Chapter Eighteen

Phillip Gadner lived in a two story brick house at the edge of town. The front yard was very neat, every hedge clipped to perfection, flower beds precisely aligned and symmetrical. Even the wildflowers planted in the flower beds seemed to adhere to a strict design. The house could have been straight out of a Thomas Kinkade painting.

I was absolutely shocked when my grandpa’s friend opened the door wearing faded striped pajama bottoms and a terry cloth bathrobe over an old t-shirt. His hair looked as if it had not been brushed in weeks and his beard was a little lopsided. He couldn’t have hosted a book club looking like that, could he have? The books must be terribly interesting. His startling appearance severely diminished the perfection of his home and yard.

“Alden,” he said with a crooked smile. “Are you ready for another match already? Are you so eager to be beat again?”

“It was just a fluke that you beat me last time. I’m sure it won’t happen again,” my grandpa said reaching out to shake his friend’s hand. “How are you doing, old man?”

“He’s calls me an old man,” Phil said, looking at me and laughing. “I’m two years younger than he is, and smarter.” He winked at me. “But you probably don’t believe that, do you?”

“Not at all,” I said uncertainly, glancing at my grandpa. The man was hardly what I expected for a retired history professor. His wild hair and eccentric behavior made me wonder whether his retirement had been wholly of his own free will.

My grandpa patted my shoulder. His aging frame shook with laughter at his animated friend as well as his my confused expression. “Get out of the doorway, Phil, and let us in,” Alden ordered, still laughing.

“Of course, of course, please come in.”

The three of us walked through the beautiful old home to a small sitting room. Phillip Gadner told us to make ourselves comfortable before excusing himself to the kitchen. I was relieved to find that the same care Mr. Gadner seemed to take with his yard, if not his appearance, carried over to the inside of the house. The home looked much the same as I imagined it would have back when it was first built. Mr. Gadner’s antique furniture completed the picture.

Sitting on a delicate looking couch I looked around the room in amazement. The walls of the room were lined with shelves. Laden with books of every size and shape, the parlor looked more like a library than the town’s actual library had. A beautiful globe, bigger than the coffee table, sat to the side of the fireplace. The storybook feeling persisted.

Mr. Gadner sauntered back into the room carrying a tray filled with tea cups and turkey sandwiches cut into triangles. I stifled a laugh. I had imagined that the elderly professor would swoop into the room with a full tea service, dressed in old English garb, and smoking a pipe. It was close enough. Unfortunately he was still wearing the ratty pajamas and robe. I accepted the tea gratefully.

“Now, I supposed you didn’t actually come by to play chess, today. Poor Arra would be bored to tears,” Mr. Gadner said knowingly. “So why have you dropped by, Alden, other than to introduce me to your lovely granddaughter, that is?”

“We need your expertise,” my grandpa said, careful to keep his tone light. My mood, which had been temporarily lifted by Mr. Gadner’s eccentricities, crashed low with the reminder of why we were here.

“Wonderful. I am always willing to impart my vast knowledge to those seeking to learn,” he said graciously. “What subject would you like to discuss? The Cradle of Civilization? The founding of America? The Ming Dynasty?”

“We need some information about the ancient Aztecs,” my grandpa said. “Human sacrifices specifically.”

“A very interesting topic indeed,” Mr. Gadner mused. “Human sacrifice is a gruesome thing. Why do you want to learn about a thing like that?”

I choked on my sandwich. Why? I had not expected him to care about the why.

“Well, Phil, there is a very old story in my family about an ancestor who was chosen to be a human sacrifice. I was telling the story to Arra here and she became curious about the culture.” His voice stayed surprisingly even as he spoke. I was still trying to swallow the lump of bread and turkey stuck in my throat. I took a deep sip of the tea, my eyes fixed on my grandpa. How could he talk about this so calmly? I wondered.

“There were many occasions for human sacrifice unfortunately,” Mr. Gadner said with a sad shake of his head. “Do you have a specific ceremony in mind, or a specific God? Different ceremonies and gods required different sacrifices and rights.”

