The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) (22 page)

“Really Dylan? Ding-dong ditching?” It was something I did for fun long ago—when I was ten, maybe—ringing doorbells and running
away.

He chuckled. “One of my greatest pastimes in the sixties. That’s beside the point. You finally acknowledged that someone was in your head. You passed the first step.” He looked at his watch. “Only took you three hours. I think we’re off to a great
start.”

“She needs to eat, Dylan,” Lucas said harshly. He guided me toward the
stairs.

In the kitchen, Lucas aimed me at a chair and prepared a light sandwich and another mug of hot chocolate for me. There was no setting for him when he
sat.

“You’re not eating?” I
asked.

“It’s unnecessary.”

“You ate Chinese.”

“Ever since I became immortal, my body hasn’t needed to eat on a daily basis. It’s not life or death for me, so I eat when I feel like
it.”

I took a bite of the sandwich and looked away. “When you feel like
it?”

He snickered coldly at my mockery. “You’re going to make me
eat?”

“No. I can’t control
you.”

“I beg to
differ.”

His response gave me chills, asking questions I didn’t want to pursue, and I remained silent, staring out at the lake as I finished the sandwich. After lunch he insisted I take a longer break when I admitted my muscles hurt. Of course, I had to decline. I couldn’t show him that I was weak, though I wasn’t sure I was fooling
him.

I regretted my decision when Andrés, Valentina, and the jaguars watched from the sidelines while Dylan had me climb up and down the pyramid’s steps. I felt stupid holding onto each step, struggling for balance and heaving at the same time. Thankfully, just when I thought I was going to puke up my sandwich, Dylan decided to switch to the
cage.

My legs cramped inside the small, scratchy prison as he tried to penetrate my mind. After the image appeared of an orangutan scratching his butt with his hand, sniffing it, then falling off his tree, the blackness drowned me out. Gabriella was by my side when I woke up, pressing an ice pack to my
head.

“Gosh, what is with the images?” I asked, rubbing my head, which was aching not because I’d bumped it, but because Dylan had pushed his way in one too many
times.

“Would you rather I showed you beheadings or people’s limbs being cut off? Because I guarantee that is what you will see next time you are pulled into the Underworld,” Dylan said. He snickered under his breath. “Besides, it’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever
seen.”

Dylan was right; the Underworld was exactly what I
didn’t
want to see. When the image of the two men eating human limbs resurfaced, I nearly gagged. I climbed back into the cage without another word, but paused as my foot spasmed. “What is the point of the cage?” I asked as I reached for my foot and pushed my thumbs into the painful
cramp.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“You have no idea,” I said, more sharply than I intended.

“Then you are vulnerable. Your discomfort makes you weak. All you can think about is getting that cramp out of your right arch, right?”

I ignored him and kneaded the screaming
muscle.

“If you get taken by the Underworld, you will not die right away,” he continued. “They will lock you up in a cage similar to this one and leave you there until they are ready to sacrifice you. That’s the point of the
cage.”

“Fine, I get it,” I said, hugging my knees close to my chest when the cramp went
away.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Prosperity

“She’s done for the day,” Lucas said. Seeing the weariness in his beautiful face, I didn’t dare shrug away when he reached for me in the
cage.

“One more hour,” Dylan retorted.

“No.”

Lucas dragged me away without another word. Sticky sweat glazed my hand, but he didn’t let go until we reached another walnut-colored door upstairs.

He pushed it open. “This is my
room.”

The lights were dim, and it was hot. There was a gas fireplace in the corner, and judging by the amount of heat radiating out of it, it had been turned on some time ago. Its orange light flickered on the navy walls and the chocolate velvet headboard running up to the ceiling. There was a high-back chair in the corner, upholstered with funky printed fabric, and panels of camel-and-white chevron textile hung at each side of the black French doors to his balcony. It was getting dark outside, but it was light enough to see the fog that had begun bubbling in the brittle air, obscuring much of the
lake.

I could feel his eyes on me as I moved farther into the lion’s
lair.

“Where are your pictures?” I looked around at the bare
walls.

“We don’t really take pictures.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Evidence, I guess. And for obvious reasons, we didn’t have cameras when I was a
boy.”

There was an awkward silence. As I shrugged my overstretched shirt back over my shoulder, I noticed he was struggling to say something. I wanted to push him to talk, but I bit my
tongue.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Dylan wasn’t as bad as I thought he would
be.”

“Yeah, well, this is only the first day,” he reminded
me.

I raised my eyebrows and nodded, wondering suddenly why I was in Lucas’s
room.

“Would you like to sit?” He motioned to the
rug.

He relaxed a bit after we sat. As he focused on the fire, I hiked my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on my kneecaps, waiting for him to
speak.

“I gather you’re wondering about school on Monday,” he started, leaning back on his
elbows.

“I’m wondering a lot of things, Lucas.”

