Max stared at the man who’d open the door. “You’ve been expecting us? But we didn’t know we were coming here.”
Their French host shrugged. “My name eez Louis. I am at your service.” He gave an elaborate bow to welcome them into the house.
Behind him, a crystal chandelier blazed into life, illuminating a spectacular marble hallway. A wide, curving staircase with carved oak banisters led to the upper floors. It looked like a Hollywood mansion.
“Eet eez late,” said Louis. He took in Lord 6-Dog’s pajama-clad legs under the blanket. If he also saw hairy feet, he gave no sign of it. “Zee leetle boy must be tired. I will show you to your rooms.”
As they followed Louis up the stairs, they glimpsed inside the parlors off the hallway, each more lavishly decorated than the last. It seemed that the interior of Baron Saturday’s Inn was as sumptuous as the exterior was run-down. Music and laughter floated out from every room.
“Are you having a party?” asked Lola.
“Zees eez New Orleans. Zee good times zey always roll.”
Louis led them up two flights of stairs and down a long corridor to a grand double door at the end. Pulling an old-fashioned brass key out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and motioned for them to enter. “Zees eez your suite,” he announced. “Eet ’az two bedrooms.”
They entered a floral-papered sitting room, plush with velvet sofas and swag curtains. In front of the French windows was a dining table set for three. It seemed that they really had been expected.
Louis opened a door on one side. “For Mamzelle, we ’ave zee Marie Laveau Room. They call ’er zee voodoo queen of New Orleans.”
Lola peeped inside. An oil painting of a beautiful dark-skinned woman in an elaborate turban dominated the room. On a four-poster bed sat a collection of rag dolls with large pins sticking into them. There was a crystal ball on the dresser.
Louis crossed the sitting room and threw open another door. “And for zee gentlemen, we ’ave zee Lafitte Room, named for zee famous pirate, Jean Lafitte.” This room had a nautical theme, with wood-paneled walls, pictures of sailing ships, a pair of crossed cutlasses above the fireplace, and a spyglass on the windowsill. A stuffed green parrot sat on a brass perch.
“You like eet?” asked Louis, looking around the room proudly. “If everything eez to your satisfaction, I weel leave you to settle in. But I weel return soon weez your dinner.”
Finally, he left and they were alone.
“I’m so glad we found this place,” said Lola, flopping down on a sofa.
“This is the life,” agreed Max, flopping down on the other sofa.
“There is sorcery afoot,” called Lord 6-Dog from the other room. “These chambers reek of the underworld.”
Lola sniffed. “It’s just air freshener. I’ll open a window.” But she couldn’t get any of the windows, or the doors to the balcony, to open. “Looks like we need a key,” she said. “I’ll ask Louis when he comes back.”
Soon there was a knock on the door. “Zee room service!” came Louis’s voice.
“Quick! Lord 6-Dog! Hide in the bathroom!” called Lola.
Louis rolled a wooden cart loaded with dishes into the room. “I ’ave brought you zee specialties of zee ’ouse. I ’ope you enjoy.” He looked around. “Where eez zee leetle boy?”
“In the bathroom,” said Lola. “We’ll start without him.”
“Very well, mamzelle. For your first course, we ’ave one of our most popular deeshes.” He lifted the silver dome off a serving tureen to reveal a heaped serving of bugs. They were about the size of crickets, bright red in color, pincers and antennas tangled together.
“Are those … scorpions?” asked Max, horrified.
“Zey are crawfeesh. Like shrimp. Zees eez a crawfeesh boil. Eet eez a local delicacy.” Louis peeled one of the little crustaceans and offered it to Lola.
She tried it. “Delicious!”
Encouraged, Louis pointed to another dish on the cart. “ ’Ere we’ave jambalaya.”
“What’s that?” asked Max.
“Eet eez rice weez sausage and chicken.”
“It smells wonderful,” said Lola.
“And ’ere we ’ave zee gumbo.”
“What’s that?” asked Max again.
“Eet eez sausage and chicken weez rice.”
Neither Max nor Lola noticed that the stuffed parrot on the perch ruffled its feathers every time Louis said chicken.
“Thank you,” said Lola. “This is a feast.”
Louis bowed. “Bon appétit! When you ’ave finished, please come downstairs for zee dessert. Zee Baron likes to greet all eez guests personally.”
“Baron Saturday?” asked Lola. “He’s a real person?”
Louis gave a nod and left, closing the door behind him.
“Gah! I forgot to ask about the windows,” said Lola, jumping up.
“Ask him later,” said Max. “Can we eat? I’m starving.”
“Okay,” agreed Lola. “Will you tell Lord 6-Dog that the coast is clear?”
Max grabbed a roll to eat on the way, and then knocked on the bathroom door. “Dinner!”
After a pause, Lord 6-Dog’s head appeared around the door. He sniffed the air and wrinkled up his face. “I care not for spicy food. Please bring me the flowers from the table.”
“I know it’s a nice bathroom, but don’t you want to eat with us?”
