Chapter Fifteen

 

Despite Johnny’s good humor, Carol was nervous. Along the horizon she could make out a line of black stretching off into the indistinct distance. As they drew closer, the ash gave way to hard-packed earth, the Black Road carving its somber way straight toward the heart of Mictlan. Gradually, the dark line became a massive wall whose impossible length was broken every dozen or so miles by embedded minarets, massive spires that Carol figured must serve as watch towers or forts.

“Oh, fun.” Johnny’s voice was flat, as if even his playfulness were sapped by the enormity of the construction. “I’m not sure I really want to see what’s on the other side of that wall. I mean, that’s some impressive architecture, but…”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

They continued in awed silence as the wall loomed higher and higher. Soon they saw that the Black Road led right up to a pair of dauntingly huge gates wrought of some slate-colored metal and flanked by obsidian towers. Beside the towers perched a half-dozen winged humanoid creatures with the faces of women, some with hideous beaks, some feathered, others leathery. All of them were snarling.

“Harpies,” Carol muttered.

“Aren’t those from Greek mythology?”

“Well, yeah. But I guess if they’re real they’d probably pop up in all mythologies.”

“Ah, yeah. You’re right. Don’t much like us, huh?”

The twins stopped about a hundred yards away. The harpies howled and spat a rain of nasty-smelling saliva that pattered the sand in front of their feet.

Johnny glanced around, nodding absently. “So, uh, this is an insane question, but…how do we get in?”

As if in answer, the heavy gates began to groan open and a dozen wraiths swirled through the gap to materialize before the twins. Carol’s mouth went dry as she scrutinized them. Gray, nearly mummified flesh stretched across their angular bones, and their eyes glowed like hot coals above ragged nostril holes and predatory teeth. They wore thick, brine-soaked leather armor across chests, forearms, and shins as well as bone helmets filigreed in copper with hideous designs. Each of them bore a club, fashioned of copper, wood or bone, along the lengths of which had been embedded shards of obsidian.

One of the undead warriors had a black stripe running horizontally across his eyes. He stepped closer and spoke in a raspy, guttural voice. “By order of the Ajalob, puissant Lords of Xibalba, dread capital of Mictlan, you are now captives of the city guard. Accompany us immediately, or we will drag your living bodies through the streets by force.”

Johnny raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “No problem. We were headed this way anyhow, and we could use a zombie escort.”

Carol shot him a look. Are you an idiot? she thought at him. Do you see those weapons?

Calm down, sheesh. I just don’t want them to think we’re afraid of them.

I am afraid.

Well, duh, me, too. But they don’t need to know that.

The Captain of the Guard made an impatient gesture, and the twins walked through the gates, herded by the other undead warriors. The vista that unfolded was one of densely packed gray buildings lining twisting side streets, punctuated by black spires and towering mansions. Gritty smog hung like a shroud over the metropolis, deepening the natural gloom of Mictlan. Swooping lazily through the haze or clinging to rooftops were vast murders of crows and wakes of vultures; the closest swiveled their heads hungrily at Carol and Johnny as the twins entered Xibalba.

Cutting a broad swath through the midst of the city, the Black Road became an ample avenue upon which these strange figures made their way to mysterious destinations. More of the gray-skinned undead shambled along the cobblestones, along with cloaked skeletons, headless monsters, assorted were-creatures and tall demigods of dark and deadly beauty. From time to time shadowy forms would flit by, too fast or insubstantial to be clearly perceived, and occasionally a carriage drawn by magic or gruesome beasts would shudder past.

“Whoa. Welcome to Emerald City’s twisted sister, huh?” Johnny quipped, trying to shrug off the overwhelming strangeness. Carol doubted that his whistling in the dark would work this time. There’s no getting away from this place unscathed. There must be hundreds of thousands of monsters here.

Led by the city guard, the twins made their way down that dark boulevard, their shapeshifting still blocked by the white ash that clung to their skin and clothes. Three rivers crossed their path, spanned by bridges built of human bone. In the first river, huge scorpions floated, fought or flailed their tails angrily against the black water. As Carol glanced at the roiling scene in horror, a dozen humanoid creatures with scales and gills erupted from beneath the surface, impaling a good number of scorpions with bone harpoons before diving back under the current, pulling their prey along with them.

“Oh, look,” muttered Johnny. “Creatures from the Black Lagoon.”

“You are too weird.”

“Weird? Carol, are your eyes even open? My weirdness is like super average behavior compared to this whack place.”

