by Ann Charles
What did that mean? “What am I going to see?”
“I don’t know, a sexy Xtabay who will lure you to follow her into the forest and then wrap you in her demonic death embrace.”
“And here I was worried about a silly rogue cat wanting to lick me to death.”
“Stay away from the Xtabay and I’ll lick you instead.”
He grinned. “Oh, yeah?”
She kissed his chin, rubbing against him, making him sweat even more. “Oh, yeah.”
“Where?”
Her hot breath in his ear gave him goose bumps. “All over.”
He groaned. “You’re torturing me, woman.”
They needed to stop or he was going to have to make everyone wait while he tore her clothes off and finished what she was starting. He grasped her hips, stilling her, trying to think of something besides how soft and smooth her naked skin felt. “Have you ever wondered why the Maya were so morbidly superstitious?”
She licked the shell of his ear.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to stay focused. “Why couldn’t they have believed in less violent gods, like unicorns and cupids?”
She giggled. “Don’t forget rainbows.”
“Quint?” Pedro’s voice cut through the waves of lust crashing down on him. “Are you ready?”
Angélica looked pointedly downward. “You feel ready to me,” she whispered.
Siren, he mouthed. To Pedro, he called out, “Just about.”
“Teodoro said it’s time for you. Maverick is already there.”
“I’ll be right out.” He looked at Angélica. “You ready to play monkey handler for me?”
“I just need to grab my leash.” She rolled off of him, leaving him rocking in her wake.
He stood, adjusting things south of his belt buckle. “Thanks for the distraction.”
Her gaze dipped low. “I’m not done with you, heartbreaker. Let’s go get you poked.”
He followed her out into the darkness. “For future reference, that’s not something a guy likes to hear, especially when it involves a small crowd of onlookers.”
Her laughter was swallowed up by the jungle’s serenade as she led the way to the fire. The whole crew was sitting around the fire pit in a solemn circle when they arrived. He could feel their gazes as he joined the party. All they were missing were the hot dogs and s’more makings, maybe a guitar and some beer, too.
As Pedro had said, Maverick was already there, seated on a log across the fire pit from where Teodoro instructed Quint to sit. Maverick saluted Quint. “Howdy, scribe.”
“I hope you take good research notes tonight,” Quint replied, settling onto the piece of wood. Had Maverick been unwilling to play along, Quint wouldn’t have needed to sweat about if he’d made the right decision to go along with tonight’s jungle fiesta.
Juan stepped between them, nudging a piece of kindling deeper into the flames with his cane. “Teodoro has placed you at cardinal points. Your back is to the west and Maverick’s is to the east.”
“What’s the significance of west and east?” Quint asked.
“The west is where the sun begins its trip down through the dark Underworld, and the east is where it pops up after its harrowing journey through the nine levels of Maya hell.”
Quint wanted to ask a few more questions, but Angélica tapped his shoulder. “Teodoro says we need to get started before the moon rises.”
Looking into the fire, he tried not to think about Juan’s tales of clothing removal and animal-inspired dances. He’d have liked to take a moment to tighten his belt another notch, but a glance in Teodoro’s direction told him it was too late.
The shaman was walking toward him with a small gourd bowl in his hands. He stood over Quint, chanting with his eyelids closed. Lorenzo stood next to him, holding a bowl full of smoldering incense, while Esteban waved a palm frond above him to spread the sweet-smelling smoke.
Angélica joined the trio, indicating for Quint to hold out his index finger. She took the bowl from Teodoro, centering it under Quint’s finger. Her eyes held his while the shaman wielded a stingray spine wrapped in a narrow strip of leather. What looked like a long black claw stuck out the other end of the leather wrap.
The stab with the pointed spine was over in a blink. Teodoro squeezed several drops of Quint’s blood into the bowl, continuing his chanting in a singsong voice.
The four of them moved across the fire to where Maverick sat. They performed the same steps, only with a different stingray spine. From what Quint could tell, it was also wrapped with a leather strip, but a feather stuck out the other end. Seconds later, Maverick’s blood dripped into the same bowl.
