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She just stared at me with those golden eyes like she was waiting for me to do something. But I was too shocked to do anything but stand there frozen in place. I’d seen plenty of hawks soaring over the desert, but never one that looked like Brooks. She had a hooked upper beak, chocolate-brown wings with white speckles, and her chest was a light tan color. But it was the black around her eyes that set her apart and made her look sort of mythical—in addition to the fact that she was also muy grande.
“I think Rosie’s done being crazy,” I said, hoping Brooks wasn’t going to stay a hawk, because that would seriously stink.
The air around her shimmered like before—gold and green and blue—and right before my eyes, she shifted back to human form.
My heart pretty much stopped.
“What the…? Who are you?”
She remained sitting on the tree branch and sighed. “I’m a nawal.”
“A na-what?”
Rosie whined again and nuzzled my leg. I patted her head.
“There are lots of words for what I am, but basically? I’m a shape-shifter.” Brooks pronounced shape-shifter in a tongue-twisted way that made me think she wasn’t used to saying the word.
I knew what a shape-shifter was from my Maya mythology book: a human that could change into an animal. In some parts of Mexico, they were called brujos, and some people even thought they were thieves who drank human blood. Great! Nice to meet you!
But reading about a shape-shifter is totally different from seeing one in person. Or in animal.
“You, er… you don’t drink blood, do you?” I had to be sure.
Just then, Hondo threw open the back screen door. “Why was Rosie making all that racket?”
“Uh—no reason. We were just playing.”
Hondo scratched at his stubbly chin and smiled. “The Strangler won, kid. We should’ve bet on him. Best headlock I ever seen. You want me to demonstrate on you?”
Oh God, not in front of Brooks.
“I think I might be getting sick,” I lied. “Maybe later.” He looked disappointed, either that he wasn’t going to get to drop me or I wasn’t sharing his excitement, so I added, “Strangler’s the best!”
Hondo’s eyes were on the dark line of the horizon and thankfully not on Brooks, who was still hanging out in the tree. The last bit of sunlight was fading from the sky. “Yeah,” he muttered. “The best.” He shrugged and said, “I gotta get to the old salt mine. See ya.” Then he went inside, slamming the door behind him.
I turned back to the tree. Now Brooks was walking along the rickety branch like there wasn’t twenty feet of air between her and the skull-crushing ground. “Can you not do that?” I really didn’t want her to splat all over my backyard.
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I don’t drink blood, and whoever told you that is an idiot.”
“No one told me,” I said. “It’s in a book.”
“Then whoever wrote it is an idiot.”
“Except that in the last two days, two mythical creatures from that idiot book have appeared.”
She sighed. “Never mind. So who’s the Strangler?”
“A wrestler on TV. Look, Rosie’s fine. So, can you please come down?”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“She’s just protective of me. And to be fair, she’s never met a shape-shifter before.”
“Her teeth look pretty sharp.”
