Afterward, Mace left Ana and walked to his field office. She understood he had a drilling project going on about half a mile down the railroad track she’d be hiking on shortly. His company had won the bid to put in three new wells for the growing town.
Happiness thrummed through Ana as she went to her room on the third and highest floor. It was clean and welcoming, with teak floors that shone a rich sienna color in the weak sunlight. Setting her suitcase on the bed, she checked out her new accommodations. The walls were white, as if newly painted. A pink bromeliad sat in a red pot on a mahogany stand. And what lovely views. One window faced Machu Picchu, and the other, the wall of jungle. The curtains, dark red with pink and yellow orchids, were pulled back to give visitors the full effect. A mahogany settee, desk and upholstered chair completed the furnishings.
While she could have spent hours luxuriating in these surroundings, Ana was eager to locate the Sanchez homestead. She hurried out of her room, locked the door and slid the key card into her backpack. As she looked up and down the hall, she was unable to shake the feeling that Victor was nearby. But she saw nothing and decided to ignore her misgivings. Taking the stairs, she could feel her heart pounding not from exertion, but anticipation. Soon, she would know more. She just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
As Ana walked out of the open lobby and into the crowded street, a weight lifted off her. She strode along, absorbing the contagious and exciting energy of Aguas Calientes. Above the hotel were a set of hot springs, said to bring healing to those who had aches and pains. To her right rose majestic and mysterious Machu Picchu, now completely unveiled.
Ana’s senses were engaged by the odor of white corn tortillas frying and ears of fresh corn bubbling in open kettles of boiling water. She heard throaty sounds of panpipes and raspy snare drums filtering out of bars and restaurants. As she passed the yellow stucco building where Mace worked, Ana wondered if he was still there or if he’d already taken off for his well site.
Once she reached the railroad tracks, Ana walked along the wooden ties between the well-worn shiny steel rails. Birds called from above, but she couldn’t see them. Howler monkeys screamed in the distance. Sleepy Aguas Calientes was springing awake now that the tourists from Cuzco had arrived on the train.
Sliding her fingers beneath the wide, padded straps of her pack, Ana was glad to have a baseball cap to shade her eyes from the bright sunlight lancing across the forest canopy on either side of the tracks. The day was very humid, the air nearly dripping with moisture. The wooden ties she gingerly negotiated were covered with mold, an indicator of just how much rain fell in this area.
A helicopter flew by and Ana turned to see it dip out of the clouds and land somewhere north of the town. Another helicopter circled the temple sites. Ana was sure the passengers were wealthy visitors who didn’t want to take the train trip, but preferred to shoot a few photos and head back to Cuzco.
The whole world seemed alive and quivering with energy. As she inhaled the clean air into her expanding rib cage, Ana felt a new hope threading through her. Hope of finding out who she was. Who she might be. Would the Sanchez family remember her? The question haunted Ana as she followed the curving track.
The noise and bustle of town were soon left behind, absorbed by the trees, bushes and vines that rose twenty to thirty feet high on either side of her. She was alone and it felt good. This was a scene she was familiar with, thanks to her experience living in the jungles of Belize. This felt familiar. Comforting. And it soothed Ana’s jumpy nerves. Towns and cities always made her want to run out of them, screaming. Ana longed to hear the natural sounds of the world, rather than manmade racket. The rustling of leaves and humming of insects healed her, kept her sane and happy.
A squadron of blue-and-yellow macaws suddenly burst from the forest canopy and flew overhead. Smiling, Ana knew that was a good sign. The four parrots were heading the same direction she was: toward the Sanchez farm. Barely able to contain her joy, she lengthened her stride. She was in a hurry. She had a date with destiny.
Chapter 6
“Excuse me,” Ana called to a white-haired man wearing a crumpled straw hat. He leaned wearily on his hoe while standing in the furrowed field. “I’m looking for a Señor Juan Sanchez. Do you know where I can find him?”
Ana had hiked two miles down the tracks, and this was the first agricultural field she’d come upon. The old farmer was alone and had been weeding between the rows of knee-high corn. The long, rectangular field stretched between the jungle and the tracks.
