The Bloodgate Guardian

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  The trail of blood led to the bathroom. She opened the cupboard and fumbled through its contents. “Maybe they’ll have a medical kit stashed in here.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself, lady. I’m perfectly fine.”

  Taking a deep breath to calm her frantically pounding heart, she gestured at the blood. “I’m troubled because you’re bleeding to death.”

  He swiped a hand across his stomach and wiped the blood away. His skin was smooth and unmarred.

  Impossible. She knew his abdomen had been slashed open. She’d seen the deep, puckered punctures where he’d been stabbed. She reached out to touch him, her hand shaking. “I saw the wounds.”

  He shrugged. “They healed. I’ll wash the blood away and then we can talk.”

  “Healed?” Her voice trembled and her knees felt like jelly. A jaguar, transformed into a man, with terrible wounds that should have killed both man and beast. Why shouldn’t he be able to heal himself as well? If he really was the cursed priest from Dr. Reyes’s story, then he’d been alive for a thousand years and more.

  It was too much for her analytical mind to comprehend. Nothing added up. Nothing made sense. The man who’d murdered Geoffrey had been shot, walked away, and attacked her again. This man standing nude in her cute little vacation hut had been a jaguar not fifteen minutes ago.

  A secret Gate to another world or dimension suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched.

  The man stepped into the shower and turned on the water. As though nothing had happened. As though her foundations hadn’t just quivered and collapsed into a heaping pile of rubble. Numb, she watched as he quickly showered. A jaguar-man who knew how to work modern-day plumbing and spoke English well.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “There are many abandoned huts in the hills and jungle. They serve as shelter until I can’t stand the loneliness any longer. Then I seek people, usually a tavern where I can listen to their conversations without feeling obligated to participate. There, I can also watch television and keep track of the world events, though there have been too many changes for me to fully understand the technologies you take for granted every day. Mostly, I read books, many books, entire libraries at a time, it seems, for the years pass too slowly.”

  Silently, he turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. His chest and stomach were unmarred except for the swirling tattoos. Not even a scar remained. Holding her breath, she reached out to touch him. His skin felt real, warm and supple beneath her hand. She flattened her hand against his chest and felt his heart beat.

  She raised her gaze to his face. His cheekbones and forehead were high and chiseled, black hair pulled back tight from his face to hang loose down his back nearly to his waist. Both cheeks were tattooed with jaguar rosettes. His earlobes were ragged and laced with white scars. She stared at those scars, her thoughts jumbled together.

  Did the Maya today still sacrifice blood to their gods? “Who are you? What are you?”

  Gently, he lifted her hand from his chest, and holding it in his big, warm palm, he stepped out of the shower. “I protect the Gates and keep the secrets of the magic.”

  “The Gatekeeper,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, her mouth dry.

  “Your father tampered with my magic. He opened my Gate.” The man’s face tightened, his mouth lined, his lips tight and flat. “In doing so, he released three Lords of Death. Do you understand what they are? What they’ll do to this world? Was such destruction worth your research, lady?”

  A short, high sound escaped her lips. Shrugging, she tried to pretend derision instead of terror. “Like the twins in the Popul Vuh? Come on, mister. Other kids heard stories about the Three Little Pigs and Red Riding Hood, but I grew up on the hero twins and how they outwitted the Lords of Death.”

  His nostrils flared and his golden eyes flashed, very much the predator. Gliding past her, he strode over to her suitcase thoughtfully placed on the bed by one of the staff and threw it open. He began rifling through her things. “So if I say that Blood Gatherer escaped, you know exactly whom I mean. You understand that he’ll lead the other two demons in as much death and destruction as possible, gaining power with each death until they can reopen the Gates and empty the bowels of Xibalba on your civilization.”

  “Stop it,” she retorted, crossing the room and then slamming the suitcase shut. “Quit trying to scare me.”

  Laughing grimly, he scanned the room, looking for something. His eyes slid right over her laptop case bulging with notes. What the hell was he looking for? “I speak only truth.”