Lorenzo and Esteban followed Teodoro over to the altar, while Angélica joined Pedro and her father in the circle of onlookers.
Setting the bowl with the blood offering down on the altar, Teodoro lifted two more gourd bowls, handing one to each boy. While he continued chanting in Mayan, Lorenzo carried his bowl over to Maverick and stood next to him. Esteban brought the other one over to Quint, waiting.
At Teodoro’s nod, the boys handed off the bowls, but remained in place.
Quint lifted the bowl and sniffed the contents, expecting the honey-sweet scent of balche. The light-colored liquid had a pungent odor, though, that made him wince. He tipped the bowl, grimacing at the syrupy consistency. What the hell was this, the Maya version of castor oil?
A cough from across the flames made him look up. Maverick was already pouring the thick drink down his throat, coughing and gagging in between swallows.
That was just fucking great. Once again, Quint cursed the damned author and his willingness to jump into the fire for the sake of research.
Raising the bowl to his lips, he stared over the rim at Angélica. The stubborn woman was worth this, right?
She nodded once, as if she’d heard his question.
Before he could change his mind, he tipped the bowl. The warm liquid coated his tongue. The intense bitterness made his eyes water. He squeezed them shut and swallowed, choking the horrible liquid down, fighting the urge to cough it all right back up. Fire raged in his throat, the burning sensation trickling down his esophagus. He swallowed again and again, tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes, gagging it all down as fast as he could.
When he finished, someone took the bowl from him. He leaned over, coughing and gasping, his throat blazing, his taste buds nuked to smithereens. He swiped the tears from his cheeks and then used his shirt to clean the bitter taste off his tongue.
Holy fuck!
That crap had to have been shipped straight from the Maya Underworld.
He coughed again, the fresh air making his throat sting even worse. For several seconds, he felt the thick syrupy concoction coming back up his esophagus. Oh, hell no! He gulped several times, forcing it to stay down.
Finally, the tears and gagging subsided and he could breathe again without much pain, but the heat from the fire had him sweltering. Sweat poured down his face and back. He was too close, the flames were scorching his skin.
He opened his eyes, but everything was blurry, like staring through a layer of petroleum jelly. He tried to blink his vision clear, but it only smeared more. The world around him was a haze, glowing orange.
A sizzling sound filled his ears. Damn, he was so hot. He unbuttoned his shirt, trying to find relief from the intense heat. His fingers fumbled, his mind unable to make them work right. He gave up and tore at the cotton, needing to be free of the fabric, certain it was somehow trapping the heat inside. If he couldn’t get free, he would surely burst into flames.
The odor of burning flesh made him struggle harder. Had the fire spread to his clothes? Was that why they were making him so hot? He tried to stand but his legs wouldn’t move. The heat seared his skin, the stink of burned hair made him cough and gag again. He had to get free of the fire. If he could just get these damned clothes off. He tugged on his belt, growing manic from the pain.
“Stop!�
� A voice shouted in his ears.
Quint stilled, listening to the crackle of flames.
The burning in his throat ceased. The smell of charred flesh blew away in a fresh breeze that cooled his heated skin. He opened his eyes, his vision crystal clear. He blinked several times, testing the sudden clarity. With each blink, the flames before him shrank and flickered, allowing the night to creep closer and surround him.
Then the flames blew out.
Cold blackness rippled over his face, filling his ears with cottony silence.
His heart thudded against his ribs.
Another cool breeze blew past him, making him shiver. In its wake he caught a whiff of something that made his heart thud faster. It was the same sulfur-soured odor he’d smelled back in the mine, only this was stronger, like two-day-old road kill on a hot summer day.
A twig snapped behind him.
“Der Beschwörer,” a voice whispered past him on a breeze.
Dear what?
“Who’s there?” he asked, his throat raspy.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” a woman’s voice stated in the darkness.
