Curse of the Mummy's Uncle (16 page)

Now that he was inside, the question was how to get down to the pool. He tried to remember the way they'd gone the first time. But that night was mostly a blur. All he could remember was the voices asking if it was time.

Knowing he was going too slow, he held his hands out in front of him and took one step, then another. Something brushed against his foot and gave a metallic
clink
. He reached down and felt something soft and round. Carter's yarn ball and needles. Jiménez must have hidden them here when Nick and his friends were unconscious.

Nick didn't have any use for yarn. But if Carter's things were here . . . He knelt on the floor, feeling around
until his fingers brushed against the smooth nylon of a backpack. Quickly he unzipped the pockets and felt around inside. His hand closed on a metal cylinder. He pulled it out and pushed the button, and blessed light filled the tunnel.

With no time to lose, he raced along the hallway. Now it was all coming back to him. He turned down the staircase and leaped the steps three or four at a time, ducking his head to keep from hitting it on the low ceiling. Soon he could hear the rushing of water. He listened to see if he could hear any voices, but no one was speaking to Nick tonight.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he turned the corner and ran to the pool. He started to pull off his shirt, and the beam of his light hit the water. Something was moving there. He stepped closer and then jerked back in horror.

Scorpions. The pool was filled with huge scorpions—long, sharp stingers pointing out from their tails. That was impossible. Scorpions lived in the desert, not in the water. Angelo had said something about a river of scorpions. But had that been real or imaginary? He put the toe of his shoe near the water and a scorpion clattered over to it and plunged its stinger into the rubber sole. It felt real enough.

He tried to remember everything Angelo had told him about the
Popol Vuh
. The one thing all the tests seemed to have in common was that they were tricks—tests of will more than anything else. The demons hadn't really made them bleed or swell up or lose their flesh. He just had to hope this test would be the same.

“Doesn't matter if it's real or not,” he said. After everything he'd been through, he wasn't going to let this stop him. If they were imaginary, he'd be fine. If they were real, then, well, they'd just have to sting him. Quickly he stripped off his shoes, pants, and shirt.

He hoped the flashlight would work in the water. Again, if it didn't, he'd figure something out. He inhaled deeply, sucking as much air into his lungs as possible. He didn't know how long he'd have to be underwater. A scorpion climbed up onto the bank, and he kicked it back into the pool with the side of his bare foot—narrowly avoiding the stinger.

Another deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Filling his lungs until he thought they would burst, he put his hands over his head and dove into the pool of churning scorpions. Instantly, the water grabbed him and pulled him down. He opened his eyes, but he couldn't see anything except bubbles. The pull of the current
grew stronger. Now he was going not just down, but sideways as well.

In the beam of his light, he saw a rocky outcropping coming directly toward him. He pushed off to keep from hitting his head and somersaulted into the current. Now he was out of control, rocks scraping his arms, back, and shoulders. He tried to figure out which way was up, but the river was too deep—the current too strong.

His chest began to burn and he blew some air out of his nose. How long had he been down here? He released another burst of used oxygen and his brain demanded he breathe. It was everything he could do not to open his mouth and suck in, the way his lungs were ordering him to. Just as he was about to gray out, the river tossed him to the surface. He coughed and gasped as oxygen surged through his body.

As the air cleared his brain, he looked around. There it was. The chamber. His mother. Fighting the current, he pulled himself to shore and climbed out.

He knew he didn't have much time, so he hurried to the bed and reached out his hand. What had Jiménez told him he had to say?

“You came back,” a voice said from behind him. “After I banned you.”

Nick turned to find Seven Death glaring at him from across the river. “I found my own way,” he said.

“It's too late,” the death god said, splitting into two men. “You already failed.”

Nick lunged toward his mom, but Seven Death split into all seven of his forms. Each of them moved to block Nick from his mother.

“How would you like to die?” asked one of them. “An arrow through the heart?”

Nick backed against the foot of the bed. He had to find a way to get to his mom. Then he remembered:
the item of power.
That was supposed to let him get past the demons.

But what was it?

“An ax to the throat?” another of the Seven Deaths said, stepping toward him.

Nick threw open a nearby chest, looking for anything that might be the item. Something personal that would have had great significance to the king's aunt. A crown maybe, or jewels? He pawed through necklaces, but none of them seemed right.

“Or would you like me to rip your heart straight out of your chest?”

A collection of intricately carved figurines sat on a shelf near the bed. He touched each of them, but
nothing happened. He saw a wooden rack covered with beautiful gowns and headdresses. Clothes probably meant a lot to a queen. He flipped through them all, making sure to touch each one. But none of them had any effect.

Nick looked around the room, trying to buy time. Shoes. His mom certainly liked shoes, and there were dozens of pairs on the floor next to the bed. Slippers, boots, low moccasin-type things. There were too many valuable things to choose from.

“She's my mom. You can't have her.”

“We already do,” all the Seven Deaths said together.

The figure on the bed sat up and opened her glowing green eyes.

“Awilix,” the death gods said, bowing before her. “What is your wish?”

“Gather my servants,” the woman who still looked like Nick's mother said. “It is time to leave our tomb behind—and feed.”

“As you command,” the Seven Deaths said. “And what shall we do with the boy?”

Awilix looked Nick in the eyes, and the power of her gaze sent ice from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. But wasn't there a part of his mom inside? A part of her that might recognize him? Desperately he stared
at her, trying to make contact with whatever part of his mom still existed.

Her gaze locked on his. For a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of recognition. Then he remembered all his doubts. He'd never done any of the things she liked. He'd never asked her about her life before him. He spent his entire life expecting her to do things for him. How could she possibly want to protect him now?

