I had bigger things to worry about than Ixkakaw, goddess of chocolate, putting my face on a candy bar. Like the fact that Hondo was keeping a secret from everyone.

My uncle and I took off before time started up again and I could be mobbed. Whatever. The second we were alone, heading to my tree house, I stopped under the shadows of a gran tree with a canopy so wide you couldn’t see the sky.

“Spit it out,” I said.

Rosie stood at my side, nodding her agreement.

“Spit what out?” he said innocently.

I threw him a talk-or-else expression. “And don’t leave anything out, especially how you survived the sludge.”

He told me I couldn’t write about this, but it’s pretty important to the story, so he’s going to have to deal. Sorry, Hondo.

For the last three months, Hondo and Quinn had been “talking.” As in, they liked each other. Yeah, let that sink in. But Quinn didn’t want anyone to know because (1) Hondo’s a human, and (2) Quinn was on a big undercover operation, aka Zane Obispo’s Demon/Godborn Tour, and she wasn’t supposed to be distracted. Seems that falling in love is a big distraction.

Anyhow, last month Quinn sent Hondo a warrior mask for his birthday. I mean, nothing says love like a warrior mask stolen from your ex’s Casa Grito, right? Apparently, the mask gave the wearer the powers of the warrior who first owned it. And that was how Hondo had been able to dive thirty feet under black ooze to search for a stone barely bigger than a quarter.

Don’t get me wrong—he wasn’t like some newly minted Spider-Man or Aquaman or whatever. But, in extreme situations, the mask gave him a certain edge, and now that Hondo had worn the thing, it belonged to him and only him. And according to my uncle, the warrior had possessed some pretty sick powers, like heightened mind-body control. Apparently, when Hondo put the mask on, all he had to do was focus—“like deep meditation, mind over matter.” There was only one glitch: every time my uncle wore the mask, its powers would be diminished a little. I guess that was the universe’s way of keeping things in balance. Or the gods’ way of keeping all the power for themselves, as usual.

The whole time my uncle was telling me this, I paced alongside Rosie. “So, you can survive, like, anything?”

“No sé. I only used the mask that one time,” he said. “I wasn’t even sure it would work, but I had no other option.”

“That was a pretty big risk.”

With a light shrug, he added, “You can see why I couldn’t tell you in front of Brooks. Quinn doesn’t want anyone to know she gave me the mask.”

My head was spinning from all the information I’d had to process over the last few hours. Maybe that’s why the next question just flew out of my mouth: “Quinn really likes you?”

Hondo let out a light laugh and stood taller. “That’s the part you can’t believe?”

Rosie yelped, then gave Hondo a big toothy grin telling him she totally approved. I guess I did, too.

Scratching my dog’s neck, Hondo said, “Thanks, girl. I knew you’d have my back.”

We continued down the path. “Dude, it’s kinda hard to keep a mask a secret,” I said. “I mean, we saw you wearing it.”

“I know.” Hondo wiped sweat off his brow. “And the mask only has power if a sobrenatural gives it to you. Which means Brooks will catch on, unless…”

I didn’t like the look he was giving me. “Unless what?”

“You want to tell her you stole it.”

“Me?! How did I become the thief in all this?”

“Just help me out, man. Throw your girlfriend off my trail.”

I leaned against Fuego and felt heat rise in my cheeks. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Hondo clapped my back. “Listen, Diablo. I’m here for you. To give you man-to-man advice, help you figure this out. It’s complicated falling in love the first time.”

I shrugged him off me. “You’re the guy who’s all lovesick. I…I don’t want to talk about this.” Who said anything about love? Geez.

When we got to the first ladder that led up to the tree houses, Rosie inched back, sniffed the air, and took off into the jungle. I guess it was dinnertime.

“Rosie can’t climb ladders,” I said. “Where’s she supposed to sleep?”

“Uh—she’s got some pretty killer accommodations.”

My hellhound got a better bunk than I did?

As soon as I entered my tree house suite, a flurry of motion sent me tumbling back into Hondo. Six little monkeys dashed up the walls, carrying pillows and toilet paper rolls as they disappeared through the open roof.

