The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) (3 page)

“What other options do we have?” Ix Chel spoke up, worried.

“None right now,” Huitzilihuitl answered hastily, locking his eyes on me. “We stick to what we all signed up
for.”

“We need to move on,” Xquic said, eyes closed as her fingers wrapped tightly around the locket on her neck. “It’s almost
time.”

When Huitzilihuitl turned to Xquic, my body loosened. “Same kind?” he
asked.

Xquic slowly opened the metal locket and focused on the mirror inside. Her brown irises changed to the deepest black. Her face went blank, and her body began swaying.

“Virgins,” she began, then she paused. My heart pulsed with adrenaline. “Women. They’re
young.”

Huitzilihuitl turned to my family. “Same rules apply. You get in. You watch. You disappear.”

We
nodded.

While Xquic waited to see more, Gabriella glanced over her shoulder at me. I clenched my teeth and ignored her, my eyes on Xquic. At the edge of unbearable anticipation, Xquic finally let out a soft sigh. Her irises grew
larger.

“The first sacrifice is Shannon O’Brien from Limerick, Ireland; second sacrifice is Jane Miller from Miami, United States; third sacrifice is Mariama Adeyemi from Bandundu, Congo; fourth . . . Lucie Bennet from Clovelly, England . . .” Xquic glanced up to Andrés with her possessed eyes, making sure he was paying attention, then looked back down into the ornate adornment.

As Xquic spoke the name of each sacrifice, I felt my blood run thick throughout my body. My heart drummed faster, as if she couldn’t get through the list quickly enough. It was all I could do not to rip the locket from her fingers and see for myself. I had to settle for pacing back and forth. The citla in my pocket made a star-shaped imprint on my thumb as I pinched it tighter.

“Forty-eight . . . Laily Alam from Rajshahi, Bangladesh; forty-nine is Jiao Gao from Dunhuang, China; fifty is Julia Oliveria from Guimarães, Portugal . . .”

I held my breath to hear the words more clearly.

“Fifty-one . . . Alina Epple from Fribourg, Switzerland. And the fifty-second sacrifice . . . Zara Moss . . . Lake Tahoe, United
States.”

A new substance pumped into my bloodstream, and the loose pebbles crunched as I fell to my knees. Her name. It was . . . familiar. A fragment from a dream; the memory was too scarce to remember details. Her name stung me. Sharp palpitations cracked my heart’s hardened surface and exposed feelings I hadn’t felt in a long time. And then, for the first time since my transformation, my heart immobilized
me.

I felt the others’ stares. Gabriella knelt by my side, knowing danger was imminent if the gods suspected ulterior motives on our part. She had approximately half a second to fix me before the Celestials started their questioning.

It was forbidden for Watchers to show remorse for a sacrifice. With the exception of child offerings, the rule had never been a problem. Forgetting about a sacrifice came easy. But for the first time in my life, I felt terribly wrong inside, a good wrong—I knew I had to protect this girl . . . Zara.

“Lucas,
levantate
!” Gabriella whispered in my ear. “Get up, now!”

Confused about how this news had affected me so uncontrollably, I wiped the back of my hand against a tear and looked up. Tez’s dark eyes were waiting, confirming with softness that
finally
this fifty-second sacrifice was the one of the prophecy.

I felt a spark of the happiness I had wanted for so long, a burst of energy, and my lips lifted in a smile as I stood. Even after hundreds of years of silent nods and shakes, I understood Tez perfectly. It was she, the girl of the prophecy: Zara
Moss.

Zara

CHAPTER TWO

Encounter
Nine months later

The roads were wet from last night’s drizzle as I drove to the other side of the lake. The warm breeze danced past my open window, feeling sweet against my skin, but my blonde waves were becoming unruly, so I spun my hair into a quick pony and pinned it between my back and the
seat.

