Kukuulkaan spoke for the first time. “She speaks the truth. I helped her.”
“Just hear me out,” I said. “Camazotz is plotting with the twins, and Ixkik’—”
The gods inched back, eyes wide, like they were seeing ghosts or…I don’t know—whatever would scare all-powerful Maya gods.
I whirled around to see Jazz, Ren, Hondo, and Rosie.
But that wasn’t what had the gods so freaked. It was the godborns who stood behind them.
And I could tell by the gods’ shocked faces that they recognized their own kids. Well, not Itzamna. He just stood back and watched like he was thoroughly entertained by all of this. Ixtab’s eyes roved over the group, and a look of utter sadness crossed her face. I could tell she was looking for someone who wasn’t there.
“Did you say Camazotz?” Nakon asked with disgust, like he couldn’t believe he had to talk to me.
But before I could answer, a familiar voice rang out.
“Well, well, well…” Ah-Puch said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such astonishment, such speechless bewilderment. Have you, my friend?”
We all looked up to see him standing on top of the temple with my dad. I never thought I would ever in a million years say this, but boy, was I happy to see the god of death alive.
“A.P.!” Ren squealed.
I was even gladder to see Hurakan next to him, clearly restored to his godly strength, but not nearly as formally dressed as Ah-Puch, who was in his expensive custom-tailored suit. My dad wore a pair of jeans and a navy shirt with a gray collarless blazer.
A smile tugged at my mouth. Then Hurakan’s eyes found mine, and for a split second, I thought he might smile, too. He didn’t, and there was no Hey, son, thanks for everything. You’re a true warrior. Instead, he said, “Today is the day of reckoning.”
Chaac cast a bolt of lightning right above Ah-Puch’s head. But Ah-Puch only sighed and said, “Thought you’d gotten rid of me? Sorry to disappoint.”
“Please, let’s be civil,” Itzamna said. “Hurakan is right. Everyone here is guilty of breaking the Sacred Oath. Well, not me. I haven’t fathered any human children.”
Rolling her eyes, Ixtab said, “The boy has minutes to live and a story to tell, and if you want to hear it, I suggest you follow me to hell.”
With two minutes to spare, Ixtab opened a gateway to the underworld so I could live long enough to tell probably the greatest Maya tale of all time. (That is not hyperbole, Itzamna!)
Everyone traveled through the gateway. Except Jazz, who politely said, “Hell? Thanks, but no thanks. See you on the other side.” The minute we stepped into Xib’alb’a, I felt a rush of cool air in my lungs and a warming under my skin. I looked down at my hands, and they were back to normal, no more thin-skinned, veiny hands. The death magic was gone.
Who knew going to hell could have such a rejuvenating effect?
We ended up in a massive conference room with carved stone beams, animal-skin rugs, chandeliers made of bones, and a long table with a mirrored top that ran the length of the space. My friends, Hondo, and the godborns were told to wait outside along with Rosie. Unless she wandered off for more snake heads.
While the gods sat at the table, I stood before them and spilled every single detail—from Camazotz’s alliance with the twins and their evil plot to awaken the Mexica gods to Ah-Puch’s heroism when he didn’t have to help us. He’d even taken my dad—just before Jordan’s ax fell—to the Fire Keeper, to reinstate the Maya magic.
It was high time the gods knew everything. When I was done, no one spoke, or harrumphed, or threw a knife at me. The room was utterly quiet.
I was the one who broke the silence. “Why so glum, everyone? The twins failed.”
Nakon
stood and stabbed a steak knife into the table. “Momentary failure does not have the finality of true failure. There is always more than one road to victory. They won’t stop trying to find a way to awaken the Mexica, to begin this war they so desperately seek.”
“Never could trust Camazotz or Ixkik’,” Ixkakaw said. “Her beady eyes should have been the first clue. And now they’ve escaped.”
Ah-Puch pushed back his chair and stood. Slowly, he rounded the table and came closer to me. “Camazotz is hurt. I made sure of it. But he will heal. He will come back—with a vengeance.”
“They can’t awaken a Mexica god without our blood,” Chaac said (squeamishly, if you ask me).
“We must unite,” Hurakan said. “We can no longer afford to fight within our ranks. There is a greater enemy now.”
Nakon stood and clapped. “I will begin strategic planning, counterstrike analysis…” His voice trailed off in a cloud of glee.