by Holly Hook
"What--" Kenna started.
Then she saw.
The cenote, still mostly drained of its water, opened up in the trees ahead of them. The flashlights of the security guards had long left, leaving the place desolate and somehow scarier than it had felt before. The pit looked like a giant drill hole into the earth, leading right into the heart of a black underworld.
"I would fly you to the ocean, but I'm a little short on time," Andrina told her in a bubbly tone. "This will have to do. After all, I have a storm to orchestrate."
She'd reverted to Brenda, her fake identity, the one she had used to trick her into the Yellowstone trip. It stung just as much as the branches slapping at Kenna. Worst of all, it made her feel stupid. Weak.
The cenote spread out below. A real crack of thunder shook the air, and Andrina released her sleeve.
Kenna fell.
Screamed on the way down.
Crashed. Cried out.
Water splashed around her and the sting left her legs, stolen by the numbness. Her feet jarred and sank into inches of gray muck. She sucked in a breath--air--as the world spun overhead.
She was still standing.
Kenna caught her breath and slapped the stray hair away from her face. Yes. Standing. Some of her was still out of the water and able to move, even in the rain. The remaining water in the cenote only came up to her knees.
The sky remained quiet above. Andrina had left already. Kenna felt a nervous laugh bubble up inside of her. The crazy goddess had miscalculated the depth of the water still in the cenote. By just a little, but it didn't matter. It wasn't deep enough to keep her from escaping--was it?
She had better try just in case Andrina came back to make sure that she'd finished the job.
Every shade of brown and gray swirled around Kenna's knees, barely visible in the near-total darkness. How had Huracan slept in this for five hundred years? Even with sacrifices being thrown down at you all the time, this wasn't worth it. Besides, he shouldn't have escaped detection if people had done dives down here and taken out all the treasure. The divers would have noticed a body right under the mud. Something wasn't adding up.
Kenna could think about all that later. First things first.
Her feet were definitely buried in mud, but her hips were still free. She should still be able to move them. Her right leg felt like one of those huge boxes of printer paper she'd had to haul around for her fake parents one time.
But with a grunt, Kenna managed to swing her leg forward, taking her one step closer to the wall that marked the edge of the cenote.
The wall. That.
"Oh."
It towered at least twenty feet over her head, marked with lines that could be used for climbing if she could only lift her foot out of the water and plant it on one of the rocks.
That wasn't going to happen unless she had a miracle.
Kenna needed another idea, and fast. Andrina was probably going after the van again, swooping down on them all over without her there to help. Huracan was still with them, but what if Andrina was right and he was still half-asleep? All he had done was send one blast of wind at her. Andrina was driving a full-blown tropical storm--probably a hurricane by now--towards the Cancun coast. If she didn't get back to her friends, they might waste too much time searching for her. People would die in that storm before they could take care of Andrina. Leslie would be forced to give Janelle her breath and make her a goddess. And then what?
Nothing good, she knew.
If only the water would blast out of here all over again…
Kenna swung her left leg forward, barely keeping her balance as she staggered towards the rock wall. Her pockets were empty. Even her lighter was gone. She had nothing left to give to the Mayan gods, leaving only one thing.
It would have to be her blood after all.
Maybe screaming for help would be better. The security guys still had to be around. One of them would come along and throw her a ladder or something. But could they even hear over this rain? It was coming down so hard now that water had started to pour down the walls of the cenote in dozens of mini waterfalls. Water foamed around the edges, and with a panicked, painful heartbeat, Kenna realized.
The water was rising now, and fast. That left the one option that she didn't like.
Finding something sharp.
A couple of twigs floated past, disintegrating in the water. That wouldn't do. A sharp rock might work. She had to get to the edge.
The water was halfway up her thighs by time Kenna made it to the wall. Running her hand along it only confirmed that most of the rock was smooth and incapable of cutting even a stick of butter. Centuries of moisture had worn it down.
But there.
Something silver floated near the top of the water, riding up and down on the foam.
Janelle's dolphin necklace.
Kenna seized it. Not her taste, but she'd never been happier to see this in her life. The tail was pointy, enough so that if she pressed hard, she could make a cut.
She turned and faced the water, which zoomed in every direction as more of it came down to seal her fate. There was no time to rehearse words. Unless she wanted to wait for the next research dive to come down and discover her standing here, she had better act now.
"Mayan gods," she shouted, holding up the necklace and praying that some of them were still here. "Please get me out of this hole. I offer you some of my blood in return."
Kenna thrust her left hand into the water, numbing it.
Drew it back out.
Looked away as she dug the tail of the Janelle's necklace into her palm as hard as she could.
As much as the cenote had taken the feeling from her skin, it couldn't stop the pain completely. Kenna bit in another scream fighting its way out of her as she dug, trying to ignore the agony cutting through her entire hand.
She grit her teeth and looked down. Red bubbled and pulsed out of her palm as a wave of nausea and dizziness swept through her. Kenna leaned back against the rock as she held her hand out, letting it drip into the water. Don't pass out. Whatever you do, don't--
A low rumble came from somewhere deep under the water as it began to bubble.