Xtabay? Angélica’s warning about the beautiful demon and her deadly embrace replayed in his head.
A deep guttural growl rumbled off to his left.
What in the fuck was that?
* * *
“I think he’s convulsing,” Pedro called out.
Across the crackling fire, he and Angélica’s father stood over Maverick, who lay curled into a ball on the ground, his legs twitching. Pedro dropped to his knees, pulling his T-shirt off over his head. “Bernard, come here.”
Angélica glanced down at Quint, who sat stiff as a rock, staring into the fire, barely blinking. The firelight reflected on his wet cheeks. She’d been keeping track of his vital signs ever since he’d stopped coughing and gagging while tearing at his shirt and went totally still. She didn’t know which had her pulse racing more—Quint’s sudden stillness or Maverick’s violent thrashing.
With Teodoro also down for the count, they were all scrambling to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. The shaman had collapsed behind the altar without warning. The bowl of balche he’d been offering to the alux had spilled all over his shirt. Fernando had rushed to his side, keeping an eye on the older man while Lorenzo and Esteban followed Angélica’s orders and raced to the mess tent to get the first-aid kit, some potable water, and María.
“I need you over here, Angel.” Pedro rolled Maverick onto his side, instructing Bernard to cushion his head with Pedro’s shirt. “He’s struggling to breathe.”
Angélica looked up at Daisy, who was hovering nearby. “Daisy, come here.”
“What can I do?”
“Watch Quint, keep checking his pulse and listening for his breathing.”
“He’s so still,” Daisy whispered, kneeling in front of Quint. “Like he’s turned to marble.”
But his skin was warm, which gave Angélica hope. “I’m afraid he might go into shock.”
“What if he starts convulsing? What should I do?”
“I know what to do.” Gertrude joined Daisy on the ground in front of Quint. “I used to be a lifeguard.” She looked over at Angélica. “Go. Pedro needs you. I’ve got Quint.”
Angélica frowned at the young girl. There was something about the way she’d swooped in and taken control that put Angélica on alert.
“Angel, now!” Pedro hollered, his voice tight with tension.
After one last wave in front of Quint’s eyes to no avail, Angélica jogged over and joined Pedro.
Maverick’s eyes were moving rapidly behind his closed lids, his breath coming in fast pants. His whole body trembled.
“I don’t know what to do for him,” Pedro said, dragging his fingers through his hair. He cursed in Spanish.
Jesus, what was going on? What had been in that damned secret brew Teodoro made? If it was something poisonous, they were screwed, because Fernando was having no luck rousing Teodoro. Her only hope was that María had witnessed something like this before and might have some answers for them.
Maverick began to thrash and kick, knocking his arm and leg into the log next to him.
“¡Dios mio!” Pedro grabbed the end of the log and heaved it out of the way. “We need to move him away from the fire.”
Angélica and Bernard tried to grab Maverick in between the kicks and arm swings, but he was no lightweight, not to mention his strong arms and long legs. Fernando came to their rescue, along with Pedro. Between the four of them, they were able to move Maverick several feet away from the flames and popping embers. As soon as he was clear of the fire, he stilled, relaxing to his full length. His breathing slowed, growing regular, his pulse strong and steady again.
Lorenzo came running into the firelight, a jug of water in one hand and the first-aid box in the other. Angélica directed him over to Teodoro first, since Quint and Maverick seemed to be stable for the moment.
“Where’s Esteban?” she asked Lorenzo in Spanish as they kneeled next to Teodoro.
“He’s bringing María and more water.”
She had Lorenzo take off his T-shirt, adding it to Fernando’s for more cushion under Teodoro’s head. His skin felt warm, but not feverish. She opened his eyelids, checking his vitals with her flashlight, finding nothing visibly wrong. She sat back on her heels, staring up at the moon cresting the trees.
What in the hell should they do? A small colony of bats fluttered in front of the moon.
Wings!
She glanced at Pedro, who was directing Jane to dab Maverick’s face with the water Lorenzo had brought. “Pedro, is the helicopter ready to fly?”