Lifting his head, the old man squinted in her direction. “I’m Juan Sanchez. And who are you?” He slowly straightened as he turned toward her.
“Ana Rafael.” She smiled and quickly moved into the field. Holding out her hand to him, she added, “I’m a wildlife biologist from the United States, Señor Sanchez. I was told you had a phenomenal story from a long time ago about finding a little child beneath a dead jaguar?”
Brightening, Juan pumped her hand. “Ah, yes. That story.” Taking out a well-used cotton rag, he mopped his deeply lined brow and motioned toward the end of the field, where a huge tree with broad, spreading arms provided some shade. “We rarely get visitors out our way. Especially ones wanting to know about a particular story from our parts.” He eyed her as if deciding whether or not to speak further with her.
Ana felt her skin prickle, as if he were somehow scanning her energetically. But the look in the old man’s twinkling brown eyes made her feel glad, for no apparent reason. She didn’t mind his suspicion. There was a sense of safety that emanated from him, of care. His hands were work worn, his knuckles swollen and arthritic. It was evident he had cared for the earth, and that gave her a good feeling.
“I’m sure you are a little distrustful of people coming to you with such a request,” Ana said.
Juan shrugged and smiled, as if knowing an inside joke that she did not. “I was told that one day a beautiful young woman from Norteamérica would come to me.” He pointed to the jungle. “A mother jaguar told me here.” He pointed to his skull. “She spoke inside my head and told me to look for this young woman. She said she would have a rainbow of colors around her.” Giving Ana a keen glance, Juan waved his hand. “You have such colors. I can trust you, and I trust that you are here for good reason.” Patting her shoulder, he said, “I need a rest, anyway, señorita. Come, follow me. I have my jug of water over there beneath the tree and we can sit down and chat a bit.”
Ana nodded and fell into step with the bent man. His hair was snow-white and stuck out beneath the tattered straw hat. His steps were careful and he used the hoe almost as a makeshift cane. Finally, they reached the spreading tree and its welcome shade. Juan gave Ana a toothless grin and motioned for her to sit down on a stump that would serve as a chair.
Ana wanted to ask him about the colors around herself. He was probably talking about the aura, which everyone possessed. But to talk to a jaguar using mental telepathy? Oh, that intrigued her as nothing else could. Her adoptive mother had taught her that everyone had an energy field around them, which turned different colors depending on their mood and character. She wasn’t surprised at the elder’s pronouncement of seeing her aura. Her mother could see them, too, and had taught Ana how to do so.
“My wife brings me lunch around 3:00 p.m.,” he confided. Gazing up at the sun, he said, “A long time to go before that happens.”
Ana sat down and pulled out her notebook and pen. “I have a sandwich I could share with you if you’re hungry,” she offered.
Holding up his hand, Juan chuckled indulgently. “Oh, no, señorita. Thank you for your kindness. Now, how may I be of help to you?”
“I really appreciate your time, Señor Sanchez. As I said, I heard this story from people in Aguas Calientes, about a little girl found alive beneath a dead jaguar.”
After taking several gulps from his bottle, Juan wiped his mouth. “Oh, yes, we are famous, or perhaps infamous, for what happened here in
this very field many, many years ago.”
Ana wasn’t going to tell the farmer that she was that child. After the nun’s pronouncement that she came from evil, Ana didn’t want to scare the Sanchez family away. Better to be a stranger to them at this point.
“As a wildlife biologist, I study jaguars for a living,” she confided. “And when I heard of your story, I had to find you. A year ago, I helped create a sanctuary for jaguars in Belize. I’m interested in protecting them because they are becoming endangered and rare.”
Wiping his mouth with the back of his thickly veined hand, Juan nodded. “I feel honored you have come to talk with me. And bless you for helping the jaguar nation. They need protection from poachers who would steal their lives for their beautiful coats. A long time ago, jaguars were honored by the Inca people.” Juan pointed to his chest. “I am of Quero heritage, the pure blood of the Incas. I was raised to know that jaguars are sacred, powerful and can speak with us if we were of good heart. My mother taught me to talk with jaguars when I was very young.” He squinted at Ana. “And she also taught me to see the colors around a person.”
