The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) (39 page)

“My name is Nicolás,” he called with a thick
accent.

I spun and rushed back to him on the verge of hysteria. “You speak English?”

“Un poco,”
he said, watching the pot as he stirred.

“Nicolás, where is Lucas? Where is Gabriella?”

He looked up from the heat and stared at me. I tried to retrieve a quick Spanish lesson from memory, but I just kicked myself for not paying better attention in
class.

“Donde es . . .”
No, that wasn’t
it.

“They are gone,
señora
,” he
said.

My eyes zoomed to him. “Where is Marifer?”

“Wow, Zara, nice pajamas.” Max walked in, yawning.

“Nicolás!” I pressed, but he was watching Max
now.

I tapped my hand on the counter when Nicolás looked away silently and stirred the pot again. I was positive he knew what I needed to know, and I was determined to crack him, even if Max was here
now.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too,” Max added with a stretch as he walked toward the balcony
doors.

That seemed to get Nicolás on his toes. He moved away from the stove and stepped toward Max. “Señor, the weather is supposed to be worsening this morning, so we will be dining inside today. Mr. and Mrs. Castillo had last-minute business to attend to. They will be back shortly.”

I tapped my foot and crossed my arms, waiting for him to give me something. His eyes avoided me as they swiftly returned to the
pot.

“Nicolás, I really want to tell you about my dream.” I opened my eyes wide, hoping he’d catch
on.

“Hah, your dream! Why would he want to know about that?” Max sat at the bar. “Sorry about that, man, my sister thinks we all want to be bored with her
dreams.”

Nicolás only had one face and one speed for stirring. I watched him incredulously.

“You know what, you’re right. Since Nicolás doesn’t want to hear about it, and you do, I will tell you all about it.” I watched Nicolás as I sat next to Max. He twitched a little, enough for me to think he was paying attention.

“No, Zara, I really don’t want to hear about it,” Max said, bugged.

I ignored Max and watched Nicolás. “It was really
weird.”

“Zara, he doesn’t want to hear it,” Max whispered in my
ear.

“So anyway, in my dream I woke up on a large stone, sort of like an altar, and I was tied down,” I said loudly, emphasizing the last
part.

Nicolás finally looked
up.

“I was alone, and then I heard a voice, a laugh, so to speak. This man would not show his face in the light. He was mad, saying something about my sacrifice ceremony. And then at the very end, he stepped into the light, and guess who he looked like?” I asked, turning theatrically to
Max.

Max glanced at me funnily. “Who?”

“Dylan.”

Nicolás took the pot off the stove and spooned the hot contents onto a plate, which he handed to Max before leaning against the counter with as much nonchalance as an Alux could
manage.

“Tell me,
señorita,
what did this man say? Where were you in your
dream?”

Max chuckled and then choked on his bite. “You
care?”

I leaned in to Nicolás. “Tell me where everyone
is.”

Nicolás stood there, face
blank.

Max set his fork down and looked at us suspiciously. “Am I missing something?”

“Shut up, Max.” I stood in front of Nicolás and looked down at him. “Nicolás, this is important. You know where everyone is, don’t you? I think something is going to happen that shouldn’t, and you need to help me warn
them.”

A flash of lightning washed his brown face, and thunder rumbled the sky. I flipped around to view the backyard. Dark purple storm clouds rolled in so quickly that the sunshine was extinguished in moments. The churning clouds pulsed
horror.

Nicolás looked toward it. “It has begun. You have to stay here now, Zara. It is my duty to keep you inside this
house.”

“Wow, man, what are you talking about? Your duty?” Max was on his feet now with his
I don’t like what you’ve said
look on Nicolás.

“Stay out of this, Max,” I hollered. I pointed to the black, cottony sky. “Valentina is doing this, isn’t
she?”

I couldn’t control my anger or my fear, and tears started to run down my
cheek.

“Nicolás, don’t you see? If Xavier goes, things will get worse. Much worse. We need to warn
them.”

“No,” Nicolás said, walking back to the kitchen.

Max touched my back lightly. “Zara, I think you need to go back to bed. Maybe you’re getting
sick.”

I shrugged him off. “I’m fine, Max. Nicolás has information that he isn’t telling
me.”

Max raised his voice. “No you’re not, look at you. You are a wreck! I think you overdid it yesterday. Too much sun
maybe.”