Looking up at her, he nodded, his face lined with concern.
“Lorenzo.” She turned back to the young man next to her. “Grab Fernando and get the stretchers from the supply tent.” When he frowned at her blankly, she clapped her hands in front of his face. “¡Ándale!”
Spurred into action, he leapt to his feet and raced over to Fernando, saying something as he passed him. Fernando jogged off after him.
“Dad, come here,” she ordered, waving her father over. When he got close, she told him in a low voice, “We need to get these three to the hospital in Chetumal. Without Teodoro here to explain to us what’s going on with Quint and Maverick, we’re driving blind. They could be suffering from some sort of poisoning for all we know, and waiting could kill them.”
“I agree, but we can only fit two stretchers into the helicopter at a time.”
“I know. I’m thinking Teodoro and Maverick go first. Teodoro is older. I’m worried about a stroke.”
“And Maverick is having the worst time of it,” her dad finished for her.
“Exactly. I’m worried about Quint, too, but he’s …” she looked over to where she’d left him with Gertrude and Daisy and the words died on her tongue. The log was empty.
Her heart wrenched to a stop, her stomach bottoming out.
Where was he?
Her gaze darted around the fire, searching faces but not finding his.
“Dad.” She gripped her father’s arm, needing his sturdiness when her knees wobbled. “Where’s Quint?”
“I don’t see him.” He took a step toward the empty log.
Angélica’s focus locked onto Daisy. The woman was standing over Maverick, chewing on her knuckles. “Daisy,” she called out. “Where’s Quint?”
Daisy looked over at the empty log, her eyes widening. She raced over to Angélica and Juan. “I left him on the log with Gertrude. She told me to go help with Maverick, that she had Quint under control.”
For a moment, Angélica thought her knees were going to give way. Then she shook off the wave of weakness and took a steadying breath. “Dad, make sure Teodoro and Maverick get safely on the helicopter.”
She strode over to her machete, gripping it in one hand and her flashlight in the other. She had to find him. She’d promised she wouldn’t let anything happen to him while h
e was under and now he was missing.
“Angélica!” Her dad’s tone stopped her as she turned to go in search of Quint. He limped over. “You’re not going out in the dark alone.”
“I’m not going to sit here and wait for a search party to arrive, Dad. Quint is God knows where and I’m going to find him.”
“Maybe Gertrude took him to one of the tents for some reason.”
Angélica bristled at the idea of Gertrude taking him anywhere out of her sight. “I need to know where he is.”
“I understand, gatita, but if you go waltzing around in this jungle alone at night you are putting yourself in serious danger. Quint wouldn’t want that and you know it.”
She scrubbed her hand down her face, looking around in the thick shadows. “I have to find him, Dad. If something happens to him, it’s my responsibility. I shouldn’t have asked him to put his life at risk for this dig site’s future.”
“That’s not the only reason you’re willing to go slay dragons in the dark for him, gatita.”
Her gaze whipped to his. “Am I that obvious?”
“Only to someone who knows the signs.” He pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “I can’t let you go out there alone, not even for Quint.”
“I can go with her,” a voice said from behind Juan. Daisy stepped forward, holding up a flashlight.
“That’s a bad idea,” Juan said, releasing Angélica.
No, it wasn’t. Daisy was the best one of them at finding lost items. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Daisy, but first go tell Pedro I need his handgun.”
“Angélica, no,” Juan started, but Daisy didn’t wait around to hear his reasoning. “What are you thinking? Taking an inexperienced crew member out there with a rogue cat on the loose is too risky.”
“Daisy has a knack for finding lost things, Dad.”
“He’s not lost. I’m telling you, Gertrude has him. She took him somewhere for his safety, that’s all. You’re overreacting.”
I’ve got Quint, Gertrude had said before Angélica left his side to help with Maverick. Did that have a diabolical double meaning? Was that why Angélica’s internal alarm had sounded? Where had she taken Quint, damn it?