When I was twelve, my parents moved me to a quaint town called South Lake Tahoe. It’s hidden in the mountains in the elbow of the Golden State. Spanning the border with the Silver State, Lake Tahoe is the largest alpine lake in North America, surrounded by granite mountains with impressive snow terrain during ski season. For those two reasons and
only
those two reasons, I’d decided to stay for my first year of college. My friends convinced me I’d be better off enjoying one lenient season with fewer classes and more snowboarding time before burying my nose in books far away from
home.

With a quick glance at the clock, I pressed foot to metal in my teal 1994 Acura Legend. It was the last Friday of summer before college and my last shift as a waitress at Lucky Pin, a high-end, state-of-the-art bowling lounge. I had to cross into Nevada and then drive another ten minutes north through the mountains up I-50 to get there, but it was worth it. Even better, I got to work with my best friend, Bri.

I arrived at 5:57 p.m., a few minutes before my shift. I walked past the silvery foyer where the hostess stood into a large rectangular room with purple carpet. It was split into three parts: the bar to my right, the dining area in the center, and the exclusive lounge on my left. The high-glossed lanes were half a level higher in a secluded, dimmed area, each lane complete with couches arranged in rectangles and a two-tiered chandelier hanging above. It cost twice as much to bowl in Lucky Pin’s lounge than in any good old-fashioned bowling alley, but it was almost never slow. The place tipped well, and my ambitions for an expensive college kept me working hard for
it.

Bri was in the back, filling up sodas. She’d taught me that my brown eyes and chicken legs were a good thing, and that there were actual hair products to tame my seemingly untamable frizz. Basically, in her words, I was “a walking beauty”—if I treated my hair right and wore tight pants to show off my skinny legs, which I did, because a little effort never hurt my
tips.

I tossed my purse under the counter and pinned on my nametag. “Hey, Bri. Which tables do you want me to
cover?”

Bri was wearing her brown hair in curls today, pulled to the side with a yellow bow. The coils swayed when she moved her head. “You’re never going to believe
this.”

Her excitement surprised me. “What?”

“Well, it’s sort of strange since we’ve never seen them before, but . . .”

“Bri, what is
it?”

“There is a family in the lane”—she turned to face the upper floor and began counting from the end, her pointed finger bobbing—“fourth from the right. Do you see
them?”

I stretched my eyesight as far as the low lighting would permit and began counting from the right. After many lounge couches and suburban teenagers, I found a family of six, all with dark hair except for one younger blond man. Half of them had their backs to me as they leaned in, listening to a woman with short hair. Just as I glanced at the woman, she stopped talking. Then she aligned her eyes with mine, and her mouth parted, aghast. Our eyes locked for a full second before she looked away and spoke again. Strangely, everyone stiffened and ever so slightly straightened up—except the younger boy. He jolted up and turned slowly toward me. Once his startling blue eyes locked on mine, shock painted his face as well. The woman kept talking. Then chins started turning in my direction. I panicked and spun around.
Is she talking about
me?

“Who are they?” I asked Bri, the hairs on my neck
rising.

“Don’t know. But they’ve been here since four o’clock asking for
you.”

“Have they even finished one game
yet?”

“No. In fact, they reserved the table for the entire night, and they were extremely adamant about you being their server. They look like they tip well . . .” Bri said. She looked disappointed.

“Coming from the girl whose parents will be paying her college tuition. All right.” I breathed deeply. “I’m going
in.”

The strange situation tempted me to decline their request, but the promise of a good tip to add to my college fund urged me forward.

The group stared at me awkwardly as I approached. Their skin was the color of old honey; a natural glow shone around them like a guttering candle flame. It was uncomfortable the way they were still, silent—the way I grew lightheaded from the scents of coconut and ginger reaching my nose. I breathed in deeply again. It smelled amazing.

Two couples sat on the couch to my left. One young woman wore a multitude of turquoise bracelets mingled with metal and dark leather rings that decorated her forearm nearly up to her elbow. A large tattoo covered a good portion of the right side of her chest and continued underneath her shirt. As she crossed her hands over her knees, I saw a large, pear-shaped solitaire on her wedding finger. It was turquoise-colored and rimmed with white diamonds. It looked expensive. Nobody my age would be able to afford that. The blond boy next to her had his arm draped over her shoulder, his bulky muscles shadowing in what little light there was. I looked at his grungy Mohawk . . . they seemed young to be married. It didn’t surprise me to see a tattoo on his
calf.

