The Smoking Mirror (15 page)

“I’m back to girl shape or whatever you called it,” Carol said behind him. “Are we there yet?”

Johnny smiled as he looked back at her. “Remember how irritated Dad would get when you would ask that?”

She laughed. “Yeah. But the cool thing was that he always answered, even though he sounded frustrated. I don’t remember him ever telling me to shut up.”

Johnny nodded. “He’s a pretty good guy. But he needs his wife, and we need our mom. So let’s go get her, what do you say?”

“
Órale
,” Carol responded, in perfect imitation of their mother.

They soon began to notice a strange smell similar to rotten eggs. The odor grew stronger as they approached the body of water, till it was nearly overpowering. Standing at its edge it looked to be a fetid mix of decomposing flesh, foul waste and acrid minerals. The air was thick and soupy and very likely poisonous.
We’ve got to get through this quick.

Across the impenetrably black waters stretched a narrow stone bridge with no railings or other protection. It simply hung there in defiance of all laws of gravity, daring the twins to attempt a crossing.

“Well, I’m not swimming through that disgusting crap, so the bridge it is,” Johnny announced.

Carol took a ragged breath through her mouth, probably trying desperately not to let the air filter into her nose. “Or we could just fly, hello.”

Johnny nearly face-palmed at his own stupidity. “Of course. Lechuza time!”

Shifting into a screech owl, he grasped his shield in his talons and took flight, figuring Carol would follow him shortly. His wings beat the air above the noxious lake, but he felt himself being sucked down instead of going up. He struggled to gain altitude, but the air seemed to actively force him toward the inky water.

“Johnny!” his sister screamed as the shield actually slapped the surface.
Oh, crap!
He dredged up as much
xoxal
as his fear would let him, and in an exhausting burst of energy, he managed to flap his way to the stone causeway, tumbling into his twelve-year-old human form and panting heavily as he tottered to his feet. The bridge was only about three feet wide at best, and Johnny was sorely tempted to stretch his arms out on either side to maintain his balance.

“Can’t fly!” he called to his sister. “I think that’s what the goddess was about to tell us before she split into four and started kicking demon butt. Looks like we’re walking, Sis!”

She stopped fiddling with her necklace and walked carefully toward him. “I feel like gagging,” she muttered as she approached.

“Right? I guess we know where the Mictlandians drain their sewers, huh?”

“Mictlandians? I don’t think that’s what they’re called.”

“Yeah, well, ‘inhabitants of Mictlan’, just doesn’t have the same ring to it, and I guess they’re not exactly
demons
since this isn’t Hell.”

Carol shrugged. “Whatever. You’re just weird, in my honest opinion.”

They continued making their careful way across the thin strip of stone, doing their best not to faint at the stench, which got impossibly worse as they neared the center. Johnny’s eyes began to water and his nose to run. His very skin felt like it was breaking out in a rash.

“This is super unhealthy,” he croaked. “But at least my sinuses are clear now.”

Carol didn’t reply; she just scuffled along behind him, her hands on his shoulders.

They reached what Johnny judged was the midpoint when the attack came. A half-dozen winged creatures that looked like gargoyles seemed to materialize out of thin air, diving toward the bridge, mouths open to utter sepulchral cries. One of them slammed into Johnny, knocking him into the tarry waters. He landed on his back, and the shield kept him afloat momentarily as he watched the winged monsters harry his sister, who had knelt and was feverishly flipping through options on her necklace.

The sluggish currents of the Apanhuiayo, as Ixcuinan had called it, sucked at him, and he knew that there was no way he would be able to swim the rest of the way. He considered his bracelet for a moment. Only one bit of animal matter was left to try, a clump of fur that reminded him of a seal’s slick body.

Here goes nothing,
he thought, and let his
tonal
leap into action. Water that had threatened to drown him instantly felt friendly and navigable. Four powerful legs ending in webbed, simian hands plied the inky sludge easily, aided by an agile tail tipped, inexplicably, with a fifth hand. Setting aside questions, Johnny rocketed toward the inner shore, praying that Carol had found a solution to her dilemma.

As if in answer, the air all around exploded into flame. Johnny’s ears were greeted by the screams of fricasseed gargoyles and a dragon’s roar of triumph.

Ah, you shifted into the fire serpent. Smart move.

Yes, well, the bridge can’t handle my weight, so I’m going to have to race you as it collapses behind me!

Very cinematic.

Dork.

