’t cry,” I said, patting her shoulder, as if that would stop the waterworks. “It’s fine. I… I couldn’t let you die. We’re like… family now, right?”
She threw her arms around me, squeezing me so tight I thought she might choke me to death. Her hair was soft and smelled like lavender soap. I felt like a wooden soldier, arms stiff at my sides. Was I supposed to hug her back? I mean, I definitely wanted to, but…
When she let me go, the scowl was back. “I can’t let you be that monster’s soldier for me. That’s so not happening.”
“Wait a second,” I said, glad to change the subject. “How come I’ve never been able to do telepathy with anyone before now?”
Brooks shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been touched by our world, or by the magic… or maybe because of the eclipse. I don’t know for sure.” Then she grabbed my arm and turned my hand so she could see the inside of my wrist. A black symbol was inked there like a tattoo. A quarter-size skull, with sleeping eyes. “He’s claimed your life,” Brooks whispered in horror.
I gripped my wrist, covering the tattoo, knowing it was more than a design. It was a binding promise.
“Zane Obispo!” Brooks threw her fists onto her hips. “If you think I’m going to let you turn yourself in to that evil stinking god and spend your eternity in the land of fear, then—”
“You’re not.”
She blinked.
“We’re going to stop him first,” I said.
16
“It’s my stupid fault,” Brooks said. “If I’d done my part, we wouldn’t be here right now. I’ve ruined everything!”
“No, you’d be in the underworld, swimming in Pus River,” I mumbled. My eyes scanned the desert. I needed a walking stick, since I’d lost another cane to another lousy monster. At this rate, I was going to need a jumbo pack. I broke off a long branch from a creosote bush. It was skinny but better than nothing.
“Zane.” Brooks’s voice was small. “I have to tell you something.”
But before she could say anything else, Hondo threw open the back door.
“We’ve got a problem.”
“Um, what’s up, Hondo?” I asked.
“There’s a grande chicken that’s been pecking at the front door for the last two hours and it won’t go away.”
Three days ago I would’ve considered it a prank, but after everything that had happened? I started for the door. “Let’s go see this pollo loco of yours.”
A minute later, the three of us stood on the front porch looking down at the three-sizes-too-big chicken that wasn’t acting like a chicken at all. It didn’t bob around with its head down. It hurried back and forth in a frenzy, spreading its wings, clucking and clicking up a storm.
“It’s rabid,” Hondo said. “Like in those scary movies when the animals kill everyone? You ever see Cujo or The Birds?”
Brooks cocked her head. “Do you think it’s trying to tell us something?”
Forgetting that Hondo was standing there, I asked Brooks, “Can you use your bird brain… er, I mean your bird connection and figure out what it’s saying?”
“You think all bird-speak is the same?” Brooks tilted her chin up proudly. “Pu-lease.”
Hondo gave me a weird look, and right when he opened his mouth to say something, the chicken turned and bolted toward Ms. Cab’s house.
“Hey, wait!” I shouted as we all hurried after the bird.
The chicken pecked at Ms. Cab’s front door, then tilted its head at me. It rolled its eyes before it went back to striking the door with its beak.
“I think it wants to go inside,” I said.
Brooks rang the doorbell and peered in through the front window. “No one’s in there.”
Hondo turned the doorknob. It was unlocked. He raised a brow and gave me a sly smile. “Let’s see what the pollo wants.”
Ms. Cab would string us up by our ears for going in uninvited, but before I could protest, the chicken bolted inside and over to the living room. It jumped onto the coffee table, stomping and clucking loudly.
Hondo looked around. “This place is creepy, Zane. How can you work here?” Then he picked up the box of eyes.
I hollered, “Stop!”
But it was too late. He had already opened it, and his face was turning green. “They’re… they’re moving!” He dropped the box and all the eyeballs rolled out onto the floor. And then my iron-biceps, champion-wrestler uncle passed out.
Brooks hurried over and put a pillow under his head while flapping her hand back and forth across his face. “Hondo? Hondo?”
The chicken hopped off the table and hurried around the living room, picking up the eyeballs one at a time and putting them back in the box. Except one unfortunate eye that went splat in its beak.
That’s when I realized. “Ms. Cab?”
She stuck the last eyeball in its place and nodded slowly. How the heck had she turned into a chicken? Then I remembered what Muwan had said, that all the seers had been taken care of. If the seers had all been turned into animals, they couldn’t warn the gods about Puke’s evil plan.
Hondo stirred awake, rubbing his head. “¡Ay! Necesito un médico. O tequila. Necesito tequila.”
He was like my mom—whenever he got freaked out (or mad during a wrestling match), Spanish flew from his mouth like hurricane winds. As I helped him sit up, I said, “Pretty sure Ms. Cab doesn’t have any tequila. Do you really want me to call a doctor?”
Hondo shrugged me away. “Who said anything about a doctor?”
Then Mr. Ortiz walked in the open door. “¿Qué pasó? Where’s Antonia?”
