With dread, Jillian lifted the lens to the doorway. Please don’t be the place, she pleaded silently. Please don’t be here.
The priest, smiling at her, didn’t listen. Her heart sank. He was bathed in blue light, magnificent, and so pleased to see her. He thought she was the one to save mankind.
“I’m sorry,” Jillian whispered.
A gun poked her in the back, and she winced.
“What is it? What do you see?” Celina demanded to know.
Jillian closed her eyes and opened them. The priest was gone. Only the blue light remained.
Then she realized that she hadn’t felt its pull. In fact, she didn’t feel anything at all. For the first time in days, her mind was crystal clear. “Nothing. It’s a doorway.”
“No shit. Give me the lens.”
Jillian hesitated, eyeing the stone pavers. All she’d have to do was drop the crystal lens and it would be over. Celina would shoot her and then kill Simon.
She squeezed the lens in her fist. No. She had to believe that Simon would come back to her. Have faith in love.
Jillian relinquished the lens and walked toward the doorway. She could make out parts of glyphs hidden under the vegetation. They looked just like the ones on the lens, and her mood dimmed even more. With any luck, the way would be blocked.
A heap of soil and ground cover forced them to duck to look inside. Behind the heavy swags of vines and leaves, the entrance opened to a tunnel that led into complete darkness.
Celina shone a flashlight down the length, illuminating cobwebs. There was no way to tell how long the passage ran or to where. She shoved Jillian’s shoulder. “You first.”
Jillian pulled off her straw hat and shoved it into her pack. Then she climbed forward, swatting webs and hanging moss out of the way. As they moved deeper, centuries of built-up roots and vegetation decreased, and they were able to stand. Still, Jillian’s boots sank into two inches of slippery mud as the tunnel began sloping downward, and she had to work to keep her balance. Moisture settled over them like a cloud. The outdoor light faded quickly, plunging them into a strangely alien world lit only by Celina’s flashlight.
Jillian moved ahead slowly as time ticked by. How long had they been in here? Ten, twenty minutes? All the while, she wished for a pile of stones or a wall to block their path, but so far, the way was clear. Luck wasn’t with her today.
She took a step forward. Suddenly, the floor gave way, and the ground fell out from under her. Her back slammed onto slick stone, and she screamed as she slid into a dark abyss. Her shoulder smashed into a solid wall, which also gave way, sending her hurtling blind to unknown depths. She clawed at the stone beneath and around her, trying to stop her descent.
Then the floor was gone, and she fell into total blackness.
CHAPTER
26
Kesel hauled Lance up by his collar until they were nose to nose. “Where are they?”
Lance wasn’t looking too good. Sweat pooled around his neck and in big rings under his arms. One of his eyes was swelling shut.
“Who are you?” Lance stuttered.
“Kesel,” he said softly. Lance’s good eye widened in recognition. “If you can’t tell me where they went, you’re no use to me.”
“They went up the hill,” Lance sputtered, and he flailed as he tried to point behind him. “That hill right there.”
Kesel noted a fresh trail on the steep slope.
Lance babbled on. “Celina was the one who took your lens, not me. She used me, too, you know? She’s lied to me from the beginning. I didn’t want to get involved in any of this. It was all her idea.”
Kesel returned his attention to Lance wriggling in his grip. “Think he’s telling us the truth, partner?”
Carlos came up behind him, smoking a cigarette.
Lance’s expression changed to horror when he saw Carlos. Kesel could feel him shaking.
“Hey, Lance. Haven’t seen you since—” Carlos paused for a moment. “Since you showed so much interest in buying Kesel’s lens. Next thing I know, Celina steals it from me and you don’t come around no more. I can’t tell you how heartbroken that made me.”
Lance turned white as a ghost.
Carlos dropped his cigarette on the ground, stomped on it, and gave Lance a solid slap on his cheek. “Let’s go see what your girlfriend is up to.”
Simon heard a woman’s scream, but he couldn’t tell if it was Jillian’s or Celina’s. Either way, it gave him a direction, and he crashed through the vegetation until he came to the stone entrance. He swept the clearing with his gun, but nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.
There were two sets of damp footprints leading to the doorway. Donning his headlamp, Simon climbed through the opening and scanned the long, straight corridor.
Stepping carefully, he moved into the narrow tunnel. The footprints had disappeared in the thick layer of gelatinous mud, but there was nowhere else to turn, so he moved forward. Simon shone his light from left to right, top to bottom, watching for traps and trouble. Because this was just too easy. There should be signs of animals foraging or living here. This was a perfect hideout for some very large, very dangerous wild creature—
He froze as he noted fresh scrapes in the moss on the walls just ahead. Behind him, there were no marks, and up ahead the tunnel continued undisturbed and unspoiled except for the new spray of mud that was dripping everywhere. Something had happened to them right here. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.
Trap.
Simon pushed on the surrounding walls and ceiling. Nothing. He kneeled and pressed through the muck against the floor. Nothing.
Short of their having been transported via alien technology, he had no idea where they’d disappeared to or how. Or if Jillian survived the trap.
