“We deserve to know who we belong to,” the redheaded girl said to me as the others nodded in the shadows.
Marco crossed his arms. “Even if they want to kill us.”
They’d waited at the gateway when they could have escaped, and they’d risked their lives to see this through. It wasn’t up to me to tell them what they could and couldn’t do. Gritting my teeth, I said, “Fine. Just hang back. Once I give the signal, you can face the gods yourselves.” Then I made eye contact with Marco. “Can you do that without trying to get killed?”
“Probably.”
“And by the way…” I said, looking across their faces. “Thanks.”
Hondo patted my leg and glanced up. He looked like he was about to say something mushy like I love you.
“Shoot to kill,” he said.
Okay, maybe not.
Rosie took off toward the sound of the drums as the others followed in our tracks. And all I kept thinking was I hope Ren’s right about the time and I’m not too late.
The dark trees passed by in a blur as Rosie sped stealthily over the earth. My palms were sweating as I tried to keep hold of her thick neck, but more than anything, I felt like my heart had tumbled right out of my chest half a mile back. Brooks hadn’t come with us.
A woman’s hard-boiled voice boomed through a loudspeaker, echoing through the trees. Rosie slowed her pace cautiously as we drew closer.
“Such a deliciousss roasssting,” she sang. “Who knew the almighty, sanctimonious, intense, storm-provoking Hurakan was actually a fun dude to have around?”
The crowd erupted in laughter. A few people heckled, calling out, “He’s a bore. Let the god die!”
Though I was annoyed by the comments, relief flooded my body. Hurakan hadn’t been executed yet!
Rosie’s ears twitched as she flew toward a row of big, colorful tents that blocked our view of the commotion beyond. Only the top of the pyramid was visible. Rosie cut through a narrow gap and we landed on a grassy plaza filled with giants, demons, aluxes, regular-looking humans, and other creatures I had never seen before. Dozens of flickering blue-white globes shimmered in midair. Some people were decked out in tuxes and gowns while others wore cutoff jean shorts and baseball caps. The scents of smoked meats and popcorn filled the air, and for half a second, I felt like I was at the state fair back in New Mexico. Inside the tents, vendors sold Hurakan bobbleheads, refrigerator magnets, coffee mugs, and T-shirts with sayings like nacho regular god.
Ren tugged on the back of my shirt and whispered, “What now?”
We were about a hundred yards from the pyramid steps. The structure looked like a Lego-stacked mountain with rounded edges and a dangerously steep hundred-foot incline. At the very top was a temple on a platform, and that’s where the action was taking place. But there was no way to see it from where we were, which was why big screens had been set up at the far end of the field. I guess the gods wanted everyone to witness the grisly details of Hurakan’s death up close and personal. I felt sick.
The screens blinked awake. Seven figures emerged from the stone doorway at the top of the pyramid, each wearing a dark robe or a cape. A sudden silence fell over the place like the flu as everyone waited anxiously.
One by one I identified the loser gods for Ren telepathically: The first guy is Kukuulkaan, god of the sea, feathered serpent (and traitor). You know Ixtab (deceiver). The ballerina-looking one is Ixkakaw, goddess of chocolate (and manipulator). The guy in the leather robe? That’s Nakon, god of war (and fighter). The next dude is Alom, god of the sky (judge) and…I don’t know those last two….Wait!
What?!
That last guy…the one whose hair sparkles?
The stocky one with the big nose?
The tall, skinny one in the purple silk robe! That’s Itzamna, the writing magician/dragon-god dude I told you about.
I bet that’s not his official title.
What was he doing here? Since when was he on the council?
The woman’s voice carried over the PA system: “Please remember to turn off all cell phones. Photography is strictly prohibited during the event. Any illegal filming or rebroadcasting will result in slow dismemberment.”
Everyone held their breath, as if waiting for the greatest rock star of all time to be introduced. I wondered if the gods were always so dramatic. Probably.
The woman’s voice echoed across the field again. “I give you the one, the only…” She paused—for effect, no doubt. “The formidable king, the master of all, the god of rain—Chaac!”
The crowd went crazy, cheering, whistling, and stomping their feet. The earth vibrated.
The pudgy guy stepped onto the platform. He wore a pale blue robe that glistened like moonlit rain. “We glorious gods grace you with our presence for a solemn affair.” His voice carried like he was speaking through a microphone. “To say good-bye to a god of great feats, of both creation and destruction. We say farewell to a god who will be remembered as a legend.”