Brooks and I shared a glance. Ms. Cab jumped onto the sofa and ran back and forth, squawking like a bird on fire. She was trying to tell me something, but what? Hondo got to his feet groggily, rubbing his head. “Tell that thing to shut up. It’s giving me a headache.”
I sat on the sofa and began to pet Ms. Cab’s feathery head, thinking maybe that would calm her down. She jabbered on and on, until her clucks began turning into words. Bawk! What—Bawk!—do I have to do to—Bawk! Bawk!—get your attention, Zane Obispo?
“You can talk?!” I shrieked.
Everyone went stone still and stared at me. Even Ms. Cab stopped fussing. Oh, Zane, she said. You can hear me. Thank the gods. Then she blinked and her beak formed a perfect O. Oh my… that means…
/>
“I’m part god.” The words felt like marbles in my mouth. “Telepathy.”
The others rushed toward me with a flurry of questions.
“It can talk?”
“You can understand chicken-speak?”
“What do you mean part god?” That was Hondo.
I held my hand up to silence them. “This chicken is Ms. Cab, and she’s talking to me, and I can’t hear her over your voices, so stop jabbering!” Yeah, they looked at me like I’d just fallen off the loony-bin truck—everyone but Brooks.
Ms. Cab stretched her neck, and I resumed petting her. I was kidnapped, Zane… at the crossroads to Xib’alb’a. Some stupid lower demon of the underworld threw a sack over my head. She shuddered. Me! Secret-keeper of the Great Soothsayer!
As she spoke, I translated for everyone. She continued, talking so fast it was hard to keep up, but every time I tried to get her to slow down she gave me the evil eye and chattered even faster. Xib’alb’a isn’t what it used to be, she sputtered. Ixtab has taken over, set up new rules, even redecorated the place. And let me tell you, she has no taste!
When I translated, Hondo raised a brow and looked around Ms. Cab’s cluttered living room, which was filled with different-size plastic snow globes from all over the world. “Right. No taste,” he muttered.
Apparently, when good old Ah-Puch was sent away, a goddess named Ixtab, the keeper of the souls of warriors and women who died in childbirth, took his place as the ruler of the underworld.
Ms. Cab said, She had to battle a few other gods to win the throne of the dead, which made those gods good and mad. But more importantly, she went on, some of the demons were like double agents, playing both sides. Someone had somehow learned of the Prophecy of Fire and told Ixtab all about you, Zane.
“But who?” I asked after I’d translated for everyone.
Hondo rubbed his forehead. “Hang on, Zane. This is crazy talk! Who the heck are Ixtab and Ah-Puch?”
Mr. O stuffed his hands in his pockets. “¡Ay Dios! I know magic when I see it.” He glanced at Ms. Cab and said, “I still think you’re hermosa.”
To which she squawked, Oh, lords of fright. This man is a senseless fool.
I didn’t translate that part.
Ms. Cab lowered her voice, as if anyone could understand her, and said, Why is that nawal here? I told you not to trust her.
“She saved my life,” I said.
Ms. Cab tried to harrumph but clucked instead.
By this point there was no use trying to keep everything else secret, so I told Mr. O and Hondo about the prophecy, making Hondo promise he wouldn’t tell Mom. I even told them the part about Los Angeles, leaving out the deal I’d made with Ah-Puch, because Hondo would punch my lights out.
“Maybe I do need some tequila,” Hondo said, looking a little pale.
My mind went into overdrive. “So Ixtab was the one who sent that little assassin alux. She wanted to prevent me from fulfilling the prophecy so she wouldn’t have to fight Ah-Puch for the throne!”
Brooks chewed on her bottom lip, pacing the room. What was her deal? How come she was so quiet? It was seriously starting to make me nervous.
Ms. Cab’s wing trembled and she blinked up at me. Tell me every detail of when you let Ah-Puch out. Even how the monster looked. Probably more hideous than before! He always was the ugliest god… or at least in the top ten.
I didn’t want to talk about it in front of everyone else, especially Brooks, so I let down my guard and allowed Ms. Cab in, hoping it would work like it did with Brooks. Can you hear me?
Ms. Cab cocked her head and hopped into the air. Yes!
I brought her into my lap and told her everything, leaving out the soldier-of-death part. I had to let him out. Otherwise Brooks would’ve died.
I felt something the moment he was released. Ms. Cab shook her skinny chicken head. The earth stood still for a split second. Of course, none of the gods would notice, being such dense, self-obsessed beings. But we seers—we knew. Problem is, there was nothing we could do about it, because we couldn’t pinpoint his location. It was like he went off the grid. I lost all contact with the other seers, which tells me they’re all in nonhuman form, too.
“What’s she saying?” Hondo asked restlessly.
“The gods are dense and the other seers are probably chickens, too,” I said.
Brooks folded her arms and nodded. “They are kind of dense. Except for Kukuulkaan, of course.”