Juan pointed to the east edge of the field, against the wall of jungle. “Over there, señorita. That’s where it all happened. You can’t see it from here, but there’s a shallow stream of pure, clean water that flows along between my property and the forest.” Juan took off his hat and dropped it near his dusty feet. “For about a year before the jaguar was shot by this hunter, I’d been seeing la niña, the little girl, at the edge of the forest there. She’d come out and get down on her hands and knees and drink water from that stream.
“Now, she was wild. Her black hair looked like a messy rat’s nest around her head. She was wary, but over time, if she saw me working in this field, she wouldn’t run away. Instead, she’d walk over to this tree we’re sitting under and watch me.”
“A little girl?” Ana gulped. Intuitively, she knew it was her. She wanted to ask a million questions, but held back and allowed Juan to continue his story.
“Yes. The girl was maybe three or four years old. Though I tried many times to call to her, to get her to come over to me, she never would. Yet she was very curious and I think she was fascinated with me, though I don’t know why.”
“Didn’t she belong to someone?” The words came out strangled.
Juan shrugged. “Well, if she did, I never saw her parents. She was completely naked except for her long, tangled black hair. Barefoot, naked and like a little brown ghost appearing and disappearing. When la niña first started showing up, I asked my wife, Juanita, if any nearby farming families had a little girl of this description and age. She asked around at the local markets and they all said no. Others had seen her, too, but they could never get near her. She would run off and hide in the jungle.”
Gulping, Ana scribbled down the information. Why didn’t she remember any of this? Her brain had completely blocked the first five years of her life, except for a few vignettes that seemed impossible to believe. “Then she was….”
“An orphan, I suppose. My wife thought perhaps her parents had died in an avalanche, and that she was left all alone at a very early age.”
“That sounds possible.”
Juan twisted his head to look in her direction. “That wasn’t it. The first time I saw la niña come to the stream she had a big female jaguar at her side. I about died of shock.”
“A jaguar was with her?”
“Yes, señorita, a healthy and beautiful female. I knew she was a female because she had two cubs at her side and this young girl.”
Eyes widening, Ana stared disbelievingly at the old farmer. “But how could that be?”
“Oh, I know, I know, señorita. It sounds as if I’m making up this tale, but I am not. Bear with me. Let me tell you what eventually happened.”
Her heart pounded in her chest, and Ana could barely focus on the notebook in her lap. The words she scribbled were nearly illegible because her hand was trembling so badly over the information the farmer had just shared with her. Juan Sanchez’s face was sun darkened, deeply wrinkled, his chocolate eyes clear, and she found nothing but honesty there. “I—this just sounds so bizarre to me.”
“Doesn’t it?” He shook his head sadly. “I’ll bet you’ve never seen a jaguar with a human, have you? At least, not eating it?” The corners of his wide, thin mouth curved as he studied her. “You know, in our Incan traditions, we had jaguar warriors—men and women who trained with jaguars to become like them. They traded spirits with one another in order for it to be so. Shape-shifters, the emperor’s soldiers were called. They were under orders from the Inca himself. They were charged with protecting him and the royal family against all enemies. They were the most powerful warriors on earth.”
Juan smiled faintly. “They were the Inca’s warriors of the night. They were able to pierce the darkness with their trained eyes and attack other kingdoms. The jaguar warriors were well-known for seeing at night.” He tapped his deeply creased brow. “All these skills were taught by the jaguar nation. So, in my culture, people have befriended the jaguars over thousands of years, not hunted them. We made friends with them, respected them and learned from them. Truly, they were our highest spiritual teachers. So when I saw this child, I knew in my heart she was not only being taken care of and protected by this mother jaguar, but being trained by her, as well.”