The booming and the flashes of light outside grew more intense. I rushed to Nicolás and cuffed his forearm, afraid I was running out of
time.

“Please, Nicolás, please. Help me escape. We’ve got to help them,” I pleaded.

“What do you mean, Zara? Help you
escape
?” Max grabbed my arms and tugged me upstairs.

I kicked and shoved, trying to get away from him. “Let go of me, jerk!”

“Zara, you’ve lost it. Seriously, let’s go!” he yelled as I clawed at
him.

“Nicolás! Nicolás! You’re making a big mistake!” I screamed as Max forced me to my
room.

Nicolás watched with no emotion as Max wrestled me around the corner. As his big flat head disappeared, I thought about how much I hated that Alux, and that if anything went wrong, I was going to blame
him.

Once we reached my prison of silk and crystal, I jerked my arm away and ran inside, trying to slam the door behind me. The door jammed. I looked down at Max’s foot and then up. His index finger pressed to his
lips.

“Shh.” He pointed downstairs toward the kitchen.

I opened the door, puzzled, and Max slipped in and closed it softly behind him. He grabbed a pen and paper from the dresser and handed it to
me.

What is wrong?
he mouthed. Then he pointed to the paper, motioning me to
write.

It was too dangerous to tell Max the truth. I swore to Lucas that I wouldn’t tell a soul, but I couldn’t have predicted this. I have to get out of this house, and Max might be the only one who could
help.

I scribbled as fast as I could, holding the pen so tightly my palm
hurt.

We are trapped in this house,
I
wrote.

What?
he mouthed, looking shocked. That simple response carried so many emotions on his stupid face, but the only one that mattered was belief. I let myself grieve for the shortest second.
Max: my heckling brother, my accomplice.

I need you to help me get out of here,
I scribbled.

Why? Where is
Lucas?

I looked away bitterly as the rain pounded against my doors. The waves were now powerful enough to slap the idle boats against the small
dock.

No time to explain. Will you help me?
I wrote anxiously.

What is your plan?
Max grinned, clearly thrilled at the thought of danger, not doubting the weirdness for a second. It worried me that he didn’t know the deadly potential in all of
this.

“Why are we trapped in this house? What’s going on?” Max finally said aloud, and when he did, the answer dawned on
me.

I bolted off the bed and ran to the darkened doors. I hadn’t actually tried to
leave
the house. Lucas just said that they were going to put a spell on it, but I had never officially tried to leave. I pressed my face against the glass and stared past the dripping streaks of water. Xavier was standing on the sand below with a bloodthirsty
grin.

I fell back and landed hard on my butt on the
floor.

“What the . . .? Zara, stop being ridiculous, and tell me what’s going on.” Max demanded.

As he lifted me off the floor, his face shifted to panic. It scared
me.

“You are whiter than white, and your skin is all sweaty. I really think you are getting sick. You’re not having woman problems, are you?” He sounded grossed
out.

“Seriously?”

“Because if I need to get you a cotton cigar, I won’t do
it!”

“MAX!”

Without another protest, he helped me to the bed. As he eased me down, I felt imaginary spiders rushing over my limbs, prickling like a shot of novocaine at the dentist. It stung coldly a few more seconds, and then I lost all sensation in my feet and my hands. But the stinging sensation didn’t stop. It moved upward and inward toward my
torso.

I turned to Max in panic. “Hurry, I think you need to go get Nicolás, like RIGHT NOW! Something is happening!”

Max looked scared, but he zoomed out of the room without another word. I listened to his footsteps until they faded down the stairs, and then I waited, alone and numb, as the storm pushed against my door. I tested my leg, trying to lift it, but it wouldn’t respond to the orders my mind issued. I was paralyzed.

Moments felt like hours as I stared at my lifeless body in the mirror above the dresser. And then suddenly I realized it was too
quiet.

I could barely move my lips. “Max?”

Tears clogged my eyes when that murky laugh pricked my ears.
He can’t get in, he can’t get in,
I repeated to
myself.

I doubted Tita’s spell when, out of the corner of my eye, I watched dark shadows creep onto the balcony. In their smoky form, they squeezed under the doors and into my room, passing in front of the mirror and surrounding my bed. I clenched my eyes tightly like a child, pretending the shadows weren’t there. But the smell of death was right under my nose, and it made me nauseous.

