The Storm Runner

by J. C. Cervantes

  A few minutes later I was sitting under the palm-covered porch, eating flautas (heavy on the salsa) with Mom and Hondo. I filled them in about everything that had gone down with Ah-Puch and Ixtab. Hondo told me that he and Jazz and Brooks had been sent from the Old World back to Venice Beach. Apparently Jazz had sold his shop there so he could open a new company, AGE: Advanced Giant Engineering. And Brooks was with him, wherever he was. The good news was that once the gods read what I had to say (and hopefully they’re slow readers), they might give Jazz a pass, since he was in the dark for so long. But Brooks? No chance. She had aided and abetted a wanted criminal. For sure, they wouldn’t forgive that. Which meant she would always be in danger.

  “And Quinn?” I asked.

  “You mean the gorgeous sister who nailed Ixtab with a bolt?” Hondo asked with a wide grin.

  “Okay…”

  “Haven’t seen her. Not since we got back to Venice.”

  Mom reached over and grabbed my hand. “We have so much to talk about.”

  Yeah. Like Dad. But there was plenty of time to catch up about him. And everything else.

  I grabbed another flauta and set it on my plate. “I, um… I’m sorry I dragged you guys into this.”

  “This?” Hondo looked around. “Yeah, it’s a real hellhole.”

  “But… what will you guys do for work? Like, I know how much you loved New Mexico, Mom, and now it’s all gone.”

  “I can learn to love anyplace as long as we’re together.” Mom let out a light laugh. “This beautiful house is a gift from Ixtab, and Hondo and I have decided to open a bike and surf shop. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

  “Like Jazz’s?”

  “With a few tweaks.” Hondo crossed his arms and leaned back. “I’m going to offer wrestling lessons for tourists’ kids. Total Nacho Libre! And you’re going to love the island. Population sixteen hundred, and twenty-six miles of white beaches.” Then his face fell. “There’s only one downside.”

  “Too many people?” I teased.

  “No cars allowed. Only golf carts,” he said. “You know how slow a golf cart is?” He shook his head. “It’s tragic.”

  Familiar footsteps sounded and when I turned, you wouldn’t believe who I saw waltzing through the house. Mr. O and Ms. Cab! Thankfully, she was in human form again.

  Mr. O grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug. “Héroe.”

  “Everyone was a hero,” I said, turning to Ms. Cab.

  Ms. Cab lifted her chin. “You’re lucky all the seers went back to normal, because if I had to be a chicken one more day…”

  “Good to see you, too,” I said, with a pang of guilt, as I realized that her cover would soon be blown as well.

  Ms. Cab reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a handful of… birdseed? She tossed some into her mouth. I figured my own mouth must’ve been hanging wide open, because she shrugged and said, “An acquired taste.”

  Mom stifled a laugh and Hondo made a disgusted face.

  “Mr. Ortiz took wonderful care of us while you were away,” Mom said.

  Ms. Cab sighed. “I suppose. Old fool followed me here just because I told him I’d have dinner with him.”

  Mr. O’s face lit up when he looked at Ms. Cab. Any guy who could still love someone who’d been a cranky chicken and ate birdseed out of her pocket was a champ in my book.

  “I couldn’t let you get away, amor,” he said, to which she huffed. “We will be very happy on this isla.”

  “In separate huts!” Ms. Cab reminded him.

  Turning to me, he raised his bushy brows and asked, “And La Muerte? Did she work?”

  I recalled the pepper’s effect on Jordan. “Definitely took out a bad guy,” I said.

  Mr. O beamed while Ms. Cab popped more birdseed into her mouth and mumbled, “Idiots.”

  I laughed. It was her way of saying she cared about us.

  “And one more thing, Zane,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You owe me an eyeball.”

  After everyone went inside, I headed down to the beach. Rosie raced after me, yelping and jumping in the waves. Being in Xib’alb’a hadn’t really changed her. Sure, she looked different on the outside, but inside she was still the dog I had rescued. And now she had rescued me.

  The sun was melting into the water and everything had an orange glow. If I had to hole up somewhere, this seemed like a pretty good place. But shadow magic or no shadow magic, I knew I wouldn’t stay here forever.

