I See Fire | Wattys 2021/22 Shortlist | ✔

Chapter Twenty-Two

The conversation idled around Centzon Huītznāuhtin, spells, and what Coyol may or may not know. I had the sense the gods weren't talking about what they might have if Jem and I hadn't been there. Eventually, Quet abducted a pillow from a sibling, dropped it in his twin's lap and went to sleep on it. Tezcat couldn't stop yawning. Chal hopped on the back of her couch and checked a blocked window, then dissipated the ward around the room. Xipe went straight to his cooking area, and Tlaloc disappeared into the far reaches of the house.

"Adriana and Itztia?" said Chal. "And you too, Jem. You might want to check your rooms. Things get dusty when we move the house."

We nodded and pulled ourselves off the magnetic squish of the furniture. The rest of the house looked like it had been through an earthquake. I suddenly understood why the gods kept everything breakable at the back of counters, tables, and shelves. Hallways where Tlaloc had walked were clean, but a fine layer of dust and a scattering of rock chips covered everything else. When we reached our room, I shook off my bag and bedding while Emma scrunched up her nose and dissipated a little of the dust.

More out of habit than thought, I pulled my belongings out one by one and laid them on the bed. I doubted a mass teleportation would leave something as small as a mitten or sock behind, but I wanted to be certain. The bar of soap from my parents, lightly fragrant, sent a pang of homesickness through me. I stuffed down the feeling, grabbed the last bundle from the bottom of my bag, and screamed as something seared my fingers.

I whipped my hand back. Emma froze like a trapped rabbit and stayed that way as I upended my bag on the floor. A small drawstring pouch fell out with a muffled clunk. I cautiously felt the bag's inside. The heat was gone. There was no indication of what could have caused the welts now lending a shine to my fingertips.

I held a hand over the pouch on the floor. There was no heat here, either. I braced myself and touched it.

Nothing.

"What is that?" said Emma, her voice shaky.

"Nothing." I rammed the pouch to the bottom of my bag and piled my other possessions in on top of it.

"You were burning."

"Just my fingers."

"No." Emma unfroze, and an uncomfortable feeling crept over me. She hadn't been staring at the pouch. "You, Adi. You were burning."

My tongue let slip a word my mother would have made me wash dishes for. I flung the bag on my bed. "I'll talk to Chal." I had no intention of talking to Chal. I trusted the goddess, but not that much. And besides, I'd have a proper seal on Fuego soon if the gods could just stop being attacked and catch a moment to spare the energy. "And let me do it myself, alright?"

Emma nodded; she could see I was angry. Good.

Emma could make the dust go away faster if I swept it up first, so we worked together to clean the room. Then we helped Jem with his. The rest of the house was Tlaloc-level tidy by then, so I left Emma experimenting with the glyph-lights and went back to the couch room. If the gods had cleared out, I wanted to do one last village-check before I went to bed.

The lights in the room were still low, and the fragrance of a washbasin's orange-blossom soap lingered in the air. Thwarted. At least one person was staying the night here. I poked my head inside and found a severed leg on the floor.

I caught myself with a hand to my chest before I screamed. It wasn't real. A socked foot branched into a lattice of matte black metal that cast the shape of a lower leg with eerie accuracy. Like a shell of black spiderweb. This in turn blended into a socket that would end just below a person's knee. A soft liner of sorts lay folded beside it.

There was only one god I'd seen with those socks.

Tezcat was asleep on the couch with a pillow over his head. One socked foot tucked over the absence of another: his pants were rolled up just enough to reveal a right leg that ended halfway between the ankle and the knee. A pair of crutches rested against the couch, forearm cuffs worn and handgrips polished from use. I remembered making a pair just like that for abuela Margarita when she broke her ankle years ago.

Xolotl was gone, but Xochi had occupied a couch corner with a piece of mulberry paper on a board in her lap. Her butterfly perched on the board's corner. The goddess chuckled and flicked at the leg, which teleported closer to the couch. Don't worry, it still gets some of us, too, she said in my head. Knowing Tezcat, the very visible placement of the limb had probably been intentional. Xochi dabbed her paintbrush on the wooden palette beside her and went back to work. Need help with anything?

I was looking for Xolotl.

You just missed him. He's picking up Huitz. She smiled at me. You're welcome to stay, though. I feel like I haven't had a proper chance to talk to you yet.

I decided Xochi was a close second to Xolotl, and I had been sad I hadn't gotten to talk to her yet. She seemed cool, and I might not get another chance like this before I left.

How are you? she said as I joined her on the couch. She still looked a bit pale, but much better than before. Life here treating you well?

It's luxury compared to the village.

For some reason, that sent another sharp shard through my chest. I smothered it. Just this once, I had to relax here. Enjoy the conversation while I could. Telling myself so worked, oddly enough, and I leaned back on the couch. I felt like I hadn't un-tensed in days.

Cozy, isn't it? Xochi gazed around fondly. Tlaloc's very particular about how he makes a home. Only thing I'd change is the fabrics. The man can match flowers, but for some reason can't coordinate cushions and couches to save his life.

I had to jam a hand over my mouth. The laugh jumped me out of nowhere and came out with a sound like a deflated pigskin, which would have been mortifying had it not been so normal. Xochi wasn't done yet.

Fabrics and that hideous thing growing in the reading room. Of all the plants he could have chosen. Who wants a tree that looks like you stripped it naked for most of the year, is toxic in every part of its being, and spiny, as if that wasn't enough? If there's one thing I can't forgive just because it has flowers...

Stop, I'm going to wake Tezcat! I had tears on my cheeks.

Xochi stabbed her paintbrush in red paint and made a dainty replica of the plant in the corner of her paper. Then she painted fire around it.

We chatted for what must have been an hour. Xochi had the mystical talent of being able to talk and paint simultaneously, and the picture in her lap took shape bit by beautiful bit. The fire on the bush spread into the surrounding desert until the barren ground licked with flames. Where landmarks rose, fire towered higher. A slanting rainstorm evaporated into the inferno. In the sky, a pair of great snakes, one swamp-green, one ice-white, twined through the clouds.

What is it? I said at last.

Don't know. Xochi's brush hovered over the paper. I saw it last night. And last time that happened... She drew a single lightning bolt from the sky to a mountain peak. Sometimes dreams aren't just dreams.

I let my gaze wander over the picture as Xochi cleaned her brush. As she shifted, the paper slipped sideways, and a chill ran its fingers over my scalp. Held upright, the streaks from the sky looked like raindrops, but at a tilt, their slight curve became clear. If you had asked me again, I would have said they were falling stars.