And then a cold hand wrapped around my wrist. My eyes flung open as my heart ricocheted inside my chest cavity, and I saw the ring of dark, hovering executioners. Their bodies were more skeletons than smoke, some wearing ancient crowns on their heads and others with metal cuffs interlaced with their bones. The invisible, freezing grip increased its pressure on my small wrist. As it squeezed, immobility burned like a disease throughout my
body.

“Max!” I screamed, but my voice was a burst of fumes, inaudible, and then the room spun and went
black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Pyramid of Niches

My head ached in the back, feeling dented, like a bruise on an apple. My sight flickered as my eyes adjusted. I felt a cool smoothness around my forehead. It weighed me down as I heaved upward and then banged loudly as my held fell back in defeat. I wiggled sideways, but my arms and legs were caught fast and clanged loudly each time I moved. Straining my gaze downward, I saw that underneath bracelets of dull gold metal, leather straps cinched my wrists; I felt them on my ankles as
well.

Hairs suddenly rose along my skin at the faint touch of a musky coldness.
I don’t remember Xibalba being this cold.
I burrowed my chin into my chest and looked down the bare landscape of my body. A red brazier pressed an itchy tightness against my chest, while, frighteningly, my southern region was protected only by a small piece of red fabric draped loosely around my
waist.

I closed my eyes, feeling sick, pressuring myself to wake up with a pinch. As I did, a low rumble rolled outside, and I jerked, bringing the room into a clearer focus. This was not Xibalba. The temple room there was open to the outside, and new. The walls in this dingy space were deteriorated, speckled with hollowness in places where the wall had crumbled from age. I thrashed, trying to squirm off the raised altar to which I now knew I was bound for my own sacrifice.

My eyes shifted to the dark door at an abrupt sound just as my wrist was nearly
loose.

“Help!” I screamed as his laugh
began.

My skin shredded as I twisted my wrist hurriedly, but the echo reached me, and Xavier’s lanky figure walked out of the dark. He stepped into the flicker, and as it shadowed the contours of his face, I saw for the briefest moment a resemblance to Dylan. Then he grinned cruelly, and I shuddered.

He took two steps toward me. “Stupid girl. Or should I say, stupid boyfriend? He left you all alone with no protection. Maybe now he’ll learn not to trust a
witch.”

“How did I get here?” I asked dizzily as the pounding in my head persisted.

Xavier stopped by my side and stared at me like some basket case before his eyes shifted down my
body.

“You are a pretty one,” he said, running a long fingernail up from my navel toward my breasts.

I wormed away as his fingernail continued upward. The sharpness poked my chest as he leaned into my ear. “Lucas failed to figure out one slightly important detail: I’m not here for Mictlan. I’m here of my own
accord.”

His breath was the stench of rotten milk. I turned my head away and gagged. He straightened up with a snicker that sharpened the angle of his cheekbones. “But you already know that, don’t
you?”

I jerked my chest away from his finger when he poked it harder. He laughed.

“I was surprised he left you in the hands of a witch,” Xavier continued, his accent heavier than Dylan’s. “I mean, if I was going to leave my girlfriend when a god was after me, I would at least have all my bases covered. Tita isn’t, what do humans say, the sharpest tool in the
shed?”

With a gloating grin, he drew the dagger cinched in his torn waistband and wiped the blade carefully.

“Has it been that long that they forgot the cardinal rule? Here’s something you couldn’t know, little human. Witches have no power over a god’s body if his spirit and body are not one. That wench may have cursed my soul to Xibalba, but fortunately for me, she doesn’t have control of my body right now. And”—he let out a psychotic bellow and smiled crookedly—“it looks like the Cosmos favors me this year after
all.”

He circled the altar, studying me. “You’ve made quite a big mess with the gods now, haven’t you? Mictlan is borderline loony. You see, he has it in his mind that you belong to him.” A deep cackle swayed him off balance. “As if you belong to him,” he crooned again, softly. I shied away from the blade each time he carelessly jerked it toward me. “And the Celestials . . . if only they could know the real reason for Lucas’s disobedience to their stupid little arrangement. Too bad you won’t be here to see what happens to your precious little prince. With your death, I will be made whole again. He will try to avenge you, but I will be long gone. But the Celestials will find out that your lover boy’s family skipped out on their sacred deal, not because they killed a god or tried to save a sacrifice, but because Mictlan will go to them in anger once this is all over. Do you think the Celestials will tolerate such behavior? They will smite the royal family in an attempt to salvage peace, but it won’t work. Mictlan has a
temper.”

