The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) (20 page)

“Tita,” I responded quickly. “She was outraged when we came home early without you. For weeks she yelled at me, telling me I had to get back to protect you. When I was convinced it was you, I was livid because everything I felt about you, everything I knew about you, was right; I just kept denying it. I felt so foolish for not having paid attention to the movement of the
Cosmos.”

“How is it that she knew and not you?” Her eyes drifted away into memory while her elbows curled harder into her stomach. “She knew at the Lucky Pin. Didn’t she? I could tell by the way she looked at
me.”

I nodded, embarrassed by my doubt. “Tita said it was you she saw in her dream. We couldn’t have known because it wasn’t our dream. And it was difficult for her to convince any of us because she saw the visions hundreds of years ago. After the crash, when Dylan’s trick worked on your friend but not on you, my family was more susceptible to the idea that it was you, but it wasn’t concrete. They needed hard evidence. Once I learned what you saw when you blacked out, I had that evidence.”

She shot up and blurted, “That place
exists?”

“Zara, that is Xibalba, the Underworld, that you are seeing. I went home that day and shared the news with my family, but it still wasn’t enough. They were searching for one more thing, one very important factor that the prophecy talks
about.”

She bolted off the car and grabbed her head. I was at her side without thinking, before her warm heart pumped one more pulse. It was more difficult than I thought to get her to calm down. Though her feet were planted, she moved all over the place, twisting to the right, then left, then right
again.

I leaned down to look her in the eye. “Are you all
right?”

“Lucas, I don’t know. My body is shaking, but I’m not
cold.”

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, reminding myself not to squeeze too hard, and carefully brought her against my chest. I rested my chin on her head, thinking fast for something gentlemanly to say, a human thing to say, as I breathed in the strawberry scent of her
hair.

“I can take you home if you need to,” I offered, almost taking it back instantly. Dylan would have a fit if I failed to tell her about the necessity of training.

“No, just give me a sec.” She sniffled on my shoulder.

I bit my tongue. My impatience was growing as the moon neared the mountain peaks. I was losing precious time before her curfew. But when I let go of the schedule and realized she was in my arms, I breathed in and smiled, relieved that she couldn’t see how much I enjoyed holding her. Zara was smaller than anyone in my family; even with her enfolded in my arms, I could still grip my own biceps. And her hair rubbed softly against my chin, something I could get used
to.

Eventually, after a nice, long,
human
minute, her heart slowed and her wobbly knees locked. “Lucas?”

I loosened my hold enough to see her face. “What?”

“What else did Tita see in the prophecy?”

I sighed, then took her hand in mine and guided her to sit down on the car’s
hood.

“She saw that the virgin girl chosen as the fifty-second sacrifice would be able to shift the balance between heaven and hell, should she be saved.” I curled my index finger underneath her chin and rubbed her dimple with my thumb, staring at it as I told her the rest. She was so beautiful I could barely keep focused on what I was saying. “But you won’t do it alone. Through love you will set in motion things that can return peace to all of us, or destroy everything we
love.”

She didn’t flinch as I moved closer to her, smelling her breath. Her eyes stared hard at my
lips.

“But I should tell you . . .”

Her eyes fluttered as I moved in closer . . . just one
taste.

“Tell me what?” she whispered, startled. I closed my eyes and sniffed hungrily. I wondered how a prophecy could predict that such an innocent girl could have the power to destroy me if I were the recipient of her love. I wished it were wrong. And then I remembered Tez.
Xavier loves her too, and I know he will fight.
I backed away suddenly.

“I’m not the only one you may have a connection with. There is one more, in another realm, who wants
you.”

Her head shook as fear glossed over her eyes. “Lucas, this girl you talk about. She isn’t
me.”

She was beginning to lose her cool again. I gave her space but then stepped forward again, afraid she’d flee and I’d have to chase her
down.

“Yes it is, Zara,” I said. “You were chosen at a time we believed that Earth would be renewed. It’s called a Long Count, and it only happens every five thousand one hundred and twenty-five years. The prophecy said certain astronomical phenomena would take place during its time. That’s why I have been paying close attention to the planets, the sun, the stars, to all the movement of Cosmos. It’s supposed to occur during Winter Solstice, when the sun aligns with the dark rift in the Milky
Way.”

She nodded, uncomprehending. When she didn’t move from the hood, clenching her hands around her knees for dear life, I felt it was safe to move on. I hopped up and knelt by her side, pointing to the starry sky above
us.

