I also had the blood of a destroyer.
A second later, my eyes flew open. Above me was a ceiling painted bright blue with a gold edge.
“Dude!” Hondo said. “You were out for, like, ever.”
I sat up in a nest of pillows. I jerked the wads of tissue from my nose and balled them in my hand. Blood was splattered across my gray sweatshirt. Note to self: Traveling from the Empty is cold and messy.
“Where am I?” I asked, looking around.
Jazz smiled. “My place. I live above the store. Like it? Don’t let those dirty tissues stain anything.”
The place was decorated in soft blues and greens, like the sea was wrapped around you. There was enormous hand-carved furniture and the stone walls were rutted, as if someone very angry had taken an ax to them. Everywhere I looked there were shiny objects: bowls, goblets, and mirrors. And the rough marble floor was covered in pale-blue rugs that reminded me of Navajo rugs I’d seen back home.
“It’s nice,” I said, rubbing my head. “What happened?”
“You fainted, had a big nosebleed,” Brooks said nonchalantly. “Just like the other times, Zane. I told Jazz not to worry.”
Other times?
Hondo grunted and shot me a go-along-with-it look. “Happens whenever he gets nervous,” he told Jazz. “Nose gushes, passes out cold.”
Jazz gave me a concerned frown and I seriously hated the pity I saw in his eyes. It made me want to tell him it was all a lie. I wasn’t a bleeding basket case—I was part god!
Brooks hopped onto the edge of the bed, which was about three feet off the ground. Then she took my hand in hers.
You spirit-jumped, didn’t you?
How’d you know?
Don’t talk about where you went, or who you saw. It isn’t safe.
But… I thought Jazz was your friend.
Which is why I don’t want him to know anything. If anyone comes sniffing around, he could get hurt. It’s better for him to be in the dark. Can’t bleed someone for information they don’t have.
Bleed?
Jazz shook his head. “Sorry if I made you nervous, kid. We giants have that effect.” I could tell he felt bad. Even though my pride wanted to tell the truth, Brooks was right. I didn’t want Jazz to get into any trouble because of me.
Hondo paced at the foot of the bed. “Dude, it was a geyser.”
“Yeah,” I said, wiping the tip of my now-dry nose. “Sorry about that.”
Jazz smiled and started taking his precious pillows off the bed while he launched into a speech about Marrakech being in the East and the East being lucky and the Bakab who held up that part of the sky was an old friend and…
“Did you say Bakab?” I asked.
“Yes,” Jazz said. “Do you know them?”
“Yeah—uh, no… I mean, I’ve only read about them,” I said with a shrug.
This pleased Jazz, because his chest puffed up. Then he said, “I’ve got just the thing for you,” and he bounded out of the room.
Brooks was still holding my hand. The blood’s a side effect of spirit-jumping, especially for first-timers.
First-timers? I wasn’t sure the trip was worth the journey and if I’d ever do it again. I reached for the jade tooth, thinking I’d have to be careful about my choice of words from here on out. No more casually dropping the word dad.
You sound like you’ve done it, I said.
Not yet. I’ve seen it done, but changing into a hawk is enough magic… for now.
All this talk of magic and blood reminded me of our deadline. “What time is it?” There were no windows and no natural light to give me a hint.
“You were out for hours,” Brooks said in an urgent tone. “It’s almost eight p.m.”
The second moon! I scrambled off the bed, landing with a thud on the marble floor. Pain shot up my short leg. “How…? It… only felt like minutes.”
“Time’s marked differently in the in-between spaces,” Brooks said.
“Here you go.” Jazz came back holding a mug so big I had to grip it with both hands. “Drink up.”
I looked into the cup. The dark, thick liquid spun in tight swirls like a storm was brewing inside. “Why is it turning like that?” I was worried something might be in there doing all the spinning, and whatever it was, I didn’t want it in my stomach.
Jazz sniffed. “It’s chocolate….” But he said it with a Spanish accent—cho-co-la-tay. “It’s the living drink of the gods,” he said. “Haven’t you ever heard of Ixkakaw?”
“Goddess of chocolate,” I said.