Johnny had less to say as they crossed over the second river, a sluggish stream of red from which rose a faint warmth and with it a sickly stench. Gnats and flies and other vermin buzzed on its crimson surface. Blood. There is a river of blood under my feet. Carol bit back the urge to scream. The final bridge spanned an even more disgusting flow: a rank-smelling, brown-colored tributary upon the surface of which floated clots of rancid pus teeming with maggots. Carol retched, acid burning at her throat.

I’m going to be sick, she thought at her brother.

Just try to hold it down. They want to gross us out. It’d make them real happy to see our weakness.

After the rivers the avenue widened, expanding into strange parks in which dark, moss-festooned trees loomed obliquely over granite benches and sulfur-rich fountains. In the distance, an enormous shadowy shape began to coalesce. After a few minutes, Carol realized it was a huge ziggurat, one that dwarfed Huitzilopochtli’s temple. At its base stood a palatial structure with wickedly sharp arches and pillars in the shape of serpents twined around dying women. When they reached the base of the steps that led up to the building’s shadowy portico, the Captain of the Guard stopped them.

“You are ignorant living children, so I will instruct you as to proper etiquette. This is the Mitnal, the Council Chamber of the Ajalob. As you enter the presence of the Thirteen, you will prostrate yourselves in obeisance.”

Johnny cocked his head. “Uh, what?”

Carol touched his arm gently. “They want us to lie down on the floor to show our respect.”

“Dude, I know what it means. He’s just crazy if he thinks I’m going to kiss their bony asses like that.”

The undead warrior scoffed harshly. “If you do not show the proper deference, knave, you will be obligated to do so. Once satisfied with your groveling, High Lord Kisin will bid you stand. At that point, the audience will begin. You are to remain still throughout. We will escort you out again once judgment has been passed.”

“Wait, judgment?” Carol blanched. “Do you mean that this is a trial?”

“Of course it is, wench. You are living humans, trespassing in Mictlan, standing on the very Avenue of the Dead in Xibalba. Your violations of the Dark Lord’s decrees carry a weighty price.”

Our hearts , Johnny’s voice echoed in her mind. They’re going to rip out our hearts.

The Little People said we’d be okay. We swallowed the jade.

I’m not feeling real confident about the jade right now, Dude.

Prompted by the deadly clubs, the twins ascended the steps, crossed the portico and stepped through two copper-plated doors into a large chamber dominated by an elevated dais. It was furnished with a curved granite fixture that reminded Carol of the bench the Supreme Court sat at. Ringing the base of the dais stood six armored were-creatures with differing features. They were mainly hominoid but with the animal characteristics of a crocodile, stag, wolf, ape, jaguar and vulture. Each clasped a huge obsidian-tipped spear. Before them, in an oval depression that separated the platform from the rest of the chamber, a red-robed and hooded figure lifted a bony claw and announced in a gravelly voice:

“Abase yourselves before the Lords of the Black Quarter: Ah Pukuh, Hunhau and Akan.”

The guards pushed on Carol’s shoulders till she knelt. From the shadows behind the dais emerged three tall, gaunt figures garbed in black feathers and adorned with obsidian jewelry. Their faces were skulls that protruded through rotting, peeling flesh. Their eyes glowed a deep, unnatural blue. The trio took their places, folding themselves into high-backed thrones toward the middle of the bench.

“Tremble before the Lords of the Red Quarter: Yoaltecuhtli, Yoalcíhuatl and Tzontémoc.”

Another three beings stepped from the shadows. They wore no robes or capes; instead, exposed muscle and meat glistened red and slick, as if the skin had been flayed away. Wreaths of fire encircled their bloody heads, and their eyes were like burning coals. They took up positions near the Lords of the Black Quarter, leaving a single throne between the two groups.

Okay. I am officially freaking out , she thought at Johnny, her heart beating madly.

Just pretend it’s a real gory horror flick.

I hate horror.

Oh, that’s right. Crap.

“Look on the Lords of the White Quarter and know despair: Techlotl, Cuezalli, and Itzcoliuhqui.”

Pale, corpse-like demons wrapped in shrouds floated across the dais. Dazzling white tongues of fire danced above their heads. Their eye sockets were empty, but the blackness within bored into Carol as they arranged themselves at the far left edge of the bench.

They can see into me , she realized. They know my weaknesses.

“Lastly, the Lords of the Green Quarter, sickly sweet and source of rot: Chalmécatl, Chalmecacíhuatl, and Nexoxocho.”

The trio that appeared next were rotting corpses whose moldy flesh was covered by moss, toadstools, and strange lichens. Bright, poisonous flowers encircled their foreheads and their bodies teemed with beetles, worms and flies. Snakes wriggled out of their mouths and into their eye sockets as they took up spots at the far right end of the dais.

