The Storm Runner (The Storm Runner 1)

Yeah? I thought. “It already came.”

He smiled again and pulled up his sunglasses so I could see his dark eyes. His eyebrows looked like they’d been burned off, leaving behind small scars. “That was only the beginning,” he said. “The Prophecy of Fire. But fire spreads. Until it burns everything in its path.”

It had to be a coincidence. How could he possibly know?

A faraway drum sounded. The waves crashed. Or was that my stomach acid?

Brooks came up, handed me my backpack, and grabbed me by the arm. “What’re you doing?” She threw a quick glance in the guy’s direction, then said to me, “Come on.”

The man pulled his sunglasses over his eyes and began strumming his guitar, singing, “There are liars in our midst and the storm is a-comin’.”

“What was that about?” Brooks asked.

“What do you mean?”

Brooks stopped and turned to me, clutching her backpack. The amber flecks in her eyes burned bright even in the shade. I decided they were definitely the eyes of a hawk, and that gave me a strange kind of hope that her shape-shifting ability wasn’t gone forever. She tilted her head and studied me. “What did he tell you?”

“He knew about the Prophecy of Fire, Brooks! How?”

Brooks looked shaken. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

I looked over my shoulder. “He said a storm was coming! Maybe I should pay him to read my future….”

“NO!” Brooks shouted. Then she took me by the shoulders and made me look into her eyes. “You make your future, Zane. Got it? All these other things? Distractions. Now come on. You have to stay focused.”

“But what if he can help us?”

Hondo ran to catch up. He was holding a rolled poster. “What’s all the arguing about?”

“We weren’t arguing,” I said, clenching my jaw.

“Yes, we were,” Brooks said as we continued walking.

Hondo gave me a sorry-dude-but-you-were-totally-arguing look.

It was pretty awful when you saw and heard things other people didn’t. Maybe being part god had fried my brain and I was officially deranged. Or it could have been some more shadow magic to distract me. Or that guy was just my imagination at work. Oh God, maybe Pacific hadn’t been real, either….

I reached into my pocket. Relief spread through me as my fingers found the jade still there.

As we hurried down the boardwalk, I kept wondering why my dad would want to give me a jaguar tooth, of all things….Why not something useful, like a sword, or poison-tipped daggers? Heck, why not help me bring down Ah-Puch himself? If my mom had his kind of powers, she’d take on the whole world to save me.

I wondered if she was worried about us. Maybe I should try to call her…. Bad idea. She might wig out and force us to come home. Then a brilliant idea struck me. I could ask Ms. Cab about her the next time the chicken appeared in one of my dreams.

We made our way past more booths, vendors, and street artists. Hondo nearly collapsed when he saw Muscle Beach—a whole gym right there on the boardwalk with huge dudes pumping iron in the sun. He stopped in front of the bright blue railing and smiled like a little kid. “This is awesome!” But Brooks urged us on, saying she just wanted to get this over with.

Halfway down the boardwalk, Brooks led us into a store called Jazz-E.

There were rows of colorful bikes, with a few scooters and longboards mixed in. Dozens of surfboards lined the walls. Toward the back of the shop was a little corner filled with postcards, shells, and other trinkets. The walls were painted gold and pink, and the place smelled like the cotton-candy booth at the state fair.

“Are we renting a bike?” Hondo asked.

Brooks shook her head and went up to the cashier at the back of the store. His face was planted in one of those tabloid magazines, but I could see he was huge. Even sitting, I guessed he was at least eight feet tall. He wore an eye patch, a silver hoop in one ear, and a plaid vest with gold buttons. He looked more like a pro-wrestling fashion pirate than a store clerk.

“It’s a fine day for blood,” Brooks said.

“Blood for the gods,” the giant said without looking up.

“Blood for the gods,” Brooks repeated.