“I studied jaguars for two years in Belize, and they usually won’t bother humans,” Ana told the farmer. She was amazed by what he’d just confided to her. No one had ever told her about humans and jaguars working as a team. And shape-shifters! An eerie familiarity awakened within her. Was that what happened to her from time to time? Did she shape-shift? Ana did not know. Somehow, all this information took her breath away and triggered a deep knowing. Being here with this man, listening to this story, felt right to Ana, and she never questioned her gut instinct.
Ana saw the farmer nod and said, “At least the ones I studied always went for peccary—the wild pigs—or other animals. One farmer got bitten in the hand by a jaguar, but that was it.”
“Well,” Juan said, gesturing toward the stream, “from that day onward, I saw the four of ’em together at the stream. This is the only water source for about twenty miles in the jungle here. A lot of animals come to get a drink.”
“And they didn’t run if they saw you in the field?”
“No. At first, when that jaguar arrived with her cubs and that little girl at her side, it shook me. I told my wife about it and she said they were evil, that this must be a sorcerer shape-shifted into a jaguar, who held la niña prisoner.”
Ana stared at him. “Did you believe that?”
“My second wife is a devout Catholic, señorita,” Juan said very seriously. “Anything out of the ordinary for her is automatically blamed on the devil.”
“What about you?” Ana tensed inwardly. She was sure the woman would take her Tupay birthmark very seriously.
Juan rubbed his stubbled gray beard as he stared at the stream. “As a Quero, I believe in the old ways of my people, the Incas. When I saw that jaguar, I felt there was a special relationship between her and that little girl. I stood here many times watching la niña play with the jaguar’s growing cubs. Sometimes I’d hear her laughter. The cubs loved her. She loved the cubs. And sometimes I’d see the mother jaguar lick the little girl’s face as if she were her cub, also.” Juan shook his head. “It was as if the past, our Inca heritage, had come to life before my eyes once more. It is one thing to have the stories passed down to you, and quite another to see them come true before your eyes.” He smiled fondly. “I saw them many times, so I know I wasn’t making it up. I took it as a sign of the legend coming to life.”
Staring down at her notebook, Ana tried to control the onslaught of memories. In those fragments, she would feel soft, warm fur against her face, she’d hear the deep purr of a cat. It hadn’t been her imagination, after all. And it was no accident she’d ended up as a biologist st
udying jaguars….
Ana tore herself from her reverie. “What legend?” she asked Juan.
Rubbing his chin, he said, “There is a legend of a young woman who would carry the mark of the Dark Side, the Tupay symbol of the sun, on her body. She was Dark, but in her heart, she carried another symbol.” Juan leaned down, took a small stick and drew two overlapping circles in the dry red soil at their feet. “The Incas called this the symbol of the Warriors for the Light. It is Taqe, light energy, the path to peace and harmony in our world.” He straightened and set the stick aside, then pressed his hand to his chest. “Taqe is the way of the heart, señorita. The way the Incas knew to create lasting peace among all races, all colors, here on our Mother Earth. And to this day, there is a line of humans who bear this symbol, because they are the children, through blood lineage, of the jaguar warriors of so long ago. Bloodlines never die. They may fade, but are never destroyed.” Juan gave her a searching look. “These warriors may not be aware of who they are because there is no longer a jaguar school to call them to training. They may not have the conscious memory of their heritage, but unconsciously, they will follow it. You will always find these people in service to the world in some useful and positive way.”
Ana’s gut churned. She felt abject terror when Juan mentioned the Tupay. Unconsciously, she placed her hand against her stomach. “You mentioned a war between the Light and the Dark?”
“Yes.” Juan sighed and looked around. “The legend says this woman of the Dark with the heart of Light will be born and decide whether she will fight for one side or another. They say she has the heart of the jaguar, and it is hoped that the energy of our beautiful, sacred cat will persuade her to turn from her dark desires.”
Ana wanted to squirm. It felt as if Juan were talking about her. He probably was. The dreams of her past didn’t lie. She had them all the time. Her adoptive mother had assured her long ago that the dreams were good. Once, Mary had told her that Ana was shape-shifting in her dream, taking on the spirit of the jaguar over her human form, and turning into the cat.
Dark Truth Page 9