He clenched his teeth against the onslaught of helplessness. He had to believe that she was okay. She was smart, resourceful, and stubborn as hell when she wanted to be. She’d find a way to save herself, no thanks to him.
Male voices rose behind him. Shadows covered the pinpoint of light at the opening, and he heard Lance whining. Looked like Kesel finally caught up with him, because there was no way Lance would come up here of his own accord. Time was up.
Simon cinched his pack tighter, braced himself, and took a step forward. The floor swallowed him whole.
Jillian sat on the cold floor and rubbed the side of her head, where a lump was forming from the hard landing. Her mind felt fuzzy, and she wanted to throw up.
That was one hell of an entrance. Apparently, the Seer got no preferential treatment from the ancients.
Jillian fumbled through her pack and pulled out the headlamp that Simon had put there. To her relief, it was still intact and working.
After gingerly fitting it to her head, she scanned the darkness to see what kind of new mess she’d fallen into. The air was still, dry, and cool. Nothing stirred the fine layer of dust that blanketed the floor. It appeared to be another tunnel made entirely of stone, only shorter, with a turn at each end. She hoped one of them would actually lead somewhere instead of just dropping into oblivion.
Of course, a whole new danger could be lurking around every corner. On the upside, there was no sign of crazy Celina or her gun. Either she hadn’t fallen into the trap, or they’d separated on the way down, which meant she could still be here somewhere.
“Good,” Jillian muttered to herself. “She wanted in, she’s in.”
Jillian was feeling pretty good about that, until she remembered that she was “in,” too.
She rested against the wall and forced her scrambled brain to think. She’d fallen through the floor, which meant she was inside the monument. How far down she’d tumbled she couldn’t tell. The fall had been too rapid and disorienting.
But for the moment, she was free of Celina, and she planned to keep it that way. She wasn’t going to help Celina find the archives. Even though the nutcase had the lens, she didn’t know how to use it.
Which me
ant there was hope that the archives were safe. All Jillian had to do was find a way out. A nice doorway with a big exit sign that led to the jungle would be perfect.
Right. She scanned the monotony of gray stone. The ancients didn’t seem to be into clear signage.
On the other hand, perhaps they’d left something behind for her. She concentrated on the length of tunnel, calling upon her vision to show her the way. But despite her best efforts, it refused to obey, leaving her dizzy from the attempt. She rubbed her aching eyes.
Then a woman’s angry tirade broke the silence, bouncing off the stone.
Celina was alive, and she sounded pissed. What were the chances that she’d dropped her gun on the way down? Probably not good, and certainly not worth the gamble.
Running seemed like a very good option. Jillian lurched to her feet, holding the walls for support as her head rebelled at the sudden movement. There were only two directions to go, and she chose the one opposite from Celina’s voice.
Jillian got to the corner and turned it carefully. It opened to another corridor, and she moved forward, through a longer straightaway that split off in two identical-looking directions.
Jillian stopped at the split and held her swimming head. What kind of place was this? It was like a damn maze.
She glanced behind her and realized that it was a maze. Dread replaced the headache with sickening speed. The walls seemed to close in around her.
Why? Why would they do this to her? What was the point?
Jillian heard Celina yell her name, closer now. She stumbled toward one of the paths, panic driving her forward. She turned a corner and came up against a dead end.
No. She spun around and scrambled frantically back to the junction to take the other path. One junction led to another, rooms opened to four choices, and dead ends abounded. Before long, every turn looked the same, and she found herself hyperventilating. Her head throbbed. She had to stop to catch her breath.
What was she doing? This was insanity.
As she forced herself to calm down, Simon’s words came to her: You’re better than you think.
Just the thought of him was enough to ease the fire in her skull and slow her breathing. He had faith in her skills. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, concentrating on the control it gave her. He needed her to be strong. He had enough to worry about keeping himself alive.
Celina’s ranting reverberated through the maze. Jillian turned her head slowly and glared in the general direction.
If Celina wanted the archives, she could spend eternity down here finding them. She deserved to die alone with her beloved treasure. That woman had used and sacrificed every man she touched under the guise of love.
But Celina would not ruin Simon.
And at that moment, her priority suddenly became very simple—save Simon.
He believed in her, he trusted her, and Jillian was not going to be the woman to break him. She felt resolve gather in her belly and solidify into a single, cohesive, powerful force. She was going to finish this. Not Celina’s way. Not Raven’s way.
Her way.
Jillian turned right and walked with purpose, mentally charting her last few turns. There didn’t seem to be a pattern to the—
She froze at the end of the passage, where her headlamp caught a break in the stone—a hand glyph had been carved delicately into the wall. She moved closer, and with her fingers, she traced the carving to make sure it was real.
The hand symbol that Mancuso had depicted. This meant something. If only she had the lens . . .
A flash of memory from this morning hit her. She reached into her backpack and withdrew the folded wad of Mancuso’s notes.
“Jillian!” Celina screamed from somewhere behind her, louder now.
Stay calm, Jillian willed herself as she opened the paper. Under each glyph Mancuso had drawn the lines—a short series of connected right angles—some vertical, some horizontal. The hand was the fourth glyph across the top.
“Okay. So what does it mean?” she whispered.
