Worlds within worlds await through the Maya Bloodgate…

Dr. Jaid Merritt doesn’t do digs. The last time she ventured into the jungle, someone died. Now she’s content to decipher Maya glyphs from pictures sent to her by her famous archaeologist father. But when he goes missing while trying to perform a ritual based on her translations of an ancient codex, Jaid must put aside her fears and travel to Guatemala to find him.

After misusing the Bloodgates to bring his twin brother back from the afterlife, the Maya priest known as Ruin was cursed by the gods to stand as the guardian for all time. He was unable to stop Dr. Charles Merritt from opening the gates, and now demons roam this world. The last thing he wants to do is hurt the beautiful woman who is somehow infused with his magic, but if she uses the codex to retrieve her father, Ruin must do his duty. And this time, he won’t fail. Even if it kills him. Again.

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The Bloodgate Guardian

Joely Sue Burkhart

For my beloved sister, Molly.

Acknowledgments

Diane, thank you for meeting me dark and early each morning to write.

A special thank-you to my dear friend, Wanda, for the cenote pictures.

Thank you Soleil, May and Nadia for your suggestions.

CONTENTS

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

He never hated his magic until it compelled him to kill.

From the broken shadows of his temple, the priest watched an encroacher attempt to work his doomed magic. Brilliant ruby pooled in the pocked basin of the altar and overflowed, streaming across the hand-carved stone in vibrant filigree. The blood glowed like molten rock hot from the earth’s heart, releasing magic into the night.

The once all-powerful priest shuddered, his skin crawling with the caress of power. His nostrils flared to catch the tantalizing scent of sweet copper. Such temptation. He tightened his grip on the starved jaguar pacing within him. Such power.

The city once known as the Mouth of Creation had kept his secrets for a thousand years. Now he must kill this man to protect that forbidden knowledge. Keeping to the shadows, the priest called out, “As Gatekeeper of Chi’Ch’ul, I command you to leave my city or die.”

The man whirled and whipped the bloody heart behind his back. At least this one’s victim had been a goat and not human. “Nobody else should know the name of my dig. Who are you working for?”

The priest stepped into the moonlight, and the other man recoiled. With the jaguar prowling the cage of his body, he knew all too well the image he made: eyes gleaming like golden lamps, jaguar spots dotting his arms and blending with the tribal tattoos on his upper body, angular cheekbones and sharp forehead compounded by the stark topknot pulling his hair back from his face. The man had discovered the city, unburied it stone by stone. He could not help but recognize a priest of what had once been a grand and powerful nation. “My city has already been destroyed. Would you destroy the world as well?”

“I have powerful, rich friends,” the man said, backing away slowly. “Name your price.”

So be it. Small golden lights began buzzing around the priest and his bones throbbed with magic. “Nothing you can offer will stay my hand. As long as I live, these sacred waters shall lie still and silent. My curse demands your death. The Gates must remain locked until the Return.”

Ignoring his threats, the man smiled with elation. “We were right! I knew it. After all these years, I finally found the center of the world!”

The balls of light blazed brighter. A golden swirling wave obliterated his vision. Bones cracked and twisted. His scream of pain rumbled bass, a jaguar’s roar piercing the night.

Tail lashing, the jaguar crouched in a pile of torn denim. The sharp stink of his prey’s fear burned his nose. It had been a very long time since he’d hunted. The big cat knew his purpose. He was only called forth to kill.

The foolish man turned toward his modern equipment stationed on the nearby boulder, presenting his back to the jaguar. “Jaid, don’t come here! Don’t trust anybody and don’t let the codex out of your hands! Especially don’t give it to Venus Star!”

The jaguar growled a threat. If this person possessed the codex, he must die too.

Whirling, the man ran up the peninsula that extended over Lake Atitlan. He slung the goat’s heart out over the water and threw his weight off the side, angling toward the beach instead of the lake. Effortlessly, the jaguar leaped after him. The man gasped in pain and rolled away, narrowly escaping the slashing claws.

Wet with rain, a sudden gust of wind swept across the shore. Clouds boiled across the sky to hide the moon and stars. Thunder rolled through the night and the ground trembled. Lightning split the sky, winds increasing until the trees thrashed and waves whipped the surface of the lake.

A shape formed in the darkened waters. Thrashing, bulging outward, a hand rose from the depths. Water broke, cascading down the sceptered arm, which was white and blotched with spots of age and disease.

The jaguar clamped his ears and tail tight to his body and terror rippled through his fur. Oh, stupid human fool! Why had he opened Xibalba, with no wards to lock the demons beyond?

Shuddering with horror, the man whimpered. “Where are the golden plumes? The jade feathers? This isn’t Great Feathered Serpent!”

The jaguar swiped at the man’s abdomen. Jerking away, the man screamed and fell backward into the lake. He thrashed helplessly, then sank like a stone through the Gate as a Lord of Death crawled onto the beach with another demon right behind.

Snarling, the jaguar slammed into the first demon, trying to knock it back through the Gate. Even weak as a newborn babe, it refused to go back to the Place of Fright. The other Death Lord crawled out of the lake clutching a small hunk of flesh. Cradling the now-cold heart to its mouth, the demon feasted, while the other sniffed the air. His gaze turned unerringly to the goat carcass above.

Every drop of blood would give them power. Power that could destroy the world.