The man sitting on the girl’s other side had his fingers laced together around his knee, his fingernails painted black. He looked old enough to be my father, but had a large tattoo stemming from the inside of his wrist, a feather headdress at its center over a rush of triangles, zigzags, and dots that climbed up to his elbow. The woman beside him bore a smaller but similar geometric tattoo on her petite wrist. A jade necklace lined with thick gold ringed her neck. She leaned back against the couch and tucked one foot in front of her, then crossed her knuckles lightly over her raised knee and pulled it close to her chest. In her relaxed state, she wasn’t studying me like the others did. In fact, though she and the man next to her stared as blatantly as the younger pair next to them, their scrutiny seemed less intrusive.

Suddenly, I became aware of another stare coming from my
right.

I didn’t know why, but my heart pounded when I turned. My eyes collided with the piercing blue stare of the boy I’d first seen from across the room. He looked close to my age and was a bit smaller than the blond boy, but I still had to look up to meet his eyes. As his slender face stared down at me, his bushy eyebrows rose high with disbelief, like he couldn’t believe I was standing right here in front of him. I grew weary of his stare, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him. He had neat sideburns and a head full of dark hair with waves that swept upward despite its natural unruliness. His nose was perfectly symmetrical—the kind people have surgery to get. There was a groove between it and his top lip. As I stared at its definition, how it perfected his face and set off sparks inside me, his lips parted and a dimple appeared in his cheek as he formed a clumsy
smile.

I was momentarily frozen by the electricity of his gaze. I had never seen a boy this beautiful before. I breathed in and looked down, noticing a tattoo underneath his short sleeve. Mazy shapes surrounded a seven-pointed star inside a circle, and a tree coiled deep roots inside the star. The ink wrapped well above his elbow, and I had to make myself look away from his toned bicep to the floor. Blue-laced sneakers covered his sockless feet. I liked them, but I forced myself to look away when I realized I even wanted to stare at his
ankles.

“Hi, I’m Zara. May I get you all started with something to drink?” I
said.

A low chuckle, soft like a hum, escaped the blond boy’s mouth. I ignored
it.

“Thank you. That would be more than appreciated,” said the man who appeared to be the father. Something made him seem older than the others, though his face was smooth, and he didn’t have a single gray hair that I could see. He turned his head and looked past me to the beautiful boy at my right. “Lucas?”

The man started speaking to Lucas in Spanish, but Lucas’s eyes didn’t move from mine. I couldn’t recall if he had even blinked. I felt self-conscious, like a nude model in the wrong classroom. I rubbed the side of my arm uncomfortably while I waited for someone—anyone—to order a stupid
drink.

“Honey, I’ll take a Coke, no ice,” the woman next to the father figure kindly interrupted. She had a beautiful accent and piercing brown eyes. Her jet-black hair, parted down the middle, looked as though she’d poured a bottle of shine serum on it. I scribbled her order on my notepad for a distraction from her immaculate
beauty.

“And I will have a Bloody Mary,” shot the mermaid-looking girl next to
her.

“Gabriella,
por favor
,” the woman said to the younger one. She must have been the girl’s mother with that reprimanding
tone.

“Sorry, I can’t serve to minors,” I replied apologetically.

An amused burst of laughter came from the blond boy sitting next to her. She shot him an incredulous look and then turned to me slyly. “I am not a minor,” she
said.

I had no idea if she was telling the truth, but I felt threatened for some reason.
Note to self: mermaid girl is at least twenty-one
.

“No, I mean
I
can’t serve to minors. I’m not twenty-one yet,” I
said.

With her eyes narrowed, she pressed her lips together and pouted. “All right, give me a Coke,
no
ice.”