“Look,” I said, “a galactic alignment is coming, and it only happens every twenty-six thousand years.” I paused, feeling her heart racing. “It’s going to happen
this
December, Zara. And when it does, it will open another way from the Underworld to the Middleworld. It’s the darkness that will cloud our world, as the prophecy says. And you—” She stole my breath away when I looked into her chocolate-brown eyes. “You are the light, I am
sure.”

She uncurled and jumped off the car again to pace back and forth frantically. I followed after her. She bumped into me when I blocked her path. She looked up in confusion.

“Lucas, I . . .” she stuttered.

I shook my head. “Shush.”

I felt guilty for what I was about to do. Not because she would want more, but because I would. I glared at her like a predator. Silver snowflakes drifted from the sky as she stood motionless under the iridescent moonglow. Her breath came as dreamy white puffs in the night, but I had to disrupt it. I needed her to feel what I felt, that our connection was real. Nervously, I stepped closer, until the outer layers of our clothes touched. Her knees shook. When I reached to cup her cheeks, her eyes widened. I held my position long enough for her to inhale once and then went in
slowly.

Her lips were like red velvet cake, smooth and sweet. I kept my lips tight, resisting the urge to be free, to taste. All I needed was for her to feel that spark, to know we had a connection. However, it was I who tensed first as the tickling sensation ran wild. My limbs stiffened as I fought the urge to part my lips and devour her purity. Afraid I would lose control, I backed away, flinching at the sound of our broken
kiss.

“I’m sorry, I just . . .”

There was a new color in her cheeks. The cherry flush calmed my insecurities, but I couldn’t fight how my body pounded for more. It promised to ruin me if I didn’t give in.
So long have I waited, just one more.
I swept her into my arms and kissed her hard. She gasped for air at first but then rested her arms around my neck and plunged her tongue into my mouth. It played with mine for a moment, but when her hand slid down my front, pushing against me as she panted, I had to back away before I ripped off her shirt. I wasn’t accustomed to stopping at only a kiss, and my body was
aching.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, troubled with this new pain I
felt.

“No, I . . . um.” She looked at her feet as her thin fingertips brushed her wet lips. When she looked up, it was my breath that stopped. “I felt something.”

My body was nearly exploding. “You
are
the girl the prophecy talks about. The connection it talks about, with one of the worlds, is with
me.”

“And my connection with the
other?”

Though her remark stabbed a spike of jealousy through me, I was impressed with her strength. But I couldn’t answer her. It killed me to imagine her having a connection with anyone other than me, of having a physical relationship with anyone other than me. I ignored her question for now and looked down at my watch. It was getting
late.

“There is much work to be done,” I said. “I will explain on the way
home.”

She looked upset. I pretended I didn’t notice and opened her door. Though she shot inside like a fireball, I closed it softly behind her and turned to retrieve the telescope.

A moment later, I pulled a sharp U-turn and headed for the canyon road. Finally, I said into the silence, “When I returned home Halloween night, there was a Celestial waiting for me. He is a god, not to be taken lightly in any sense, and I hold the highest respect for him. Therefore, what I am about to ask of you is . . . unfortunate. It brings up the issue of your blackouts.”

“My blackouts?” Her skeptical voice bobbled from the uneven
road.

I looked at her. “You saw more than just the orange sky in Xibalba, didn’t
you?”

Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes, proving I was
right.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, wondering how much she had seen that I wished she hadn’t. “The executioners have until Winter Solstice to retrieve you, and your blackouts prove that the connection with a god in the Underworld exists. When you black out, it makes them stronger and us weaker. We need these blackouts to end. In order for that to happen, you must come home with me so that Dylan can train your mind to keep the gods out of your
head.”

“How?” she squealed as the tires screeched through a turn on the slick
road.

She grabbed the emergency handle as I accelerated. My jaw tightened, and I wondered how I was going to tell her. It was ridiculous even for me, and I was embarrassed to say it. It would sound stupid no matter
what.

“It’s simple, really. Just an obstacle course Dylan needs you to practice. But you don’t have to worry—I will be with you one hundred percent of the time.” I studied her in the dark. She kept quiet, watching the roadside reflectors blurring
by.

As minutes passed, the windows began to fog up, and snowflakes glittered in the car’s headlights. When Zara turned to look at the clock, I instantly tried to understand what her expressionless face meant. Was she upset? Was she scared? Did she think I was
absurd?

“It’s late,” she finally said, rubbing her
arms.

