The Storm Runner (The Storm Runner 1)

“All I know is that we shouldn’t be here.” My stomach felt like it was churning in a blender. I hated that I wasn’t being given a choice. Whatever. I’d show that ancient soothsayer and Brooks they had it all wrong. I’d block any call that came in from stupid magic.

A terrible guilt gnawed at my insides. Why’d I have to open that stupid pathway into the volcano?

“Why should I believe you?” I blurted out. “How do I even know you’re on the right side of things?”

Brooks’s face fell and I could tell I’d touched a nerve. “You’re right to wonder,” she said. “How could you know I’m a good guy?” Her eyes met mine in the dim light. “As a nawal, I’m naturally loyal. It’s in my DNA. We’re meant to serve the higher good.”

Higher good? I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Zane, think about it. If I wanted Ah-Puch to get free, I’d want you to find him and let him out. But, like I told you, I want to take the artifact away!” She came closer, her face tense and determined. “I come from a world you… you couldn’t possibly understand. Why can’t you just thank me for helping you?”

I didn’t know why, but her words stung. I pivoted and continued into the darkness. “Actually,” I said over my shoulder, “since I’m the only one who can hear the magic call, I think you mean that you should be thanking me.”

Rosie huffed as she padded alongside me.

I patted her head. “You said it, girl. This is nuts.”

We came to a sharp downward slope that opened up into a larger, cavernous space. I’d been here before during my cave explorations, but this time the smell of something rotten choked the usually earth-scented air. My gut was screaming GET OUT!

About twenty feet down was an uneven sandy floor about fifteen feet wide. It branched off into a narrow passage that I knew came to a dead end.

Brooks looked around cautiously. “Holy K,” she whispered.

“K?”

“It’s for Kukuulkaan, supreme god of coolness?” She took in my blank stare and sighed. “Never mind.”

Rosie sniffed the ground and whined.

I followed Brooks down the rocky path, nearly stumbling on loose gravel.

“Okay, nothing’s calling me,” I said cheerfully. “You have the wrong guy. Mistaken identity. Happens all the time. You hungry? Wanna go back for dinner now?”

Brooks looked around anxiously. “Are you sure you don’t sense anything?”

“Very.”

“Like sixty percent, or closer to a hundred?” she asked.

An eerie moaning sound came from the tunnel to our right.

> “Um, make that negative zero percent sure,” I said. “Did you hear that?”

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

“Or that?”

My eyes darted across the dark space. We definitely weren’t alone. Something was down that tunnel.

Rosie began to dance in place. I hooked my thumb under her collar. “Calm down, girl,” I whispered.

A grunt echoed and was followed by the familiar and disgusting odor of vomit. “You smell that?” I whispered.

“Yup,” Brooks said in a hushed tone. “A ways back.” And with that, she rushed into the tunnel.

“Brooks!” I hissed, trailing her.

When I reached her, she was standing frozen. At the end of the ten-foot passage crouched a demon runner with its back to us. I couldn’t tell if it was the same one from the other night. Its bluish flesh was translucent, with black ropy veins twisting beneath.