by Holly Hook
They didn't have to wait long. Huracan paced back and forth, pausing to look out the window at the flooded resort town and the blasted-out windows. "Xibalba," he said, turning back and walking towards them. He nodded again, his face lighting up with what Paul guessed was an idea.
Then, a smile crept over the god's features. That could be a good thing or a bad thing.
Either way, the word sounded ominous to Paul. If Andrina was taking Leslie towards whatever Xibalba was, then…
"Take us there," Paul said, stepping forward and puffing up his chest. He didn't care that he was making demands to a storm god. Not anymore. He had nothing else to lose. He pointed to himself, them out the window. Why did their translator have to bail out on them? "Xibalba," he repeated, stronger this time.
Behind Huracan, Sophia backed away. Even Janelle hung back.
But Huracan grinned, taking years off his face and turning him into a twenty-year-old guy about to take sweet revenge on one of his old buddies.
Paul didn't like that look at all.
He had no chance to react to it. The storm god pointed to the stairwell and started down them before he could utter another word.
* * * * *
Xibalba. The word sounded familiar, but Janelle couldn't remember where she'd heard it before. It was probably in one of her lessons about Tempest history that her tutors had drilled her through in the past several months. But there had been a lot of lessons, with no way to remember everything.
It brought a shudder down her spine. Whatever it was couldn't be good.
Huracan led the way down the stairs, towards where the water still rose down in the hotel lobby. Janelle's heart started to race with the memory of it forcing its way up her nose, into her eyes, down her throat…she coughed. The landing tilted around her for a moment. She got over the spasm and blinked the tears out of her eyes.
"You okay?" Gary asked. He took her arm with the grip of a dinosaur. Even Sophia leveled a look of concern at her from the next step.
She wasn't used to this. Not having her strength.
Being this afraid of nature's power.
Being this helpless in its face…like a normal person.
"I am," Janelle lied. She wouldn't let being human stop her from going after Andrina, even if it meant they had to go through that water again.
This was what she'd wanted, after all.
What she had wanted since the day she learned the truth.
Huracan waved them down yet another flight. The ocean water lapped lazily at the steps below. Debris and paper floated on top, doing slow dances with wood splinters and twigs. A chair from the lobby bobbed against the wall. The water had stopped rushing in, but it wasn't going down, either.
"Now how are we supposed to go through that?" Sophia asked. She held onto the railing like she was going to fall and slip in any second.
Janelle let out a breath. She could swim, at least. If the water wasn't moving, they might have a chance.
But it was so flooded out there, she couldn't tell the land from the ocean…
"Sophia has a good question," Janelle said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. "I can't tell how deep that water is."
"Well, we can't just stand here." Paul took a step down into the muck.
Huracan stepped forward, grabbed Paul's sleeve, and dragged him back up the stairs. Paul grunted and fall down to his butt, his shoes dripping with ocean. The god said something in Mayan, blocking out Paul's protests.
"Hey," Gary said. "What do you think you're--"
But his words bounced right off the god's back. His headdress brushed the ceiling and he stared down at the flood, ignoring everything in the world except for it.
The water made a sucking sound.
Then started to move.
The stairs appeared underneath, sopping wet and guaranteed to have mold in the next week. Twigs fell into the canyon of air as the ocean split in front of Huracan, revealing the floor of the lobby…the reception desk…the doorway where glass had once shielded the hotel from the outside.
The storm god was parting the ocean itself for them.
"Holy--" Gary started, slack-jawed.
Janelle joined him. "I guess that'll work."
* * * * *
It was terrifying and fascinating at the same time, running through the canyon that Huracan had cleaved out in the flooding for them all.
He ran in the lead, the feathers in his headdress staying upright in the storm. The water kept making its slurping noise as it parted for its master. Janelle ran through puddles, splashed across dark, wet pavement, and jumped over driftwood and fishing nets that had come in with the storm surge. Twin walls of water hung on either side of her, towering over her head and threatening to crash back in at any second. None of the Tempests could have done this, at least, not for this long.