Okay, now even I am grossed out. Johnny winked at her.

“Now, prostrate yourselves, humans, before the Chief of this Council, Speaker of the Ajalob, High Lord Kisin.”

A very tall and very thin man strode slowly from the darkness. His dark skin clung tightly to his skull, and his lank black hair spilled down his back. He was dressed in what appeared to be elegant Spanish clothing from the 16th century: a white silk shirt, black velvet doublet and breeches, and blood-red leather boots and jerkin that Carol suddenly suspected were made of human skin. As Kisin lowered his dark brown eyes upon the twins, Carol slumped face-first onto the floor, her arms outstretched. Beside her, Johnny did the same. 

That jerk used magic to make me go all prostrate! Son of a…

Stop, Johnny. Let him have his fun. Remember what we’re here for. We need to get past them and get Mom.

“Twins. Once more.” Kisin’s voice was smooth and rich, but also cold and haughty. The voice of a sociopath. “How I tire of twins. Nonetheless. As living beings you have trespassed in both Mictlan and its capital city, Xibalba. You have thereby violated the natural order established by the Dark One and your own feathered worm. You have further ignored edicts handed down by the Lord and Lady of Death by traveling the Black Road and using force against its guardians. Have you aught to say in your defense, urchins?”

Johnny pushed himself up, regarding High Lord Kisin with anger and disgust. “If being alive in Mictlan is a violation of the natural order, then Tezcat did it first. He brought our mom to this stupid place. And I’m pretty sure he wanted us to come looking for her. So, yeah, this is jacked up. Stop pretending like you freaks have justice down here, and let’s move on to the sentencing, ‘kay?”

Though Carol was frightened out of her wits, she felt a surge of pride in her brother. She wanted to applaud or hug him. Kisin’s power, of course, held her firmly in place.

The High Lord grimaced and gestured dismissively. Johnny’s face slammed against the cold stone floor with a crunching thud. “Very well. Juan Ángel and Carolina Garza, the Ajalob declare you guilty to your hypocritical cores. You are sentenced to die upon the Great Temple of Tezcatlipoca at the end of two more watches: sixteen of your living hours. Once your young hearts have been ripped from your chests, we will feast on them. Then your shades will wend their fleshless way to annihilation at the center of Mictlan.”

Two guards seized them by the shoulders and yanked them to their feet.