  Tears burned her eyes and she clenched her hands into fists. She ached to pummel him until her knuckles were cracked and bleeding. Maybe then he’d stop spouting such horrible accusations. He acted as though her father had messed the ritual up deliberately. “My father would never open a Gate to Xibalba.”

  “I’m sure he’s regretting his mistake very much.”

  A cold sweat broke out all over her body. “He passed through? He’s…he’s…”

  The man faced her, eyes gleaming in the murk of the shadowed room. “Your father’s in my people’s hell.”

  The woman swayed, her face draining of all color until it resembled a skull, but she didn’t break. “How do I get him out?”

  Ruin sighed. “You don’t.”

  “But—”

  “Did you forget the Death Lords already loose? Shall I open the Gate and make it easier for them to destroy your world?”

  She cocked her head slightly and nibbled her lip, dark thoughts swimming in her cacao eyes. So vividly and easily, she betrayed her thoughts to him. She possessed his codex. She had already translated enough of it to reek of his magic. So she would simply discover how to open the Gate herself.

  His chest constricted as though the volcanoes had erupted once more and buried him beneath rubble. He didn’t want to kill this woman of knowledge and magic. So far, the magic hadn’t risen in his blood, demanding her death, but it would. Soon. Unless he could convince her to abandon his city and forget everything she’d learned from his codex.

  Grimly, he forced himself to stride toward her, using his bulk and strength in an attempt to intimidate her. “You’re alive now only because my brother wants something you have.”

  “If you mean the man with the circle tattoo on his forehead, then your brother killed my friend.”

  “He’s killed many people. You’ll be next.”

  “Why? What are you? What is your name?”

  “My name.” His voice was thick and tight to his own ears. Fisting his hands at his side, he fought the urge to grip her shoulders and shake some sense into her. Flee, leave my city, and I won’t have to kill you. “Once we were called the hero twins, but my brother and I brought destruction and death to our people a thousand years ago. We’ve warred for centuries, each of us sworn to kill the other and at last end our torment. After so many years, the people know us only as Wrack and Ruin. My brother, Wrack, for the devastation he inflicts upon the earth to punish me; I as Ruin because I broke my most solemn vow to the gods. I misused the Gate and destroyed us all.”

  “Hunahpu and Xbalanque,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Which are you?”

  Of course, he had forgotten that she knew more of his world than most people of this age. Gravely, he nodded. “Xbalanque.”

  “I’ve seen the glyph for your name translated so many ways,” she whispered. “X-balan-que, for hidden sun, X-balam-que, jaguar sun, or Yax-balam, precious jaguar, which I personally leaned toward as the most correct.”

  He made a low sound of grief. In all his lifetimes, he’d never again been known as precious. Not after misusing the Gates.

  Her gaze sharpened on him. “If my father’s in danger, I must help him.”

  “There’s nothing you can do for your father.” He made his voice cold, his eyes colder, even as his face ached with the strain of containing the surge of magic. His bones felt like they would shatter, his skin ripped strip by strip from h
is flesh. If he could convince her to abandon her quest, then he wouldn’t have to kill her to protect the secrets he’d been cursed to protect. “Even if I were willing to help you open the Gate and risk more demons escaping Xibalba, your father’s journey has begun. He entered the White Road. There’s nothing you can do to save him now.”

  “If he’s still alive, I will find a way to open the Gate again, with or without your help.”

  Fury, regret, shame, a thousand different emotions churned his stomach. Oh, how the memory burned like a brand. He, too, had once sworn to do anything in his power to save a loved one. “Then I must kill you to keep my magic safe. Why force my hand, lady? Do you think your father will welcome your assistance if it costs your world everything? In the end, he’ll hate you for making such a sacrifice. All your people will.”

  As they hate me, he thought bitterly.

  She turned away, walking slowly over to her leather bag. Shoulders slumped, she picked up the bag and huddled in the chair, looking as alone and lost as a child. “Fine. I can’t leave tomorrow, but give me a day or two, and I’ll tell them it was all a mistake. I’ll go home.”