"If only I'd practiced my skills more," Gary puffed out, running alongside her. "Then I could have done this for us."
"You couldn't have. Not for more than a few seconds." She had to keep talking, to keep her mind off the walls and the water crashing back together behind them. Janelle wouldn't look at that. She refused and leapt over a piece of lumber. If she tripped--
"Sure, I could have."
Janelle dared a look at the sky. "Okay. Whatever you say."
"How long are we going to run for?" Paul asked. "Where does he think he's taking us? We can't walk all the way back to Chichen Itza."
"He can't fly and carry all four of us," Sophia panted, picking up her pace and running ahead of Janelle. "Unless he carries me and Paul with both of his arms and Gary sits on his back. And Janelle, you’d have to sit on Gary's lap."
She was right. Flying was out of the question, even without Kenna.
That meant Andrina had the advantage here.
Janelle should suggest that two of them stay behind, but she knew how that would go. Gary would demand that only he and Paul go, and Huracan wouldn't understand her request, anyway. She couldn't stay behind here, not with her best friend in that monster's clutches. Leslie was gone because Janelle hadn't stepped out of that freezer when Andrina had confronted her…near tears?
She couldn't have been.
Andrina didn't love her any more than a dictator loved the soldiers he sent into war.
Huracan plugged ahead. The watery walls grew lower on either side of Janelle. Her feet met road and she pounded along, uphill now towards trees and rooftops that grew closer together. The mainland.
Janelle's head cleared the water, which spread out around them. Whitecaps slapped at street signs and bounced off of buildings. A stop sign whipped side to side like a crazy weather vane, and yet no wind ruffled her hair. Huracan had them encased inside some kind of bubble that held the storm out.
And then they were out, running past the new shoreline and up onto the street. Water lapped at the ground, falling back on itself as their path behind them closed. Janelle turned.
It seemed that all of Cancun had turned into windowed islands. Their hotel towered over it far, far away, just a rectangular toy under siege by the ocean. The water left no trace of the path the storm god had made through it, except for a small wake feet away. It disappeared and merged into the waves.
They had walked through all of that. On foot.
"Janelle," Gary said, grabbing her arm.
She jumped. He stood there, the trees whipping around in silence behind him. Wow, Huracan had blocked all of it out so well. Outside their little safe zone, the apocalypse was under way.
"What now?"
Gary nodded down the street, to where an SUV sat parked out in the open. Two dark figures inside remained completely still, transfixed by the sight that must have materialized in front of them. Windshield wipers swung back and forth. A dashboard camera huddled on the other side of the windshield, blinking red as it pointed right at the coast.
Huracan narrowed his eyes, glanced at Janelle and back to the SUV.
"Storm chasers," she said, sw
allowing. "They were here to watch the surge come in. They're filming it right now."
She waited for Gary to come up with some snide remark, like how they were going to be exposed to the world. Instead, he exchanged a glance with Huracan.
Both of them smiled.
Janelle sighed. "Okay. What are you up to?"
"Universal language," Gary said. "We'd better destroy that camera, because we're about to commit grand theft auto."
Chapter Eighteen
If there was anyone Leslie felt sorrier for than herself in this situation, it was Kenna.
It was bad enough flying through a full-blown hurricane with the cold rain beating every inch of her body and only one angry goddess's hand keeping her from falling to the ground far below. Mats of trees waved like tall grass in the wind. Sheets of rain parted in front of them. An awful roar sounded in her ears as the sky forced its way into her eyes and sucked the air from her lungs. She'd flown before, out of her body during her first Outbreak, but it was nothing compared to the rawness of this.
Kenna kept her eyes squeezed shut inches from her. Her lips moved with words that nobody could hear. Andrina's hand kept one firm grip on the back of Kenna's shirt, making it dig into her throat. It was amazing that she hadn't passed out yet.
