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I hadn’t even thought about running into someone we knew. Were Jordan and Bird in Venice Beach in 1987? My stomach turned.

Alana pointed and said, “There’s a gateway in that field—we can use it to get to the Old World. Then I’ll come back here, and”—she hesitated for a moment—“Adrik can stay with you, since he’s so cunning.”

“Awesome!” Adrik said with a big grin. Then he got serious. “You sure, sis?”

“I’m sure. It’ll be like a vacation for me,” she joked, but I could tell she was trying to hide her concern for his safety.

Mom asked, “Are you all positive you’re ready for this?”

Rosie yelped and bolted in the direction Alana had pointed, across a grassy meadow where yellow and purple flowers bloomed.

I turned to say good-bye to Mom. She blinked back tears, made the sign of the cross on my forehead with a trembling hand, and said, “You’re my favorite son.”

“I’m your only son.”

“So you’d better come home,” she said before hugging me and giving everyone else blessings.

Louie stood back and added, “If you see any cool souvenirs, bring me some.”

“We aren’t going to be shopping,” Brooks huffed.

“But vintage Madonna…” Alana whispered as she joined hands with me and Ren, who connected with Marco.

Adrik placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder. Brooks, Hondo, and Rosie stood behind us, so close I could feel their hot breath on my neck.

“Okay, those who have been to the Old World,” Alana said, “visualize it. The rest of you, think of how Zane described it in the book.”

A second later, we plunged through biting darkness that circled around us like frenzied hands, reaching for, clawing at, and generally trying to rip us open.

Thankfully, it only lasted a few seconds. We landed with a thunk, oof, and “My back!”

I sat up and looked around. We were definitely in the Old World, right in the center of a semicircle of five pyramids. Rosie ran around sniffing the ground like she was happy to be back in the place where I’d first seen her in hellhound form.

As everyone got to their feet, oohing and aahing all over the place, I took a deep breath. Man, the place was just as creepy and amazing as the last time I’d been there. Cobwebs hanging from the silvery trees, a split sky that looked ready to collapse. I half expected to see the Sparkstriker, but she must have been busy cleaning her lightning pool or polishing her ax.

I pushed Itzamna’s shades up the bridge of my nose. “The Old World could really use an overhaul,” he said.

Brooks came over with the others. “How are things going at the World Tree, Itzamna?” she asked tentatively, like she was afraid of the answer.

“We’ve seen better days, but so far even my diminished powers have kept the enemy at bay, and—”

“Tell us how to do this, Itzamna,” Ren interrupted. “There’s no time to waste.”

Rosie grunted, smoke curling from her nose as she sat on her haunches like a statue. She was ready and willing, like always.

Within five minutes of hearing Itzamna’s instructions, we had linked our powers to draw two time threads from Ren’s watch. Everyone released the collective breath we’d been holding.

“That’s enough, right?” Ren said, searching my face as if I had the answers, but really she was asking Itzamna.

“Three would’ve been better, or four,” Itzamna said, “but if this is all you have, then it’ll have to do. You will need to fuse the two strands to create a rope strong enough to support time travel. Then you will give one end to Hondo. Ren, you take the other end. Once you get to 1987, you will hand it off to Marco.”

“Won’t people notice them carrying a big ole gold strand?” Adrik asked.

“No,” Itzamna said. “Mere mortals won’t be able to see or touch it. And it will always remain straight no matter how many turns you take—although it’s best to remain as stationary as possible.” He took a breath and went on, “The thread will do all it can to return to the present. It will lie to you, Marco, try to trick you. You mustn’t fall for it.”

“The thing talks?” Marco moaned.

“After twenty-four hours in 1987, the time rope will vanish,” Itzamna said. “Once that happens, you will be stuck there. Hmph—maybe that’s a good thing. There might not be much to come back to.”


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