He drew himself close to me, but tilted his head slightly to look behind me. Then he froze, his dead eyes distant. “And he will declare war against the Celestials. A war that neither your world nor the Celestials would have a hope of surviving.”

I have to get out of here
now!

I thrashed again against my bindings until my muscles were weak and shaking and I tasted blood. I sucked my lip and got a new taste of metal. I’d bitten into my lip. I whimpered as I desperately summoned all my
anger.

“And what of you?” I shouted. “Will you remain a coward forever and run? Because last I checked, you were a Celestial too. Mictlan will come after
you.”

His laugh was short. He seemed preoccupied, the way he wiped his blade
again.

“My pretty girl, so foolish. It’s such a shame your connection was always with Mictlan. I could have made you
great.”

When he finished, he lowered his dagger to his side, but I cringed as he rubbed a strand of my hair between the fingers of his other
hand.

“How do you know about my connection?” I
asked.

“Don’t you know who I am? I’ve been living with Mictlan for almost five hundred years in that cursed world of his. Why else do you think he sent me to the Middleworld? I came here to retrieve you for him, since the executioners weren’t getting the job done. But I fooled him. I’m not going to give you up—I never was. I need you to break my curse.” He paused, and sarcasm tinged his flat smile. “He’s really upset right now. I wouldn’t want to mess with
him.”

His crazed laugh echoed again. The bones underneath his thinned skin made weird angles in his torso as he paced around the altar. “I’m the legendary Hero Twin, a master of trickery. Nobody can fool me, not even Mictlan. My stupid, outwitted father was a Celestial, and my mother a Xibalban goddess, which makes me the only worthy heir to both worlds. I
will
take back what’s
mine.”

“Your mother lives with the humans now. You will destroy her if you do this. Go with her and leave us be. You don’t have to do this,” I urged. “I can get Lucas to break the curse if you promise to just leave us
alone.”

Xavier’s face was stone. “My mother means as much to me as I mean to her—nothing. And Lucas, that pathetic crossbreed, damning me to Mictlan’s world. He’s as good as dead when I’m through with
you.”

“You’re wrong about your mother. She came to me begging for your
life.”

He stopped pacing. He leaned forward so quickly hair fell over his eyes. “You fool! She doesn’t care for me. And who are the Celestials to judge? I think it’s time for a change around
here.”

At once, familiar yells sounded on the other side of the wall. I froze, listening, but a boom of thunder deafened me and shook the walls. Stone shards pattered down around us. Xavier looked up into it, but I squinted hard to block the debris from my eyes as a chilly finger poked one side of my brain.
No! This can’t be happening right
now!

The shouts grew closer, and another tremor vibrated my bones. This time Xavier looked toward the door. He turned and headed for it.
Good, leave.
Abruptly he stopped, looked at me over his shoulder, then sprinted toward the
noise.

“Come on,” I muttered, trying to wiggle my hands free. I couldn’t see him anymore. I had to hurry. The skin on my wrist split, and I froze with the agony of it. My heart paced, waiting for Xavier to return as I stared at the orange flicker of the light.
This is it. I’m going to
die
.

But the icy throbbing expanded.

I pictured Lucas in my mind, fighting the mental assault that grew as the pain in my wrists worsened. It hurt so bad. It dulled my concentration until I could focus only on the stone altar, cool against my cheek.
Fight, Zara, fight.
Dark hair, dimples, blue eyes, blue sneakers, perfect lips
 . . . a zing of frost nailed my right side, bringing in swirling images of the place to which I never wanted to return.
Lucas’s musky voice, the prickles of his chin, the
—OW!

I blinked hard once and saw a circle of people staring at me when they opened. I blinked again, hoping it wasn’t real, but when my eyes reopened, the people were still there. I was on my feet in the center of Xibalba by the pyramid. The town encircled me, packed tight next to the pile of burning flesh. The charred bones nearly touched my naked feet, and I was still wearing the red sacrificial loincloth.
Oh
no.

Abruptly the silent crowd split, and the man with long black hair, the one who carried out the sacrifices in the pyramid, came forward.

Mictlan
.

