The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3)

“Leave him alone!” I shouted.

A sudden movement caught my attention. I glanced at the Tree to see a sliver of mist wind up the massive trunk like a snake.

Ixkik’.

“Sorry you couldn’t make it to the wedding,” Jordan said, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

“You mean the one where you forced Quinn to marry you?” I said, trying to keep my anger in check.

Jordan laughed. “Forced? No one forced her to do anything.”

Bird said, “We gave Quinn a choice. She chose to be queen. Much better than being a lowly nawal spy working for some has-been Sparkstriker who’s going to be dead anyway.”

So the Sparkstriker wasn’t dead yet. See? That’s what happens when you let your enemy do all the talking. They throw you nibbles of information that eventually add up to a whole meal.

“Pretty sure Quinn would never choose you,” I said. “She ran away before, remember?”

Jordan’s face hardened, and he began to lunge at me. Bird threw up an arm to block his brother. “We should try to get along,” he said to Jordan. Then he cast his gaze on me. “Considering our mother’s plan for you.”

Get along?

I hated these guys. I thought about all the lies they had told, all the stories they had rewritten, and wondered how many other falsehoods had been tucked into the corners of history without anyone’s knowledge.

“And what plan is that?” I ground out.

“Surrender, of course.” Blood Moon’s voice sliced the warm air. “You bind yourself to me and I will allow the gods to live.”

“Why would you let the gods live when you worked so hard to get rid of them?” I asked, closing my fist around the flame in my palm.

She hesitated. “The gods have no powers left. The devouring and time travel ravaged them. Tsk, tsk. How sad to be reduced to useless children. Ah—I couldn’t have planned it better myself, Zane.”

I dug Fuego into the soft earth. No way was I going to throw up the white flag for nada. I mean, let’s not forget this was the mastermind behind my dad’s near execution. This was the master of deception who always seemed to be a few steps ahead. Ah-Puch was right. If she wanted me alive so bad, it was for a really big reason. “I’m not negotiating with mist,” I finally said.

“Who said anything about negotiations?” Ixkik’ said.

Bird shook his head. “Just let us torture him.”

“Yes, it would be quite satisfying,” Ixkik’ said, “but let’s not forget he has value to our long-term plans.”

There was that word again. Plans.

“But I’m king,” Jordan argued with Ixkik’. “Shouldn’t I get to decide?” Instantly, a brilliant green-feathered headdress appeared on his head.

Was that his crown?

“Kings must sacrifice their heart’s desire and rule with their minds!” Ixkik’ growled. Her tone was a big fat warning: Don’t make me rip that crown off your head.

But a monkey beat her to it. The little guy swept in out of nowhere, snatched the headdress off Jordan, and vanished in a fit of squeals before the jerk could react.

“Under my rule,” Jordan yelled with a raised fist, “primates will be reduced to kitchen help!”

I couldn’t help but snicker. “So, if he’s king,” I said to Bird, pointing at Jordan, “what does that make you? A second-class prince?”

Bird snarled, and before he could speak, Jordan cut in. “I’m the oldest. Oldest gets to be king.”

“By fifty-eight lousy seconds,” Bird spat.

“Boys!” Ixkik’ warned, instantly silencing them. Then: “Do you surrender, Zane? Because I have already captured so many gods—more every second—and my demons are eagerly awaiting my command to strangle the life from their pathetic throats.”