When I woke up, I felt like a cement truck had backed over my head. Twice.

I squinted, trying to shake those awful words: Are your eyes wide open? What did that mean?

Brooks slipped into my room just then and whisper-shouted, “Why are you still asleep?”

“I’m not,” I said, pointing to my face. “See?”

“It’s dawn! Are you coming or not?”

“Okay, okay. Just let me get ready….”

After brushing my teeth and changing into the SHIHOM uniform of a black tee and drawstring pants, I met Brooks outside at the nearest bridge. The whole world was misty and grayish blue—even the trees took on a gloomy cast. Brooks was wearing clothes identical to mine and leaning against a rope, her arms folded like she was deep in thought.

When she saw me, she reached into the small straw bag hanging from her shoulder. “Hungry? I grabbed you a couple of burritos—extra chile and bacon, like always.” She handed me a warm bundle wrapped in wax paper.

I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I got a whiff of the roasted peppers. “They make breakfast burritos here?” I took a bite of the spicy awesomeness.

“Come on,” Brooks said. “You can eat and walk.”

“You already know the way to the library?”

“I flew around, mapped it,” she said casually. “In case we need an emergency exit.”

We made our way across several bridges, passing a dozen or so darkened tree houses, until we reached a rope ladder that led us down into a thicket of silvery-green trees that were so ancient-looking it seemed like they had sprouted from some dead artist’s canvas.

“Pretty awesome, isn’t it?” Brooks said as we headed down a narrow path of shadows. “Did you know the temperature here is always a perfect seventy-three degrees? Oxygen levels are optimal, too. Oh, and it’s all-you-can-eat—of anything you want! Well, mostly. Which is how I got the burritos. We can go to the café later so you can check it out.”

I popped the last bite of breakfast into my mouth. So, the gods had made a paradise for us. That was super nice and all, but it did nothing to douse the fire that had been pulsing in my bones since the dream. Sometimes I wished the fire would just talk to me. You know, with direct messages like Turn here, Don’t go into that dark room, etc.

“Hey.” Brooks snapped her fingers in front of my face. “I know that look. What’s the deal?”

It was weird. We’d been apart for three months, and it felt like it had only been three hours. All that worry about Brooks ghosting me or things being weird between us vanished. We were still friends, even though she’d read all those things I’d written about her in my book and I had, you know, maybe almost kissed her that night on the beach—emphasis on almost. I thought about what Hondo had said: It’s complicated falling in love the first time. Is that what I felt for Brooks? Love? Or complicated? Or both?

I told Brooks every detail of the Red Queen’s dream visit. Brooks stopped and faced me. “Centipede? Jungle? Earth spirit?” She sighed. “Does she ever give you, like, solid details?”

“Nope.”

We walked a few more paces, and I thought Brooks was puzzling out the Red Queen’s message, but she switched topics. “And did Hondo tell you how he managed to survive the sludge?”

I scratched my cheek, wishing she wasn’t staring at me like that. “Just got lucky, I guess.” I knew the lie was worse than pathetic the second I spilled it.

“Lucky. Uh-huh.” Brooks stopped and stuck a hand on her hip. Uh-oh. She studied me hard, her eyes flashing copper. I was going to combust any second. Then she waved a whatever hand through the air and said, “Did you say that Ixkik’ was your teacher?”

“Not my teacher. She was using him to write that message, Are your eyes wide open?”

“That doesn’t sound good.” She looked up at the sky, then back to me. “Maybe it was just a really bad nightmare.”

“Nah,” I said. “She was there for sure.” Which made me never want to fall asleep again.

“And Adrik was there, too? Like there there, or like you just dreamed about him?”

I gave it half a thought and was shaking my head before the words came out. “He was there. Like, in the flesh.” Adrik had looked different than the glassy-eyed students and Mr. H—they were more like paper cutouts, two-dimensional. He was fully there, in all three dimensions.

“Huh” was all Brooks said.

“Huh? Huh what?”

“Maybe his gift”—her eyes drifted to mine—“has to do with dream walking.”

“Dream walking?” I remembered how my neighbor, Ms. Cab, had shown up in my dreams all those months ago, but I’d thought that was because I carried one of her magic eyeballs, making it possible for her to communicate with me.

“Dreams are sacred,” Brooks said, continuing down the path. “They were once a way of communicating with ancestors. And I’m no expert, but Quinn has told me how, a long time ago, spies used dreams to send secret messages.”

Brooks hooked a left down an even narrower, darker path littered with rocks and fallen leaves. Thick, knotted tree branches twisted in a creepy shadow web. I could feel the weight of the miniature monkey eyes on me even though I couldn’t see the rascals. I braced myself for a toilet paper pounding.

“Then what happened?” I asked.