“I am cleaning the scepter to better read the inscription. The glyphs are muddied with the dirt of the ages. And now, if thou wilt excuse me …”
Lord 6-Dog shut the bathroom door.
When Max returned with the flowers, he heard strange sounds like many voices chanting in Mayan.
He banged on the door. “Lord 6-Dog? Who’s in there? Are you all right?”
Not getting an answer, he tried the door.
It opened.
Lord 6-Dog was alone. He was hanging by his tail from the shower rail and addressing the bathroom mirror.
“Are you talking to yourself?” asked Max.
He followed Lord 6-Dog’s eyes and saw, with a shock, that the mirror reflected a crowded room. Sitting on the floor, leaning against the walls, even huddled in the bathtub were groups of Maya men. Old and young, tall and short, they were dressed like ancient nobles, in embroidered loincloths, jaguar pelts, and jade jewelry, their hair flamboyantly festooned with seashells and feathers.
As one, the reflections turned and stared curiously at Max. Some of them pointed at his hair.
Lord 6-Dog quickly dismounted and rushed to push him out the door. “I am sorry, young lord. This is a private council meeting.”
“But who are they?” asked Max.
“They are my revered ancestors, the Jaguar Kings.”
“How did they get here?”
“It seems that I summoned them with Jade Frog’s leg-bone.” The voices in the bathroom were getting louder. “I must go back in before they declare war on each other.”
Max ran back to the dining table, where Lola was delicately dissecting a crawfish. “You won’t believe what I just saw,” he announced. “Lord 6-Dog has accidentally summoned the Jaguar Kings! They’re in the bathroom mirror right now!”
“You’re kidding me? The Jaguar Kings are here? In this hotel room?” She ran off in the direction of the bathroom. Max heard her banging on the door.
He piled his plate high with food.
“How much weirder can this whole thing get?” he asked the stuffed parrot.
The parrot flapped its wings.
Max dropped his fork with a clatter. “You’re alive? I had no idea! That’s amazing! Can you talk? Can you say ‘Pretty Polly’?”
The parrot gave him a dirty look and turned its back on him.
Lola came back in, walking slowly, as if in a trance.
“The parrot is alive!” announced Max.
She didn’t seem to hear. “That. Was. Incredible. I. Just. Met. My. Ancestors.”
“Did they talk to you?” Max asked.
“Yes! I’ll never forget it. Lord 6-Dog was going to introduce me to his father, Punak Ha, but one of the other kings shouted: It’s a woman! Get her out of here! And then they were all arguing in Mayan and Lord 6-Dog pushed me out of the bathroom.”
“He pushed me out, too.”
“It was so cool. And the whole mirror thing. Do you understand it?”
“It’s a mirror,” said Max. “You look in it.”
“No. I mean, yes, but it’s in the Maya creation story. The gods make it so that humans see the world as if they were looking through a fogged-up mirror, so they don’t get too clever. It’s so poetic.”
“Cool,” said Max unenthusiastically. “Did you hear what I said about the parrot?”
“Forget the parrot. I’m telling you about one of the greatest moments of my life. I hope Lord 6-Dog isn’t mad at me for barging in.”
“Actually,” said Max, “I think that secretly he’ll be pleased. He told me in the cave that he thought you were ashamed of your Maya side.”
“He did? That’s awful.” Embarrassed, Lola buried her face in a pillow.
“You have been acting strangely. I thought you didn’t like me either.”
Garbled sounds escaped from the pillow.
“What did you say?” Max asked her.
“I said: life is so confusing.”
Max tried to look sympathetic. “We could go down for dessert,” he suggested.
Lola looked at him over the top of the pillow. “Is dessert your solution to everything, Hoop?”
Max shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
Lola laughed. “Okay. I’ll go see if Lord 6-Dog wants some, too.”
While she was gone, Max offered a crust of bread to the parrot. “Who’s a Pretty Polly?” he asked it over and over. The parrot ignored him.
Lola came back with her hands up. It was obvious that Lord 6-Dog had yelled at her for interrupting him again. “He wouldn’t let me in. He said he’s not hungry. He sounded a bit panicky. I think he’s having trouble getting rid of his guests.”
Downstairs, the party was in full swing.
Guests in carnival costumes, all in shades of black, white, and purple, thronged the hallway. Security guards—purple-uniformed musketeers—were posted at every door.
In one room, a jazz band played.
In another room, several raucous card games were in progress.
Lola spotted an open window. “I’m going to get some air.”
“I’m going to get dessert,” said Max.
Minutes later, Max came running back. “You won’t believe it!” he said, his eyes as big and round as two chocolate tarts. “You have to come see! They have a whole room just for desserts. Pies, cakes, custards. Everything you can think of. And bowls of whipped cream. And jugs of chocolate sauce.”
Lola smiled. “I love this place!”
Horse-drawn carriages clopped by in the street outside. Sightseers and souvenir shoppers were out in force, but they kept to the other side of the street, making a wide arc around the hotel.
