The Fire Keeper (The Storm Runner 2)

“Cabo what?” he asked, cupping his ear.

Running low on patience, I repeated myself, louder this time.

“You don’t have to shout.” Ah-Puch sighed. “I’m not your personal genie, you know.” He raised a finger and slowly traced the shape of a large square.

Nothing happened.

The sun was beginning to creep into the sky.

“Where is it?” I asked impatiently. Brooks was probably waking up about now, and that meant she’d find the note in a matter of minutes. I hoped she and Hondo wouldn’t freak when they learned Ren was gone, too. But it was all for the best.

My mind spun down a road paved with good excuses for leaving Brooks behind: I wouldn’t have to feel guilty every time I looked at her because I was keeping another secret. She’d no longer be in physical danger or at risk of being placed under an awful curse. She’d never have to know I made a deal with Ah-Puch. There was another benefit, too, as much as I hated to admit it: I wouldn’t have to listen to any more of her fatalism. I may even have been a little relieved to be away from Brooks’s constant planning and overthinking.

Ah-Puch’s voice jerked me back to the task at hand. “I must be too weak,” he said, rubbing his bony chin.

“You’re lying.” Man, I wished I had made no lies one of my terms.

Ren patted Ah-Puch’s arm. “Can you try again?” It was probably easier for her to be nice to him because reading about someone’s evil isn’t the same as living through someone’s evil.

“Maybe a little more maize would help,” he said.

“You’ve had enough,” I said.

He jiggled a finger in his right ear. “Can you repeat?”

“I said, you’ve had enough!” I practically shouted.

“One more morsel isn’t going to restore my full powers. We have a deal. Only you can make me whole again. Believe me, godborn, I’m not about to ruin my chances.”

Reluctantly, I fished the kernel out of my pocket and scraped off another bit before handing it to Ah-Puch, who touched it to his mouth. Color rose in his cheeks. When he traced with his finger this time, the air crackled and sparked as a gateway opened and expanded big enough for us to step through. I expected to be able to see what was on the other side, but it was like trying to get a glimpse of the sky from fifty feet under the ocean.

“Could be a bumpy landing,” Ah-Puch said. “We better hold hands.”

“What do you mean, bumpy?” Ren asked.

“Better hurry,” Ah-Puch said. “Gate’s going to close.”

Just as we connected our hands (which I totally didn’t want to do with Ah-Puch, but I was the unlucky one in the middle) and were about to go through the gateway, I heard Brooks call my name. I looked over my shoulder and saw her about twenty feet away. She took a step toward me, then froze as her gaze fixed on Ah-Puch. I could tell she recognized him. She gasped as her eyes drifted to our linked hands. Everything happened so fast I can’t be sure which came first: the confusion in her expression, the sting of betrayal in her blazing gold eyes, or the punch to my heart.

“Gate’s closing,” Ah-Puch hummed.

Rosie sniffed the edge of the gateway as Ren squeezed my hand. We have to go, she said.

Brooks shouted, “Zane!”

I wasn’t even thinking when I tried to release Ah-Puch’s hand and make a beeline for Brooks. All I wanted to do was make her feel better, make her understand. Make her not hate me. But I never got the chance, because Ah-Puch jerked me into the gateway.

* * *

Just for the record, I want to tell you that there are different kinds of misery. Like getting your nose busted by the school bully, or being stuffed in a toilet during gym. Then there’s the misery of hurting a best friend so much it rips out your own heart. Yeah, that’s what I was feeling as we stumbled onto a wide pathway at the edge of a sparkling marina.

Dozens of white boats were docked there, rocking gently in the water to our left. To our right was a row of restaurants, each packed with tourists relaxing on the half-shaded patios. The salty air was warm and dry with the lingering scent of grilled fish and garlic.

I shoved Ah-Puch in the shoulder. “You didn’t let me say good-bye!”

“She’ll forgive you,” Ah-Puch said, looking around. “Maybe.”

He didn’t know Brooks. Maybe she’d understand me leaving without saying good-bye. Quinn might be able to smooth it over. But she’d never understand me leaving with the god of death.