“The gods happened,” Brooks said with a hint of sadness. “They banned the whole practice, because they didn’t want anyone else to be able to communicate in secret. They’re so mean.”

“Well, if Adrik is a dream walker, then he should hang out in someone else’s head. It was creepy, like being watched when you don’t know you’re being watched.”

We came to a crossroads. Brooks looked left, then right, hesitating.

“Are you lost?”

She exhaled dramatically. “I mapped this when I was flying, and things always look so different when you’re in the air.”

I was about to ask if we should fly the rest of the way, when she glanced over her shoulder, then up to the canopy of trees. “This is right.” We continued walking the tight path that began a sharp incline, and I thought how easy it would be to get lost here.

Fuego sank into the soft earth as I walked. “How am I supposed to find a centipede in the jungle, and which jungle?”

“Maybe it’s not literal,” Brooks said.

Brooks seemed different since she’d come back from her dad’s. Don’t get me wrong—she was still feisty and guarded, but she seemed more patient or more grown-up or more something I couldn’t put my finger on.

“What do you mean, ‘not literal’?” I asked.

“What if the centipede is a symbol, like an emblem on a ring, or a picture on a T-shirt or something?”

Brooks had a point. The Fire Keeper was a poet and songwriter, after all. His words could have a million meanings, which only added to my frustration. “Why do you think he sent me the message?” I was thinking out loud. “I mean, why not send it to Hurakan?”

“He likes you more?”

“I’m serious. Hurakan said this mess was for the gods to worry about.”

“But the Fire Keeper said that Zotz and Ixkik’ are way ahead of the gods,” Brooks said. “So maybe he thinks you should handle it.”

“Handle it?” I said, frustrated. “This isn’t some chore like taking out the trash.”

“It kinda is.” Brooks patted me on the shoulder. “Relax. Hurakan and Ah-Puch will be back tonight. I’m sure they discovered all sorts of stuff at their meeting, and by the time they get here, I bet they’re only two steps behind.”

Was that supposed to make me feel better? “How about zero steps behind?” My gut twisted into a triple-knotted rope. I wanted to share Brooks’s confidence, but the fire in my blood doesn’t lie, and at that moment, it was hissing right below my bones.

And in all of the craziness of the last day, I had nearly forgotten one important thing the bat god had said. “Zotz called you a water nawal.” I glanced at Brooks. She kept her gaze on her swiftly moving feet, acting as if I hadn’t asked the question. “He said he hadn’t seen one in over a century. What did he mean?”

We came to an enormous clearing.

Before us stood a bright red temple with multilevel platforms, massive steps that led to a pillared building on top, and corbeled roofing. The exterior walls were decorated with huge sculptures (probs of the gods) and glyph carvings. The temple had a single doorway on the bottom level and butted up against a lush hill blooming with red and yellow flowers.

Rosie sat at the foot of the stairs, licking her front paw like she had been waiting all day.

“Well?” I tried again.

Brooks continued to walk, and just when I thought she was going to clam up, or tell me to mind my own business, she said, “That’s why I can blend in…. You know, camouflage myself.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “What exactly is a water nawal?”

Brooks stopped and turned to me. “It’s just a shape-shifter that can blend in. I found out when I went to see my dad.”

“What did he tell you?” Brooks didn’t exactly have a great relationship with her dad. She’d only gone to see him because he was sick.

“He told me that when I was born, I wasn’t breathing. It was only when they put me in water that I took a breath. I guess water nawals can always breathe in water, except I can’t. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

Her face fell. “My dad didn’t want the gods to know about me, so he kept me away from water, made me afraid of it. He said he knew the day would come when my water nawal spirit would reveal itself and I’d learn the truth, but he wanted to put it off as long as he could.” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“That he didn’t tell you, or that you’re a super-cool water-breathing shape-shifter chameleon?”

“I told you, I can’t breathe in water, Zane. My dad stole that when he kept me away from it for so long.”

How could he just control her future like that? It seemed wrong, even though it was meant to protect her. “I’m really sorry.”

Brooks croaked, “Yeah, me too,” as she headed toward the temple.

Rosie greeted us with a big yawn at the entrance. I didn’t see Hondo or Ren anywhere.

“Are we supposed to wait for the others?” I asked.

Brooks shrugged and fixed her gaze on the symbols carved into the lintel. “‘The words before all words,’” she read aloud.

Trails of smoke curled from Rosie’s nose as I peered into the shadowy doorway. Garbled whispers floated out on a cold draft.

“What are those voices?” I asked.

“Maybe library ghosts?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t go in,” I said. Rosie whined her agreement. For being such a huge, ferocious hellhound, she sometimes still had a scaredy-cat heart. Like me.

“Ghosts can’t hurt you,” Brooks argued.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t.” Brooks grabbed my arm and pulled me into the whispering darkness.