I was standing in front of Mictlantecuhtli's office, since they had told me I needed to go in as soon as I arrived at the station.
But even though my body was there, my mind wasn't.
It was still trapped in what had happened a few hours earlier.
"Mine."
The word kept echoing in my head.
Was Iztli in love with me?
It couldn't be true. We had known each other for… what? A month?
At most.
Love at first sight?
I couldn't deny that he was attractive. And yes… sometimes he made me nervous. But being nervous didn't mean being in love. Or did it?
I didn't think I was in love.
And yet… when he said I was his, I felt a knot in my chest.
—Come in.
The voice from the other side of the door made me snap back to reality.
I entered.
Mictlantecuhtli was standing beside his desk. His pale green skin looked lighter than usual, as if he were sick or exhausted. His dark hair, with deep green highlights, contrasted with his clothes: fitted black pants and a brown turtleneck sweater that gave him an elegant yet informal air.
Beautiful.
And today… strangely tired.
—Sit down. We need to talk about your next interview.
I settled into the armchair while he stepped away from the desk and sat across from me. He pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose and rubbed his forehead, as if dealing with something heavier than simple administrative matters.
—You'll be interviewing someone last minute today. Here.
He handed me a sheet.
I read:
Pane Deinos FobosEquivalent Name: FearAge: As old as living beingsNature: Independent energetic entityCharacteristics: UnknownObservations: Manifests as a constantly tired person. Does not generate direct physical harm.
—He's my next interviewee? —I asked, surprised.
—Don't worry —he replied lightly—. He's not malicious. Technically, he can't cause physical harm. He's… a character.
He sighed.
—Difficult to handle. But safe. I'll accompany you from the recording area.
I frowned slightly.
—If you don't like him… why did you accept?
I hadn't thought the King of the Underworld could be obligated to anyone.
He smiled, tired and mocking at the same time.
—I owe him a favor. And he pays very well.
It was strange seeing him like that. He was always polite, even slightly flirtatious, but he kept his distance. Today he seemed… disordered.
Human.
And that relaxed me a little.
—It will go well —he added—. And since it's a complicated interview… you'll receive an extra bonus.
Suddenly, laughter echoed throughout the room, making the walls vibrate slightly.
Then he returned to his calm expression.
—Of course you'll get it. But you'll have to earn it.
He reached into his pocket and took something out.
It was a smooth black obsidian egg, no more than ten centimeters long.
He handed it to me.
—What is this? —I asked, confused.
For a second I thought it was some strange pet.
He interrupted me before I could continue.
—It's not what you think. Remember I promised to help with your grandparents' health. This is for your grandmother.
I froze.
—My grandmother… is sick?
I knew my grandfather had trouble walking. But my grandmother… she only took medication.
—It's a purifier and energy synthesizer system —he explained calmly—. Your grandmother was a shaman. She circulated energy constantly. Worked with it. But after a certain event… her energy became contaminated.
I felt cold.
—What event?
His gaze turned serious.
—It's not my responsibility to answer that.
He continued:
—When she stopped using her spiritual energy, it began to stagnate. The contamination started affecting her body. This won't cure her… but it will purify her energy. It will function like an energetic dialysis machine. It will also store part of her power so she doesn't overload.
I pressed the obsidian egg against my chest.
—Thank you.
It was smooth. Cold. Black as night. It didn't look like anything special. But if it could help her…
Mictlantecuhtli smiled faintly. Subtle satisfaction.
—As for your grandfather, take him to the hospital. I'll cover the bills.
Something inside me felt lighter.
—Thank you… truly.
I extended my hand to give the egg back to him, but instead he grabbed my wrist.
He placed two fingers against my skin.
I felt brief warmth.
I looked down.
A tattoo had appeared.
A marigold flower, in shades of orange and green, delicate and luminous.
—And what is this? —I asked, touching the design, trying to erase it.
—A gift —he replied—. The smell of that cat annoyed me from the moment you arrived. You may leave now.
—It will disappear… right?
He smiled a little more.
He didn't answer.
I left the office muttering under my breath. I had to prepare for the interview.