“Anyone
else?”

“Yes, I will take a Coke as well,
with
ice.” Lucas smiled. His blue eyes sent gratifying pulses down my body. I looked
away.

“What do you got, blondie?” the blond boy
said.

“
Por favor, amor
.” Gabriella rolled her
r
s dramatically as she rolled her eyes. She seemed more on edge than the rest. I wondered who’d poisoned her
water.

“I have all Coke products, lemonade, iced tea, or coffee,” I offered.

He let out a prolonged sigh and smiled. “I’ll take an iced tea; I’m feeling quite refreshed tonight.” He chuckled, looking oddly animated compared to the rest, who all seemed depressed.

“You’re such a show-off, Dylan. I’ll have a coffee with extra cream,” said a voice behind
me.

It was the short-haired woman who’d seemed to be talking about me earlier. She sat alone on her couch, smiling warmly at me as if we were old friends. It gave me a funny feeling, as did the tattoo over her neck. This tattoo thing was beginning to seem bizarre.

I looked down at my notes, wishing to get away. “So I have two Cokes with no ice, one with ice, one iced tea, and one coffee with extra cream. Anything for you, sir?”

I looked back up into the father’s eyes. Though not as striking as the mother’s, they were the same shade of blue as his son’s, and he was nearly as good looking. He gave me a puzzled look, scratching casually at the black scruff on his chin. Finally, the leg folded over his lap dropped to the floor and he scooted to the edge of the couch. “Nothing for me, but I have a couple questions for
you.”

“Yes?” I
said.

“How old are
you?”

“Eighteen.”

“So you are in high
school?”

“No, sir. I’ll be starting college in a couple of
weeks.”

He fell silent, and his head nodded as he seemed to ponder what I last said. “Which school will you be attending?”

“Sierra Nevada College,” I answered, suddenly wondering why I was telling the
truth.

“Do you plan to live at home while attending?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

As I tried to pretend these questions didn’t bother me, his expression became disapproving. That bothered me too. He looked tired all of a sudden and shifted in his chair. “You know what? I’m feeling quite parched. Would you be so kind as to add another Coke to the
order?”

“Ice?”

He laughed lightly. “
Claro que no
. No, darling.”

I walked away, stiff as a board, trying to make sense of them. Bri was waiting in the kitchen by the coffee burners.

“What happened?” she asked eagerly. “You were there for a long
time.”

“Well, all I got out of them were drinks. They all seem upset about something. It’s weird.” She looked confused. I walked to the soda fountain and begun filling up the
cups.

“Wait, ice! You forgot the ice,” Bri sputtered.

“No, I didn’t. They specifically requested no
ice.”

She squinted at the cups. “Gross.”

I poured a cup of coffee while the warm sodas filled. “Were you watching me the whole
time?”

“Maybe. Hey, don’t forget, I need to catch a ride home with you tonight. Tommy dropped me
off.”

“Right, no problem.” I peeked around the corner again at the family. They seemed to be in conference. “Did this family say anything about how they knew
me?”

“No. They walked in here all godlike, looked around, then asked where you were. I told them you wouldn’t be in until six. They said that was fine, reserved the table for the rest of the night, and requested that only you serve them.” She sounded bored now. “What did you think about the dark-haired boy? Hot, right?”

I stole another glance at the family. Lucas was sitting now, facing
me.

“Are you sure you don’t know them?” she asked, putting a hand on my shoulder and leaning forward as she stared with
me.

I squinted harder in their direction. “Bri, I think I would recognize them if I knew
them.”

All eyes were on Lucas. As he spoke, he jerked his hands with frustration. Then he swiped a hand through his hair and shook his head, looking exhausted. Suddenly, he snapped his head up again, and our eyes met. Bri and I flew back behind the wall, stumbling into the stacked glasses.

“Why is he so hot?” Bri said, eyes wide with bewilderment.

“I better bring them their drinks. Wish me luck,” I said nervously, placing all the cups on the
tray.