Lola and Lucky were sitting on the rock slab waiting for them. Lord 6-Dog bounded over, holding high the leg-bone of his ancestor. Max made his way more slowly over the rocks and wasn’t there to hear the king’s announcement about his find. But from the lack of excited voices in response, he guessed that Lucky and Lola had also failed to greet Jade Frog’s moldering leg-bone with enthusiasm.
“Dost thou not see?” Lord 6-Dog was saying when Max arrived at the makeshift dock. “It was the Jaguar Kings who guided us into this cave. It was they who put this scepter into my hands. They have given me what I need to vanquish Tzelek once and for all.”
They all looked at the ancient brown bone.
Lola voiced their skepticism. “You’re going to vanquish Tzelek with that old thing? How?”
“It is the scepter of the Jaguar Kings.”
“But what does it do, exactly?”
“It channels the power of the Jaguar Stones.”
Understanding dawned on Lola’s face. “He doesn’t know how to use it,” she whispered to Max.
Lucky stood up. “The tide is turning.”
Lord 6-Dog patted the leg-bone. “Indeed, it is.”
“No,” said Lucky. “The actual tide is turning. It’s time to go.” He went to open the hatch to the submarine. “All aboard. Again.”
“Dibs on copilot,” said Lola.
“Get ready to dive, everyone,” said Lucky. “We’re going back the way we came.”
This time their descent was smooth and slow.
Lucky was studying the radar. “I don’t see the coast guard vessel anywhere. They must have found bigger fish to fry.”
A large grouper swimming by the windscreen puckered its lips as if blowing a kiss.
Max went and lay on a bunk to study the guidebooks, but once again the heat and vibrations and smell made his head spin.
Above him, Lord 6-Dog whispered in Mayan to Jade Frog’s leg-bone.
Soon, both boy and monkey were in the land of dreams.
“What did I miss?” asked Max hours later, climbing up to the cockpit.
“Whale sharks, dolphins, and a giant barracuda,” said Lola. “The fish in the gulf were amazing.”
Max peered out of the porthole, but all was dark. “Did you see the coast guard again?”
“No. But we nearly collided with a trawler.”
“So where are we now?”
“Coming into New Orleans. Is Lord 6-Dog still asleep?”
“I’ll go wake him up.”
Max ran back down and tapped Lord 6-Dog on the shoulder. “Rise and shine!”
Lord 6-Dog shot up, snarling. He clutched at the leg-bone, as if Max had been trying to steal it.
“Chill,” said Max, backing away. “I just came to tell you that we’re nearly there, so if you want to, um …” He was going to say take off your pajamas, but he wasn’t sure about the etiquette of giving wardrobe advice to a Maya king, so he finished vaguely, “… if you want to get ready.”
“I have the scepter of the Jaguar Kings, I am ready for anything.”
“Um, okay, then. Let’s go up.”
Lola greeted them excitedly. “Look!” she said, pointing to the video screen. “New Orleans! Look at all the lights! Please surface, Lucky, so I can see it properly.”
“It’s too dangerous,” replied Lucky. “We have to sneak around the back, find a quiet bayou to tie up in.”
“A bayou?” Max pulled a face. “I don’t like the sound of that. The guidebook said that bayous have alligators and leeches.”
Lucky rolled his eyes. “I’ll tie up close to the bank.”
“Pleeeeeease,” Lola was begging. “Can’t we just surface for one little minute?”
“We’re not tourists,” Lucky reminded her. “We’re here on business.”
“But I’ve never been on vacation in my whole life.”
Lucky relented. “Just a quick look, but then we need to stay under. None of us have documentation if we get stopped.”
“Speak for thyself,” said Lord 6-Dog. “I have the leg-bone of my ancestor.”
“I’m fairly sure that’s not a recognized form of identification around here,” said Lucky. He brought the sub up until they were floating on the water. “Now take a quick peek, Lola, and let’s get out of here.”
As soon as she opened the hatch door, they were serenaded by the sounds of distant trumpets, trombones, and snare drums. The sub filled with aromas of spicy gumbo, boiled crawfish, and those impossibly light donuts called beignets.
“I’m so hungry,” wailed Max. “Let’s get off and eat. There’s a dock over there.”
“No,” said Lucky. “We’re going to do this my way. We’ll tie up somewhere quiet and walk back into the city for dinner. I’ll find you a hotel and tickets upriver for tomorrow. With luck, we’ll find a boat going all the way to Cahokia.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Lola made a sad face.