He wore a heavy robe that dragged as he walked and a large headdress with sprays of feathers. War paint streaked down from his eyes like black tears. When he grinned, my heart pulsed. It was creepy, the way I was frightened and fascinated all at once. He stretched out his arms as he approached.

“Stay away,” I warned, crouching lower, ready to pick up a bone and use it as a weapon if need
be.

He stopped to study me as I shoved back the hair that fell into my
face.

The earth suddenly shook and screams carried on the wind, jarring us both from our shared stare. I looked back to Mictlan frantically, but he hadn’t moved an inch. I glanced up the pyramid. The temple up top was empty, and the blood on the steps was dark burgundy. It had been dry for days. Then Lucas’s scream surrounded us. Mictlan’s hair blew back slightly as it passed through
us.

“You . . . me . . .,” he said. His accent was so thick I could barely understand
him.

“LUCAS,” I screamed. “HELP
ME!”

Mictlan cocked his head. “Zara?”

“Do not say my name.” My legs had quivered as I stepped back onto a lump. I heard a crunch and looked down. Gray fragments spread beneath my feet. I winced.
Was that a
hand?

Zara! Wake up, this isn’t
real.

I breathed deeply, though I didn’t want to. It stunk like sewer and burnt hair. And then I remembered my utopia with eyes wide open. I watched Mictlan without a blink as my mind raced home:
a soft pillow against my cheek, the rose on the windowsill, the smell of coconut and ginger when Lucas’s hair got
wet
.

Out of nowhere my vision flickered.
It’s working.

I let my thoughts wander faster than I could control:
the snowfall, the flirting, the soft tickle when our skin touched—

Mictlan jabbed a finger at me and yelled. At his word, four undead men charged me, their bones visible beneath their skin. I turned and
fled.

Sharp bones sliced my feet as I cut across the charnel pile and ran toward the edge of the city.
Lucas’s lips, their smoothness, the dimple in his smile
, I thought, crying as it produced another flicker in my vision.
His arrogant laugh that I hated for so long, his wild hair, and his hands running through it in frustration.

I saw a clay room too tiny for a living space and ran toward it. As I got closer I saw wooden bars instead of a door. It was a prison. I stopped to catch my breath and looked inside. It was empty, but across the room on the dirt floor was a plastic pink necklace. It had belonged to a sacrifice. I cried out, throwing my hands to my mouth, and an abrupt coolness touched my back. I
turned.

Mictlan and his men had me cornered. I pushed my back into the wooden bars. The raw bark scratched
me.

“Zara, come,” Mictlan said. He held his hand out for
me.

When I stared back into his eyes, the tightness in my heart unwound and I fell into his grace.
Go with
him.

Slowly, my hands eased off the wood. I lifted one hand, but something told me to stop. I retracted my hand and looked at him, confused, as blue eyes came back to
me.

“I am not yours,” I whispered.

Mictlan gave one more nod, pleading for me to go with
him.

“I am not yours,” I said
louder.

Mictlan retracted his waiting hand and watched me for a moment. When he didn’t move, I screamed with all my strength. “I am not yours! I am not
yours!”

I didn’t see what Mictlan did because my vision flickered steadily, more blackness than light. When I focused again, executioners were coming for
me.

“I CHOOSE LUCAS! I CHOOSE LUCAS!!” It was my last chance, my desperate plea, but it meant more to me than any sensation I felt. My body burned, and my chest swelled with knowledge. I could hear them coming for me, but I continued to scream blindly. “I CHOOSE LUCAS. I CHOOSE LUCAS. I CHOOSE
LUCAS!”

“How did you get out of the
bands?”

My eyes jolted open. I was back in the musky room, and Xavier was too. I clung to the altar for support, shaking away the rising burn in my
body.

“I . . . uh . . .”

I was on the verge of puking, but I glowered at him with a new
energy.

“The witch who sent your soul to the Underworld will kill you today if you don’t take my offer,” I snarled.

“Enough!” he screamed. “I am tired of waiting.”

He blew out the torch nearest him and slowly walked to the next one. As he circled the room, I sprinted to the dark door that promised nothing, but he was there in a flash, cackling as he blocked my way. I ran to the opposite wall and groped in the darkness, hoping the room had other doors, like the other temples I’d seen. But the wall was solid stone, and I turned to my laughing killer with horror as he strolled back to the
altar.