“That cop was wrong,” said Lola, looking up at the sky. “There’s no storm coming tonight.”
“So do you want dessert?” asked Max.
“Lead the way.”
They were ambushed by Louis en route. “Good evening. I ’ope you enjoyed your dinner. And now zee baron eez waiting to speak weez you.”
“Of course,” said Lola politely.
“Can’t we get dessert first?” asked Max.
But Louis was leading them in the opposite direction.
Casting a last longing glance at the dessert room, Max followed Lola and Louis into the card room. At the biggest table, with his back to them, a figure in a top hat and black tuxedo was dealing cards. Louis touched him on the shoulder. “Baron, may I present our new arrivals?”
The figure rose and turned around. Beneath his hat, his face was as thin and white as a skeleton. “Welcome to my humble abode. I am Baron Samedi, or, in English, Baron Saturday.” His voice was hoarse and raspy.
Max stared at him in confusion. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“I can assure you that you’d remember if we had.” The baron gave a wave of dismissal to his card-playing companions, one of whom looked suspiciously like the cop who’d ordered the sub to dock. The card players threw down their cards and, casting hostile looks at Max and Lola, vacated their seats.
“Please, sit,” said the baron, indicating the newly empty chairs.
“I know why he looks familiar,” Lola whispered as they sat down. “He looks like a Death Lord.”
Baron Saturday overheard her. “You are observant, young lady. We are indeed related, the Death Lords and I.” He grinned. “And, of course, we are in the same family business.”
Lola stiffened. “The Death Lords aren’t innkeepers.”
“Except for the Grand Hotel Xibalba,” said Max. “Is that what you mean? Because I think it’s closed down now.”
“No,” replied the baron, sounding irritated. “That is not what I mean. I am talking in metaphors.”
Max and Lola stared at him in confusion.
“Must I spell it out for you?” asked the baron. “What is an inn but a stop at the end of the journey? Do not the Death Lords welcome mortals at the end of their lives? I am talking about the business of death.”
“Do you work with the Death Lords?” asked Lola nervously.
Baron Saturday shook his head. “Perish the thought.”
“Welcome to my humble abode.”
“Then what do you mean?” asked Max.
“The Death Lords,” explained the baron, “specialize in wiping out humanity en masse. Mine is a more personal service. I dig your grave. I meet you when you die. I escort you to the underworld.” He smiled at them. “I can give you a demonstration if you’d like. Tonight.”
“We can’t stay,” said Lola quickly. “We’ll pay for our room. But we’re leaving right now.”
The baron laughed. “That’s what they all say. But it’s too late for that. Where’s my lagniappe?”
“Lanny-app?” repeated Max. “What’s that?”
“You don’t know the word? We use it a lot in this town. It means a little something extra, like a tip or a gift. If your lagniappe is generous enough, it might persuade me not to dig your graves tonight. So, what can you give me?”
“You can have all our money,” said Lola.
“Look at this room,” said the baron. “The crystal chandeliers, the solid gold picture frames. Do I look like someone who needs money? You will have to do better than that.”
“We’ll clear up after your party and wash all the dishes,” offered Max.
“Do I look like someone who cannot afford servants?”
Max ran quickly ran through his possessions. “I have a bracelet made out of bat intestines. I bet you don’t have one of those.”
The baron raised an eyebrow. “Your lives are at stake. And that is what you offer me?”
Max and Lola looked at each other in a panic.
“Never mind. Let us get down to details. Pine or oak? Satin lining or velvet?” The baron clapped his hands and Louis appeared behind him. “Measure them for their coffins. And polish up my best spade.”
Louis produced a tape measure from his pocket.
“And now,” said Baron Saturday, standing up and tipping his top hat, “I must mingle with my guests. We will meet again at midnight, one hour from now. I suggest you wear black.”
As Louis took their measurements, he whispered: “You must pay the baron, weez a gift or weez your lives.”
“But we have nothing,” Lola whispered back.
“What about zat ’airy leetle boy?” suggested Louis.
“I can’t give away my brother,” said Lola, shocked.
“But your brother, ’e ’az something, does ’e not? What was ’e ’iding when ’e arrived?”
Max and Lola exchanged a nervous glance.
“Oh that,” said Lola. “It’s just an old bone, probably from a dinosaur, or something. You know what boys are like. It’s disgusting. The baron doesn’t want that.”
“Zee baron likes old things.” Louis finished measuring and stood up. “Zees bone might save you from zee graveyard.”
“It’s my brother’s favorite toy,” said Lola.
“Ask ’eem,” urged Louis. “Before eet eez too late.” He made a big show of jotting down their measurements in a notebook. “Or you weel not get out of ’ere alive.”
Lola pulled Max out of Louis’s earshot. “What should we do?”
“We’ll have to get that stupid bone off Lord 6-Dog. It’s our only chance.”
Louis popped up behind them. “Why don’t you take up some dessert for zee boy? We ’ave many specialties of New Orleans. I zeenk ’e would like zee bananas foster.”
