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“Some guy who wanted to be the supreme god,” Brooks offered.
(Was there ever a time you arrogant gods weren’t trying to knock each other off to gain more power?)
“Okay,” I said. “So aside from their being jerks, do you know where to find them?”
Brooks reached into the bag of Cheetos, grabbed a handful, and tossed them into her mouth.
“Brooks!”
She groaned. “Venice.”
“Italy?” Hondo rubbed his chin. “We don’t have enough cash for that kind of mileage.”
Brooks shook her head, looking suddenly sour. “Venice Beach, California.”
That was in Los Angeles. Los Angeles. It started to make sense. “Crap!”
“Crap?” Brooks wiped some orange powder off her mouth. “Crap what?”
I told her what Ah-Puch had said: But they can’t hide from me for long. “I bet Old Puke is there for the twins.”
“Why would he care about them?” Brooks asked.
“Hondo, why would old Puke want the twins?” I said, knowing he was following my logic.
Hondo smashed his fist into his palm and a slow grin spread over his face. “Revenge… of course.”
“I mean, he didn’t just pick that city out of the blue, right?” I said. “But if I can get there in time to warn them he’s coming for them, they’ll owe me. A favor for a favor.”
“Zane,” Brooks said, “they won’t help you. They don’t care about anything but themselves. Even if we made the trip, they wouldn’t agree to see you.”
“Why not?”
“You have to earn their attention… it’s a Maya thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I should say it’s a Maya supernatural thing. Those with power want to keep it, which means they only hang with those who have the gold. They don’t wallow with common humans. No offense, Hondo.”
Hondo shrugged.
“But I’m not common,” I said. “My dad’s a Maya god!”
“Right,” Brooks sighed. “But we can’t tell them that, now can we?” She leaned across the table. “Please forget about it.” Her voice quivered. “It’s too risky.”
“Riskier than facing demon runners? The god of the dead?” I looked from Hondo to Brooks. “Does anyone have a better idea?”
“You’re right, Zane,” Hondo said. “Can’t rush into a match without a game plan.” He rubbed his chin, turning to Brooks. “Risky how, Brooks?”
She looked glum, like what I was asking her to do was worse than jumping into a fire pit. “They’re tricksters,” she said. “People wait years to get in to see them, to ask for favors. Like once, this guy needed some protection for his family—they lived in a really bad neighborhood—and you know what those idiots told him?” Brooks scowled. “They laughed and told him to learn how to fight.”
“What are they, like in the Mafia or something?” Hondo asked.
“Not in the Mafia,” Brooks said. “They’re the kings of it.”
I shook my head. “Hang on—the hero twins? The ones who defeated the underworld? They run organized crime now?”
“Not crime,” Brooks said. “Organized magic.”