He looked away and cleared his throat. “After I took you home last night, I came back here and thought about you for three hours. When I realized that it wasn’t three hours but actually the entire night, and I’d ignored my family and every responsibility I had, I felt there was a problem. I was so consumed with you mentally that everything around me went away. And I fear that neglecting my instincts is very dangerous.” He paused and looked into the fire. “We can’t get close like last night, ever.”

“You’re a wreck,” I
said.

“I
know.”

There was another long moment where I thought Lucas had something else to say that would make my heart feel another little tear, but it never
came.

“Tita will be registered in all your classes,” he
said.

“Oh.” I didn’t
care.

“She likes to stay at home when it’s off
season.”

“Off
season?”

“You’re the last sacrifice. After you, there wouldn’t be any more abductions for another fifty-two
years.”

Imagining the recent abductions, I wrapped my arms around my legs again to hide my chills. Right at this moment, there were families searching for their missed loved ones. I gulped against a deep pressure in the back of my throat. “Why can I hear the shadows’ whispers?”

The muscles in Lucas’s face tensed, creating a shadow above his jawbone in the dim flicker. His beauty burned hotter than fire into my heart. It
hurt.

“It’s your connection with the Underworld,” he whispered, picking at a loose string in the jute
rug.

He wouldn’t look at me as I remembered the distorted faces. The warped bones twisting like tree roots over their smoky skin haunted me. “What are they . . . the executioners?”

“They are dead, soulless creatures, the fallen Aztec and Mayan
kings.”

I was sure Lucas heard my heart leap into gallop—he focused on me more cautiously.

“And no other sacrifice can hear them?” I asked
weakly.

“No.”

He looked so peaceful leaning against the small coffee table, while I felt my lunch climbing upward. He scratched his bicep softly, exposing more of his tattoo. Then he pulled a tiny wooden star out of his pocket and casually twirled it between his fingers. It matched his
tattoo.

“What does your tattoo mean?” I
asked.

“You are the most peculiar little creature I’ve ever met,” he said, smiling as he looked down at his markings and then back up, his eyes smoldering yet soft. “The star symbolizes perfection. The rooted tree depicts the three realms: heaven, Earth, and hell. And the circle that encompasses both symbolizes their eternities.”

“And what’s that?” I pointed to the
star.

He held up the piece to observe it closely. “This was a gift Ahau gave to me when I was born. He said to never let it out of my sight, that it would bring me great prosperity someday because it would never guide me
wrong.”

“And has
it?”

He looked up at me with an expression that warmed his coldness. “It’s brought me to
you.”

I looked down quickly and fiddled with my fingers while my pounding heart gave me away. “Why does everyone in your family have tattoos?”

“They appeared on our bodies during the transformation.”

“How?”

He shifted uneasily. “Maybe we should talk about something else.” Anguish danced through his voice as he gazed into the fire. His skin seemed polished, the way it mirrored the light from the logs.
I bet he’s never had a pimple his whole life.
And then I noticed his chin; it was darker, like Dad’s three-day no-shave
runs.

“Do you ever shave? I’ve never seen you without facial
hair.”

His teeth sparkled against the fire when he smiled. “I did this morning.”

“No you didn’t. You had stubble this morning.”

“I can’t help that,” he said. “That’s a part of me
now.”

I wondered what he meant but didn’t want to pry further for some reason. “So, what’s going to happen after Solstice?”

He started picking at the rug again, more quickly now. “I know that you desire to be rid of me as soon as you are saved, but it can’t happen right away. After the executioners come for you and are unsuccessful, they will return to the Underworld through the portal to report. My family and I must close that portal to ensure they do not come after you again. When the time comes, your family will travel with mine to Mexico. We can keep a better eye on you there, should the executioners attempt to come for you once more. Only then, when the portal is closed, will you be free of
me.”

“Free of you? Who ever said I wanted that?” His answer cut open painful memories of how sick I’d felt when he was gone.
I don’t want Lucas to go, ever.

I looked around the room to hide the tears surfacing in my eyes. There were funny items on the bookshelf and the small bedside table. They were old looking, all made of polished stone or leather. A large headdress hung in a glass case on the wall by the door. It reminded me of an Indian war bonnet or a Roman warrior’s helmet, the way the metal wrapped over the head to the ears. Faceted green jewels and turquoise surrounded its tarnished bronze crown beneath a spray of tall black feathers that fanned out like a peacock’s
tail.

“What is that?” I
asked.

“What I wore when I was
human.”

I laughed. It was half the length of the door. “It’s
huge.”

“I
was
the prince.” He had a Cheshire cat grin, the kind that no doubt attracted lovers to his
bed.

I blushed and looked away. There were a few more pops in the fire as Lucas got up. “We’d better get you home. Gabriella will be there at six thirty for the night
watch.”

As I started for the door, he unthinkingly interlocked his fingers with mine. I didn’t back away, except try to keep a straight face as he guided me to the
garage.

The parked cars in front of my house sat beneath a foot of fresh snow. I didn’t realize how long the day had seemed until my body started to ache. Looking at the sparkling pathway the porch light made in the dark, I was suddenly disappointed I wouldn’t see Lucas until
Monday.