Unthinking, my hand was messing with the heat again. “Are you
cold?”

She chuckled. “Why do you keep doing
that?”

“Doing
what?”

Her eyes flittered to the vent. “You’re obsessed with the temperature
gauge.”

“No, I’m
not.”

“Yes, you are. How
come?”

I hesitated. “I can’t feel fluctuations in temperature.”

“Oh.” Her hand gently pushed mine over to feel the airflow. The immediate tingle was soft like soda fizz. “This is better,” she said, turning the glowing red knob to its hottest and leaning back with a prolonged sigh. “What sort of obstacles?”

“I think it’s better if you see for yourself. I don’t want to scare
you.”

She laughed. “I think our relationship is past that point, Lucas.”

“True.” I chuckled. “How do you feel about starting tomorrow?”

“He can get rid of my blackouts?”

“As much as you’re willing to let
go.”

I was worried she was going to explode any minute, tell me she hated my very existence and wanted nothing to do with me. In which case I’d ignore her, possibly kidnap her until after Solstice. And even then, I wasn’t sure I’d give her
up.

Instead, she responded, “Let’s do
it.”

Zara

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fallen Leaf

The November weather had turned very cold, but I awoke feverish. The carpet’s fibers were cold against my toes as I walked to the window. White powder covered the entire street, except for a pair of black stripes that ran down the middle. A burst of hot furnace air intoxicated me as I got ready—or it was Lucas’s lips last night? Their sharp lines, plumper than I’d expected, wouldn’t leave my
mind.

Lucas had said to dress comfortably, so I slipped on my black leggings and a loose sweatshirt I dug up from the dresser. I grabbed Gabriella’s clothes, neatly folded, from my dresser and went downstairs to wait. Mom was making oatmeal in the kitchen when Lucas knocked on the door promptly at
seven.

“Who’s that?” she asked as she turned, looking disheveled in her bathrobe.

“It’s nobody, Mom. Just my ride,” I answered, rushing a donut into my mouth and guessing it’d be the last thing I ate for a
while.

“Well then, why doesn’t Bri just walk right
in?”

“Well, Mother, because it’s not Bri.” I brushed a hand down my thighs to wipe away the powdery crumbs. “I won’t be home until
dinner.”

I could see Mom’s head poking out of the kitchen as I went to the front. I sidestepped to block her view and opened the
door.

“Hey, you ready?” I pretended the strange, leaning mother behind me didn’t
exist.

His head was down, his hands tucked in the pockets of his red jeans. He scuffed the porch with his black sneakers and looked up. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you to my house to learn how to keep a god from penetrating your mind, and you’re asking me if
I’m
ready?”

I stepped out, pretending to ponder his statement as I closed the door behind me. “Yes.”

Actually, I couldn’t think about it unless I was close to a toilet. It made me nauseous. I walked through the cottony fluff covering the grass and slid into Lucas’s car. I took in slow, deep breaths of the exotic-oil scent floating in the air and felt more
serene.

“You didn’t tell your parents it was me picking you up, did you?” Lucas asked, shutting the door silently behind
him.

“No. I don’t want to raise questions I’m not ready to
answer.”

“I understand. But that won’t
do.”

I leaned back uncomfortably and pointed my thumb toward the house. “You’re right. Shall I go back in right now and straighten things
out?”

The car started before I could see his hand twist. He was shaking his head, lips pursed in a pleased smirk. “Later. We’ve much work to
do.”

Lucas drove south on Lake Tahoe Boulevard until it deepened into forest, then turned west toward Fallen Leaf Lake on a small, unnamed road walled in by ancient trunks. Lucas said nothing as we drove down the tunnel of shade, swerving around potholes hidden beneath the snow. I clung to the side of my seat, fighting a yawning pit in my stomach and praying we wouldn’t spin out and hit a
tree.

By the time the uneven road smoothed out, I had lost feeling in my knuckles. I flexed them as we rounded a curve, and large iron gates appeared between the firs, reaching half the height of the grandfather spruces. Scrolls and swirls adorned the doors, which were flanked by an equally tall brick wall camouflaged by the new snow. As Lucas rolled up, the gates opened automatically, and my fingers loosened in awe as we entered.

“Welcome to my quarters,” Lucas said, sounding indifferent. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was
wrong.

“Quarters?”

“This isn’t my home. My home is in
Mexico.”

“Of course,” I said, feeling
stupid.

