The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3)

I rubbed Rosie’s neck. Her soft brown eyes held mine like she already knew what I was going to ask of her. She needed to rouse more gods.

Find as many as you can, I told her telepathically. Find Hurakan…and Ixtab.

With a barely perceptible nod, she vanished in a stream of mist.

“Does this mean we’re saved?” Adrik said.

Pacific tugged on her hood and sighed. “We have no powers…yet.”

We? I wondered who else was awake.

“What do you mean, ‘no powers’?” I squeezed the dragon head of my cane.

Marco groaned as he pressed his knuckles into his eyes. Yeah, I knew the feeling—the highs and lows of Maya madness. The forever dangling carrot, promis

ing a treasure but delivering a sucker punch to the gut.

“Well, that sucks,” Adrik said.

“It doesn’t matter,” I insisted. “We have to go down there. We have to—” I suddenly realized that Ren hadn’t returned with Brooks. “Where’s Brooks?” I asked, hoping the hawk would appear any second.

“She’s scoping out some stuff,” Ren said. “When we found Pacific, Brooks and I decided I needed to get her back here safely.”

“You left Brooks alone?!” I didn’t mean for my voice to rise to over-the-top freak-out, but this was Blood Moon we were dealing with, the same one who had Quinn. That fact might have impaired Brooks’s judgment. Brooks was the world’s best planner until her heart got involved.

“I have to find her.” I rushed to the deck’s hole, careful not to touch the time rope that was still hanging over the edge.

Pacific took my arm gently, stopping me. “The nawal promised to be careful. Let the hawk hunt, Zane.”

Hunt? Hunt what? Ixkik’? Demons? Jordan and Bird? It felt like acid was burning a hole in my stomach. I looked down through the deck’s opening…and saw the time rope quiver.

Ren gasped. “I almost forgot!” She brushed past me, dropped to her knees, and leaned over the opening, pulling on the rope. “You still down there, A.P.? You need help?”

“I’m a god,” he grunted.

“Ah-Puch is here?!” I nearly blew flames out of my nostrils.

“Okay, maybe a little tug,” the god said.

“You made the dude climb?” Marco shook his head like it was the world’s greatest tragedy.

“Is there any other way to get up a tree?” the god of death grumbled from below.

Pacific yanked the rope, and a second later, Ah-Puch’s hands emerged through the hole. They were followed by a familiar head of dark hair…but a not-so-familiar face. He clung to the edge.

I grabbed his skinny hand and hauled him up as the time rope unwound from his waist, snapping into Pacific’s grasp. “I think the branches would have held you,” I said.

“Now you tell me.”

Even if Ren hadn’t outed Ah-Puch, I would have known it was him. The fourteen-year-old-looking dude had the same dark suit (now a few sizes too big), the same arrogant stance, and the same I’m-better-than-you expression. Except now it was grim and tight. And instead of a Thank you for traveling back in time and risking your lives to save us, he said, “That was truly dreadful.” I had some words for the god of death about how he had given up back in the labyrinth, but now wasn’t the time.

His dark eyes fell on Zotz, and for the second time I quickly explained everything that had happened.

Ren’s mouth formed a small O like she wasn’t at all surprised by Blood Moon’s deceit.

Ah-Puch looked at the sacked-out gods and snorted.

“Do you know who they are?” I asked.