“I have classes to teach, remember? But I’ll be back to collect you. Just call me.”
“What if the phones are still out?” asked Max.
“I’ll find you somehow.”
Max furrowed his brow dubiously.
“You’ll be fine,” Lucky assured him. “This place is a lot safer than the jungle. Besides, you have Lord 6-Dog to look after you.”
Max and Lola regarded their so-called protector. He was in a world of his own, intent on polishing the leg-bone of his ancestor on his pajama top.
“You’ll be fine,” repeated Lucky, less convincingly this time. “Now let’s get that hatch shut and find somewhere safe to tie up.”
“HALT!” bellowed a voice.
Lucky clapped his hand to his forehead. “Too late! We’ve been spotted!”
Max looked around for the coast guard but saw no other boats on the water.
“STORM WARNING IN EFFECT. ALL TOUR BOATS INTO PORT. THIS IS AN ORDER.”
“There’s a guy with a megaphone on the dock,” said Lucky.
“Police?” asked Max.
“It’s hard to see. He’s wearing a rain cape. He looks pretty official.”
“Let’s just go,” Lola urged. “Let’s dive and get out of here!”
Lucky assessed the situation. “No, it’s okay. We’ll play along. This could work for us. He thinks we’re a tour boat, so I’ll keep him talking while you three disembark and melt into the crowd.” He turned the sub toward the dock. “Just keep your cool and act like tourists.”
“Easier said than done,” Max pointed out. “One of us is a howler monkey in pajamas.”
Lola pulled out a blanket from a cubby. “Here,” she said, draping it over Lord 6-Dog’s head. “Wrap this around you and we’ll say you’re seasick. They’ll think you’re a little boy.”
“What about his hairy feet?” said Max.
“It’s getting dark,” said Lola. “No one will notice.”
Lucky put his hands on her shoulders. “I wish I could come with you. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“You said it yourself,” Lola pointed out. “It’s a lot safer here than in the jungle.”
“New Orleans looks like a beautiful city,” agreed Lucky. “But it has its dark side. I’ve heard tales of ghosts and voodoo and haunted houses.”
“Now you tell us,” joked Max.
Lola laughed. “We’ve survived the Maya underworld. I think we can look after ourselves.”
He nodded. “So when you get off the sub, promise me that you’ll go straight to a hotel. Then you’ll come back to the waterfront in the morning and look for a boat to St. Louis. They’re supposed to leave every day. Do you have enough money?”
“Yes! Stop worrying. We’ll be fine.”
Lucky, who was not a natural hugger, hugged each of them awkwardly. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
Lucky disembarked first. “Good evening, Officer,” he said to the guy in the rain cape. Then he stood at the hatch to help the others out onto the wooden dock. “Watch your step,” he said to each of them as they emerged. “Sharky’s Sub Tours welcomes you back to New Orleans.”
“We didn’t finish our tour,” grumbled Lola. “We want our money back.”
“Sorry, lady, read the small print. No refunds.”
“And my little brother got seasick.”
“Then it’s a good thing we docked early.” Lucky winked at the officer. “Tourists. There’s no pleasing ’em.”
“Very true,” the officer agreed. “How’s business? I never heard of Sharky’s Sub Tours before.”
“We’re new in town.” Lucky looked as guilty as only a man driving a smuggler’s submarine in foreign waters on a mission from the Maya Death Lords could, but the officer didn’t seem to notice.
“Next time, you should check the weather forecast first.”
“I did but—” Lucky stopped himself arguing and nodded meekly. After casting one last worried glance at his former passengers, he got back in the sub and headed out across the water.
Max, Lola, and the blanket-swathed Maya king crossed the broad waterfront sidewalk and ducked around the first street corner.
“Did that cop follow us?” asked Max, flattening himself against the wall.
Lola peered around the corner. “All clear! We did it, Hoop! We’re in New Orleans!”
Max exhaled with relief. “So let’s find a hotel.”
“Can’t we explore a little first?”
“No. We’re sticking to the plan. Besides, there’s a storm coming, remember?”
“I smell no storm,” said Lord 6-Dog suspiciously.
“Can you speak a bit higher?” Lola asked him. “You’re supposed to be a little boy.”
“I smell no storm,” squeaked Lord 6-Dog.