Something had heard her plea.
The pain in her hand started to subside as she healed. Kenna took another deep breath and steeled herself for another flight through the air.
A sickly green light shined from the middle of the water as if someone had opened a hatch in the muck. The water stayed level and the circle of glow grew wider, getting closer to where Kenna's feet remained stuck on the bottom of the cenote. She'd never seen such a weird, unearthly color, not even in Andrina's eyes.
Kenna let Janelle's necklace dangle in her hand. At last, she understood.
A gateway.
This was the door to wherever the old gods rested. To someplace not on Earth.
They had opened it earlier that night, but the water had been too deep to notice it. Now nothing could hide the truth.
The deathly shade lit the sides of the pit now, illuminating the water pouring down and turning it into rivers of sludge. Despite her pounding heart, Kenna felt her eyes drooping as if the light itself were stealing the last of her strength.
The Mayan gods were going to grant her request and get her out of the pit…by pulling her through the portal and into a slumber that might never end.
This was why Andrina had dropped her down here.
"No," Kenna managed, fumbling with the necklace again and pressing the tail on her healing wound. It was tender, but she didn't care about the pain anymore. The sickly green glow beneath didn't promise anything good.
A hand seized her ankle from below.
"No!" She dug into her palm again and another red hot flare of pain raked into her hand. "I want to stay here. Just get me out of the water!"
Blood dripped from her hand as she held it out over the water. Kenna looked away, fighting the faintness making the world all spacey around her.
&nbs
p; Everything exploded.
She sailed upwards. Water pounded into her from all sides. Yellow flashed behind her eyelids as she landed a second later, every breath of air knocked out of her lungs. Kenna managed to move her arm a little, pulling it along muddy ground before an even deeper darkness moved in and she remembered no more.
Chapter Eleven
"We should have looked a little harder for Kenna."
"Andrina took her, Janelle. We can't have any idea where she is. What if she dropped her in the ocean? That's something I wouldn't put past her."
"But what if she's someplace close? Andrina might use her as bait to get to me."
Sophia resisted the temptation to cover her ears as Janelle and Gary argued in the seats in front of her. Rain still poured down through the twin holes in the van's roof. Manuel kept swearing in Spanish and jumping at just about every noise as they drove. Leslie was silent and red-eyed as she leaned into Paul. Even Huracan seemed deep in thought as he sat right under the biggest hole in the roof, dry even though it looked like he was practically sitting under a raging garden hose. It was too much.
And worse, Hyrokkin was piping up more now that Kenna was gone, sounding way too happy.
I told you that sacrifice would work. It's not what I would have preferred, but I suppose a god who's been ignored for hundreds of years would appreciate anything.
Probably, Sophia thought. She grumbled under her breath, holding back the urge to let the demon have it.
A massive wind gust punched the van from the side, making a fresh round of swearing rise up from Manuel. At least, Sophia thought it was swearing.
She really, really hoped that her own sacrifice to Huracan was the right thing to do. It might solve all of her problems…or it might backfire badly and add new ones. The storm god hadn't looked at her much since the start of the ride home, which might be good. She didn't want Hyrokkin to know about it until the payment happened. Thankfully, the demon had been gone while she'd made her silent pledge back at the cenote. Sophia had made sure she stood next to Kenna while she did it.
But Hyrokkin was back now, weakened but still there. Sophia had to focus on something else. She turned her attention to the ache inside, the one crying that Kenna wasn't there anymore. They might not be Best Friends Forever, but Kenna had helped save her life back in Flint.
Kenna is not dead. What's the big deal?
If you ever had friends, you'd understand. Oh, and by the way, if it wasn't for Kenna, you wouldn't be here right now. Sophia let out a slow breath and shifted in her seat. Thankfully, the landscape was growing brighter and more lit. Buildings grew closer together. They were almost back in Cancun, which meant this van ride from hell was almost over. That was good, because she wasn't sure if Hyrokkin was going to start acting up again.
But at least she didn't know about her pledge to the storm god.
Come on, Sophia. Do you think I can do much in this tropical heat? I hope Huracan takes care of Andrina soon, because I really want to get back up north.
The hotel's lights shone through a sheet of rain as Manuel pulled up. Janelle made for the van door, hesitated, and slipped Manuel a few more bills. "I'll pay for a new van," she told him on the way out. "I'll also give you extra if you stay and translate for us."
The hotel's lobby was deserted at this time of the morning. It almost seemed as if everyone had left. The soft roar of the rain beating down outside was the only sound as they walked through, two new people in tow. At least Huracan wasn't glowing in the light. They might have a hard time explaining that to the staff. It was hard enough that he was still dressed to the nines for Mayan high society.
* * * * *
Janelle wanted to grab one of the lobby chairs and throw it right through the window.
Kenna was gone, vanished somewhere out in that dark, stormy night. Alone. Helpless in that deluge. Completely at the mercy of the woman who had once betrayed her.
But Janelle held on and froze in the middle of the room, keeping the mask up. It wouldn't be too much longer now that she'd have to keep up this High Leader act. The storm would probably come onshore completely tomorrow. That was when Andrina would come back for her…and when Huracan would have to fight.