“All the gods are crazy for this stuff,” Jazz said. “Plus, it has enchanted healing properties. Hey, watch out.” He stuck his giant hand under the cup. “Don’t spill on the rug.”
“There’s a goddess of chocolate?” Hondo said, smiling. “I seriously need to meet her!”
“This chocolate is from a very good year.” Jazz beamed. “Hints of vanilla, cherry, and a splash of burnt caramel. Go on, taste it.”
Brooks nodded, letting me know it was okay to drink the stuff. I took a slow sip. The chocolate was warm and thick. Actually, it was delicious and went down like velvety pudding. I could see why the gods loved it. It was pretty much the best thing I’d ever tasted.
Jazz laughed and slapped me on the back. I nearly flew across the room. “How do you feel?”
I took a quick inventory. It was strange, but all my aches and pains, and the chills… they were all gone. I felt rested, strong. Clearheaded. “Good,” I said, wishing I could have more of this drink of the gods now that my mug was empty.
“I knew it!” the giant boomed. “You’re a sobrenatural. Don’t even try to lie. That chocolate would’ve done some serious damage to you if you were human.”
“What?!”
“You could’ve killed him!” Hondo shouted.
“Nah,” Jazz said. “We giants have excellent senses. I knew he had magic in his blood the second he walked into my shop.” His gaze turned to Brooks.
“Jazz,” Brooks began, “I… I wanted to tell you, b-but…” She stumbled on her words. “I was trying to keep you out of danger.”
“Giants were built for danger, Little Hawk,” he said. “Now fess up.”
I looked from Jazz to Brooks, knowing we could never tell him I was a godborn.
Lifting her chin, Brooks said with complete confidence, “He’s a magician.”
Jazz narrowed his eyes and unbuttoned his vest. “Then show me some magic,” he said to me.
“Magic? Er… I’m still feeling pretty weak and—”
“He’s still learning his powers,” Hondo cut in.
Brooks climbed onto the bed and cupped Jazz’s face in her hands. “You know I’ve never lied to you. And right now we have to go before time runs out.”
Man, she was seriously convincing. It made me wonder how many lies she’d convinced me of. My stomach turned.
Jazz lowered his shoulders. “I trust you.”
Brooks kissed him on the cheek, hopped off the bed, and hoisted her pack over her shoulder. “Thanks… for everything.”
“Hang on,” Jazz said. “I’ve got one more thing for you guys.” He left and came back holding three garment bags on hangers. “While Zane was out cold, I ran that errand you asked for, Little Hawk. You can’t go to the big birthday bash wearing”—he eyed each of us critically—“those…clothes.”
I looked down at my blood-spattered sweatshirt. Stains aside, this was a cool shirt!
Hondo took a bag and unzipped it. He looked from the clothes to Jazz, to the bag again. “Dude, I’m not going to a funeral.”
Jazz laughed. “You might be.”
Yeah, that was comforting.
Brooks took her bag, looked inside, and rolled her eyes. “A dress, Jazz? Really? You know I hate dresses!” I couldn’t even picture Brooks in a dress—as a matter of fact, I couldn’t even imagine her at a party. She didn’t seem like the kind of girl who mingled easily.
Jazz folded his huge a
rms over his chest. “Only beautiful creatures get the twins’ real attention.”
Hondo laughed. “No threads are going to make me look… er, isn’t beautiful for girls?”
“The clothes are kind of enchanted,” Brooks said to him.
“Enchanted?” I parroted, checking out the crisp white shirt and black suit in my bag. And a tie? Was he kidding?
Brooks took the bag from me, tossed it onto the bed, and sighed. “It means you’ll look perfect, no matter what your true appearance is,” she said. “All our faults will be gone. Everyone will only see us as…” She hesitated and looked away. “Beautiful.”
Jazz stroked his chin. “Sort of like Cinderella. And by the way, that story’s a total rip-off of my family’s history, but that’s another tale for another time. The enchantment has a few rules. First, have any of you worn enchanted clothes in the last year?”
Hondo and I looked at each other, confused, then shook our heads.
“Me neither,” Brooks said.
“Good,” Jazz said. “Now, remember, the magic only lasts two hours. So you’d better get their attention soon.”