Lola looked at the sky. “Not a single cloud,” she agreed. “Maybe the weather changes quickly here.”
“Whatever,” said Max. “Let’s get going. It looks like there’s loads of places down this way. I’m pretty sure this is the French Quarter. It’s full of hotels and restaurants. We should come back out for something to eat when we’ve found a place to stay.”
They walked along, laughing and chatting and looking in store windows. But gradually their high spirits faded. One after another, the hotels they passed had NO VACANCY signs posted outside.
“This is hopeless,” sighed Lola.
The streets were getting quieter now.
“This looks like the end of the French Quarter,” said Max. “What should we do?”
“If we were in the jungle, we’d just sling our hammocks in some trees.” Lola looked around doubtfully. “Maybe we could sleep in a doorway.”
Max pulled a face. “I want fluffy towels and cable TV.”
“I’d settle for shelter from the storm,” said Lola.
Lord 6-Dog sniffed the air. “Battle stations!” he yelped.
“What? Why?” Max and Lola tuned to see what he was looking at, and a burst of raucous music made them jump out of their skin.
“It’s started,” said Lola. “Look!”
A band of skeletons was dancing down the road playing their instruments. They were led by a small skeleton with a baton.
Lord 6-Dog brandished the leg-bone at them. “Be gone, evil spirits!”
The skeletons waved back cheerily.
“Are we in New Orleans or Xibalba?” whispered Lola.
The small skeleton with the baton handed her a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” she asked defiantly. “A ransom note for my parents?”
The little skeleton stared at her in alarm and high-tailed it back to the group.
“ ‘Crescent City Middle School Marching Band,’ ” read Lola. “ ‘Halloween Parade Route.’ ”
Max burst out laughing. “They’re schoolkids. In costumes. They’re rehearsing for Halloween. That poor little skeleton, you scared him to death.”
Lola laughed, too. “I’m so on edge,” she said. “I wish we could find a hotel.”
“There’s one,” said Max.
All around them were smart, white-painted houses, some with imposing pillars and others with ornate iron balconies on their upper stories. But across the street sat a dark patch of gloom, a house entirely in darkness. A single flickering lightbulb illuminated the peeling sign that swung miserably outside:
“At least it doesn’t look expensive,” said Lola.
A horse-drawn carriage rolled past. “And this is the most haunted hotel in New Orleans,” said the driver to his passengers. “Guests who’ve lived to tell the tale speak of strange goings-on in the middle of the night.…” His voice faded away as the carriage clopped down the street.
“Are you sure about this place?” Max asked Lola.
“It’s the only place we’ve seen with a vacancy sign,” said Lola.
She crossed the street and opened the gate. It creaked like a cackling witch with a sore throat.
“Is this a good time to remind you that we’re not good at choosing hotels?” asked Max. “Remember Casa Carmela in Spain? And the Grand Hotel Xibalba?”
“It’s just for one night,” said Lola firmly. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
Max and Lord 6-Dog followed her down the path to the front door.
Like the other buildings on the street, the hotel was three stories high with ornamental balconies. But it was detached and set back from the sidewalk, with a dead-looking front garden surrounded by a rusty wrought-iron fence. A massive oak tree in the front yard was draped in a tattered veil of gray Spanish moss. Black shutters covered every window.
“This is the creepiest hotel I’ve ever seen,” said Max.
“It will be fine,” Lola said. She put her ear to the front door. “Sounds like there’s a party going on inside.”
Max breathed a sigh of relief. “That explains it. An early Halloween party. I bet someone in a creepy costume opens the door. I’m guessing Dracula. What’s your guess, Lord 6-Dog?”
Lord 6-Dog murmured something noncommittal under his blanket, which Max took to mean that a Maya king in a monkey suit was in no position to make jokes about other people’s Halloween costumes.
Lola rang the bell.
In fact, the man who opened the door was dressed very smartly in an ornate purple velvet coat, white ruffled shirt, black britches, and buckled shoes. He had black curly hair falling to his shoulders and a jaunty black mustache, like one of the Three Musketeers. The only alarming thing about him was his face. He looked startlingly like a slightly younger version of Uncle Ted’s butler, Raul.
“Bonsoir,” he said.
“Er, bonsoir,” said Lola. “Do you have any rooms? There are three of us.”
“But of course. We ’ave been expecting you.”