Rosie snorted, zigzagging between groups of people who couldn’t see her for what she truly was. All they saw was a black three-legged dog.
Brooks turned down a side path, then took a hard left. The street was lined with old-style cars parked in front of flat-roofed houses with short-walled patios. Palm trees and other greenery grew over the peach, gray, and white walls.
“This isn’t the way to Jazz’s shop,” I said.
“He didn’t have the shop as a kid, Zane,” she said, walking faster now.
“Then how do you know where he lives?” Ren asked.
Brooks smiled and pointed at the street sign: BROOKS AVE. “It was the first thing he told me when we met: ‘When I was a kid, I used to live on a street with your name,’” she said, trying to do her best Jazz impression. “Sometimes he would take me here and show me the house he grew up in, just to get me out of the twins’ lair for a little while when I lived there with Quinn.”
“But if we go see him,” Ren said, hop-skipping to keep up, “won’t he remember you in the future?”
Brooks threw a side-glance in Adrik’s direction. “That’s where you come in.”
“You want me to drain a giant’s memory?” Adrik was already shaking his head.
It felt wrong on so many levels, yet I knew Brooks was right. We couldn’t give Jazz a memory of us when he was going to meet us in the future. Who knew what kind of time rule that would break?
Brooks stopped in front of a white house with bright turquoise trim. “This is it,” she said. There was a small round hatchback parked out front and a sign on the gate that read: TRESPASSERS WILL BE EATEN.
Yep, we were in the right place.
With a deep breath, Brooks reached over the gate and unlatched it from the inside.
“Uh,” Adrik said, “maybe we should knock or call first?”
“No time for that,” Brooks said as we all piled onto the little patio, where a dozen potted plants drooped, near death. The sounds of rock music and rolling wheels drew our attention. We followed them to the back of the house, where we ducked behind a hedge. Before us was a huge skateboard ramp in the shape of a giant U.
A blond boy, maybe eleven or twelve years old, glided up the incline and spun in midair before looping back down. His two friends cheered. “That was the baddest!” one shouted.
The other guy shook his head. “My turn!”
The blond kid kicked the end of his board, popping it up into his hand. “We need to put rockets on these things so we can go faster.”
“That’s him,” Brooks whispered with a huge smile.
I did a double take. I’d expected to see Jazz the giant—a huge bald, burly dude with an eye patch and tattoos. But this kid? He had shoulder-length hair, zero eye patch, and looked totally human.
“He’s no giant,” Adrik said.
“He has hair,” Ren said.
“Giants don’t get big until around age thirteen,” Brooks said.
Rosie groaned, drawing Jazz’s attention to the bushes. I threw my hand up to shush her, but it was too late. Jazz tugged something out of his waistband and rushed over. “We got company, guys,” he said to his friends.
And then he zapped me.
I woke up on a lumpy green couch with springs poking my spine and white stars dancing in my vision.
Jazz stood over me along with Brooks and Ren.
“He’s alive,” Jazz said. “That’s good. My laser worked like a pro. I should tweak the output a little, though.”
I sat up, feeling a lot of déjà vu and a little disoriented. “You really didn’t have to zap me.”
“You could have been an ancient sea monster or evil magician,” he said casually.
“Do I look like a monster?”
“So you are a magician!”
“I already told you,” Brooks said. “They’re all magicians.”
Oh boy. Round two. The first time I’d met Jazz, Brooks had tried to pass me off as a magician, since no one knew godborns existed. I only hoped we could pull off the lie better this time.
“Maybe I wanted to hear it from him,” Jazz said to Brooks. “Don’t have a cow.”
Ren sat next to me and offered me some of her Pepsi, which I waved away. “No thanks.”
“You okay?” she said. “You went down fast. Good thing Rosie slowed the fall.”
“Where is she?” I glanced around. I was in some kind of living room with high ceilings, probs to accommodate the giant family members I was super glad weren’t here. The windows were framed by green drapes the same color as the lumpy couch.
“You mean the hellhound?” Jazz said. “Out back, chowing on some hamburger meat. I’ve never heard of a hellhound traveling with magicians and a nawal.”
“Like I told you,” Brooks said, “we’re here on a secret mission to take back something the twins stole from the gods.”
“Yeah,” Jazz said, nodding. “I heard you. And I really don’t want to know. As long as I get paid, and as long as you guys leave before my brothers get home tomorrow, I don’t really care.” He pushed a lock of blond hair off his forehead, and I wondered how much Brooks had agreed to give the guy. “But you’ll never get through the twins’ security,” he said, “even if they aren’t going to be home.”
“But I bet you could get through their security,” Ren said.
“Maybe,” Jazz said. “Probably. I’ve been working on this new—”
“Why aren’t they going to be home?” Brooks perked up.
“Another yacht party.” Jazz yawned. “They have them practically every night. I think Prince is supposed to be performing tonight. Barf. They totally should have gotten Guns N’ Roses. Now that would have been gnarly!”
Why did I have the feeling Hondo would love this kid?
A hot flame sparked inside me at the mention of the party, as I remembered what had happened at the last one I attended: Hondo had been poisoned. I hated that we had to wait until tonight to try our rescue—when the clock was ticking and Hondo was suffering and Marco was probably arguing with the time rope that, to be honest, I didn’t trust to stay put.
“Prince?” Adrik walked in with Rosie just then. “As in Purple Rain, and Diamonds and Pearls? That’s sick!”
“It is kinda sickening,” Jazz said, misinterpreting Adrik. “Diamonds and Pearls? Never heard of it.”
“Right,” Adrik said, letting out a light laugh. “It doesn’t come out until—”
Ren pretend-tripped and spilled her soda all over Adrik’s shirt. Rosie settled onto her belly and groaned.
“Not on the rug!” Jazz hollered as he took off into the kitchen, probably for a towel.
As soon as he was gone, I whispered, “I think the twins might have the gods on the yacht.”
Brooks nodded, keeping her voice low. “It makes sense, since water throws off the gods’ ability to track anyone. And they would still have to hide our gods from the 1980s versions.”
And then it hit me. “The 1980s gods!” I nearly yelped. “We can ask them for help!”
“You guys want some brownies?” Jazz called from the kitchen. “They’re special—made with Maya chocolate. If I were you, I’d definitely want some chocolate before I died.”