“We’ll look perfect? No faults?” Hondo’s grin spread across his whole face. “I am so down with this!”
Brooks rolled her eyes. “Ugh!”
“Hang on,” I said. “Does this mean the twins will give us what we want if we’re wearing these?”
“Not exactly,” Brooks said. “It just means they’ll talk to you. They really have a thing against unbeautiful people. Like I said, they’re jerks.”
Hondo’s grin faded. “These guys sound like they need a good whupping.”
Brooks and Hondo left to change and I stood alone in the sea-blue room, staring at the clothes and wondering, Will they hide my limp? Was I shallow for wishing they would? For wanting to be someone people noticed for something other than what was wrong with me?
I slipped on the clothes, and I had to hand it to Jazz. He had gotten the sizes exactly right. Even the shoes were a perfect fit. The guy was gifted! Which was weird all by itself, given Jazz’s own fashion choices. Now for the tie… How in the heck was I supposed to knot it right?
I went over to a gold-framed full-length mirror in the corner, and when I got there, my heart stopped. Not because of what I saw, but because I suddenly realized I had just walked five feet perfectly. I turned and paced. My short leg moved in perfect rhythm with my other leg.
“Holy crap!” I muttered. I ran to the bed, launched myself onto it, and hopped off. It was amazing! I raced back to the mirror. Maybe it was the encantamiento, but these clothes were seriously cool-looking. Best disguise in the universe.
Disguise…That’s when a crazy idea struck me. I glanced over at the full mug of chocolate on the nightstand. Drink of the gods… Jazz had said the gods couldn’t resist it. I could put Mr. O’s evil chile pepper seed in this stuff and get Ah-Puch to drink it. Once La Muerte did her magic, I’d send him back to Xib’alb’a. It was genius!
I rushed into the bathroom, looking for something to put the chocolate in. But all I found were huge tubes of toothpaste and soaps shaped like shells. Finally, I discovered a cabinet near the sofa with dozens of liquor bottles in it. Behind the tall bottles were a few mini ones. I grabbed one that read jack daniel’s alux blend and emptied it into the bathroom sink. Then I got La Muerte out of my pack. Carefully, I split open the pepper and dropped the seeds into the bottle before pouring the chocolate inside.
“Whoa!” That was Hondo. “Dude, you’re like… seriously sick!”
He startled me so much, I almost dropped the bottle. I stuffed it into my chest coat pocket and spun to face him. I’d never paid any attention to whether Hondo was good-looking or not. I mean, he had plenty of girlfriends, or so he said (they never came to the house). But now he looked like one of those rugged, cool, relaxed guys in the fancy car commercials. He was wearing the same kind of black suit, white shirt, and thin black tie I had on.
I blinked. “You’re taller!”
“I know! Jazz said it’s part of the enchantment—the quality you hate most about yourself is hidden.” He beamed. “And you? Dude, who knew you were so guapo? I mean, it definitely comes from my side of the family, but still.”
With a deep breath, I walked toward him. His eyes bugged out. “Your limp…” he said quietly.
“Gone.”
But I knew that wouldn’t last forever. “We look like those dudes from Men in Black.”
Hondo went to the mirror and adjusted his tie. “Yeah, well, they kicked some serious alien butt!”
The door opened and Jazz came in smiling ear to ear. Brooks was right behind him.
Let me tell you, I’d seen movies, and I’d seen magazines. But never, and I mean never, had I seen someone who looked like her. And I didn’t care what Jazz said—it wasn’t the enchantment, or the fact that she wore her white one-shouldered dress like some kind of Roman goddess, or the way her long dark hair was swept off her face and tied back with two small braids. It was what shone through all that—the Brooks who had showed up outside Father Baumgarten’s office that day with the beat-up combat boots and million-watt smile. The girl who’d risk her own life to save yours.
I stopped breathing.
Hondo walked over to her. “You clean up good, Capitán.”
I thought Brooks’s face would get red or she’d look down shyly, but no, she owned it. She wore her beauty like she was… used to it. Her hawk eyes met mine and I was the one whose cheeks got hot. I was the one who had to look down, because, seriously, looking at her was like trying to gaze at the sun.
