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“Unless they don’t know they’re hiding them,” Marco offered.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Marco explained that, like Ah-Puch had been, the gods could be imprisoned in an object—concealed somehow—and the twins might not even realize they had them in their possession. “Maybe it was like a UPS delivery,” he said, “with a note saying Guard this with your life. You’ll understand in thirtysomething years.”
Brooks was nodding. “Right. If Itzamna is correct and Zotz and Ixkik’ only had a one-way ticket, then they would’ve had to send a message to the twins, because no way would they risk themselves getting trapped here.”
“Unless they used a shadow crosser, too,” I said.
“But if two threads gives us twenty-four hours, then they would have had even less,” Marco said.
Brooks looked around. “Even if they only had twelve hours, it would be plenty of time to deliver the goods and get back.”
Logistically, it was possible. But I didn’t think Zotz or Blood Moon would take the chance.
“So what do we do?” Ren shielded her eyes from the midday sun as seagulls squawked overhead. “We can’t just show up at the twins’ front door and ask if they’ve had any mysterious messages or deliveries lately.”
“Guys,” Adrik said, “people are kinda staring at us. You think it’s the matching black threads?”
“Let’s keep moving,” said Marco.
We headed toward the boardwalk, weaving between beach towels and umbrellas. Cigarette smoke drifted through the air as people whizzed by on bikes and roller skates. One guy tried to pet Rosie until Brooks said, “She bites.”
The place was a sea of miniskirts, short shorts, and lots of tanned skin all oiled up. “Is that dude wearing clown pants?” Adrik asked.
“I think they’re called parachute pants,” Ren said. “My dad used to have some in his closet.”
“So weird not to see a single phone,” Marco said, looking around. “Like, people are actually talking to each other.”
Rosie yawned and licked her chops as we headed for a shaded bench. Marco plopped down with a grunt. Ren handed him the time rope, which ran along the beach to the spot where we had first arrived and disappeared into the sand. Itzamna was right—no one noticed it.
“What if I get hungry?” Marco said.
“Just don’t go far,” Ren said. “The less the time rope moves around in 1987, the better.”
“And remember,” I added, “Hondo is on the other end, going through hell, so no games.”
Marco grunted. “Yeah, I know all about hell. Just hurry back.”
Brooks walked over to Marco. “Please,” she said, kneeling in front of him. My heart twisted like a used dishrag. “Don’t let go of the rope. No matter what.”
“But you heard Itzamna. It’s going to try to trick me. Man, it better not start talking.”
“Good thing you’re the son of war,” Ren said, patting his shoulder. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
“Don’t forget I’m also the strongest.” He glanced my way with a smirk that I knew was meant to get under my skin. It didn’t. Okay, it totally did. But he was holding our destiny in his hands, so I had to be chill. For now.
Brooks stood and took a deep breath as she stared down the boardwalk. Uh-oh. I knew that look. It always equaled change of plans.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
She gave me a sly grin. “We can’t just show up at Jordan and Bird’s. So we’re making a pit stop first.”
“A pit stop?” Adrik moaned. “Why?”
Without saying more, Brooks took off, heading north. We all rushed to keep up with her.
“Brooks!” I met her stride. “What’s the deal? Shouldn’t we talk about this?”