It might be better that way. There had to be nothing worse for Kenna than flying hundreds of feet in the air through walls of water and wind. But she seemed to be standing up to it pretty well. She even reached up and tugged at the cuff of her shirt, a feat considering the amount of water bashing her at every second.
The trees grew thicker below and a gray river wormed its way through the forest with whitecap spines. Chichen Itza wouldn't be long.
Leslie tried to turn her head to at least get her face out of the wind, but it was impossible. She might as well be sitting in the cockpit of an airplane without the windshield to protect her. Her shirt cut into her armpits from Andrina holding onto it. A shoe fell off her foot, taking a wild spin back to the earth.
If Andrina made any taunts or otherwise said anything, it was lost in the storm.
Leslie wanted this flight to end, even if it meant a trip to the Mayan underworld or whatever it was called.
Now.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours, maybe days. Leslie's skin ached, then grew numb in the onslaught of water. She'd never imagined that hurricane rain would be so cold. She'd always imagined it warm, tropical, even. Not like the hands of Death.
The foliage cleared and the familiar stepped pyramid rose from the trees ahead, and Leslie didn't want to land anymore.
If Janelle and Paul and the others figured out where Andrina was taking them, this was where it was all going to go down.
Collide.
Explode.
End.
They descended. The trees turned from a mat to heads of broccoli. Decapitated heads, Leslie thought. Like hers and Kenna's would be when Andrina figured that that Janelle wasn't in the Mayan underworld.
Trees turned to branches. They slapped at Leslie's feet like whips, making fire lash across the skin of her bare one. She bit in her scream. Next to her, Kenna did the same. No way would Andrina have the satisfaction of hearing it.
The pyramid zoomed past below. The land turned to forest again and cleared to reveal a circular pit that, even though it had been nearly empty last night, had completely refilled.
The cenote.
Andrina swooped down. The ground rose so fast that it threatened to smash them.
Leslie curled up her legs. Next to her, Kenna covered her face in her hands.
The impact sent a shock wave through Leslie's bones. A cry escaped her. The rib she had bruised two weeks ago screamed in agony. She rolled on the wet ground. The world tilted around her and grass slapped at her face until at last she came to a stop, staring into the turbulent sky.
Leslie grabbed at the space above her stomach. It pounded inside with the crack that hadn't yet healed completely. The pain grew from yellow to red, then slowly faded down to electric orange in the cold rain.
Her rib…
It was all she could think about.
"If you value your life, Leslie, I suggest you stay here and don't move," Andrina said, appearing over her. She stared down, her gaze beating into Leslie along with the rain. "Oh, I forgot." Her voice smoothed out into its fake sugar. "You can't move if I will it. That's an important detail. When I pull Janelle out, you also won't have a choice but to give her your breath when I say so."
Leslie turned her head to face grass and mud. The edge of the cenote dipped into the earth feet away. The rope fence surrounding it drooped with the moisture and the wind that whipped the trees back and forth.
Kenna lay on her stomach nearby. One wide brown eye faced her, unreadable. She mouthed one word at Leslie, casting a glance up at the storm goddess looming above.
Stall.
It couldn't be anything else. They had to wait for Huracan to get here.
Leslie had to do what she excelled at now.
Talk.
"Kenna," she managed. Speaking hurt her chest. "Why did you betray Janelle like that?"
Not the best thing to say, but she had to go with the act.
"You heard me back at the hotel," Kenna said. Her voice sounded stronger than she expected, like the water hadn't affected her that much. Was she getting more resistant to it? If she was, it wasn't showing. Kenna lay there like a beached whale, only much skinnier.
"You're better than that."
"Better than what?" Kenna's eyes rolled up, trying to get a view of where Andrina might be standing.
The high heels stood just on the edge of Leslie's vision. She couldn't so much as turn her head. The storm goddess's power had come down on her like a mountain, holding her on the ground. If Andrina willed that Leslie stopped breathing, she would probably do so.