“In the interim, you are remanded to the cuauhcalli to await the ceremony that will end your meaningless lives.” Kisin turned his back on them and faded into the darkness. The other lords stood as one and floated backward into the shadows as well.

~~~

 

The cuauhcualli was a sort of stone dungeon beneath the Mitnal. Carol sat on the cold floor of their cell, scrubbing at the ash with her hands, trying to dust enough of it off to access her tonal. She believed that the Little People hadn’t lied and that somehow the jade could protect them from being sacrificed, but she didn’t want to depend solely on that. It would be really good if we could shift and fly the heck out of here.

Johnny simply leaned back against the rough wall, tapping out a beat against his stolen shield with his fingers and humming some of that weird techno music he loved so much. His dark hair spiked out in all directions, and the ash on his skin made him appear almost ghost-like. The black clothes he’d formed from Huitzilopochtli’s cape had turned nearly gray with the dust. I must look just as bad. Gah. I really need a bath. Don’t suppose they have water around here, though. She thought about the nasty rivers they’d crossed and gave a little shudder.

A clanging sound broke the relative silence, and their dog-headed guard peered at them through the bronze bars of the cell door. “You’ve a visitor, maggots. And she’s a goddess, so keep your distance and know your place.”

The door swung open at his touch and a short, dark woman swept into the cell. She wore a red cotton skirt and huipil, a sleeveless blouse, both items decorated with black crescent moons. The hem of her skirt was spattered with mud and what smelled like excrement, a mixture that smeared her bare feet and calves as well. Her long, black hair was swept back in a braid and atop her head sat a strange conical hat with white cotton tassels. Under expressive brown eyes, her broad nose was pierced by a crescent moon shaped ornament fashioned of bone. A triangle of black spread its way across her mouth to end under her chin. In her right hand, she carried a rustic, ancient broom.

“Whoa,” Johnny muttered, “an Aztec witch.”

The goddess leaned forward, sniffing at him. “Ah, the smell of early puberty. You will have need of me later in life, little man. You will discover both sides of my nature. But to respond, no, I am not one of your European witches. The broom is for sweeping away filth, disease, and sadness and the hat is a gift from my beautiful Huasteca people, crafted nearly three millennia ago. I am Ixcuinan, the Paradox, Queen of Sin and Forgiveness.”

Carol nodded. She recognized their visitor now. She had read about her in one of her father’s books. “They also call you Tlazolteotl, don’t they? Goddess of the life cycle.”

Ixcuinan reached out her hand and patted Carol on the cheek. A warm, sisterly feeling spread throughout her soul. “Indeed. I embody living movement, from the moment of your birth to the final confession you make before death, and all the earnest attempts at happiness in between. I urge you toward sin, but only so far. Just enough to know its taste. Then I devour it for you, allowing you to cleanly pass Beyond.”

“Ah, that explains the chapopote on your chin.” Johnny didn’t seem impressed by the presence of the goddess. Typical guy.

“Yes,” Ixcuinan replied, unperturbed. “One day, if your soul chooses this route upon your death, your sin will stain my mouth as well, Juan Ángel Garza. I suspect you will be less dismissive then. In any event, I have not come to sing my own praises. I am here to offer you aid.”

Carol’s eyes widened. “Why would you help us?”

Ixcuinan’s free hand went to her dangling silver earrings, making them jingle musically. “There are many residents of Xibalba who resent Tezcatlipoca’s heavy-handed usurpation of Mictlan. It is true he established this place here at the root of the World Tree, but its governance was placed in the hands of Lord and Lady Death. His interference runs counter to the natural order. I understand how frightening we must seem to you, but for thousands of years there was a discernible, noble purpose to our existence. As balance incarnate, I am disgusted by the Dark One’s goal of universal destruction. He would like nothing better than for you two to be trapped in Xibalba, driven to despair by your inability to save your mother. Then would you either misuse your xoxal, splitting the World Tree and freeing the Tzitzimime to wreak havoc on the cosmos, or surrender that savage magic unto Tezcatlipoca’s hand, thereby ensuring the same end. No, you must leave this city, and quickly, too. We are few, those who dare flout his authority, but powerful. Gods of vice and excess, for the most part, like the Ahuiateteo, who would be nothing should humans cease to exist.”

Johnny smirked. “Great. Our new allies are the drunken junkie gods.”

Ixcuinan laughed warmly. “Oh, I believe they will enjoy that label. Clever boy. Do not discount our abilities, however. We will come for you soon and escort you to the next level of your journey. Till then, rest unburdened.”

She swept her broom in an arc that passed over both their hearts. Instantly, Carol felt refreshed and energized, as if a great weight had been lifted from her soul. Before she could speak her thanks the door swung open and the guard spoke brusquely. “Lady Ixcuinan, your pardon, but your time with the humans is at an end.”

The goddess smiled, her teeth gleaming white against the stain of sin. For a moment, her features blurred and an older, wizened face seemed to shine from behind her flesh. Then she spun about, her braid whistling through the air, and hurried from the cell.

~~~

 

Several hours later, rescue had still not come. Johnny raised his eyebrows pointedly, nodding at the cell door.

“Uh, looks like the drunken junkie gods are too high to save us. Figures.”

Carol sighed. “I’m sure they just got delayed or something.”

“Maybe. Or maybe the Ish-Queen was doing Tezcat’s will, faking us out, making us freak even more.”

Carol didn’t want to believe that, but when the cell doors opened to reveal the city guard, waiting to escort them to their deaths, she collapsed inwardly. I guess I thought I saw something in her that wasn’t there. The Virgin. Tonantzin. Some spirit of sisterhood that could make her my ally.

From their cells the twins were led along a narrow tunnel that angled upward till it ended right at the temple’s base. Thousands of were-creatures, demons and monsters thronged about the ziggurat, and as Carol and Johnny emerged, a roar of excitement went up that set the very ground to trembling.

“Hey, cool.” Johnny smiled and winked. “We’re famous. All the demons are cheering us.”

“They’re excited to see us sacrificed, Johnny.”

“Yeah, but that’s something, no?” He laughed and turned to the guards. “Famous, notorious…all the same, huh, guys?”

“Shut up and climb the stairs, human,” the captain growled, wresting the shield from Johnny’s grasp.

“Sheesh!” Her brother’s hands shot into the air in an exaggerated gesture of exasperation. “I’m going, dude. Hello. My adoring fans await. Got to give them a heart-felt performance, no? All my Xibalban rivals will just eat their hearts out, seriously.”

Carol rolled her eyes and groaned. Is this really the time for your cheesy jokes? They’re going to kill us!

We won’t die. You even said it—the Little People have our backs. I’m guessing the Lords of Nasty are going to yank out the pieces of jade.

Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking about that. Aren’t they going to notice that those aren’t our hearts? Won’t they just, I don’t know, reach back in and remove the real ones?