“Someone will be watching you this weekend. I will be here Monday morning to pick you up for school,” Lucas said in the dim red glimmer of the dashboard. “We will pick up training where we left off after
class.”

He was perfect in the darkness. The shadows on his face outlined the beautiful groove that ran down the middle of his upper lip. My chest hollowed with disappointment when I realized he was waiting for me to get
out.

Lucas’s car idled after I shut the door, collecting new snowflakes until I was safely inside the house. After dinner I checked my bedroom window as snow danced downward from the black sky. Gabriella’s gold car was parked underneath the lamppost across the
street.

I stepped away and looked at my phone. It was crowded with missed calls. I shut it off. My head was on the verge of exploding. I took ibuprofen and dragged myself into the shower. The shredded skin of my palms stung.
They’ll probably be better by tomorrow,
I remembered, and I ignored
them.

I closed the blinds and pulled the drapes. I felt safe for the first time in weeks and fell asleep peacefully.

I was sitting in my car, late at night, in my dream. I was at a park. The headlights were shining down a grassy hill toward the swings. A young boy, maybe five years old, smiled at me as he ran up the hill in the stream of headlights. He was happy, but as he ran to me, an executioner swooped through the beams and grabbed him. The terror on that boy’s face, looking me straight in the eyes as the executioner snatched him with clawed hands, burned in my mind as I wrenched
awake.

My room smelled like Lucas when I inhaled the cool air. A blue sticky note fluttered slightly on my lampshade.

I came to check on you. Gabriella said you were screaming. I put my number in your speed dial. Call me when you get
this.

Lucas’s name glowed at the top of my phone’s quick-dial list.
Number one. Figures.
The phone rang for approximately 0.2 seconds before he picked
up.

“What happened?” He sounded worried.

After I shared my nightmare, the line was
silent.

“Do you think they took this boy?” I asked, flashes of his horrified face running through my
mind.

“Of course not. We would know about it,” he responded, offended.

“You’re not mad at
me?”

“Why would I be mad at
you?”

“I don’t know, because I’m weak?” I
said.

“Zara, you’ve only had one day of training. Do you feel
okay?”

“Yes.” I felt more guilty than pained by the few muscles that were still sore, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “Was this
real?”

“No.” He paused. “Or, at least, it’s not happening right now. I think your dream was another form of your connection. It gave you a perspective.”

I frowned. I didn’t know what I expected to hear, but “a perspective” wasn’t it. I could barely handle the blackouts.

“What you saw in your dream, Zara,” he said when I didn’t speak, “is what I’ve seen hundreds of times. It’s possible you had this dream because, well, you and I are close right now. Your dream allowed you to see our world from my perspective. I’ve seen this happen hundreds of times.” There was another long pause on his end. “I’m sorry you had to see
that.”

I bit my nails and nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see
me.

“There probably will be more dreams,” he added apologetically.

The phone slipped through my fingers. I caught it before it hit the ground and banged it back against my
ear.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he
asked.

“I’m
fine.”

A light tap on my door startled me. “Zara?”

“What?” I yelled, covering the earpiece.

“Who are you talking
to?”

“To Lucas Castillo.”

“Valentina’s
boy?”

“Yes, Mom, what other Lucas do I
know?”

“Invite him over for dinner on Monday for family night. I’d like to meet him properly.”

I knew Lucas had heard her. I could practically see the arrogant grin on those kissable lips of
his.

“Are you going to answer her?” he asked after a few moments.

“Fine.” I covered the earpiece out of habit and yelled through the door, knowing he could hear everything. “Mom, he said he’d
come.”

I wondered if he could sense my reluctance too. I didn’t want him over for dinner, but there was no way out of
this.

“Tell him to be here at five thirty,” she responded.

“I’m not going to bother telling you what time. You probably heard her better than I did,” I
said.

He cackled. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Oh, and you might want to tell your mom this time that you’ve arranged for me to drive you to school every day. Humans’ imaginations tend to make them suspicious for no
reason.”

My mouth dropped open at his presumptuous accusation.
My
idea to have him pick me up?
Suspicious for no reason
! The blatant lie crawled beneath my skin, steaming through every pore.
This was all his
idea!

“I’m driving myself tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere with
you.”

I could hear the rustle as he scratched his chin. “When I come to get you tomorrow, bring my journal. I want it back,” he demanded.

“I said I’m not going anywhere with you, didn’t you hear me? You can’t put me in this cage. You can follow me, and I’ll be just
fine.”

“This isn’t a debate. I will see you tomorrow in front of your house . . . don’t try anything
stupid.”

Me against the determined immortal—not even fair. I grunted. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”

“No.”

I slammed down the phone before he could fit another command in. But there was no room to breathe when I realized that Lucas now consumed my daily life. My throat felt parched and scratchy. My old life, filled with wonder about what college would be like, had dissolved, and the new unavoidably revolved around a conceited immortal’s secret world. I curled into a ball beneath the sheets. How was I going to tell Mae she wasn’t getting her book
back?