Tommo raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Narwhals?”
“Nah-hual,” Mateo corrected. “At least that’s how most people know them, if people know them at all. They’re sort of the Mesoamerican version of the skin-walker.”
Suddenly everyone tensed. Kuhma’s head darted side to side in miniscule movements, his ears twitching and his eyes looking at every person around them. Kesi bunched her shoulders defensively. Mateo’s heart sank. He wanted to tell them he wasn’t about to blow their cover, but there was no way to reassure them without digging himself further into this hole.