The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3)

1. The Great Gods (Part 1 of 20)

2. The Art of Magic and Mayhem

3. Sinful Chocolate: From Bean to Bar

I glanced up. “We have to learn about chocolate?”

Hondo’s expression turned serious. “I guess there’s a lot of history and magic in those little cocoa beans. Plus, Ixkakaw threatened to annihilate it all if the gods didn’t offer the course.”

“Man, that’s the best threat I’ve ever heard,” I said. “Don’t do what I want? No chocolate for you for, like, ever.”

I read the last couple of classes.

4. Monsters, Beasts, and Demons

5. The Mystic Universe: Cosmology, Fate, and Time

And two hours with Itzamna for writing classes, including how to read and write glyphs. Two hours!

“I bet the monsters class will be cool,” Hondo said.

“I’ve already seen them up close and personal, so, uh, no thanks.”

Hondo yawned and stretched. “Time to get some shut-eye. It’s been a long day. See you at the biblioteca tomorrow morning.” He went to the door, then turned back to me. “Brooks says it’s the big red temple with a million steps. You can’t miss it. And don’t be late. I’ve gotta get ready for my big godborn training day.”

After he left, I fell into bed and stared through the trees at the stars. My mom once told me that looking at the stars is looking into the past. If a star six hundred light-years away died a century ago, we still wouldn’t know it. We’d be gazing at its previous form, clueless about all that death swarming beyond. The thought was muy depressing.

I settled into my pillow, and just as I was about to drift off, I heard footsteps in the hallway outside. It was probs one of my housemates finally getting here from the ceremony.

“You’d think the son of war would get a better house.”

I groaned. I was stuck with bad-mood Marco?

“At least your dad isn’t some minor god of thunder,” a girl said sadly. “Like, couldn’t I have gotten a little lightning, too?”

“So what’s your talent?” Marco snorted. “Making a big boom sound?”

“You want to hear a boom?” the girl snapped. “Here you go.” And then the outer door slammed hard enough to shake the walls.

I thought about getting up to greet Marco, but I was too wiped. I fell right into a dream. The air was thick and dry. Gray light pressed in on me. I heard the sound of fingers tapping on stone. My throat was so parched, it felt like I had swallowed sandpaper.

The world came into focus slowly, its edges worn like a soft blanket. I was back at my old elementary school, in Mr. Hawkins’s classroom. Every single desk was occupied with a zombie-eyed student. They all just sat there frozen, staring straight ahead at the chalkboard where Mr. H stood like a mannequin, chalk in hand. Out the windows, orange leaves were suspended in mid-descent. I glanced at the wall clock: The hands were stopped at 2:32.

“Hello, Zane.”

I startled, turning my attention to the voice at the back of the classroom. The Red Queen sat on top of Mr. H’s desk, sipping a blue icy drink with a pink straw. She looked the same as the last time I’d seen her, which was right before I put on a death mask that was supposed to hide me from the gods. Okay, maybe she had a few more wrinkles. (Was that possible? Do the dead age?) She had the same black hair tied up in a tight bun and wore a band of jade stones around her head.

“You could have picked”—slurp—“a better”—slurp—“meeting place.”

“Me? I didn’t pick this place.”

“This is your dream,” she said. “If it were up to me, we’d be sailing across the Mediterranean, but here we are in a dreadful plastic world that smells like sawdust and child angst.”

“I have no control of—”

She interrupted me with a sigh. “I have an ominous message for you. So, let’s just get to it, shall we?”

No one in the history of the world has ever gotten excited by the words I have an ominous message for you.