"Oh, knock it off with the talk," Andrina said. "It's time to get started. I'm sure the old gods in Xibalba will be happy for some new blood, so to speak. I'm sure they'll gladly exchange a Tempest for a young volcano goddess. Not, of course, do they know what they're going to be missing."
The storm around them intensified and Andrina leaned down.
Grabbed the back of Kenna's shirt.
Pulled her up.
It happened quickly, but not fast enough for Leslie to miss the growing terror in Kenna's eyes. Whatever she had seen on the bottom of that cenote had shaken her up.
Andrina dragged the other girl closer to where the pit dropped into the earth. A tree fell behind them. Water bobbed and tumbled around in the pit. Rain beat down like tiny fists, forming curtains over the giant hole as if the gods were already preparing to open the gate. Kenna made no sound, or if she did, it was drowned out by the roaring wind.
“Janelle's not in that Xibalba place!” Leslie shouted.
Andrina stopped. Both she and Kenna turned their heads to face her. Andrina's eyes narrowed. Kenna stared, raising her hands to try to unhook Andrina's grip. She neither nodded nor shook her head.
Leslie didn't care if they were ruining the plan now. Time was up. Kenna was going to go into that underworld with or without the others.
And then when Janelle didn't appear...
“And why should I believe that?” A gust of wind slammed into the trees behind Andrina, bending them to near the point of breakage. Leslie cringed even though none of it could hit her.
She felt the words wither in her mouth. Sacrificing Kenna was something she could never live with. At last she could speak. “Janelle's still on Earth. If you let Kenna go, I'll give her my breath when she gets here.”
Andrina turned with Kenna in tow, making her drag her feet in the mud. “You're lying, Leslie. I can tell. I have no reason to believe you won't try to back out when I save Janelle.”
She was right about one thing.
Leslie was lying.
She hoped.
* * * * *
Nobody complained when Janelle hit the accelerator and hydroplaned on th
e road. Only silence reigned on the inside of the SUV. That, and the electric feeling from the storm god in the backseat.
Maybe he was getting ready to do something really useful. Like throw Andrina into Xibalba and end all of this Tempest madness. Of course, he'd gotten them out of the hotel and thrown out the storm chasers on the side of the road, so that counted for something.
The windshield wipers cut back and forth. The world beyond the glass was a gray blur running down. Janelle was back where it began, on that terrifying day her father had refused to evacuate their new house in Florida. Back before Gary blew into her life and she entered another world, a world she no longer belonged in. She had returned that beginning and come full circle. The Tempest nightmare was over for her at least. Never again would she look in the mirror and see those storm-gray eyes staring back at her.
But why did a lump form in her throat?
Why did she want to cry?
This was what she'd dreamed of.
A gust of wind slammed into the SUV like the hand of a giant. Janelle tensed, her heart leaping. With a turn of the wheel, she managed to keep the vehicle on the road. Her father would have been proud. Where was he now?
"Huracan," she said, distracting her thoughts. She looked back at the god, who sat with his hands folded in the very back. Sophia and Paul both joined her in looking at him. Janelle nodded to the weather outside for dramatic effect. Could you do something about this?
He shook his head. No. Not going to happen.
Janelle sighed and returned her gaze to the smudgy road. Before Manuel left them, Huracan said something about not being able to stop the storm with Andrina nearby.
He had better not be lying.
* * * * *
Kenna held down vomit.
This hadn't been a good idea.
The water of the cenote frothed, lurching back and forth. She dragged her feet in the mud, but it only served to slow down the horror, to prolong her agony. She'd go in there in less than a minute, and there was nothing she could do with the rain beating down and Andrina gripping the back of her shirt like this. The flight had already drained the strength from her limbs and sucked away her will to fight back. Leslie lay nearby, still on the ground, unable to move so long as Andrina willed it. The power of this place penetrated every cell of Kenna's body with its black pulses, pulling her closer to an eternity of sleep at best or an endless time of suffering at worst. She could almost see the hands of the old gods reaching from the depths of the pit, ready to take her and pull her under.