  “You’ve made a wise choice.” Keeping his voice soft, he suppressed his amusement. Did she think him so easily fooled? Was he not the greatest priest to ever gaze into the holy waters of Lake Atitlan? Her eyes were the windows to her soul. “All I ask, then, is that you take me to the codex so I may destroy it.”

  Eyes blazing, she leaped to her feet. She gritted her teeth, reared back, and slung the bag at his head. “Over my dead body.”

  When it felt as though a bag full of boulders exploded against his head, he quickly regretted that he hadn’t bothered to duck.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Pretending as though she hadn’t just knocked a shapeshifting jaguar priest out cold in her hut, Jaid calmly walked down the path to the guard. “I’m going back to the compound to speak with Dr. Gerard. Would you escort me? I’m not comfortable walking about in the night after the intruder.”

  The guard ground his cigarette into the gravel and nodded. “Of course, Dr. Merritt.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Knightley.”

  “What’s an American…” she glanced at the automatic weapon slung over his shoulder, “…soldier doing here in Guatemala?”

  Knightley laughed. “Well, ma’am, I’m not exactly an American or a soldier.”

  “You’re not Guatemalan either.”

  “True.”

  They reached the compound without him volunteering any further information. Was that his orders, or just his personality? “Did you know my father?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He’s not dead, she retorted silently, but forced a polite smile and nod. “If you’re not Guatemalan and you’re not an American soldier, who do you work for?”

  He stared at her several long moments before shrugging casually. “Venus Star. Same as you. I’ll be at my post. When you come back out, wave me over if you want an escort back to your hut.”

  Don’t trust anybody, her father had screamed. Especially don’t give it to Venus Star.

  The guard strode away, his low, gravelly voice carrying in the night. “Watch yourself, Dr. Merritt. The locals have been whispering about an immortal priest who can shift into a jaguar. They say he’s been prowling around the compound ever since your father opened up his cursed city again. If you see the bastard, let me know and I’ll shoot him. I always wanted a nice black pelt to throw before the fireplace.”

  Yeah, I’ll do that. Not.

  Since she was alone this time, she paid more attention to the décor of the compound. The place really did resemble a hotel instead of a research facility. Plastered walls lined the empty hallways, and Mexican tiles rang beneath her boots even though she tried to walk softly. Artwork and rustic furniture had been attractively arranged in the front lobby. A man in a smart black suit sat at the desk, and she immediately began rehearsing excuses and entreaties in order to talk her way past.

  When he saw her approach, he smiled and stood, sliding his card through the scanner. He even opened the door for her. “Good evening, Dr. Merritt. If you need anything, please let me know. If any doors have a touchpad, simply press your thumb to it. If you can’t access something you want, pick up any phone and call the front desk. I’ll arrange security clearance immediately.”

  The compound had state-of-the-art security inside, but a bunch of mercenaries couldn’t stop a man on foot or a jaguar? She walked down the hallway, noting the nameplates beside each door. She’d already seen her father’s office. Sam’s was across the hall, lights off. She tried to peek through the slitted blinds but couldn’t make out anything but a computer monitor. Dr. Madelyn St. James’s office was beside Sam’s, and it too was dark and closed.

  The door beside her father’s stopped her cold. Dr. Jaid Merritt. Had the office always been here, or had they merely thrown her name up at the last minute once they knew she was coming? Hesitantly, she tried the doorknob. It was locked, so she placed her thumb on the keypad and the door clicked open. She pushed it open wider and flipped on the light.

  Continuing the same luxurious hotel comfort theme, she found a nice cherry desk and tall cabinet. Two upholstered chairs faced the desk. A flatscreen monitor stood in the corner with several cables open and waiting for her laptop. Otherwise, the top of the desk was bare. She pulled open the top drawer of the filing cabinet and noted it was empty except for a few fresh manila folders.