He could hear chunks of the causeway fall into the lake with muffled splashes, generating waves that pushed him even more quickly to shore. He turned and saw Carol leap the last ten meters or so, landing heavily on the ground near him.

Johnny shook the last of the putrid water from his slick fur and morphed back into human shape.

“I don’t know
what
the hell that was,” he said, checking his shield as he gave Carol his back. “But thank God the Little People included it.”

“I’m pretty sure it was a water dog a, what’s it called, an
ahuizotl
. Read about them in one of Dad’s reference books on Mexican legends. Wait, don’t turn around yet.”

Having confirmed that Huitzilopochtli’s shield was still intact, Johnny looked ahead. The mist was very similar to what they’d seen upon entering the land of the dead and what had shrouded the desert of silence. Thinking of what might lie beyond it made his heart lurch with fear.
Let’s keep that feeling to ourselves, okay,
tonal?
Carol needs her brother’s courage right now. I’m betting real darkness is on the other side.

Carol touched his arm, and he turned to look at her. Her clothes were scorched and ripped, her hair a total mess. But her eyes burned with a fierceness he recognized well: it was their mother’s determined, almost obstinate spirit.

“Well, here we are at last, Johnny. We crossed the Nine Deadly Deserts, faced everything they could throw at us, and here we are at the center of Mictlan. Ready to face the Grim Reaper and his beautiful bride Catrina?”

Johnny nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Sis.”

He took her hand, and they stepped through the veil.

Chapter Seventeen

Carol scrunched her eyes tightly closed as they moved through the mist. The ambient sounds changed radically as they passed into the heart of Mictlan: it sounded like they were now outdoors in some corner of the human world with wide spacious skies above them. She opened her eyes and was greeted not with the absolute darkness she had feared but with an amazing otherworldly landscape. Above them, seemingly hundreds of feet away, the impossibly thick roots arched through the sky, as if Mictlan lay beneath some cosmic tree. Between the roots peeked trillions of gorgeous stars, their ancient light illuminating her surroundings more than the gloomy gray of the nine deserts had ever done.

Before them, the mist-shielded core of Mictlan was dominated by a mind-boggling structure: a fortress formed of red crystal that jutted insanely this way and that in defiance of any human notion of symmetry or aesthetics. The complex sported twisted spires that nearly touched the roots above, and it sprawled for what seemed miles in all directions. The Black Road terminated at a vast opening that gaped like a hungry maw.

Carol’s heart ached suddenly as it hadn’t in some time.

“She’s in there.”

Johnny squeezed her hand and then let go. “Yeah. I can feel her, too. Let’s go save her, no?”

As they began to move toward the fortress a huge parliament of owls fluttered out of its crevices to settle all around them, hemming them in. Huge
lechuzas
and smaller
tecolotes
cocked their heads silently and wouldn’t move aside. When Johnny tried to push some out of the way with his foot, a group of them lifted into the air before him, hovering in silent menace, talons at the ready.

“Dude, what the heck?”

“I wonder…Maybe if we shift into flying creatures we can just go above them.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“But then they might see us as even more of a threat. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not spend a lot of time fighting a horde of owls right now. Bigger fish and all. Yikes, excuse the mixed metaphors.”

Without warning, the wall of owls parted and a strange beast approached, a sort of were-owl: a huge avian head atop a feathered, humanoid body, its legs bent like a bird’s and ending in enormous talons, its arms vast wings that presently hung somewhat like a feathered cape. It jerked forward with a strange strutting step and regarded them, hostility and violence in its eyes.

“Ah, hell, no.” Johnny took his own owl feather in his hand.

“Johnny, no, don’t antagonize the…”

As usual, he didn’t listen to her. Instead he shifted partially, imitating the being’s form to a great degree.

“You’re not the only one with a sharp beak, bro,” he muttered gutturally.

“Foolish shifter,” replied the were-owl with a hollow, reedy voice. “I have worn this form for longer than your weak race has walked the earth, ever since the Third Age, when rains of flame effaced the world. Do you actually expect I will be in the slightest intimidated by your mocking me?”

“Probably not, but just so you know, I’m not intimidated by how super old you are, dude. Who freaking cares if you’ve been eating bird seed for a million years? I’ll still kick your feathered butt if you don’t get out of the way.”

“For what purpose do you approach Chicunamictlan?”

Johnny laughed. “
Chicano
Mictlan?
Qué onda
, homie…is this where
raza
go when they die?”