I looked back out the window, suddenly rethinking my decision to come. This place was a fortress. Inside the gate, webs of silver pine needles and naked branches hung over the road, weighed down by heaping piles of snow that glistened in the kiss of sunrise. The white-tipped evergreens stretched as far as I could
see.

As we neared the lake, the trees became fewer and the road turned black, probably thanks to expensive heaters underneath. It gave me a clear view of the house, whose grandness against the fresh winter landscape was breathtaking. I expected to see a stone castle of some sort, like something from Europe, but instead a pleasing, cream-colored villa with gray roof tiles sat over the rocky lakeshore.

Lucas pulled through a white marble portico and curved around to the double front doors, still unresponsive. My eyes traced up the pillars framing the door to a crystal chandelier hanging in the vault, then back down to where the marble steps stopped at my door.
Still worthy of a king,
I thought. Evergreen shrubs dusted with iridescence crept up from the earth and along the outermost side of the
stairs.

Then, through the tableau of silver and white and icicles, I spotted two still black figures. They sat upright at the foot of the doors, jade eyes glowering at
me.

Lucas let the car idle, a disgusted look rising on his
face.

“Look, Zara, I don’t want you to think that what I did yesterday was
okay.”

“The kiss? That’s what this is about? All the moping this morning?”

He looked away guiltily. “Yes. That can never happen
again.”

“You’re confusing me. I felt something, didn’t you?” Instead of my stomach knotting the way it did whenever I felt a guy was breaking up with me, the fever came, this time with
anger.

“The connection we feel is only a false sense of love,” he claimed. I found it unconvincing.

“Who are you to tell me what I feel? You don’t even know
me.”

“It’s just lust, Zara. That’s
all.”

I huffed and gazed out the window. “When is Solstice?”

“December twenty-first.”

Lucas was opening my door before I realized he’d gotten out. I stepped out, annoyed, figuring I’d rather take my chances with the unleashed jaguars than in an argument with
Lucas.

“Fine. We just have to put up with each other until then, and after that we can go our separate ways. Where is this stupid training center?” I mumbled, feeling I’d like to die about
now.

“This
way.”

I followed him up the marble steps as his head dropped even lower between his shoulders. We stopped next to the jaguars.

“Niya, Malik, this is Zara,” he
said.

Sleek black heads turned slowly and locked large eyes on mine. It startled me at first, but a moment later, I knew these animals would never hurt
me.

Their uneven spots were visible in the daylight. Niya, the female, sat on the left, her spots gray and black and beautifully shiny. She was a little more restless than Malik, who sat motionless except for his eyes. His fur was black as night, with larger, matte splotches.

I raised my hand to pet them but then retracted it quickly, wondering if they’d bite it off. Lucas chuckled despite his
gloom.

“Niya and Malik don’t hunt around here. In fact, they never hunt. We bring them fresh meat from the markets,” he stated. He watched me closely and somehow anticipated my next question. “They’re like us. They don’t need to eat as often as they would if they were . . . what’s the word . . . adequately mortal? They were given to us for protection at our turning, and they have been a part of our family ever since.” He patted Malik’s head roughly, drawing a low purr through the jaguar’s sharp
teeth.

“Do they understand you?” I asked, perplexed.

“Perfectly. Shall we go
inside?”

The lack of interest or excitement in his voice reminded me that I was here on a mandatory basis. “After
you.”

I knew that he had noticed my effort to avoid eye contact, and I could see his sadness deepen. I waited for him to move and then followed, not caring that the jaguars were at my
heels.

We walked into a great room with a two-story wall of windows showcasing the white-and-gray lake. Inside, the room was vibrant with color, stonework, and gold. There were old artifacts and murals and a life-sized statue of Andrés by a grove of green plants—something I wondered about. Lucas gave me no chance to ask, but instead veered left into a narrow hallway that curved toward a single
door.

We entered a study with lemongrass-patterned wallpaper and denim-blue paint trim. It was chilly. The windows that rose from the dark wood floor to the soffit ceiling across the room were cracked open, the draft enough to feel as though I were outside. Beyond the windows, the room seemed to float in a sea of green and snow. I crossed my arms and stepped closer. Below, the foundation sat on a large, flat crag of rock that stuck out past the house, suspended in midair. A thin stream of water trickled over the side and cascaded down into a
stream.

“I like to spend my nights here because the water drowns out a lot of the nuisance noise I can’t shut off,” Lucas said. “Dylan and Gabriella will join us shortly.”

