He should have been grateful for kernels. I had restored his strength with a magical one.
“Zane,” my dad said, “there are millions of stones in this universe. Could you tell us more about it?”
I frowned. “It was about the size of a silver dollar….”
The gods stared at me blankly. Too late, I remembered that the Maya didn’t use coins. They traded in chocolate and other stuff.
“Never mind.” Then I added, “Oh, and it glowed red.”
“Well,” Ah-Puch said, “that narrows it down to half a million.” He handed me the bag of popcorn and wiped his hands together. “Think bigger. These godborns—”
“The twins,” my dad clarified.
Smoke curled off Ah-Puch’s shiny black hair. “I hate that word,” he growled. Yeah, I didn’t blame him. I had bad memories of Jordan and Bird, too. “These godborns,” he said, “they had the stone, which begs the question: Where did they get it? And if you want the answer, you need to ask: Which god’s blood is pumping through their veins?”
Hurakan studied me, waiting for a response.
I stepped back, ready to defend the secret, because who wants to be torn to pieces by the queen of the underworld? ¿Yo? ¡No!
Crap! I could tell by the gods’ granite faces that I wasn’t leaving here without telling them the truth. The whole truth, so help me gods.
“We’re going to find out in a few minutes, whether you tell us or not,” Ah-Puch said.
Just in case I was breaking some godly oath, I finagled a way to keep my promise to Ixtab about not breathing a word. I dragged Fuego’s tip in the sand and spelled out IXTAB.
You could’ve heard a pinto bean drop.
I didn’t think it was even possible for my dad to be stunned, but in that moment, he looked like someone who had just been told that cockroaches can live for weeks without their heads. Which is true, BTW.
And then it was as if the sky opened and the answer came whizzing toward me like a comet. “Do you think she made the stone?” I asked Hurakan. “Like you made the jade jaguar tooth?”
My dad had gifted me the jade, a conduit of pure magic. Its owner could bestow it with any power he wanted…but only by giving it away. I know it was a stretch to assume that the twins’ stone was the same kind of thing, but hey, there’s more than one tooth in a jungle cat’s mouth….
Hurakan and Ah-Puch shared a glance heavy with secrets that the other gods would kill for. And guess what? I was so over it.
“I just risked my life by spilling everything—now it’s your turn. Tell me!”
Hurakan spoke first. “Ix-tub-tun spat the magic jade you used to give Ah-Puch his life back.”
“Ix-tub-tun?” I’d never heard that name.
“She’s a stone-spitting goddess,” Ah-Puch explained.
“And?” I pushed. “You think she spat the stone Adrik had, too?” I can’t believe I actually said that sentence.
Hurakan nodded.
My head was going to explode. I think the top of my hair actually sparked. “If it’s as powerful as the jade, and Zotz and Ixkik’ have it…” My mind reeled. “They could use it to do all sorts of damage.”
“It isn’t as powerful as the jade,” Hurakan said. “Ix-tub-tun can never duplicate a stone.”
And just like that, my big I-figured-it-out moment went up in smoke.
Ah-Puch shrugged. “Flawed design, if you ask me.”
“No one’s asking,” Hurakan said, grabbing a fistful of popcorn from Ah-Puch’s bag. Then he turned back to me. “If the stone is from Ix-tub-tun, Zotz and Ixkik’ hold substantial power, yes, but nothing significant enough to enable them to raise an army of the dead.”
“How do you know?”
“Because no single object has that kind of power.”
“And there’s no resurrection stone or wipe-out-all-your-enemies-in-one-breath stone?” I asked.
My dad laughed. Laughed! I didn’t know whether to be insulted or proud. Ah-Puch gawked at him like he had just morphed into a Keebler elf.
Hurakan said, “If there was, we would know about it.”
I paced the edge of the cliff. “Can’t we just ask Ix-tub-tun?”
“I’m afraid not,” Hurakan said. “She turned herself into stardust and now follows the planet Chak Ek’. Otherwise known as Venus.”
“Gods can do that?”
“Gods can do a lot of unimaginable things.” Ah-Puch’s gaze flew to the jungle below. “But why would anyone choose to be stardust when they could be all-powerful? That’s the universal question.”
I didn’t think I would ever understand the motivations of a god. I mean, one day they can be pure evil, and the next day, your best friend.
A bell rang across the treetops.
“The ceremony’s coming to a close,” Hurakan said. “We need to head over there.” He took me by the shoulders and looked me square in the face. And just for the record, I was almost as tall as him. “Zane, this is for the gods to worry about. Do you understand?”
“But the godborns are the ones in the cross fire, so I say we can be worried!”
“Not anymore,” he said. “You’ll be safe here. More magic surrounds this place than any other in the universe. When I return tomorrow, we’ll have more answers about Zotz, Ixkik’, and this stone, I promise—”
“Come on, Zane,” Ah-Puch put in. “You shouldn’t miss the end of the most boring ceremony of the century.”
I accepted their words, but they did nothing to calm the fire still burning in my blood. A fire that told me that we hadn’t seen the last of the darkness.
We emerged from the trees at the side of a torch-lit ball court, a large T-shaped area with stone amphitheater seating on each side.
I scanned the stands for my friends but only spotted the godborns I’d rounded up, including Marco, Louie, and Serena from the junkyard battle. Those three were sitting together in the front row, about fifteen yards away, like the tres mosqueteros. I almost didn’t recognize Serena, because her previously honey-colored hair was now black. Marco’s chin scar looked even bigger, if that was possible. And Louie? He was chewing on a nail, looking just as nervous as he had the last time I’d seen him.
Was that…?
I swallowed hard. Blinked. Was that the Fire Keeper story in some of the other godborns’ hands?
“Itzamna gave them the second book, too?” I groaned.
“Well,” Ah-Puch said, “you did write it for the godborns, didn’t you?”
“In the event I died!”
“Still a possibility,” he muttered.
My dad shook his head, trying to stay focused on the ceremony.
At the far end, the gods of the council were spread out on an elevated platform against a backdrop of eight-foot-high standing stones called stelae. The stones were carved with the gods’ likenesses, except with more exaggerated noses and ears.
The Sparkstriker was there, too, with her back to us. She stood on a wooden stool next to a table at center court. Her electric pool of lightning fish shimmered nearby. Had she hauled that thing all the way from the Old World? Her hair looked as ratty as ever—maybe even rattier—with the same tiny bells tied to the ends.