  Shrugging off the weird sense of expectation, she walked down the hallway, passing Dr. Reyes’s office and several unclaimed spaces. At the end of the hallway, a massive steel door waited. It had been open when she’d first arrived. In fact, she hadn’t noticed anyone using card readers or security of any sort. Had Sam sent them all away and prepped everyone to unlock the doors to make her feel welcome?

  Or had he done it to make sure she brought them the codex?

  Weary, she rubbed her temples, trying to dispel the growing headache throbbing through her skull. She’d known Sam all her life. Surely her father hadn’t meant to include his best friend in his warning. But Sam hadn’t known about the codex or her father’s attempt to re-enact the ritual.

  With a growing uneasiness she couldn’t shake, she held her thumb to the keypad and the lock snicked. The door slid aside easily despite its four-inch thickness. The large room reminded her of a lecture hall, only more intimate, with vibrant red chairs at each oval ring of desks and jungle green carpet runners. The same impeccable taste extended to the artwork decorating the walls. It nearly made her forget there were no windows and the only exit was through a vault-quality steel door.

  On the table at the front of the room, Sam Gerard stood with his back to her. The codex was laid out on the table.

  A fierce possessive urge drove her to run down the aisle. She wanted to yank the fragile book away and snarl like a jackal protecting a hunk of meat.

  Tracing the glyphs with his bare fingertips, he didn’t even notice her tapping foot or her fierce glare. Oils from human hands would stain the fragile plaster coating on the pages and mar the delicate inks the Maya had used. “You should wear gloves to handle it.”

  At her voice, his gaze jerked up and he stepped away. He managed to look sheepish instead of guilty. “Sorry, you’re right. I’m just stunned at its condition. Nobody’s ever seen an authentic, intact codex that’s so pristine. It looks like it was painted yesterday, not a thousand years ago. How could Charlie bear to let such a treasure out of his sight?”

  Jaid pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “He wanted the translation more than he wanted to hold the book.”

  Leaning back down, Sam pointed to the page but didn’t touch it. The opposite page was heavily colored with a complex story panel. “What does this section say?”

  “I don’t know—I haven’t translated this page yet.” Her father had been adamant that she translate the rounds first. The angry red of the
volcano seemed to glow like a furnace, shooting rock and flames into the sky. Tumbled pyramids crushed people, falling stone by stone into the shimmering blue lake. The whole panel was dominated by a priest pointing to what was likely a warning on the opposite page, his face grim. Black spots dotted his arms and upper body.

  Exactly like the man she’d seen transform from a jaguar. This priest even wore a jaguar pelt about his shoulders.

  She dragged her attention to the glyphs. Wiping her thoughts clean, she let the whole page come alive in her mind. It was as though the original strokes were quickly drawn in her mind’s eye, each bold, black stroke of ink a permanent entry into her memory. Few knew she had a photographic memory, although Geoffrey had probably suspected the truth. She only ever had to translate a glyph once, and she could quickly re-draw a glyph even without a reference, because she never forgot the symbols.

  She let out a long breath. This was too much of a coincidence. The warning written here was almost word for word what the jaguar man had said.

  “What?”

  “It says that the Mouth of Creation will be destroyed by the gods’ wrath if the Gate is ever misused.”

  “Chi’Ch’ul,” Sam whispered, his voice reverent. “They predicted their own destruction. I wonder who misused the Gate that caused the volcanoes to erupt.”

  The priest who’d recounted part of this warning to her not even an hour ago. She spoke rather sharper than she intended. “Volcanoes erupt all the time. This is merely an explanation the Maya developed to help explain why bad things sometimes happened to people who couldn’t understand geological plates shifting beneath the earth’s crust.”

  Unbothered by her reaction, Sam touched the glyph of a dancing skeleton. “Is that all it says?”

  She thought his fingers trembled, but when he caught her look, he quickly pulled his hand back and shoved it into his pocket. “The Place of Fright will swallow them. The White Road will rise up beneath their feet. Yet they will travail a very long time…” She frowned, her brow creasing. While she could easily remember an entire dictionary of glyphs, the Maya numbering system was an entirely different beast. “This is actually a large Maya number.”