As chilled as I was, I turned and found the room warm in rich browns. A tufted leather couch with a deep sepia hue faced the window, and beside it sat a peculiar side table with exquisite gold trim. Atop it were old books stamped with gold foil and a sheaf of parchment paper bearing scribbled cursive text. On the other side of the couch was an antique-gold globe on a stand. Cartographic maps had been tacked up on every available wall space between tall oak bookshelves with intricate trim. Ancient-looking books, tattered with age, were grouped together on one side, while newer, shinier books were bunched together on the opposite
side.

The room looked staged. Everything was in its place—there was a desk with no computer, and even the linen drapes folded across one another perfectly. It all looked human enough until I saw strange objects of metal and stone tucked into the open spaces of the bookshelves, antiques that I knew no human historian would ever have a chance of obtaining.

“What are these?” I asked, touching a round engraved
stone.

Lucas followed me closely, not allowing less than two inches between us. “Nostalgic mementos.”

My hand left the stone and traced over the grooves carved into what looked like a piece of driftwood. I realized it was shaped into a weapon, a club of some sort. “Old?”

“Very,” he said, watching me more closely.
Nervous are you, Lucas?
I thought, delighting in his edginess.

Footsteps echoed in the hall as Lucas lifted my finger and pulled it away from the piece. Gabriella and Dylan walked in just as I stubbornly pulled my hand away from his. My attention fell on Dylan first; I was already intimidated by his unearthly
might.

“Zara, you decided to come after all.” Gabriella smiled and greeted me with a kiss on one cheek. “You know, we’ve never had a human over
before.”

I waded in with sarcasm. “Well, I didn’t really have much of a choice. The blackouts, the prophecy—the world’s going to
end.”

Everyone laughed.

“I brought you your clothes back,” I said, speaking fast out of nerves.
I’m not that funny, am
I?

Gabriella glanced at my attempt to make them look professionally folded, then looked up. “That’s very kind of you to remember,” she said, placing them on the table behind
me.

Dylan suppressed a smile as he studied me up and down. I picked at my nails, hoping my trainers and capri leggings would do. No fashion blog ever advised on how to dress when your personal trainer was a god. He stepped forward. “You’re
funny.”

Feet moved evenly along the hall’s marble floor, casting musical echoes. Valentina glided through the walnut door first, her arms stretched wide. She wore a tight dress that made her curvy immortal body look Photoshopped to perfection.

“
Bienvenido
, Zara,” she greeted me in her beautiful accent. Her sleek hair tickled my cheek as she embraced me gently and kissed my
cheek.

Andrés followed and kissed my other cheek before I could resist. I stiffened nervously as they all stood staring at me, suddenly uncertain of how I got here, a house full of gods and immortals. I was probably doubly red from shock. I let my hair fall to cover my burning cheeks, feeling unworthy of their
regard.

“Thank you,” I finally muttered, remembering from Spanish class in high school that
bienvenido
meant welcome. She made the word sound so elegant.

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for some hot chocolate before you get started?” Andrés
asked.

I accepted for both Lucas and I without question. Lately he didn’t seem to know what he wanted, and a warm drink sounded comforting.

“Lucas, I will be waiting for you in the basement,” Dylan
said.

Lucas shot Dylan an enraged glance as we walked away. I looked in the other direction, sensing a long feud there that I didn’t want a part
in.

I wanted to look more closely at the rare items in the front room when we returned, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Andrés. He moved as a king should—back straight, chest lifted—and Valentina followed with her shoulders back and chin high. My trotting steps fell heavily as they flowed up the spiral staircase. They didn’t seem to notice, or pretended not to hear, as we headed toward the back of the
house.

Gray light flooded through another wall of windows into their vast kitchen. Without the barricading trees, the sense of floating was even more intense; the lake was their backyard. Two crystal chandeliers lit a spotless granite island. Every surface was stark white and squeaky clean, including the lacquered dining table. The only spot of color was the red rimming the familiar fire-and-ice roses in a white vase on the
table.

Andrés pulled out a Lucite chair by the glass wall and motioned for me to sit. As I did, Lucas dropped into another chair by my side, but turned away from me. I gazed out at the cold whiteness frosting the large boulders in the water.
Dad would kill to photograph this wintery manor,
I
mused.

“Zara, honey, how are you holding up?” Valentina asked kindly as she checked the whistling teakettle. I thought about her question until she handed me a white hobnail mug steaming with a cocoa bean aroma. The contents promised to be thick and creamy, and my mouth watered.