A blast of wind rattled the lobby windows. Janelle gripped the back of the chair. The heaviness of everyone's gaze--especially Huracan's--settled on her like the weight of the ocean itself. The roar of the rain pressed down on top of that, making her head pound and threaten to explode with pressure. They couldn't give up now. She couldn't break down. They were too close to ending it once and for all.
"Janelle," Leslie said behind her. "If we overcome Andrina, we can make her give Kenna back."
Janelle wanted to believe her. She imagined the deep, dark bottom of the ocean and shuddered. Kenna could be there now, paralyzed and crushed until the earth's plates sucked her down into fire millions of years from now. Only then would her sentence end, provided she even had any sanity left.
"We shouldn't have been so hard on her," Janelle said, letting her face fall to her open hands. She fought back the sob working its way out of her.
"Janelle!" Gary's voice rose and crossed the line into anger. "In case you didn't notice, I was the one who was a jerk to her. It wasn't you. There's no reason for you to feel bad."
She lifted her face from her hands, facing the room again. Leslie moved in front of her, blocking her view of the turned-off television. Gary stood by her side, the biggest look of loathing she had ever seen on his face. It wasn't at her. She could tell by the way his gaze kept darting to the windows and back. Gary was angry at himself.
He turned away as if hiding it, but it was too late. "I killed people during my transformation. What room I had to talk."
"Oh," Paul said, understanding coming over his features. "Oh, man."
Sophia crammed her hands in her pockets and paced in front of the window. "What room any of us have to talk."
Something hit the building outside with a muffled thump.
"Well," Gary said, his words going from rapids down to a calming stream. "Now that we're done figuring out my psychological issues, we should probably get Mr. Storm God up to the hotel room before someone comes and finds him."
He was right. Somewhere, a vacuum ran.
"Good idea," Manuel added. "Cleaning people."
Janelle sighed. There was nothing they could do about Kenna at the moment. Once tomorrow was through, she would ask Huracan to go retrieve her, as much as she hated the idea of waiting. She wanted more than anything to have Kenna backing them up in the coming battle. Right now, she was probably staring at weird glow-in-the-dark angler fish as the battle in the van swirled through her head.
Kenna would want them to get rid of Andrina first--wouldn't she?
Or she might be angry that she missed her chance to get back.
Idea.
"Sophia," she said as they neared the elevator. "Could you and Hyrokkin go and see if Kenna's still on dry land? You tracked down Huracan that way. Why not her?"
Sophia grimaced for a second, but it was gone in a flash like a dark blob on a movie reel. "I think we can try," she said, turning for the kitchen. "Manuel, is it okay if we--"
"You can go ahead. I'll tell no one."
Sophia disappeared around the corner, taking the same route that she and Janelle had taken the day before to the freezer. This time, they didn't have to worry about the kitchen guy catching them. That was all taken care of.
The god asked something in broken Spanish as Janelle pressed the elevator call button and the door opened. He stared at the waiting elevator and the electric light inside, backing away.
"He's wondering if it's safe to go inside that," Manuel asked, hanging back near the wall and staying far from Huracan.
"We're doomed," Gary muttered.
"No, we're not," Janelle told him, trying to keep her spirits up. "He just doesn't know anything about all this technology yet." Well, she hoped.
A few minutes later, she s
lid her card into the lock of the hotel room. It clicked and came open at her touch. The lights still blazed inside and the television still gave its high whine, barely audible in the room. A different weatherman--a man with a slicked-back haircut that belonged more on a sports guy--pointed out numbers on an orange, round mass on the radar as it spun closer to the coast. If Janelle didn't know any better, she wouldn't have recognized it as the same blob they'd been pointing out earlier. Instead of a disorganized collection of ragged curves, this thing over the Caribbean had pulled together into a buzz saw complete with a perfect, round hole in the center.
A fully-fledged hurricane.
One of the Tempests that Andrina had "liberated."
Even the weatherman's professional look couldn't hide the bewilderment on his face. A hurricane shouldn't happen this early in the year. It shouldn't have appeared in less than a day. None of it made sense. Janelle didn't need to know much more Spanish to realize what he was saying.
"Oh, no," Janelle groaned, thinking only of Mel back in that camper. Her surrogate grandfather, almost. She prayed it wasn't him, begged the universe that it was anyone or anything else. She turned away. "Somebody. Turn that off."
"We can't." Manuel turned up the volume and the weatherman's drone in Spanish entered the hearing world. "They might make us leave. We're on barrier islands."
"We're Tempests, man. We don't have to worry about that. It can't hurt us." Gary let his hands slap on his jeans.
"The hotel people don't know that," Manuel argued.
"What about Outbreakers?" Paul asked. He paled in the light. "Can we be killed by hurricanes?"
"I don't know," Janelle admitted, straightening out her shirt. "Tempests can't be hurt by tornadoes, so maybe it goes both ways. Why don't we ask him?" She turned to face Huracan, the one person in the room who knew the answer.