  Laughter spilled out of the house. I sat on the sand and stared at my legs. My shorter one was a clue about where I’d come from and what I could do. I mean, if I hadn’t had a limp, the Sparkstriker would never have been able to find my dominant power.

  I laid back and closed my eyes as Rosie settled next to me. “Tomorrow,” I said, “we can hike the Beast again.”

  Rosie whined.

  Then I felt something blocking the sun. I opened my eyes to see a hawk circling overhead. “Brooks!” I shouted, bolting upright.

  She landed nearby, kicking up some sand. Which I totally thought she did on purpose. Like I said, she can be annoying.

  Rosie barreled into her as Brooks shifted back into a human. What, were they like BFFs now? Brooks fell back laughing as she rubbed Rosie’s ears. “Hey, girl.”

  I got to my feet, pulled Brooks up, and squeezed her in a bear hug. Man, she smelled good. Like coconut oil and fresh towels.

  “Okay,” she said, pushing me back. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Wha… what are you doing here?” I was so excited, I had a hard time standing there without hugging her again. “Hondo said you were with Jazz, and he didn’t know where—”

  She rolled her eyes. “Get real, Zane. You think I wasn’t going to get the whole story from you? Besides, I’m a fugitive now.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and straightened her short black jacket. “So give it up. All of it. And don’t leave out any details. Start with you killing Ah-Puch. Oh, and don’t leave out waking up in the cell and the story you had to write for those evil gods.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I have friends in low places,” she teased. She meant Ixtab.

  We plopped onto the beach and I spilled all the details. Brooks listened intently, tracing her fingers through the sand, nodding every few minutes like she could see the images my words painted.

  “I wish I could’ve lied,” I said. “To protect people from the gods’ wrath.”

  She shoulder-bumped me. “So when do I get to read this tell-all?”

  My throat tightened. Brooks? Read it? How about never?

  “What about Quinn?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

  “Her cover was blown when she took your side. She couldn’t go back to Xib’alb’a, so she’s in a protection program until she can be reactivated. She’s fine with it—she didn’t like being with all those dead people anyway.”

  Rosie’s eyes shot flames at the word dead.

  “Meat!” I yelled. “I mean, steak!”

  My dog settled back down, licking her chops. I was definitely going to have to come up with a better command or she might barbecue anyone in her path.

  “You and Rosie are a perfect flame-throwing pair,” Brooks said as she stroked Rosie’s neck.

  I laughed.

  “So what now?” Her amber eyes glittered in the setting sun.

  I took the jade from my pocket. “You’re not going to like it.”

  “But you’re going to tell me anyway.”

  “I have to bust my dad out of prison.”

  “Another prison break? Ugh!” She got to her feet. “Ixtab will kill you for breaking your promise….And the gods will have your head on a spike if they find out you’re alive.”

  “I don’t have a choice. He risked everything for me. No way am I going to let him rot in some speck of dirt somewhere.”

  Brooks stared out at the ocean with a deep scowl. “I say
we lay low for a while.”

  “What if it were Quinn?”

  She threw me a glare. “I’d storm the castle.”

  “Then I guess I’ll storm the castle.”

  “You really are a pain, you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Fine.” Brooks lifted her chin. “But you so owe me!”

  “It could be dangerous.”

  With half a smile, she said, “I was built for danger.”

  “You’re going to have to learn to swim,” I told her as the waves crashed to the shore.

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Pulling her knees into her chest, she shook her head. “Not doing it, Zane.”

  Rosie ran into the water like she was demonstrating that it was safe to go in.

  Brooks grabbed my hand. I’m glad you didn’t die.

  Me too.

  If you ever leave me behind again, I’ll kill you.

  I stood and backed into the water slowly. “You’d have to catch me first. And in case you forgot, I’m a godborn.”

  With a sigh, she shrugged. “In case you forgot, I can fly.”

  Grinning, I launched myself into an oncoming wave. When I came up for air, I shook the water from my hair and looked toward the shore. Brooks was gone. She’d shifted into a hawk and was soaring over the sea, wings spread wide, their tips glistening in the sunlight. There was still so much I had to tell her, but it could wait. I watched her fly, thinking she was meant to be a hawk. And I was meant to be a godborn. Like Mr. O had said, destiny comes knocking, and if you don’t open the door, she will come in through the window.