“Insolent gib, speak not with disrespect of
Chicunamictlan
, the mighty Halls of Death.”

“So that’s the name of the fortress?” Carol broke in, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Indeed. Within its dark, blood-tinged depths, souls find their final extinction. But you are living humans, and you cannot pass.”

“Oh, yeah?” Johnny’s voice was a snarl. “And who’s going to stop us, huh?”

“I am Prince Muan, chief among the Tlatlacatecolo, Keeper of Mictlantecuhtli’s Strigine Brigade.”

“Huh? Chief among the
tacos locos
? Keeper of the grimy braids?” Johnny turned to Carol. “Can you translate?”

She sighed. “He takes care of the owls.”

“Ah.” He made a dismissive motion with one wing. “Man, you dudes need to tune into TV shows or surf the Internet or something. You talk like dead people. Oh, sorry, that’s right.”

Visibly controlling himself, Prince Muan spread his wings slightly. “You have yet to respond to my question. What brings you to this place?”

Carol didn’t wait for Johnny to smart off again. “We’re here for our mother. She’s in there,” she motioned with her head toward the fortress, “so that’s where we’re going. We’ve crossed all the required obstacles, Prince Muan, and I’m pretty sure that means we get an audience with Lord and Lady Death. So…if you’ll just have your brigade get out of our way, we’ll go talk to them.”

“Impossible, wench. They are presently indisposed. Governing the Underworld is no child’s game, understand. They have not the time to entertain the sniveling requests of every…”

“
Let them approach
.”

Two voices, in unison, uttered the words with enough volume that the parliament of owls actually shook, their feathers ruffled by the force of their rulers’ command. The voices were spectral and monstrous, utterly inhuman and creaking with hoarse and eldritch harmonics that no twelve-year-old should ever have to hear. Carol’s mind buckled at the mere thought of looking on the beings who had spoken.

Muan ducked his head in obeisance. “As you please, Great Ones. Jolom, Chabi…move aside. The two of you as well, Juraqan and Kaqix.”

The screech owls that had blocked their way wheeled off to dusky recesses in the crystalline walls of Chicunamictlan. Prince Muan made a sweeping gesture with his right wing. “Proceed. If your offerings do not satisfy my sovereigns, we will have occasion to speak one final time before I feast on your eyes.”

“Okay, that wasn’t awkward.” Johnny smirked as he returned to his human form. “Come, Carol. Let’s leave this loser behind us.”

They crossed the remaining distance between them and the entrance, around which scenes of death had been etched into the crystals. Bats flitted in and out of the darkness, twittering and diving at black beetles. Carol, having worn the form of a
kamasotzob
, felt no fear of them, but she took her brother’s proffered hand all the same, and they stepped across the threshold.

Inky blackness surrounded her, so she shifted just her eyes and let her wolf vision pierce the dark. They were proceeding along a corridor whose shape and dimensions varied unpredictably: at times the ceiling loomed yards above them; at others, it was just inches away. The walls closed in at them and then receded.

“No human mind designed this crazy place,” Johnny muttered, glancing at her with feline eyes.

“No, an ancient, sociopathic god did. And he’s got our mom.”

Johnny just grunted in reply, for the corridor had come to an end, emptying into a staggeringly cavernous hall lit by blue will-o’-the-wisps hanging suspended in the air. Ranged along the sides, standing at the ready between unevenly spaced stalagmites, were hundreds of skeletons, each clutching a spear, club or scythe. Their eyes glowed with the same blue fire that flickered above. Several turned their skulls to regard Carol, and the nape of her neck prickled with fear. But, the garrison of
calacas
only worried her for a moment. In the distance she could dimly see two figures.

“Come closer,” they urged in frightening voices. Snakes and scorpions skittered frantically across the floor at the sound.

Gripping Johnny’s hand more tightly, Carol kept putting one foot in front of the other. She slipped her free fingers into her pocket and felt for the bag of jewels.
Oh, thank God. The sooner we get this over with, the better.

Having faced the Ajalob, she thought she would be prepared for Lord and Lady Death. She was not. The closer she came to them, the more oppressed she became by thick, swirling
cehualli
, as if the sovereigns of Mictlan exuded that dark magic. Her stomach twisted into knots at the sickly sweet smell of blood and flowers.

The rulers of the Underworld struck real horror in her soul.