She smiled. “Kill him.”

“No!” Nick screamed. He looked for some place to run, but the death gods had him blocked off. Weapons raised, they closed in on him.

“Welcome to Xibalba,” one of them said, raising his ax.

Nick spun back toward Awilix. “Please, Mom,” he begged. “I know I've been a lousy son. Even if you can't do anything to stop this, I want to say I'm sorry for all the trouble I've put you through. All the dumb stuff I've done. I love you.”

Awilix started to turn away from him and then stopped. Her head turned back. She raised a trembling hand, slapped it back down to her side, and tried to raise it again. It was like part of her was reaching out to him while the other fought against it.

Slowly, three words forced themselves out of her mouth. “Let. Him. Go.”

“Awilix?” All of the Seven Deaths turned toward the goddess.

Her eyes met Nick's, and for just a brief moment, he saw his mom fighting against the power of the goddess with everything she had. Her gaze swept past Nick to the wall behind him, and then the goddess returned.

“Kill him!” she roared.

Nick's mind raced. What was that look? Had his mom been trying to tell him something?

As the Seven Deaths leaped toward him, Nick spun around. He searched the wall, and there it was, right where it had been the whole time. He'd been searching for all the things a member of Mayan royalty might find important, without ever thinking about the fact that the king's aunt was a woman, just like his mom.

In fact, in a way, he guessed she was kind of a mom too. Hadn't she raised the young king?

Diving forward, he reached out and grabbed the painting of a man and a woman holding a child. All at once he knew he was the most important thing in his mom's life. And to the aunt and uncle, the boy hadn't been a king. He'd been their child.

As Nick's fingers brushed across the child's face, an
explosion shook the chamber. Green light shot off the walls and ceiling. He held up the painting and all seven incarnations of the death lord fell back before him.

Rushing to his mom, he threw his arms around the glowing green goddess. “I love you, Mom. Come home.”

For a moment the body he pressed against was ice-cold. Then he felt warm arms wrap around him. “I love you too.”

“I'm still not sure I understand why we're leaving three days early,” Mom said as the men from the camp piled their luggage onto the top of the four-wheel-drive.

It was the morning after Nick had freed his mom from the power of the Mayan goddess, and she didn't seem to remember anything about it at all. He figured that was probably a good thing.

“You hit your head,” he said. “Don't you remember?”

Mom reached up and felt the bandage on the front of her head with a look of mild surprise. “Oh, that's right. I guess I forgot. Everything's a little bit fuzzy.” She looked at Dad as the two of them climbed into the
car. “Did
you
know I hit my head?”

Dad pushed his Indiana Jones hat back on his head, looking a little confused. “I . . .
think
so.”

“You got food poisoning,” Carter said. “You know, the runs? You've been kind of out of it too.”

Dad nodded slowly. “The curse of Montezuma's revenge, huh?”

Angelo shuddered. “Let's not talk about curses.”

“The good news is, we get three days all expenses paid at the hotel,” Nick said as he, Carter, and Angelo climbed into the car.

Mom leaned forward, looking at the man driving their car. “What happened to that nice Mr. Jiménez who brought us here?”

Nick glanced back at the Mexican police who were just finishing up their interviews. “He's telling some people all about how he ended up with certain artifacts. I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up being on TV.”

Dr. Lopez and Dr. Canul had gone to great lengths explaining that Mr. Jiménez and a small group of his associates had planned an elaborate attempt to steal valuable artifacts that belonged in the country's museums. Dr. Canul still wasn't entirely certain on what had happened the night before. But Dr. Lopez had made it
clear that it would be best for his career if he didn't mention the glowing green goddess. Considering that his father's career had been destroyed by odd beliefs, it wasn't a hard sell.

“That's nice,” Mom said. “He seemed like a prince of a guy.”

“The problem is he thought he was a king,” Carter whispered.

As the driver pulled out of the camp, Nick took one last look at the pyramid where they had nearly ended up spending the rest of their lives—and afterlives.

“I wish I could have spent more time talking to the lords of death,” Angelo said.

“Are you kidding?” Nick asked. “Those were, like, the freakiest guys I've ever met.”

“Not to mention that they tried to kill us,” Carter added.

Nick shook his head. Sometimes Angelo was just plain nuts. “Do you still think your parents are going to make you give up monster hunting?”

“I think we can come to some kind of agreement,” Angelo said. He reached into his notebook and pulled out a slip of paper.

“What's that?” Nick asked. “It looks like one of
those DNA reports out of your tester.”

“Not just any report,” Angelo said. “This is the DNA result for One Death.”

Nick and Carter stared at him. “How?” Nick asked. “You said you used all your swabs.”

Angelo gave a sly smile. “I did. But remember when I grabbed his hand in the underworld? Just before we had to name the demons?”

Nick nodded.

“I scraped some skin from his palm with my fingernail. I ran the tests as soon as we got back.”

“And?” Nick asked.

“Definitely not human.”

“You are a crazy man,” Carter said before going back to his knitting.

Nick noticed Carter had given up the hat he'd been working on. “Something new?” he asked.

Carter held up his project. “It's next year's Halloween costume. I'm going to be the Flying Scab.”

Nick's dad turned around. “What are you boys going to do when we get back to the hotel?”

“I'm eating till I pop,” Carter said.

Angelo pulled out his monster notebook. “I think I'll try to find the library. I've always wanted to learn more about
chupacabras
.”

“What about you?” Nick's mom asked him. “Finally going to get that swim?”

Nick shook his head. “Actually, I was hoping you might teach me some Spanish.”