I think we just have to have faith, Carol. There’s really nothing else we can do. If Quetzalcoatl or God or whoever wants us to get Mom and defeat Tezcat, they’re going to have to step up and protect us. I’m done worrying.

The guards prodded them roughly, and Carol began to climb. The steps were steep and slick, but thankfully the pyramid’s sides were slanted at a relatively comfortable angle. Nonetheless, after finishing the first set of steps, standing on a broad stone landing upon which the second level of the ziggurat had been built, her leg muscles burned fiercely. By the time they’d reached the third such landing, Carol was out of breath, red-faced, and sweating like mad.

Panting, Johnny gasped sarcastically, “Good workout, huh? Got to recommend it to my jock friends. Oh, wait. I hate jocks. Now I’m really recommending it. Especially for the prize they get when they reach the top.”

A guard shoved him toward the last flight of steps. Carol followed quickly, not wanting any more prodding from those painful clubs. She kept her eyes down, focusing on her aching feet, postponing the need to look up at the temple proper. Finally, though, she reached the top and had to take in the tableau. The cube-shaped temple sported a large obsidian mirror which faced her. Immediately in front of it was a huge stone receptacle in the shape of a jaguar, its back hollowed out to receive, she imagined, the hearts of sacrificial victims. Between that basin and the twins rose the altar, a massive slab of granite, mottled with stains that were certainly old blood.

“Whew! Two hundred and sixty freaking steps!” Johnny stretched, his joints popping. “I see you’ve got my bed ready. Perfect. I am super tired.”

Arranged on either side of the temple were the Ajalob; the red and green lords to Carol’s left, the black and white to her right. From within the temple, High Lord Kisin emerged. He now wore a black robe that reached his bare feet. His face was painted black, and a black powder that smelled to Carol’s heightened senses like crushed scorpions and spiders had been rubbed into his forearms and neck. In his left hand he twirled a deadly looking obsidian blade.

“Indeed.” His gaunt face spread in a wicked smile. “Then do climb right up, living boy, and rest a while.”

Johnny shrugged, but Carol could hear his heart pounding as he approached the slab and pulled himself onto it. Immediately, a lord from each of the four quadrants of Xibalba moved forward and took hold of an arm or leg, immobilizing her brother. Kisin moved toward him, brandishing the blade. He began chanting in some dark, ancient tongue. A shadowy force gathered in the air like a silent oblivion, and smoke began to pour from the mirror, curling its way along the top of the pyramid, twisting around the altar’s base.

“O, Tezcatlipoca, Lord of the Near and the Nigh, Night Wind, Enemy of Both Sides. Receive this life that we end for you, and may such a death herald many more, until a darkness pervades the living world and Mictlan erupts upon the Earth.”

Carol felt her brother’s thin courage falter as the knife blurred upward in the high lord’s hand.

“Wait!” he cried, and his soul struck out wildly, despairing.

Carol could bear no more. Mustering all of her energy, she opened her mouth to sing, intending to send notes of pure teotl pounding against Kisin. The first quavering note had barely left her lips, when he shook his head and pointed his free hand at her, closing his fingers together in a gesture of silence.

“Enough of your twittering, little bird.”

She found herself frozen in place, unable to move or speak as the black blade sliced through the air.

Don’t look. Johnny’s last thought flitted through her heart, but she couldn’t avert her eyes. Kisin cut open her brother’s chest, hacking through his shirt, and with a deft movement he plunged his hand inside and drew forth a pulsating red mass. He lifted it high into the air and was immediately rewarded by the raucous cheers of thousands of monsters in the streets below. Then, with a fiendish flourish the high lord tossed the heart into the hollow in the back of the stone jaguar.

The four lords released Johnny’s limbs as he went limp. Kisin motioned to the guards. “Send this filth rolling down the steps. Let the Ahuiateteo and their ilk feast on his flesh.”

The guards seized Johnny’s body roughly and prepared to flip him over the edge. The Captain of the Guard, however, interrupted them. “Here. Set him on his shield and let’s watch him rush at them willy-nilly.”

Carol wanted to scream but her throat was locked. The undead soldiers dropped Johnny’s unmoving form into the curve of the stolen shield and sent him rocketing down the steps of the ziggurat.

Kisin crooked his fingers at her, and against her will Carol moved toward the slab. With jerky movements, she climbed atop it and lay down, her brother’s blood warm and sticky beneath her back. The four lords wrapped dead hands around her ankles and wrists as Kisin intoned his ancient chant. Sinking deeper into herself, Carol tried not to listen, tried not to see. The knife arced up through the gray sky, and she fled from consciousness before it could fall.