Seated on thrones molded from human bones, Lord and Leady Death loomed gigantic, nearly twice the height of a normal man and woman. He was gaunt and gray, his parchment skin pulled taut across wiry muscles and his abdomen so deeply sunken Carol could make out the outline of his spine. He wore a simple breechcloth, white with a single blue line at the fringed red edge, which was clearly dripping blood. His gnarled, thin legs were bare, but his splayed feet were fitted with black sandals. Draped across his shoulders was a
tilma
cape, bone white with the same turquoise stripe and fringe as his breechcloth. The cape was spattered with blood, which formed mind-twisting patterns as Carol stared. Around his neck was a yoke necklace of silver and turquoise from which small, gold-plated human skulls hung. Above this yoke, the skin of his lower jaw had been peeled away, exposing the bone. Though the rest of his face had flesh, it had worn thin and rotted in places, and his eyes were glowing red points in a circle of black. Atop his skull sat an extravagant headdress, formed of owl feathers and silver. From each side jutted a vicious-looking spike.

His companion was a more familiar sight to Carol, though not less frightening as a result. She wore a red
huipil
blouse and skirt, and around her neck was a chain from which dangled human hands and skulls, small enough that Carol suspected they belonged to children. Her face was a fleshless skull over which she had draped a black mantle that extended past her knees. It glittered with silver stars. In one bony hand she grasped a black orb; in the other, a sickle.

La Santísima Muerte
, thought Carol.
Dressed like a twisted copy of the Virgin of Guadalupe, a mockery of Tonantzin.
She’d seen the image tattooed on arms and legs, displayed on t-shirts and truck windows. Not just an Aztec deity, Godmother Death was worshipped in the 21st century in the twins’ own home town by people whose lives skirted the edge of normalcy, people for whom danger and death were occupational hazards.

I wonder if they’d be so eager to kneel to her if they were standing right here.

On the high backs of the thrones perched owls and bats. Before the Lord and Lady stood an obsidian basin. Between them, some ten yards away, a narrow archway led to the unknown bowels of the Underworld.

Johnny stood still holding on loosely to Carol’s hand. Thankfully, it seemed he had no desire for sarcasm.

Raising long, thin fingers tipped with black claws, the Lord of Death pointed to the twins. “
Behold, breathing children. Having overcome every obstacle, you stand before us, we who bear the titles Mictlantecuhtli and Mictecacihuatl, King and Queen of Mictlan. You seek admittance to the deepest heart of our realm
.”

Carol stammered. “Y-y-yes.”

“
These are not questions, living girl,
” Lady Death hissed. “
Forbear speaking until you are commanded
.”

Mictlantecuhtli continued. “
Your purpose here is known to us. We shall not interfere with your quest, as its object is also living and therefore anathema to Mictlan. The Dark One awaits you, and you will either win passage out of our realm or be destroyed utterly. First, you must satisfy
our
requirements. Have you gifts with which to pay our toll?
”

Swallowing heavily, Carol drew the little leather bag from her pocket and, releasing her brother’s hand, walked to the basin in front of Lord Death’s towering throne of bone. Pulling loose the drawstring, she poured the contents into the stone receptacle; the rubies, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and amethysts shined brightly and made a tinkling sound that felt distinctively out of place in that dark hall.

Stepping back, she stared expectantly up at that giant, horrible face, choking back bile at the rank smell of rot that Mictlantecuhtli exuded. The ruler of the Underworld nodded once, satisfied.

“
You may pass, Carolina Garza
.”

“What…what about my brother?”

“
He must pay his own price
.”

Johnny finally spoke. “But I lost my gems…”

Godmother Death snarled in disgust. “
Then you must offer other tender, churlish knave. Tax not our patience
.”

Johnny grimaced and unslung his shield. “This belonged to Huitzilopochtli. It’s got to be valuable. I’ll hand it over to you.”

“
Nothing stolen can you use, living boy
.” The black orb twisted like a living thing in her hand.

“Then what I am supposed to offer, huh? You want the cape? You want me to rescue my mom in my birthday suit,
cochina
?”

“
Imbecile. I care not for baubles or bits of rock. There is something precious to me, however, flowing through your very veins. If you would pass between these thrones, you must spill some of your blood
.”

Carol’s stomach dropped. “No. No, Johnny, don’t. There’s got to be another way.”

“Don’t worry, sis. I’ll be alright. It’s just a little blood. I’ll shift, heal, and be good as new.” He got closer to the stone basin and looked up at the spectral queen of the dead. “So how does this work?”