I mentally tuned Professor Ironfeather out as I searched my wetware for a piece of data that was tugging at my memory. Huitzilopochtli—that was the god that Hector, the cab driver, had been going on about. Huitzilopochtli’s curse. Every year, the captain of the team that won the national ollamaliztli finals had died. I’d dismissed the deaths as accidents or coincidences. But what if the court ball players were being sacrificed?