I was glad when Hondo spoke up. “Will there be any food at this fiesta?” he asked, patting his stomach. “Because I’m starving!”
“Plenty,” Jazz said, looking at his massive gold watch. “But Sleeping Beauty here put you guys seriously behind schedule. The doors close in, like, thirty minutes. And you’ll never make it in traffic.”
“Can we walk?” I asked, because with my new leg, I felt like I could run a marathon.
Jazz stroked his chin, thinking. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. I’ll show you.”
A minute later we were back in his surf shop. He threaded between a row of bikes and went to a closet where he rolled out what looked like an electric scooter, except this one was built for someone Jazz’s size. I’m talking a massive platform and two wide wheels at the front.
“You want us to ride a scooter to the party?” Brooks asked.
Jazz sucked in a gulp of air like he was offended. “This is not a scooter!” He shook his head and added, “I call it the Super Turbo Jazz. This baby’s a high-powered, heavy-duty package. Equipped with disc brakes and shockers.”
Hondo was nodding and smiling while he traced his hands over the thing like it was some kind of magic. I could tell he couldn’t wait to get it on the road. “Dude, the tires are, like, built for off-roading. Check out the treads.”
“And I’ve messed with the GPS,” Jazz said proudly. “It practically drives itself. But whatever you do, don’t hit the Turbo button.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Last time I tried it, the thing burst into flames.” He rubbed his chin, thinking. “I’m pretty sure I’ve fixed the wiring, but I haven’t tested it yet.”
“Got it,” Brooks said. “No Turbo button. How long will it take to get there?”
Jazz tapped the control panel, then said, “It’s programmed all the way to Beverly Hills. Should take you five minutes, tops.”
Brooks blinked and her mouth fell open. “You think we can go fifteen miles in five minutes in… in this?”
“Like I said”—Jazz beamed—“it’s fast. You can weave right through traffic. Could even jump the curb. Just don’t kill any pedestrians—I don’t need any more tickets. Oh, and that reminds me—it’s sort of an illegal vehicle, so don’t let any cops see you.”
“Guess we’ll have to blaze,” Hondo said a little too excitedly.
A second later we
stood on the boardwalk with the Super Turbo Jazz. A silvery fog was rolling in. The pedestrian traffic was waning, vendors (if you could call them that) were packing up, music was fading. Even the sidewalk art seemed to be vanishing like the last traces of sun.
“So who’s going to take the wheel?” Jazz asked.
“That would be me,” Hondo said.
Brooks and I didn’t argue.
“Sturdiest legs in the rear,” Jazz said. “They’re the anchor. We don’t need anyone flying off this thing.”
“Go on.” Brooks nudged me. “You ride the back.”
Did you catch that? I was the anchor!
Hondo stepped onto the wide platform and pressed a button and the thing vibrated silently. Without an engine I didn’t understand how we were going to blaze, but by now I’d seen how peculiar magic could be.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Jazz said to Brooks. His gray eye softened when he looked at her.
With a sigh, she said, “I got this.”
Jazz said we could leave our things at his place until we came back. And let me tell you, leaving my cane behind? That was the best part.
23
The Super Turbo Jazz went from zero to eighty in like four seconds. The jolt was so sudden I thought I might fly off the back, but I rooted my legs onto the platform, willing them not to let us down. Feeling their strength was incredible. I felt bigger, the sky looked clearer, and the air smelled fresher.
Hondo laughed. “Man, this thing flies.”
He was right. We had to be doing eighty, maybe ninety, barreling down Pacific Avenue, weaving between cars.
“Are you steering?” I shouted over Brooks’s shoulder, hoping Hondo had control of this thing.
He took his hands of the wheel and said, “Look, Ma. No hands.”
“Not funny!” I hollered.
The dark ocean whizzed by. Could Pacific see me? Could Hurakan? I imagined what we must’ve looked like: three overdressed musketeers, flying through the night on an illegal scooter. Car horns blared as we zoomed by. People screamed some choice words, but the Turbo Jazz raced along like it had a mind of its own. And the best part?
The Storm Runner Page 19