The Fire Keeper (The Storm Runner 2) - Page 16

I heard Mom’s footsteps coming down the hall. “Zane?” A second later, she barged into the room, knocking Hondo in the shoulder before he jumped out of the way. She had on a light blue shirt that was embroidered with yellow thread: MAYA JOURNEYS (that’s the super-original name Hondo gave our business, which had started out as a bike and surf shop and had recently expanded to include island tours). Her hair was tucked under her matching blue baseball cap. “Has anyone seen Rosie? I’ve got some raw chicken necks for her.”

“Haven’t seen her,” Hondo said.

Mom threw her hands on her hips. “Hondo, I thought you’d replaced the tram’s tires. We need the vehicle for a tour group from Canada today. Zane, you’re scheduled for this afternoon. Okay? And before you even ask, it’s not for windsurfing. It’s for an island expedition.”

Even though driving the big golf cart was fun, I hated giving tours. Mostly because I’d circled the twenty-six miles that was Isla Holbox a thousand million times. But never once had I taken tourists to the Beast. First, because they couldn’t see it if they wanted to (thanks to shadow magic), and second, it pretty much hid a gateway to hell, and I didn’t think our liability insurance would cover that.

Mom stared at Hondo like she was waiting for something. “The tires?”

“I’m on it,” Hondo said to Mom. Then he turned to me. “I almost forgot—Ms. Cab called. Said it was important.” Then, with a halfhearted salute, he said. “Later…comrade.”

After Hondo left, Mom turned back to me. “We need to talk. About Ren.”

I craned my neck down the hall. “Where is she?”

“I took her on a little walking tour around town. We started chatting—about last night.” She gave me the Mom look that said I know what you’re up to.

“Okay, but where is Ren now?” I asked, trying to avoid what Mom really wanted to talk about. “Did she go back to Brooks’s?”

“She’s at Antonia’s.”

“Ms. Cab’s?! Why?”

I hadn’t even decided how to help Ren yet, and already she had confided in my mom and cozied up to Ms. Cab, who was filling her head with who knew what. And I didn’t have time to chase this girl all over town.

“Ren said she wanted to meet her,” Mom stated simply, like she always followed teenagers’ directions. Not! “But the more important thing is,” she added, trying to keep her voice calm, “why didn’t you tell me you put out a call to other godborns? What were you thinking, Zane?”

“Why didn’t you tell me my dad was a Maya god?” I regretted the words as soon as I said them. I knew Mom had just been trying to protect me.

“I’ve told you all I know, Zane.”

She was right. Once we got settled on the island, Mom had spilled everything about my dad, including how much she had loved him even if it wasn’t meant to be.

She tilted her head. “I just don’t want there to be any more secrets between us.”

Thanks, Ren. Didn’t the girl know better after reading my story? Couldn’t she see that my mom was the biggest worrier of all time across the span of human history?

“I…I had to warn other godborns, Mom. They deserve to know the truth. And I thought that maybe I could help them. Hang on—did Ren call her grandpa?”

“They were on the phone for some time. And then…”

“Then what?”

“I invited him down. He’s on his way as we speak.”

“Mom! He could be followed. He can’t just fly here!”

“Well, he is.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “We’ll figure it out once he gets here. Right now, I have to get to the shop. Please, Zane, promise me you won’t do anything crazy or dangerous with Ren.”

I felt rotten. Worse than rotten. How could I make a promise there was no way I was going to keep? “Okay,” I lied. “I won’t do anything crazy with Ren.” I mean, crazy is totally subjective, right? And not the same thing as dangerous. And Ren wasn’t coming, so…

Mom glanced around my room. “How about picking this place up?”

Here’s the thing about being part god. You sort of think you shouldn’t have to clean up your room and have dish duty and all the other chores that are so boring. But Mom didn’t care that I was a godborn who could shoot fire (sort of). To her, I was “still her son who needed raising.” Whatever.

“Sure, Mom.” Better not to argue, which would only make her stick around longer.

She tugged on my chin and was gone. As soon as she left, I shoved the piles of clothes and other junk under the bed, got ready in thirty seconds, and hurried over to Brooks’s.

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