Who cared what we were wearing! I had to talk to Ren, and then Brooks—alone—and after that it was time for me to jump to the Empty. “I don’t think…” I started, and the jade buzzed again.
Itzel must have read my mind, because she said, “Oh, but you should care, Mr. Tacky-Tack. Stay in your hot-dog threads and wait for the flesh-hungry demons to sniff you out and eat you alive. Ha! Maybe their hunt tonight will lead them right back to you. Wouldn’t that be ironic?” Her tilted smile was more of a sneer. “Or you could wear my clothes, a coveted Itzel design that will give you half a chance of staying alive here and above.”
So she knew we were headed back to the human world. But how would her designs keep us alive beyond Xib’alb’a? Maybe Ixtab wouldn’t have to kill me temporarily after all….
Her coal-like eyes glistened beneath the chandeliers. “If it were up to me, I’d prefer you get eaten. You aren’t worthy of wearing my creations. But Ixtab has spoken.”
Hondo rubbed his hands together. “Sounds good to me. This polyester shirt is giving me a rash.”
I expected Itzel to take us down to some fitting room, but instead, she opened her mouth. It expanded so much, a billboard could’ve fit inside. A cloud of purple mist swirled from her throat and wrapped around each of us.
I couldn’t see anything through the mist, but I heard Itzel. “Perfect,” she said. “I am so good. Should get a crown or something. The measurements are exact. As I expected, of course.”
A second later, the cloud disappeared. We were still in our old outfits, but in each of our hands was a tied burlap sack.
“Well?” Itzel said. “Don’t act so ungrateful. Open them!”
Inside my sack was a pair of jeans, a dark purple T-shirt, and a pair of gray sneakers. This was her idea of high fashion?
Hondo dumped his stash out on the floor. A pair of shredded jeans and…he held up a gray long-sleeved button-down shirt. “I hate buttons,” he whispered to me. “Does she think I’m an accountant or something?”
Ren tugged out a long yellow hoodie that laced up the front, and a pair of black track pants with white stripes down the side. I could tell by her face that she was as underwhelmed as the rest of us. “These pants don’t have any pockets,” she muttered.
I looked over at Brooks, who was scowling. She had gotten a pair of dark green leggings, a shiny black bomber jacket, and a plain white tee.
Itzel grimaced. “It’s all wrong.”
Hondo nodded. “I figured we had the wrong clothes. I don’t do sleeves. Or buttons.”
“Not the garments. You,” Itzel said. “You’re all wrong.” She rolled her eyes. “These are meant to keep your sorry human butts from getting stabbed and killed. Nothing can penetrate this fabric—not daggers, not teeth, not fire. Why I should waste them on you is beyond me.”
“But they’re just…plain clothes,” Ren said.
“Plain is being generous,” Hondo huffed.
“The material,” Brooks said, inspecting her leggings. “It’s different.”
Looking closer at the shirt in my hand, I saw Brooks was right. There was a give to the fabric, and it had the thickness of a wetsuit. But the material looked familiar. “Is this…?” I couldn’t get the words out. I mean, I liked the whole idea of not getting stabbed to death and all, but…Chills ran up my legs.
“Demon skin?” Brooks finished the sentence for me.
“You think I’d waste perfectly good demon skin on the likes of you? No. It’s synthetic. No demons were harmed in its creation.” Itzel grabbed Ren’s track pants out of her hands, growling, “Ungrateful humans. No appreciation or taste. These fine threads also work as camouflage. Do you have any idea of the precision and craftsmanship that go into something of this caliber?”
“Isn’t camo, like, green and, you know, army-looking?” I asked, wondering when Itzel last had her eyes checked.
“The most unimaginative species…” she muttered as she held the pants up to the chandelier. “This is enchanted camo!” Immediately, the pants blended in with the light fixture—as in you couldn’t even see them in her hands.
“That is sick!” Hondo said.
Ren nodded enthusiastically. “Does this mean we’re going to be invisible?”
Itzel rubbed her forehead like her skull was about to explode. “All you have to do is tug on any button—you all have at least one.” She glared at Hondo. “But you can only use the disguise device three times. Maybe four—I don’t remember the exact number. The camouflage effect puts incredible stress on the fabric.”
“Then what happens?” Brooks asked.
“The clothing combusts, of course,” Itzel said.
“Of course,” I mumbled.