Iridescent feathers grew from his head, spreading down across his shoulders and back. In his left hand he held a disk, a mirror that smoked and burned. In the right hand was a snake, a twisting, writhing snake that breathed fire and almost seemed an extension of his hand.
His other hand, the one that held the mirror, dripped red. It dripped red and you knew, knew deep down, that it could never, would never be wiped clean.
Huge! How could he be so big? How could his shadow fall on me all that distance away?
And how could his shadow reach inside me, down to my soul?
I had felt dread in Loki’s presence. This was different.
This was the heart and soul of evil. This was corruption and filth and torture and madness.
This was Huitzilopoctli, blood-mad god of the Aztecs.
Run away, David, I heard Senna’s voice in my head. Run away.
———
End Book One
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K. A. Applegate, Search for Senna
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