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me, clinging so tight I thought she might snap my ribs. Rosie leaped out after her, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. I patted my dog’s neck with one hand while I hugged my mom with the other. We stayed like that for a few more seconds—a few more seconds in which the sky was a beautiful blue, the world was turning as it should, and nothing could touch us. Not even the truth of what had already happened and what still lay ahead.

Mom pulled back first, keeping a tight grip on my arms. “Zane, you’re okay. Everything is okay.” She repeated those last words a few more times, like just saying them could make them true.

Rosie whined and pushed her head against my shoulder. “How’s my girl?” I rubbed her between the eyes before she lowered her head and started sniffing my ankles and legs like she could smell where I had been.

By this time, Alana had made her way over and was talking to the driver, who was still behind the wheel, nodding at whatever she was telling him.

“Mom,” I started, “we…we have to…” I didn’t even know what I was trying to say, but she did. Moms always know stuff like that.

“I know about the gods being trapped,” she said.

But you don’t know they’re in 1987.

“And I know I can’t talk you out of whatever you’re planning to do. And I’m sorry and angry that you’ve been put in this position, and…” She took a deep breath and added, “If anyone can do this, Zane, it’s you and Rosie and Hondo.” Her eyes darted toward the group by the front porch. “You all can do this.”

I wondered if she would say the same thing if she knew we had to travel back in time. Or if she knew that Hondo was going to have to go through worse than hell, again.

But before 1987 and hell, we needed food and sleep.

And we were in the right place for both. Apparently, Alana and Adrik’s log mansion also came with a chef, and the guy was a master at grilling a killer burger. My plan had been to spill the truth to the godborns before dinner, but Hondo and Brooks thought that was a bad idea.

“We need to keep them calm,” Hondo said.

“Why freak them out?” Brooks added.

“I can’t keep all this secret anymore,” I argued. “They deserve to know.”

Brooks sighed and said, “At least wait until after they’ve eaten.”

Hondo chuckled. “Yeah, frenzy is much better on a full stomach.”

After I cleaned myself up in one of the guesthouses, I made my way back outside. The smell of smoked beef and sizzling bacon filled the air. Normally that would be enough to start me drooling, but right then, it made my stomach turn. And as I rounded the corner of the house, I froze. Dozens of tiki torches cast long shadows across the cluster of picnic tables where the godborns sat laughing, talking, and chowing down.

The white barn loomed behind them, and I headed for it, suddenly needing to clear my head. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: You’ve fought gods and faced demons! But in the moment, all that seemed a whole lot easier than delivering bad news to a crowd that had no idea what was about to hit them.

Back in New Mexico, whenever I had frayed nerves, Rosie and I would hike my volcano, the Beast. Since I was minus the Beast, I took off into the forest, hoping the right words would come to me there. As the trees closed in all around me, everyone’s voices trailed off.

Except one. “Zane?”

Gripping Fuego, I spun to see Brooks step from the shadowed trees.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“What’s up with the sneak attack?” I asked, forgetting how eerily quiet she could be.

She came over and stood right in front of me. “I’m just going to say it. I know you’ve got a thing for me.” She kept her eyes on the wedge of night sky between the trees.

Whoa! I wasn’t ready for that. I felt like I’d been mowed down by an eighteen-wheeler. Was I supposed to agree? Tell her she had bad timing? Say nothing? “Can we…uh, talk about this later?”

She shook her head and turned so I couldn’t see her face. “It’s not going to work out. I needed to tell you, since, you know, one of us could die in 1987.”

I take it back. I felt like I had been mowed down by an eighteen-wheeler twice. As my mind and heart and every cell in my body struggled to find the right words, Brooks busted up laughing, clutching her gut. Then I saw her morph right before my eyes. She wasn’t Brooks—she was Marco!

“Dude!” he cried, still splitting a gut. “You should have seen your face.”

A tornado of fire whirled in my chest. It would have taken 0.2 seconds for me to incinerate his stupid smile—and believe me, I wanted to—but I had to restrain myself. I couldn’t blaze the guy for a practical joke.

Remember what I said about liking the guy? All that went up in smoke. Literally.


Tags: J.C. Cervantes, Jennifer Cervantes The Storm Runner Fantasy