I stared at him dumbly. How could we possibly know the exact ceremony or God involved? That was why we were here, to have him tell us what we needed to know. I realized that the dreams probably held some clues about why the ceremony was being performed, but I had no idea which details would be important. Perhaps the way Kivera’s face was painted, or the obsidian blade? I just didn’t know and spelling out the dreams would be a clear clue to the professor that something very strange was going on. I didn’t think I wanted to go that direction at the moment.

“The Day of Tlaloc, or the New Fire Ceremony,” my grandpa said. His voice was quieter than when he had spoken before, but the words froze my wandering thoughts immediately. I gaped at him. I thought he had told me everything he knew yesterday. Obviously he had been holding back a few important details. My grandpa avoided my questioning gaze.

Mr. Gadner appeared not to notice the change. “Wonderful,” he exclaimed, fully focused on my grandpa’s words. “Now I know where to begin.” He sprang from his chair and went immediately to a bookshelf. After only a second or two, he pulled a book from the shelf. Flipping through the pages as he walked back to his seat, he mumbled quietly to himself as he searched for the correct section.

“Ah, here we are. The Aztec Gods.” Settling back into his chair, he continued. “Tlaloc was the God of Rain. The Day of Tlaloc would have been on the summer solstice, June twenty-first.”

“That’s my birthday!” I gasped. Staring into my grandpa’s eyes, I shook my head. I had the distinct feeling that the date was not a coincidence. My grandpa visibly cringed at the mention of my birthday.

Mr. Gadner, however, noticed neither my outburst, nor his friend’s change in demeanor. “Some years the summer solstice falls on June twenty-second, but that hardly matters, I guess. How interesting that you should ask about this ceremony today. Tomorrow is June twenty-first, the summer solstice. Did you realize that?”

“Yes, actually,” my grandpa admitted. He squeezed my hand, trying to reassure me. It didn’t work. “What was the ceremony like?”

“The ceremony, yes. That would have been an interesting sight to behold, horrible no doubt, but still very interesting.” Mr. Gadner seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

“What happened to the victim?” I asked. What did he mean by horrible? My face was no doubt several shades paler than it had been and I was holding my hands tightly to keep them from shaking. Suddenly scared to hear what he was going to say, I reminded myself that I would see it all tonight anyway. Knowing would only help me prepare. I told myself that, but I didn’t really believe it.

“Well,” Gadner began, turning to me. He stopped when he saw my face. “Are you alright, dear?”

“I’m fine. Go ahead.”

“Are you sure? It’s not very pleasant,” he warned.

“Really, I’m fine.”

He nodded and continued. “Before the ceremony, the victim, almost always a child, would be cleansed and adorned in ceremonial clothing, most likely a simple white shift, symbolizing purity. Then the victim would ascend the steps of the temple in Tenochtitlan to where the ceremony would take place. The victim would then be stretched across the altar and the victim’s heart would be cut out while they were still alive.” Gadner paused, looking at me again.

I kept myself composed as best I could. It must have been good enough, because the professor went on.

“The heart is still beating as it is thrown into a sacrificial fire. Now the New Fire Ceremony you mentioned is very similar to the Day of Tlaloc, but a little more complicated.” He thumbed through the pages of his book, looking for something specific. After finding the information he needed, Mr. Gadner laid the book on the coffee table, turning it so Arra and her grandfather could see it clearly.

“The Aztecs used two calendars, a three hundred sixty-five day calendar, and a religious calendar of two hundred sixty days. The two “years” would end on the same day, June twenty-first, every fifty-two years. On this day the sacrificial fire would be put out and a new fire, hence the name, is lit as a sign of cleansing. The new fire is lit in the chest cavity of the human sacrifice, while they are alive, burning the heart.”

