Page List


Font:  

Marco pitched a fake laugh. And then, in the span of a single breath, he shifted his face to look exactly like the dude’s and said, “We’re with the CIA.”

“Marco!” I warned.

The guy dropped the ball faster than his mouth fell open.

Thankfully, Marco shed the guy’s face just as quickly, but the damage had been done. I thought the guy was going to take off screaming, but instead he said, “You just made yourself look like me!”

“It was a magic trick,” I said, nearly vomiting while Marco snickered. Brooks shot him an angry glare.

“I know what I saw!” the guy insisted. Rosie sniffed his feet, then staggered back like she didn’t like what she smelled.

Adrik said, “You’re confused,” as he extended his palm and blew across its surface.

The dude blinked twice, gave us a who-the-heck-are-you? glance, and took off.

I spun to face Adrik. “Did you just…?”

“Snag that last memory?” Adrik said, swiping his hands together dramatically. “Yup.”

“Super cool,” Ren said.

“You better never try that on me,” Brooks warned.

“Pretty sus if you ask me,” Marco said.

Brooks socked him in the arm. “We’re supposed to blend in, not stand out!”

“Yeah, well, we should have raided a costume shop, then,” Marco said, rubbing his bicep.

Marco was right. No one had thought about dressing in whatever people wore in 1987, which, by the looks of it, was colorful trunks, bikinis, and big hair.

“And we can’t even go shopping!” Ren groaned.

“No shopping?” Adrik asked. “That’s why I came.” He threw out his hands before anyone could smack him. “Kidding. Kidding.”

“Our money was printed long after 1987,” I said, realizing we should have thought of that, too. I stroked Rosie, who had her eyes closed and head tilted toward the bright sun like she didn’t have a worry in the world.

Adrik said, “I brought some green from my aunt’s secret stash, and yeah, it’s old. I checked the dates on the bills. Good thing someone is thinking.”

Marco clapped the guy on the back and said, “Just track down the gods. I don’t want to hold on to that time rope forever, and”—his eyes darted around—“I already don’t like 1987, so I don’t plan on sticking around.”

Brooks asked, “What’s the address K’iin gave, Ren?”

Ren fumbled in her pocket for the scrap of paper she’d written it on and held it up for us to see.

Brooks shook her head and blinked. “I should have known!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked Brooks.

“That’s…that’s Jordan and Bird’s old address,” she sputtered. “Of course their mom would send the gods to the only people she trusted.”

My stomach dropped.

“The bad dudes?” Adrik asked. “They lived in Venice back then? I mean, now…er…”

Brooks nodded, her expression going from shock to total dread in less than two seconds. “Yeah, they did their magic stealing in that place for a long time.” Her eyes shifted to me. “Before they moved up to Beverly Hills, that is.”

“But if they know in 1987 that they’re hiding the gods…” My mind ricocheted off my skull. “Does that change the future?”


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