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“Adiós, Puke,” I snarled.
The last thing I saw was a fire-eaten monster serpent spiraling into the vortex, hissing, “I’ll come for you.”
42
I woke up lying on a stone slab in a cold dark chamber. There were rusty iron bars on the door, and beyond that was a gloomy hall that smelled of moldy cheese. Wall torches cast long flickering shadows across the darkness. The clanging of metal on stone rang through the place, along with moans, groans, and an occasional Kill me now, which was followed by You’re already dead.
Crap! Was I dead? This had to be Xib’alb’a.
As if I’d summoned her with that thought, Ixtab appeared in front of the bars, holding a piece of paper and a pen. “Stand in the presence of a goddess!”
I got to my feet awkwardly. “What… what happened? Where am I? Where are my friends?”
“Shut up and listen,” she said. “You’re my pet now. This is your cell, and once you’ve paid your penance to the gods, you’ll join the others in pounding stone day and night until your bones turn to dust.”
“Penance? But… I—I killed the Stinking One!” I cleared my dry throat. “Shouldn’t that count for, like, early release or something?”
She grunted, then slipped the paper through the bars. “You will write your pathetic little story on this, and it will serve as a warning to all the gods. About what happens to those who break the Sacred Oath. And to any human who chooses to defy the gods. Don’t try to lie. The paper will know if you are telling the truth or not.”
Magic paper. Great! Would it know if I exaggerated a little? “And if I don’t feel writing anything?”
“You’ll be fed to the hellhounds, one piece at a time.”
Hellhounds! Was Rosie around here somewhere?
“Could I see my dog, at least?”
She thrust the pen at me. “Get to work.”
I took the pen and the tissue-thin paper. “It’s kind of a long story—could take a while.” I wasn’t in any hurry to start pounding stone until my bones turned to dust.
“You have one day.”
I looked at the flimsy paper. “This… this is just one sheet. I guess you want the SparkNotes version?”
“The paper will multiply as needed. It comes from Itzam-yée’.”
“Itzam who?”
“The Serpent Bird.”
That triggered my memory. “He has something to do with the World Tree, right?” Maybe she’d be impressed with my mad Maya history skills.
With an annoyed exhale, she said, “He sits on top of it, can see all of creation, and is the greatest master of sorcery and magic this world has ever known.”
“Right, that serpent bird,” I said. “Just wanted to be sure.”
My heart sank. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. I’d killed the worst god of all time, and this was how the gods thanked me? And what about Hurakan and Brooks and Hondo and—
Ixtab turned to walk away.
“Wait!”
When she looked over her shoulder, I said, “If I’m in Xib’alb’a… does that mean…?”
She gave me a wicked smile. “Yes, Zane Obispo. You’re dead.”
The End