He paused glancing at me once again. The green tinge to my skin and the panic in my eyes simply made him shrug his shoulders. “I’m sorry, dear. I told you it was unpleasant.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Gadner. I wanted to know.” I shivered and tried to shake off the sickening feeling spreading through my body. My grandpa had said “or” when he mentioned the two ceremonies, but I had a sinking feeling that Kivera had been involved in both. Fire and blood awaited me as well. “Is there any way that someone could get out of being sacrificed once they were chosen?”

“Absolutely not,” Mr. Gadner said. “Once a victim was chosen, the decision could not be changed, for any reason. The Aztecs were very superstitious. They believed it was an honor to be sacrificed. To offer a sacrifice and then deny the god his promised feast would mean years of suffering. At least that’s what they believed.” He laughed at the absurdity of such belief. I couldn’t even pretend to smile.

Mr. Gadner continued throwing out tidbits about Aztec culture and theology, but I wasn’t really listening and it didn’t look like my grandpa was either. My grandpa finally broke through his friend’s chatter to suggest that I might need some fresh air. I thanked him with a quick look for his thoughtfulness. The antique house had gone from charming to cloying during Mr. Gadner’s account. The gory details of the ceremony mixed with the stuffiness of the room were quickly making my stomach unstable. I wanted to get out into the sun as quickly as possible.

“Of course, of course. I do tend to get carried away when I start taking about history.” He led us back to the front door with only a few more random comments. “Are we still on for chess next Tuesday?” he asked casually.

“You bet,” my grandpa said halfheartedly. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Hurriedly I made my escape before Mr. Gadner thought of something else to say. Taking a deep breath, I closed my mind off just for a second. The fresh air did help. Breathing it in deeply, I tried to calm my queasy stomach and nerves. My grandpa led me away from the professor’s house. After a few short blocks he stepped off the sidewalk and led me to a small park. It was thankfully empty. My grandpa’s arm settled across my shoulders, pulling me against his chest.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked.

“No, not really, grandpa,” I snapped, letting my anger and fear slip into my voice unexpectedly. The harsh sound surprised her, but she did not let up. “I’m going to be sacrificed to some crazy Aztec god. Tomorrow! How am I supposed to feel about that? I’m terrified.”

My grandpa wrapped me in a silent hug. He smelled like hot chocolate. The comforting scent took a little of the edge off my anger, but only a little. My grandpa probably wanted to tell me that it would be okay, that we would find a way to save me in time, but his open mouth could not utter the words. I knew he would give up his own life to save mine, but he knew he had no say in the matter. The ancient god would claim me and there was nothing he could do about it. Tears flowed freely down his face.

“I hate her,” I said, my voice muffled by my grandpa’s shirt. “I hate her!” I repeated, this time more vehemently. “All of this is happening because one selfish girl wouldn’t just die! How could she do this? I hate her!”

“Arra,” my grandpa said. His voice was stern. “She was asked to be a human sacrifice! How could anyone walk into that willingly?”

Pushing away from my grandpa as if he had just turned to fire, I glared at him fiercely. He had been the one to get upset when I presented my theory that helping Kivera might save my own life. How could he judge my behavior now? “You’re siding with her? Are you really that willing to watch another family member die? To stand by and accept what fate has in store for me?”

“Of course not,” he said. “I will do anything to protect you. I just meant that she must have been incredibly scared and foolish. Not everyone has your strength, Arra. You shouldn’t judge her when you have no idea what she went through. It’s not fair.”

“But how could she do this? Given the choice of dying yourself or dooming your posterity to a fate you can’t even face, how could she choose herself? Every daughter that has died was murdered because of her. She might as well have done it herself.” I leaned back against my grandpa’s shoulder. “How could she do that?” The softness in my words reflected the defeated thoughts running through my head.

I had listened to Mr. Gadner’s horrifying description, hoping for some kind of clue, some way to save myself, but nothing. He said there was no way out, no way to escape the fire. There was no hope any more. Not for me, at least. “How could she do this to me?” I whispered.

“I don’t know,” my grandpa said. His voice was a barely audible sigh. “We’ll know soon enough, though.” I stared at him, wondering exactly what he meant.