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With a flick of his wrist, he sent them both hurtling over the wall of flames.
“BROOKS!” I shook the smoke bars.
Ah-Puch turned to me and smiled, taking a deep breath. “I just love the smell of war. And death. Do you smell its sweetness?”
Hate burned inside of me. “Let me out, you—you disgusting cockroach!”
Don’t judge. It was the only insult I could think of in the moment.
“And you’ll what? Kill me with your little lightning spear?” He nodded once and the smoke prison disappeared.
I didn’t hesitate. I launched the spear at Ah-Puch. It rocketed toward him, a blazing light. But right before it hit, he vanished. I spun to find him behind me, smiling. He twisted me around and gripped the back of my neck, drawing blood with his nails. So much for my dynamo spear. Which, by the way, was now lying on the ground like a dead snake.
The world spun. Colors morphed into each other. Everything churned in a blur of amber light. And at the center of it all, tall towers of thick mist rose from the burning ground. One after the other.
“Let’s stick around a bit, godborn. This is going to be fun,” Ah-Puch said, gripping me tighter.
Fun? This was so not fun!
Five figures walked through the fire. I recognized Mat immediately, and I have to admit I was glad to see him. He was more spiffed up than I’d seen him last, wearing a dark blue pinstriped suit with a white button-down shirt and no tie. Next to him was a burly dude with a long beard and black circles inked around his eyes. He wore a leather jacket, tattered jeans, motorcycle boots, and a sour expression like someone had woken him up from a long nap. The other three figures stood erect. My still-in-shock mind realized slowly that if Mat was here, then that meant… Holy smokes!
These were Maya gods!
40
My relief turned into misery when I remembered that the gods also wanted Ah-Puch’s head. Since I was… well, paralyzed, I wasn’t exactly in a position to do the deed myself, and we all know what that meant. I was headed to soldier-of-death boot camp!
(To be honest, I don’t even know why I have to write this next part since you gods already know what happened. Whatever.)
Ah-Puch gripped me harder and began to chuckle. “Ma’alob áak’ab’. Buenas noches, old friends. The council is all back together. How chummy. So good to see you. And Ixkakaw, you’re looking well these days. Don’t look a day over two thousand.”
Straight dark bangs framed the eyes belonging to the goddess of chocolate, who actually didn’t look a day over, like, thirty. She was small and willowy, and she walked more gracefully than the others. This fact was made even more obvious by her brown cat-woman-like bodysuit. Her bronze skin glistened as she narrowed her eyes, then smiled. “And you’re smelling as foul as ever, Ah-Puch.”
The burly dude looked me over, then said to Ah-Puch, “We end this tonight.”
“Oh, you mean to send me back to my prison, Nakon?” Ah-Puch said, faking a shudder.
So the burly motorcycle dude was the god of war? Kind of a cliché, if you ask me.
Mat shook his head. “The plan is to kill you, actually.”
At about this time, the Sparkstriker’s army retreated into the jungle and Ixtab was released from the bolt’s power. She shook her head, looked around, and adjusted her cape. “Someone is going to pay for that,” she said through gritted teeth.
My eyes roved the trees, where I spotted Jazz and Hondo holed up not twenty yards away. Were Brooks and Quinn okay?
Rosie and the other hound stood behind Ixtab, but Rosie kept looking in my direction. Had she remembered me yet?
Ah-Puch grunted. “Did you all think I’d come here to your little playground unprepared? That I’d just walk into your clumsy trap?”
Is that what this was? A trap with me as the bait?
I searched the remaining two gods’ faces, wondering if one of them was Hurakan. I didn’t even know what his “human” form looked like. The guy half my size with spiky bleached hair, khakis, and a starched blue button-down shirt was definitely not Mom’s type. That left the one on the far end. The one who wouldn’t take his eyes off me. He had dark disheveled hair, looked like he hadn’t shaved in three days, and was so stiff he could’ve been made of stone. He wore a dark T-shirt, dark pants, and a leather band on each wrist.
“Let the boy fight him,” he said coldly.
Yeah, so that pretty much stole my breath. Nice to see you, too, Dad!
Khaki dude ran a hand through his hair, then said, “Why would we let a mere boy fight our greatest enemy? Let’s end this, Hurakan.”
