The Storm Runner (The Storm Runner 1)

Oh good. That sounded a whole lot better.

“You don’t have to worry about the demon runners, Zane,” she went on.

There was more than one? “But you said, and I quote, ‘You’re in danger, Zane. Big danger.’” What danger could be bigger than those ten-foot, knuckle-dragging monsters?

Brooks nodded thoughtfully. “You are, but not from those demon runners. They… they need you.”

“Why the heck would they need me?” Rosie barked like she wanted to know, too. “And why would you go to all this trouble to search for me of all people?”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. There’s a prophecy—a very big prophecy that was told hundreds of years ago—and, well…” She took a big breath. “You’re part of it.”

6

“Me?”

If there’d been a Rewind button, I would’ve pressed it just to make sure I’d heard her right. I mean, it’s not every day you find out you’re in the middle of some ancient prophecy and demon runners want to be your buds. “How could I be a part of anything? I wasn’t even alive hundreds of years ago.”

“That’s why it’s a prophecy, a divination. Seeing the future.”

“Yeah, I know what it means. I’m a psychic’s assistant, you know.”

Although Ms. Cab’s psychic gift was third-string quality lately. She’d never warned me about getting into dumb Holy Ghost. And how come she hadn’t seen Brooks coming?

On the other hand, she had told me that the volcano was dangerous, complete with lurking evil. It made me wonder how much she knew.

I gripped my cane. “So is that why you’re here? To tell me about this prophecy?”

“That and some other stuff. But first tell me what happened the other night. I need to hear it in your words.”

“Why?”

“To compare notes.”

Hold on. I was the one who had all the questions. Why was she demanding answers from me? Yet again I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was trying to trick me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “I’ll tell you what happened if you promise to give up what you know. As in, everything.”

She hesitated, like she wasn’t used to making deals, then said, “Fine.”

So I spilled the entire story, down to the nasty hair on the demon’s back and the way he dragged his bulging knuckles on the ground. I tried to sound casual, but retelling the whole thing sent shivers down my legs, and I sort of wished we weren’t hiking at dusk. ?

?And then it hissed something like ‘Ah-Pook.’” My best imitation sounded more like a wheezing old man.

Brooks grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “The demon runner actually said Ah-Puch’s name?” She pronounced it Ah-Pooch.

“Ah-Puch is someone’s name? It sounds like some kind of insult,” I said. “Who or what is Ah-Pooch?”

I leaned on my cane as a sudden gust kicked up the sand. I rubbed a few specks from my eyes, and when I looked back at Brooks, she was gazing into the darkness toward the hidden cave as if she could see it. But that was impossible. It was about thirty yards ahead, and so well camouflaged by branches that any hiker would pass by without noticing it.

“There are two things I need to tell you,” she said. “Both are likely to freak you out. This part is the least freaky.”

Only two freaky things? Great! I braced myself. “Okay.”

“Ah-Puch is the Maya god of death, disaster, and darkness. His nickname is the Stinking One. Maybe because he smells like puke. He ruled over the lowest level of Xib’alb’a, the underworld—the darkest, worst, creepiest place anywhere.”

Being the god of death wasn’t enough? He had to be lord of three things? My mind played those awful words in a loop. Death, disaster, and darkness.

Brooks frowned. “Zane, you okay?”