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“I wouldn’t know,” I said honestly. “I don’t know what the Sparkstriker looks like.”
“And you don’t look like a hero or a god, Obispo.”
With a shrug, I said, “How do you know? Do you know a lot of heroes or gods?”
“If you’re going to be a warrior, you better learn to listen. You got it?”
Then she went silent. Was I supposed to be listening for something? After a minute or so I got bored of her little game and said, “So?”
“So what?”
“Are you the Sparkstriker?” I asked impatiently.
“I’m nobody.”
“Fine, No-body,” I said, emphasizing the last syllables. “Do you know where I can find the—?”
“You’re the hero, Obispo,” she cut in. Her hand went to her mask. “You tell me where the Sparkstriker is.”
This girl was seriously annoying. Slowly, she began to peel the mask back, but before I could see her face, she transformed. Shifted the way Brooks did. But this girl didn’t turn into a hawk. She became a giant eagle with a broad white chest speckled with chocolate spots, golden-flecked brown eyes, razor-sharp talons, and a wingspan of twenty feet. She let out a loud cry, then took off into the night.
“Wait!” I called after her. Why bring me all the way out here just to fly away? I rushed over to the mask she’d dropped, picked it up, and hollered into the dark, “You forgot your mask, Nobody!”
It was a flimsy thing made of thinly woven silk, so plain most people would toss it in the trash. Two bits of screen-like material covered each eye. I looked guiltily around the small glade, feeling like I was doing something wrong, and tried the mask on, praying it wouldn’t melt my face.
Nothing happened. No face-melting. No magic, no superpowers. Nothing cool.
I tugged it off and stuffed it in my back pocket. That’s when I noticed flecks of shimmering cobwebs floating to the ground. I looked up to see a massive tree. My eyes traced the trunk down to thick gnarled roots that snaked through the dark. They led to a giant hole in the ground, where I thought I saw a glint of light.
I went to the edge and dropped to my knees to get a better look. About fifty feet down there was a pool of water surrounded by tall stone walls. Beneath the surface were flashing lights—sudden bolts of energy that made the water ripple and sizzle and steam.
“What the heck?” I muttered in amazement.
Next to the pool was a cave opening where sparks were flying out in bursts. After each flash I heard the sound of metal clashing against metal. My curiosity was definitely piqued, and the thick rope on the ground near my feet looked like an invitation. It was tied around the tree’s trunk. There was a narrow edge around the pool that I could follow to the cave if I could get down there. That was a big if.
I gave the anchored rope a quick tug, testing its strength. My left wrist still burned and ached. Could I descend with the strength of only one arm? What if I fell? It was a long way down, and who knew what was in that glowing water.
My palms were sweating.
“Put on the mask, stupid!”
I looked up to find Nobody the eagle circling the pit.
“I was going to!” I lied as I jerked it free and placed it over my face. What was so great about this mask anyway? It’s not like it did anything. Except make my face feel sticky and hot.
I said a couple of Hail Marys, then, gripping the rope with my good hand and looping it around my wrist for a stronger hold, I belly-scooted down over the ledge until my feet were planted against the stone wall below.
Okay, so far, so good. One inch at a time I made my way down the wall, grasping the rope so tight it burned my palm. My arm muscles screamed. The eagle continued circling above. I could feel little puffs of air every time she flapped her wings. So obnoxious!
“Maybe I’ll catch you if you fall,” she said. “If I’m fast enough. On second thought, you better not fall.”
I tried to ignore her annoying voice as I slowly rappelled down, and a couple minutes later, I made it to the pool’s edge. Gingerly I picked my way toward the mouth of the cave. Light crackled and sizzled under the water. Maybe there were a bunch of electric eels down there.
I headed straight for the cave.
35
First things first: there was a woman in the cave. Second, she was short—as in shorter than my mom. She wore a red robe like Nobody’s and stood on a rickety wooden stool with her back to me. In her hand was a hefty—no, make that huge—stone hammer that she was pounding into something I couldn’t see from where I stood. Sparks flew.
