The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3) - Page 32

Hurakan stepped out of the shadows and into the light. I hadn’t seen him for three months, not since the Council of Gods had signed a new treaty making everyone promise to get along and quit killing each other. Seeing him felt really good, even under the circumstances. He adjusted the collar of his gray jacket. As usual, he was dressed casually, in dark jeans.

He held Fuego in his hands.

I jumped up so fast I got woozy, but not before I grabbed my cane/spear and fell back onto the bed. “How…? Where did you find…?” My mind was a jumble of memories, nightmares, and too many questions to count.

“Once the darkness fled with Zotz and Blood Moon,” Hurakan said, “the sea reverted to its usual state and the cane was freed. I didn’t find it—Fuego found you.”

I clutched Fuego tight, like it was a living thing. To me, it sort of is. “How did they find us?”

Before Hurakan could answer, the truth slammed into my brain at a million miles an hour. If I was remembering right (and I’m pretty sure I was, even though I’d almost drowned in bubbling black ooze, and that’s a real brain drain, believe me), Hurakan, god of fire, wind, and storms, had singed Zotz’s sorry butt with some wicked lightning. “Wait—did you knock Zotz into tomorrow?”

My dad folded his arms across his chest. “Knock him into tomorrow?” he echoed, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” I said. “It sort of means to obliterate someone.”

“No, I did not obliterate Camazotz. I was more interested in saving you.”

Oh.

“Because my mom would kill you if you didn’t?


He half grinned. “Something like that.”

I pushed back my wet hair and stood. Was I supposed to hug my dad? Shake his hand? Give him a high five? Tell him Ah-Puch is the worst travel planner ever?

“I opened an emergency gateway,” he said. “It was rough. You’ve been unconscious for an hour. Maybe you don’t have to tell your mom about this?”

“Ha! Okay.”

Just then, a small creature dropped from the trees above, knocking a couple of miniature monkeys out of the way. She was about three feet tall, with enormous eyes and elongated fingers like a tarsier. Two membranous ears poked out of her short ocher hair, which looked more like fur, and she wore a red, blue, and green feather dress. The monkeys clicked their teeth and squealed with annoyance.

“Oh, be quiet,” she said to them as she gripped a clipboard. “You don’t own the place.”

That only sent the primates into a chorus of shrieks and howls, and they began to throw toilet paper rolls at us.

“Hey!” I threw up my hands for cover as the rolls bounced off my head. The monkeys were smart enough to avoid hitting my dad, who I figured could obliterate them with one stare.

The little rascals snickered and retreated into the shadowy trees.

“Thieves,” the creature muttered, shaking her head. Then, with a pained smile, she said, “Zane Obispo, how good of you to wake up. How do you like your tree house?” She glared up at the branches, which were shaking with monkey glee. “Make sure to keep all your belongings locked up.”

“This is a tree house?” I was going to spend the summer here? Cool! Except for the toilet-paper-throwing monkeys.

“That’s what I said.” The creature wrinkled her nose and eyed me up and down. “You really smell.”

My dad covered his mouth like he might laugh. I threw a glare his way as I sniffed a pit. “Really? I really smell?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “Why are you asking him? I’m an air spirit, the most trustworthy, honest creature in the cosmos. Much more so than earth spirits, or those sneaky mountain spirits.”

“Hang on,” I said, remembering Ah-Puch’s note. “I thought you air spirits were on strike.”

“Not all of us. Some of us need to earn a living. You think these imported feathers are cheap?” She glanced down at her clipboard. “Anyway, you don’t have a lot of time. Ixchel’s attendants will have to do their magic,” she said, peering up at me with a scowl. “You certainly can’t go to the claiming ceremony looking and smelling like that! Everyone is already there except you, and—”

“I thought the claiming ceremony was tomorrow night,” I said to Hurakan.

“We moved it up,” he said solemnly.

Tags: J.C. Cervantes, Jennifer Cervantes The Storm Runner Fantasy
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