“Maybe it’s not literal,” Brooks said.
Brooks seemed different since she’d come back from her dad’s. Don’t get me wrong—she was still feisty and guarded, but she seemed more patient or more grown-up or more something I couldn’t put my finger on.
“What do you mean, ‘not literal’?” I asked.
“What if the centipede is a symbol, like an emblem on a ring, or a picture on a T-shirt or something?”
Brooks had a point. The Fire Keeper was a poet and songwriter, after all. His words could have a million meanings, which only added to my frustration. “Why do you think he sent me the message?” I was thinking out loud. “I mean, why not send it to Hurakan?”
“He likes you more?”
“I’m serious. Hurakan said this mess was for the gods to worry about.”
“But the Fire Keeper said that Zotz and Ixkik’ are way ahead of the gods,” Brooks said. “So maybe he thinks you should handle it.”
“Handle it?” I said, frustrated. “This isn’t some chore like taking out the trash.”
“It kinda is.” Brooks patted me on the shoulder. “Relax. Hurakan and Ah-Puch will be back tonight. I’m sure they discovered all sorts of stuff at their meeting, and by the time they get here, I bet they’re only two steps behind.”
Was that supposed to make me feel better? “How about zero steps behind?” My gut twisted into a triple-knotted rope. I wanted to share Brooks’s confidence, but the fire in my blood doesn’t lie, and at that moment, it was hissing right below my bones.
And in all of the craziness of the last day, I had nearly forgotten one important thing the bat god had said. “Zotz called you a water nawal.” I glanced at Brooks. She kept her gaze on her swiftly moving feet, acting as if I hadn’t asked the question. “He said he hadn’t seen one in over a century. What did he mean?”
We came to an enormous clearing.
Before us stood a bright red temple with multilevel platforms, massive steps that led to a pillared building on top, and corbeled roofing. The exterior walls were decorated with huge sculptures (probs of the gods) and glyph carvings. The temple had a single doorway on the bottom level and butted up against a lush hill blooming with red and yellow flowers.
Rosie sat at the foot of the stairs, licking her front paw like she had been waiting all day.
“Well?” I tried again.
Brooks continued to walk, and just when I thought she was going to clam up, or tell me to mind my own business, she said, “That’s why I can blend in…. You know, camouflage myself.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “What exactly is a water nawal?”
Brooks stopped and turned to me. “It’s just a shape-shifter that can blend in. I found out when I went to see my dad.”
“What did he tell you?” Brooks didn’t exactly have a great relationship with her dad. She’d only gone to see him because he was sick.
“He told me that when I was born, I wasn’t breathing. It was only when they put me in water that I took a breath. I guess water nawals can always breathe in water, except I can’t. Not anymore.”
“Why?”
Her face fell. “My dad didn’t want the gods to know about me, so he kept me away from water, made me afraid of it. He said he knew the day would come when my water nawal spirit would reveal itself and I’d learn the truth, but he wanted to put it off as long as he could.” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“That he didn’t tell you, or that you’re a super-cool water-breathing shape-shifter chameleon?”
“I told you, I can’t breathe in water, Zane. My dad stole that when he kept me away from it for so long.”
How could he just control her future like that? It seemed wrong, even though it was meant to protect her. “I’m really sorry.”
Brooks croaked, “Yeah, me too,” as she headed toward the temple.
Rosie greeted us with a big yawn at the entrance. I didn’t see Hondo or Ren anywhere.
“Are we supposed to wait for the others?” I asked.
Brooks shrugged and fixed her gaze on the symbols carved into the lintel. “‘The words before all words,’” she read aloud.
Trails of smoke curled from Rosie’s nose as I peered into the shadowy doorway. Garbled whispers floated out on a cold draft.
“What are those voices?” I asked.
“Maybe library ghosts?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t go in,” I said. Rosie whined her agreement. For being such a huge, ferocious hellhound, she sometimes still had a scaredy-cat heart. Like me.
“Ghosts can’t hurt you,” Brooks argued.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.” Brooks grabbed my arm and pulled me into the whispering darkness.
Dim lights flicked on overhead, casting shadows against the chipped blue stone walls.
The air smelled like old cigars and dark chocolate. Rosie stalked next to me, sniffing and leaving trails of smoke.
The whispers seemed to lessen with each step we took down the winding hall. A minute later, the space opened into a massive tri-level room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves encased in glass.
The domed ceiling reminded me of a church, except this one’s stained-glass windows were melded with shimmering gold. At the center of the room was a 3-D holographic orb, glowing blue as it spun in midair.
“This is amazing!” I walked past rows of roughly hewn wooden tables to get a better look.
“Kinda gives me the creeps.” Brooks rubbed her arms vigorously. “All these books and pages and…” She paused before adding, “Dead writers.”
“Did you have to put it that way?” I asked, still taking it all in. When I’d gone to regular school, the library was always my favorite place. It smelled good and had too many stories to count. But this library blew the doors off anything I’d ever seen. “It feels like a cathedral for books.” My voice echoed across the chamber.
“Or a mausoleum,” Hondo said as he entered from another doorway, a steaming paper cup in one hand and a small book in the other. He was sporting his regular jeans and a SHIHOM tee embroidered with his name: HORRENDOUS HONDO, STAFF.
Ren was right behind him, cupping what smelled like cocoa. “You guys, there’s a hot chocolate machine back there,” she said. “Actually, it’s an anything chocolate machine. You just tell it what you want, and presto”—she snapped her fingers—“it spits it out. And it’s the best-tasting chocolate you’ve ever had. I bet it’s Ixkakaw’s recipe.”
Hondo bit back a laugh. “You can even try one of your own candy bars, Diablo.”
Rosie licked her chops and whined like just the word chocolate made her crave a snake head or two.
Brooks said, “I could use a chocolate iced donut. Zane?”
I nodded as she called Rosie over and headed out of view.
“Dogs can’t have chocolate!” I shouted.
“She’s a hellhound!” Brooks hollered back. “She can have whatever she wants.”
“And check this out.” Ren pointed to the globe, hurrying over to it. She reached out a finger, and the second she touched it, the glowing blue orb zipped away to a corner of the library.