The ancient walls weren’t talking.
Think, Jillian. Precise interconnected lines, going in different directions and of varied lengths. No pattern. Not an alphabet. Not writing. They just flowed down the page like a . . . like a map.
Jillian looked up at the long tunnel she was in. If the wall the hand was carved on was the first long line and it angled right . . .
She followed the corridor exactly as shown on the paper directly under the hand. The next passage was long but had a left branch in the middle. Jillian checked the next turn on the paper. A short left.
It matched.
The next question would be: where did it lead? She had a good idea it was the archives, but the ancients wouldn’t have put their greatest treasure here without also providing a way to get them out. There had to be an exit to the outside somewhere.
And that’s the thought she clung to as she followed the lines on the map.
Donovan and Walsh arrived at twilight to find an empty camp, one indifferent burro, and no sign of anyone. Donovan rested his weary bones on a rock while Walsh disappeared into the shadows to connect with his men.
Donovan wiped the sweat off his face with a handkerchief. He was too old for this. His days of adventure were over long ago. But there was no choice—he had to finish what he’d started.
Walsh didn’t understand. It was just another mission to him. He hadn’t grown up here and seen the worst that Mexico had to offer. The suffering, the strife, the hopelessness—so cruel and relentless that by the time Donovan was sixteen, he’d lost all faith in Mexico and left his country. His home.
He took a deep breath. Now he was back, a wealthy man by anyone’s standards. This time, he was going to stay until the job was done.
Walsh materialized over his shoulder and knelt next to Donovan to whisper his report.
“My men are in position as instructed. All our parties went inside via an entrance up top. Celina and Jillian first. Followed by Simon, and then Lance, Kesel, and the unidentified man. No one has come out. You want to move in?”
“A doorway?” he asked.
Walsh nodded. “Made of stone.”
His excitement began to grow. There had to be a structure underneath. “Tell me about the hill.”
“One of my guys did a rough recon. Looks to be a square formation with equal sides. Each side measuring approximately one hundred feet. The top level is flat.”
Man-made. Donovan couldn’t believe it. They’d found the archives. The sheer adrenaline rush overrode his exhaustion. He stood up, energized. “Tell your men to hold their positions.”
“You don’t want to follow them in?” Walsh asked.
He had the archives within reach. After all these years, his debt to his homeland was nearly paid. He could be at peace. “That won’t be necessary.”
Donovan took a cigar out of his pocket and slipped off the wrapper. He inhaled the cigar’s sweet bouquet, and then carefully clipped the end. He could see Walsh’s disapproval as he flipped open his lighter and lit the cigar over the flame.
“We came all this way. Why wouldn’t we continue?” Walsh said.
Donovan puffed and enjoyed the pleasant taste and smooth finish. “Because sooner or later, they have to come out with the archives.”
There was a potent pause. “And you don’t care who wins in there?”
Donovan watched the cigar’s glow. “Frankly, I don’t.”
CHAPTER
27
I hate mazes,” Simon muttered.
What was it with ancient civilizations and mazes? Was it like some kind of torture device? He shone his headlamp at two passages in front of him—door number one or door number two.
He was about to choose door number one when he heard Celina yell Jillian’s name. It bounced off the walls in every direction, making it damn difficult to figure out where it originated.
But it meant that Celina was alive—and she didn’t have Jillian.
&nb
sp; He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Hopefully, Jillian had survived the hellish tumble down here. She didn’t answer, but then again, she would know better than to answer Celina.
If he got his hands on Celina, he might just have to kill her this time. She’d totally lost it. She’d been crazy before. Now she was dangerous, completely consumed by the bug. Nothing and no one was going to stand between her and the archives.
Which meant he had to find Jillian before Celina did.
He chose a direction, hoping it led to Jillian. Minutes passed as he traversed the maze, backing out of dead ends and feeling like he was going around in circles.
Celina was not helping. Her shouts just bounced around, adding chaos to an already confusing situation.
When he noticed big footprints in the dust, he realized he’d already been this way. Worse than that, the prints gave his trail away to anyone looking for them.
Damn. He retraced his steps quickly and followed the path not taken. Another set of prints showed up, smaller. A woman’s. They didn’t stop or backtrack or even appear to change pace. Could be Celina. She’d dealt with mazes before.
Something on the floor caught his eye, and he bent down to pick it up. It was a piece of straw hat.
Simon grinned. “That’s my girl.”
Kesel limped through the maze on the badly twisted ankle he’d gotten as a result of trying to land on his feet. He had a compact flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other as he swept each corridor. No sign of Lance or Carlos, but they were here somewhere. He’d seen them disappear and had tried to avoid the floor trap, but it had just been too steep and slippery.
The apparatus had separated him from Lance and Carlos as each descending layer spun and twisted. He’d been in enough of these to know it was part of the design. The creators wanted to make sure whoever came down here wouldn’t find his way out unless he had the lens and knew how to use it.
He didn’t have the lens, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to die here. Fuck everyone else.
He heard moaning and rounded a corner to find Lance and Carlos in a heap. Lance was sprawled on top of Carlos, who was pushed against the wall, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
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