  That’s important, because if you’re reading this, you have a bigger destiny than you ever knew.

  Remember when Ixtab said all the other godborns died? I’m not so sure I believe her. Why would I be the only one left?

  And if there’s even a tiny chance you’re out there, I need to know.

  If you can read this, you’ve got magic in your blood. Only another godborn would be able to see the words on these last few pages. Which is why I took the risk to write down the whole truth. I was hoping to find you. Hoping I could trust you with the secret.

  If you wait long enough, your destiny will come knocking. Take it from me—someday, when you least expect it, the magic will call to you.

  El FIN

  GLOSSARY

  Dear Reader:

  This glossary is meant to provide some context for Zane’s story. It in no way represents the many Maya mythologies, cultures, languages, pronunciations, and geographies. That would take an entire library. Instead, this offers a snapshot of how I understand the myths and terms, and what I learned during my research for this book. Simply put, myths are stories handed down from one generation to the next. While growing up near the Tijuana border, I was fascinated by the Maya (as well as the Aztec) mythologies, and I was absolutely sure that my ancestors were related to the gods. Each time I’ve visited the Maya pyramids in the Yucatán, I’ve listened for whispers in the breeze (and I just might’ve heard them). My grandmother used to speak of spirits, brujos, gods, and the magic of ancient civilizations, further igniting my curiosity for and love of myth and magic. I hope this is the beginning (or continuation) of your own curiosity and journey.

  Ah-Puch (ah-POOCH) god of death, darkness, and destruction. Sometimes he’s called the Stinking One or Flatulent One (Oy!). He is often depicted as a skeleton wearing a collar of dangling eyeballs from those he’s killed. No wonder he doesn’t have any friends.

  Alom (ah-LOME) god of the sky

  alux (ah-LOOSH) a knee-high dwarf-like creature molded out of clay or stone for a specific purpose. The creator of an alux must provide offerings to it. Otherwise it might get mad and take revenge on its owner. Sounds kind of risky, if you ask me.

  Bakab (bah-KAHB) four divine brothers who hold up the corners of the world, and all without complaining about having tired arms

  Ceiba Tree (SAY-bah) the World Tree or Tree of Life. Its roots begin in the underworld, grow up through the earth, and continue into paradise.

  Hurakan (hoor-ah-KAHN) god of wind, storm, and fire. Also known as Heart of the Sky and One Leg. Hurakan is one of the gods who helped create humans four different times. Some believe he is responsible for giving humans the gift of fire.

  Itzam-yée’ (eet-sahm-YEE) a bird deity that sits atop the World Tree and can see all three planes: the underworld, earth, and paradise. Imagine the stories he could tell.

  Ixkakaw (eesh-ka-KOW) goddess of the cacao tree and chocolate

  Ixkik’ (sh-KEEK) mother of the hero twins, Jun’ajpu’ and Xb’alamkej; also known as the Blood Moon goddess and Blood Maiden. She is the daughter of one of the lords of the underworld.

  Ixtab (eesh-TAHB) goddess (and often caretaker) of people who were sacrificed or died a violent death

  Jun’ajpu’ (HOON-ah-POO) one of the hero twins; his brother is Xb’alamkej. These brothers were the second generation of hero twins. They were raised by their mother (Ixkik’) and grandmother. They were really good ballplayers, and one day they played so loudly, the lords of the underworld got annoyed and asked them to come down to Xib’alb’a for a visit (no thanks!). They accepted the invitation and had to face a series of tests and trials. Luckily for them, they were clever and passed each test, eventually avenging their father and uncle, whom the lords of the underworld had killed.

  Jun Jun’ajpu’ (HOON hoon-ah-POO) father of the hero twins, but nothing more than a severed head

  K’ukumatz (koo-koo-MATS) (also known as Kukuulkaan) one of the creator gods. He is said to have come from the sea to teach humans his knowledge. Then he went back to the ocean, promising to return one day. As Kukuulkaan, he is known as the Feathered Serpent. According to legend, he slithers down the steps of the great pyramid El Castillo at Chichen Itza in Yucatán, Mexico, on the spring and autumn equinoxes; festivals are held in his honor there to this day. El Castillo is definitely a cool—but also hair-raising and bone-chilling—place to visit.