Gee, that made me feel really good about being a halfer. Unless, of course, I was Holy K’s son. What had Brooks said—he was the god of coolness? Yep, could definitely see the resemblance there. “How would you know?” I asked. “Do you hang out with the gods?”
There were still so many secrets swirling around Brooks, I couldn’t help but wonder what she wasn’t telling me.
“No,” Brooks said. “Um… I mean, I read all about them. And”—she rolled her eyes—“everyone knows they changed when they came to America.”
“Changed how?” Hondo asked.
Brooks fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. “Like they forgot the old ways—they lost their edge, you know?”
“Huh,” I grunted. “They seem pretty edgy to me, or at least old Puke does.” Looking back to Ms. Cab I asked, “Why would he take me to LA?”
He could’ve picked anywhere. Interesting that he picked a busy city. You said he liked the chaos? Her eyes went wide. Of course! Chaos will hide him from the other gods. And vice versa. She flapped her wings. He said someone is hiding from him?
I repeated everything Ms. Cab was saying, while pondering who Ah-Puch could have been referring to.
Hondo slugged me in the arm. He hadn’t stopped looking at me with a goofy smile since the big demigod reveal. “I knew there was something different about you!” he said.
“You did?”
Mr. O took off his hat and rubbed his bald head.
“When you were a baby,” Hondo said, “you used to do loco things like talk in full sentences before you were even a year old. And one time you touched your mom’s hot curling iron but didn’t get burned. Another time we found you crawling in the desert toward the volcano.” He ran his hand through his hair excitedly. “It makes sense now. You really are a freak.” His face got serious. “I mean, in a good way. So do you have any superpowers? I mean, beyond creeping on people’s minds?”
“Seeing in the dark, I guess….” I thought about the recent storms. They always came when I was scared or angry. Had I caused those? And what about that freak storm in LA? What had that been about? Did it have something to do with my dad making an appearance?
I hadn’t seen Hondo this excited since the last world wrestling championship three years ago, when he won a thousand bucks betting on Bone Crusher. It felt good to let it all out, to share all the weirdness of the last few days with him and Mr. Ortiz. If only Mom were here, maybe she could fill in the gaps. But I couldn’t let her get mixed up in this. Where was she, anyway? I hoped she was okay….
Hondo slung his arm over my shoulders. “So how do we take down this sonofa… er, I mean, this Stinking One?”
Ms. Cab set a wing in my hand. I’m sorry I failed you.
I let out a big breath. You tried, at least. Did… did you find out anything about Rosie?
She blinked her little chicken eyes and I could see the sadness there. I sent messages everywhere. If any of my friends see her, Zane, they’ll try and protect her.
My heart wedged itself into the big hole in my chest. Thanks, Ms. C. By the way, where did you put that gateway map? I asked, hoping she wouldn’t catch on to my plan.
In the bookcase, like always. Why?
I walked over and pulled out the scroll. I unrolled it in front of her, then took hold of her wing again. Show me how to use it.
Absolutely not! Ms. Cab said. Do you know what others would do to get their grubby hands on this map?
I knew we were running out of time. Ah-Puch had given me three moons, and if t
his map could get us to where I wanted to go, I needed to know how to read it.
“Mr. Ortiz?” I looked up at him.
“Yes?”
“Can you watch over Ms. Cab?”
A broad smile formed and his eyes danced. “¡Claro que sí!”
Ms. Cab shook her head vigorously. Zane Obispo! I don’t need a babysitter. I am a great Maya seer! And he’s just… just a pathetic human!
My mouth turned up. No offense, Ms. Cab, but um, you’re a chicken right now.
That silenced her for a few seconds.
At least take an eyeball!
For what?
So I can visit you in your dreams, and so I can keep an eye on that girl.
I seriously didn’t want Ms. Cab in my dreams. And I for sure didn’t want to carry around one of her eyeballs.
You’ll need my guidance! she screamed. I let go of her wing and put up a wall in my head so her words just spun into clucking.
“Where are you going?” Mr. O asked.
Brooks and I shared a glance. “Can you read this map?” I asked her.
“It’s a gateway map,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can read some of the glyphs… not all.” She ran her long fingers along the distressed edges. “I think I can figure it out.”
Ms. Cab was squawking at the top of her chicken lungs.
Hondo popped his knuckles. “I’m coming, too.”
“No way,” I said.
“You want your mom to lose her mind, call the police?” he said. “It’s the only way. I’ll leave her a note, telling her we went fishing for the weekend. That’ll buy us time. Besides,” he said, flexing his biceps, “you’re going to need my luchador moves.”
He was right. I couldn’t involve Mom, and I couldn’t just up and leave. She’d lose it for sure. Plus, I didn’t need the attention of being a missing kid. “Fine,” I said reluctantly.
Mr. O took my arm gently. “Before you go, I have something that might help your journey. Come.”
So I followed him out, but not before I grabbed the smallest and least creepy eyeball I could find.
17
The Storm Runner Page 12