Shadow crosser.
I heard those two words and knew instantly they couldn’t equal anything good.
“The shadow crosser is the anchor,” Itzamna went on. “Someone powerful enough to hold the time thread to ensure the travelers come back.”
“I’ll do it,” Hondo said without hesitation. In that moment, I swear my uncle looked like he was made of only grit and granite.
“You are merely human,” Itzamna said flatly. “You possess neither the physical nor the mental strength that this will require.”
Hondo didn’t even flinch. “I can do it. I won’t let you guys down.” I knew he was planning to use the warrior mask Quinn had given him.
Brooks’s face fell as she grabbed Hondo’s hand and looked him in the eye. “I know how brave you are, Hondo, and you always have our backs, but maybe this time…” She hesitated. “Maybe Marco should be the anchor.”
“Except I didn’t volunteer,” Marco said, looking insulted.
I could tell Brooks’s words hurt my uncle, but she didn’t know about his secret weapon or how much he loved Quinn. And you can’t buy that kind of reliability.
“Hondo can do it,” I said. “There’s no one else I trust to bring us back.”
“Uh, no offense, dude,” Marco said to me, “but I’m the strongest one here. Not that I want the job or anything.”
Itzamna said, “It isn’t a matter of just holding the time thread—it’s a matter of crossing into the shadows between this time and the next. It is a perilous place filled with anger and fear and darkness. No one, not even a god, would want to travel there.”
“Then how did you guys time-travel?” I asked.
“We employed shadow crossers—usually magicians,” Itzamna said, like it was no big deal. “But they knew the risks. They understood that their minds would never be the same afterward.”
“Why would they do it?” Brooks said, looking horrified.
“Riches. Fame. Glory for their legacies and families,” Itzamna said. “They always believed they would be the exception and not the rule.”
“That’s awful!” Ren scowled. “How could the gods be so mean?”
“How can humans be so mean?” Itzamna said. “In our world, there is both light and dark, good and evil in everyone.”
“I’m not evil,” Ren argued.
“You haven’t yet had to be,” the god said quietly.
Hondo came closer. “Listen, I fought through the twins’ poison. That was dark and worse than any nightmare,” he said. “I don’t talk about it, because why give power to the memory, but it’s what led me to meditation and mindfulness. Maybe it was also training for this exact moment.”
Marco nodded slowly and stared at my uncle with total respect.
“It will feel like your skin is slowly being picked off your bones,” Itzamna said, dragging out each word dramatically. “Your body, mind, and spirit will be tormented in ways you cannot imagine.”
Hondo crossed his arms over his chest, indicating his decision was final.
“I’ll be your wingman,” Marco said to Hondo, and for the first time, I liked the guy. For once, he wasn’t trying to protect himself or get out of doing anything. He saw how important it was to my uncle to do this part of the quest, and Marco had faith in him, without even knowing him. That counted for a lot.
“How do we know how many threads are left in the watch?” Ren asked Itzamna.
“You must draw them out,” he said. “But it will take more than your own strength.”
Ren twisted her mouth, thinking. “We’ll use the godborn connection,” she said. “It will generate more power.”
Just then, a black SUV with tinted windows came down the gravel road that led to the house.
“That must be your mom,” Hondo said to me as the car pulled into the driveway. I tugged off Itzamna’s shades and, with Fuego’s help, hurried over. Mom jumped out of the car and threw her arms around