I See Fire | Wattys 2021/22 Shortlist | ✔

Chapter Thirty-Two

The gods lowered their weapons in a quiet battlefield. Battered, muddy, and blood-streaked from their own injuries, they exchanged nods and reappeared in the room behind me. Tlaloc thumped his staff in the rug's center. Everyone grabbed hold as it lifted and dropped. This time, I stayed on my feet when the room flashed. The body-strewn battlefield dissipated into a nearly identical, but empty, view.

I sank back on the couch. I had not realized just how hard I was shaking, or how solid the hammer of my heart had become, until the gods returned to safety. Tezcat dropped to the ground, untangled the arrow from the metal lattice of his leg and pulled off the leg with a wince. The gods shed weapons and war attire in a pile by the door.

Chal pushed Xolotl down on a couch and rolled up his pant leg as his boots shifted back to indoor socks. There was no mark where the Centzonhuītznāhua had grabbed him. Chal's face remained tight as she traced his ankle with light fingers.

"Anything?" said Tezcat.

"No, but I can't do a strong enough scan. You try."

Tezcat scooched over and repeated what I could only assume was a check for spells. Xolotl buried one hand in Chimalli's scruff. Quet abducted the other and laced their fingers together to keep his twin's from trembling.

"I'm not getting anything," said Tezcat, but he looked far from convinced. "Xol, how long can you hold out here? You need to stay until Chal or I can confirm you're not tagged with something."

Xolotl exchanged a glance with his twin. "Only a few days."

"Can you go longer if the rest of us help?"

"I can try."

Tezcat had told me about this. As a guide of the dead, Xolotl was bound to his task in a way his siblings weren't. He got sick if he put it off for too long, and was eventually sent back to Mictlan against his will.

"Tlaloc, did you get a count on how many we took out?" said Chal.

The rain god's brow furrowed. "I counted sixty-two."

"A hundred and nineteen left." Chal drew both hands down her face. "That's still too many. And we still don't know what she'll launch on the calend—Xochi!"

Xipe caught his sister as she swayed, suddenly parchment-pale. He guided her down on a couch. Tezcat caught her butterfly as it tumbled from her shoulder.

"Shit, shit, shit." Chal sat beside her sister and put a hand on her forehead, then took her hand. "Not yet, Xochi. Please. We need you here. Tlaloc, do we have any reserves?"

Tlaloc was already gone. He came back with a small jar, which he popped the lid on and handed directly to his sister. Chal pressed it to Xochi's lips. "Drink."

She did. The paleness receded a little, but it still looked like someone had smeared her skin with ash. After a few sips, she could lift a shaky hand and hold the jar herself. Chal hovered in case it slipped. "Drink," she ordered again. "I swear. We are not losing you over a Centzon Huītznāuhtin ambush just because of a bugged necklace."

For the first time since the battle, I met my friends' eyes across the room. Jem wanted to help Xochi, I could tell, but there was nothing he could do. Emma looked a lot less angry and a lot more scared than she had when Tezcat had pinned us to the wall. Whatever had possessed her then was gone.

I was done. I was no longer under the illusion that the gods had everything—or anything—under control. We had brought a tracker into their home, and now something might have happened to Xolotl because of it. Coyol had a plan that even the gods didn't understand. And Xochi... something was up with Xochi now, too. If that was also our doing, it was the gods' fault for keeping us here. I wanted out. I wanted a grounding. I wanted magic I could use to protect myself and my friends. I wanted our safety back, and this place wasn't safe.

I sat quietly in a corner, staying out of the way. The gods stayed with Xochi until she stabilized, then helped her out of the room. They were all so tired, we seemed forgotten. The only evidence I could see to the contrary was Tezcat, who had lost his normal catlike curiosity and become adept at not meeting Emma's eye. He held Xochi's fallen butterfly until Chal came to retrieve it. Then he too left.

I ran a finger over the charms in my pocket. With these, I could come back when I found what I needed, or if it grew too dangerous to stay away. I threw a glance out the windows. They had returned to their diverse views, some of Tlalocan, some of the world below. I still couldn't see anything of interest in the world below.

The room had cleared out except for Jem, Emma and I when Tlaloc returned. He leaned in the doorway, which creaked despite its solid frame. "Are you three okay for supper?" he rumbled.

"We'll be fine," said Jem.

The rain god nodded once and retreated. He looked as exhausted as his siblings.

Jem got up and took over the cooking room. We made supper and ate together, though none of us had an appetite.

Emma set down her empty bowl, the first sound since we had sat down. "I think Xochi's fading," she said quietly. "She used too much energy in that battle, and she's already the weakest one left."

Jem's expression didn't change, so I must have been the only one this hadn't occurred to. I said nothing. Jem didn't either, so we finished eating in silence. We washed our dishes in the water Emma conjured for us, after Jem melted the ice in it over the fire.

"I'm going to sleep on the couches," I said. "It feels safer in there."

They both nodded. Jem caught my eye and held it for a long moment, and I knew he knew what I was doing. But he didn't question me further, and he didn't offer to come. When he'd said he would stay here even if I left, he hadn't been lying.

I retrieved my bag and checked that it still contained everything I'd left in it. We had been here for over two weeks, but I had never let my core belongings leave their home in this backpack. I changed in the washroom and dropped my clothes on the floor. They cleaned and unwrinkled themselves more slowly than usual. I stuffed them back in the bag.

Jem and Emma had both gone to bed when I returned to the couch room. I began to walk around it. Twenty paces completed one lap, paced just right so I caught a new view at each window each time. The swamp-dark night stifled the world outside, but I would see what I was looking for. Now it was just a waiting game.

After what must have been hours—longer than I'd ever watched before—the flicker of a campfire sparkled like a firefly on a desert flat. Beneath the window was a mountain, and I knew my own limits well enough to know I could make the jump. I scrambled onto the windowsill. For a moment I wavered. Was this really a smart choice?

I pressed my hand to the invisible glass, and it gave way with a tingle on my fingers. My clothing shifted back to outdoor wear. Even my coywolf hat reappeared on my head. If that wasn't a sign, I didn't know what would be.

Grifo's piercing whine shot the silence as I swung myself over the windowsill and dropped into the night.