“¡Los monitos!” Hondo flew into the house. “Give that back!” He shook his fists at the devious beasts that were now safely back in the trees, howling with laughter.

“With those thieves around,” Hondo said, “you should probably keep everything locked up.”

There wasn’t much left for them to take. I saw an envelope with my name on it on the desk and tore it open. I read it silently as my uncle peered over my shoulder.

7:00 a.m. Breakfast (If you’re late, you starve)

7:30 a.m. Physical Training with Hondo the Horrendous

I eyed my uncle. “Horrendous?”

He flashed a smile. “Gotta keep the kids on their toes. Easier to lighten up than tighten up.”

I did a quick scan of the rest of the schedule (teachers to be determined), which would start the day after tomorrow:

1. The Great Gods (Part 1 of 20)

2. The Art of Magic and Mayhem

3. Sinful Chocolate: From Bean to Bar

I glanced up. “We have to learn about chocolate?”

Hondo’s expression turned serious. “I guess there’s a lot of history and magic in those little cocoa beans. Plus, Ixkakaw threatened to annihilate it all if the gods didn’t offer the course.”

“Man, that’s the best threat I’ve ever heard,” I said. “Don’t do what I want? No chocolate for you for, like, ever.”

I read the last couple of classes.

4. Monsters, Beasts, and Demons

5. The Mystic Universe: Cosmology, Fate, and Time

And two hours with Itzamna for writing classes, including how to read and write glyphs. Two hours!

“I bet the monsters class will be cool,” Hondo said.

“I’ve already seen them up close and personal, so, uh, no thanks.”

Hondo yawned and stretched. “Time to get some shut-eye. It’s been a long day. See you at the biblioteca tomorrow morning.” He went to the door, then turned back to me. “Brooks says it’s the big red temple with a million steps. You can’t miss it. And don’t be late. I’ve gotta get ready for my big godborn training day.”

After he left, I fell into bed and stared through the trees at the stars. My mom once told me that looking at the stars is looking into the past. If a star six hundred light-years away died a century ago, we still wouldn’t know it. We’d be gazing at its previous form, clueless about all that death swarming beyond. The thought was muy depressing.

I settled into my pillow, and just as I was about to drift off, I heard footsteps in the hallway outside. It was probs one of my housemates finally getting here from the ceremony.

“You’d think the son of war would get a better house.”

I groaned. I was stuck with bad-mood Marco?

“At least your dad isn’t some minor god of thunder,” a girl said sadly. “Like, couldn’t I have gotten a little lightning, too?”

“So what’s your talent?” Marco snorted. “Making a big boom sound?”

“You want to hear a boom?” the girl snapped. “Here you go.” And then the outer door slammed hard enough to shake the walls.

I thought about getting up to greet Marco, but I was too wiped. I fell right into a dream. The air was thick and dry. Gray light pressed in on me. I heard the sound of fingers tapping on stone. My throat was so parched, it felt like I had swallowed sandpaper.

The world came into focus slowly, its edges worn like a soft blanket. I was back at my old elementary school, in Mr. Hawkins’s classroom. Every single desk was occupied with a zombie-eyed student. They all just sat there frozen, staring straight ahead at the chalkboard where Mr. H stood like a mannequin, chalk in hand. Out the windows, orange leaves were suspended in mid-descent. I glanced at the wall clock: The hands were stopped at 2:32.

“Hello, Zane.”

I startled, turning my attention to the voice at the back of the classroom. The Red Queen sat on top of Mr. H’s desk, sipping a blue icy drink with a pink straw. She looked the same as the last time I’d seen her, which was right before I put on a death mask that was supposed to hide me from the gods. Okay, maybe she had a few more wrinkles. (Was that possible? Do the dead age?) She had the same black hair tied up in a tight bun and wore a band of jade stones around her head.

“You could have picked”—slurp—“a better”—slurp—“meeting place.”

“Me? I didn’t pick this place.”

“This is your dream,” she said. “If it were up to me, we’d be sailing across the Mediterranean, but here we are in a dreadful plastic world that smells like sawdust and child angst.”

“I have no control of—”

She interrupted me with a sigh. “I have an ominous message for you. So, let’s just get to it, shall we?”