  Kukuulkaan (koo-kool-KAHN) see K’ukumatz

  Ma’alob áak’ab’ (MA-ah-lobe AAH-kab) a Mayan good evening greeting

  Muwan (moo-AHN) a screech owl that Ah-Puch used to send messages from the underworld (Good thing she couldn’t text!)

  Nakon (nah-CONE) god of war

  nawal (nah-WAHL) a human with the ability to change into an animal, sometimes called a shape-shifter

  nik’ wachinel (nikh watch-een-EL) a Maya seer, a diviner who can forecast the future

  puksí’ikal (pook-SEEK-ahl) Mayan word for heart

  Saqik’oxol (sock-ee-kh-oh-SHOLE) the White Sparkstriker; a being that lives in the woods, wears a red mask, and dresses entirely in red. The Sparkstriker pounded lightning into the first daykeepers (diviners).

  Sipakna (see-pahk-NAH) an arrogant giant who was killed by the second generation of hero twins when they dropped a mountain on him

  Xb’alamkej (sh-bah-lam-KEH) one of the hero twins; see Jun’ajpu’

  Xib’alb’a (shee-bahl-BAH) the Maya underworld, a land of darkness and fear where the soul has to travel before reaching paradise. If the soul fails, it must stay in the underworld and hang out with demons. Yikes!

  Yant’o Triad (yahn-TOE) three evil deities who happen to be brothers: Yant’o, Usukun (ooh-soo-KOON), and Uyitzin (ooh-yee-TSEEN). Also referred to as Good, Bad, and Indifferent, they love nothing more than to see human suffering. Hmm… where’s the good in that?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I can’t begin to express my gratitude for all the hands and hearts that played a role in bringing Zane’s story to life. I’m so grateful to Rick Riordan and Disney Hyperion for not only honoring diverse voices, but for building the stage from which to share our stories. (PS: Rick, you’re also a keenly aware reader/editor! You’d make Athena proud.) And speaking of editors: I hit the lottery with Stephanie Lurie. You took a leap into the volcano with me, trusting that I knew my way out. Your tremendous brainpower, gener
osity, sense of humor, and gift of chocolate made the trip all the better.

  My deepest appreciation to my fierce agent, Holly Root, who sent me a perfectly timed e-mail one day that unearthed Zane’s story. Your Ixtab-worthy tenacity, confidence, and wit were the waves that carried me to shore.

  Thank you to both Catherine Rhodes at the University of New Mexico’s Department of Anthropology, and Judith M. Maxwell, Ixq’anil, the Louise Rebecca Schawe and Williedell Schawe Professor of Linguistics and Anthropology at Tulane University, for your linguistic expertise. And to Erin Jerry—thank you for reading Zane’s story through the lens of a special-education scholar and advocate. A bouquet of thank-yous to Julie Romeis. Your thoughtful guidance made all the difference in getting this writer over the hump.

  For my dear friend, and fellow bruja, Aida Lopez. Thank you for always seeing beyond the horizon and journeying with me to the shaman’s house. And for Lucia DiStefano, a beyond brilliant writer and reader, thank you for being “swoonishly in love” with this story. Your text came at the exact right moment.

  A nod of solidarity to the legendary Rocky Balboa (yep, the boxer), whose story inspired a young girl and a stubborn heart.

  I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the generations of women in my family both past and present. You gave me the fire and the bones.

  Thanks to my wonderful parents, who read the earliest versions of this book when it was still a baby manuscript and loved it anyway. Mom: they are real. Dad: I hope your “Maya roots” text comes true.

  And of course, to my familia: I know living with a writer can be maddening, especially a writer on deadline. Your love and support are my sustenance and strength. For my husband, Joseph, thanks for buying a ticket into my world and loving my crazy imagination. For my amazing daughters: Alex, your streetwise insights, excessive exclamation points when I got it wrong (they really were excessive), and music expertise brightened Zane’s long journey. (PS: The cape looks good on you.) Bella, your infectious humor and daily snaps recharged my batteries. And of course, the unexpected SO GOOD text that told me I’d really aimed right. Julie Bear, my partner in all things magic. You get it. You always have. Even if you didn’t like the soggy bread.