Abandoning the shore, the jaguar scrambled up the obsidian outcropping to the altar. Back hunched, fur writhing, bones snapping in agony, he transformed back to the Gatekeeper. Shaking, he grabbed the edge of the stone altar and pulled himself upright. Desperation pulsed through him with every beat of his heart.

He picked up the blade left by the human. The sacrificial goat was cold, but the demons would still find power in it. They would find more power in him if he couldn’t send them back. After all these centuries, he would not fail again.

Blowing out his breath to center himself, he drew the knife across his left palm and sprinkled blood on the altar. He raised the knife toward the glowing Eveningstar. “High Lord Sun, may you journey well and defeat the Lords of Death. Follow the White Road, paddle across the endless sky, and rise again on the morrow. The heart of your jaguar beats within my body. Your breath fills my lungs. My blood is yours. I call upon your power, Jaguar Night Sun, to cast the demons back to their caverns of death.”

A rattling sound like wind through dead branches rustled through the night. “Enough, Priest. You cannot send us back. There is not enough blood in your body. If you give yourself, who will lock the Gate?”

The demon known as Blood Gatherer gave a mighty leap and landed on the rocky outcrop. Corpse-white flesh locked onto the dead goat, and the demon shivered with ecstasy.

A cold rolling wave slammed into the priest. He stumbled. His vision darkened. His heart drummed, frantic and arrhythmic, answering the demon’s call. Thick and hot, boiling toward the surface, blood fought his body’s prison. Even fresh from the bowels of Xibalba, this demon possessed power to suck the spark of life out of his body without laying a single finger on him.

How could he possibly stop them?

“I have use for you, Priest.” Blood Gatherer smiled, blood streaking his bleached jawbone. “Bring us sacrifices so we may grow in power, and we will give you every power beneath us. You will rule the goats of this time.”

“No.” The priest drew himself up, shoulders high and square. He raised the knife to his chest, directly over his heart. Wind clawed at his body, buffeting him in fury. Warm trickles down his cheeks confirmed his eyes and nose already bled at the demon’s command. “I’ll kill myself first.”

Blood Gatherer laughed, a deep, painful sound like a boulder crushing flesh. “You can’t die, Priest. Don’t you think I know what my brothers did to you? You’re tied to the Gates, always watching, doomed to kill anyone who dares use their precious magic. Yet you failed, for here I am, breathing and walking in flesh outside Xibalba.”

He bowed his head, hiding his eyes so he could think. If he surrendered to them, they’d use him to slaughter innocents. Eventually, they’d gain enough power to open another Gate. They’d release all the demons of Xibalba to walk this earth.

“Use your magic, Gatekeeper, and help me punish them. We’ll lock my brothers in First Five Sky where they’ll never be able to make their return. This earth will be ours to devour.” Blood Gatherer lowered his voice to the croon of death, whispering, Sleep, sleep forever. “I can end your curse. I can give you exactly what you want, brave Priest. You crave death, eternal rest? I will even give you your twin and you can drag him to the bowels of Xibalba for me.”

The priest jerked his head up, his face twisted into a snarl.

“Oh, yes,” Blood Gatherer purred. “Fight me. Let me bleed you. Your sacrifice will be worth a lakeful of measly goat blood. I can sacrifice you again and again, an eternity of suffering. Think of the power you’ll give me.”

The other demon had already disappeared, too anxious to spread disease and blight upon the land to bother with him. Another demon hand reached for the night sky through the angry waters of the lake. I must lock the Gate before they kill me.

“Sacrifice me.” He shrugged. “Eventually, Great Feathered Serpent will call me home if for no other reason than to deny you this power. Then whom shall you sacrifice? Who shall worship you? The people of this age have forgotten us. Our ways are too strange, too bloody, too terrible to consider. Even our names are unpronounceable to them.”

The priest forced out a harsh laugh. “Do you know what they call me and my brother in this time? Because we’re doomed to destruction, they simply call us Wrack and Ruin. Only my twin remembers the power we all used to wield, and he blames me for the death of his beloved Butterfly Star. He hates me because I dragged him back from death. I seized him from out of your clutches and brought him back to life.”

The demon bared bloodstained teeth, red eyes blazing with fury. In a temper, he whirled and thrashed about, his voice raising the wind to hurricane strength. “He was mine! He died according to plan! You doomed an entire people by breaking your oath and using the Gate to save him!”

Gripping the stone altar with one hand to brace against the gale, the priest turned the stone circle to align the glyphs with his purpose. “I damned my entire city to save my brother. I broke my solemn oath to the gods. I walked the White Road alive and breathing to find his soul and drag him back. I am Ruin, cursed by the gods to never die until my debt has been paid.”

The smaller circle was easier to adjust. The stone clicked into place and the wind died.

Blood Gatherer turned his head, slowly, his mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “His woman still suffers in the lowest level of Xibalba because of you. Do you think he will ever forgive you for that?”

Guilt tore into Ruin’s heart as viciously as jaguar claws. His brother would never forgive him, and the priest would never forgive himself. Yet he could not allow the demons to escape. He raised the knife and methodically sliced the locking glyph into his left forearm.

Power pulsed through the night, moonlight braiding with the magic in his blood to shine on the lake. Bubbling, swirling dark waters stilled to reflect the light of the moon once more.

The Lord of Death shrieked with fury. He lunged across the altar and seized Ruin around the neck, bony fingers crushing his windpipe. “What will they call you when I use your soul to destroy this world?”

“Dead at last,” he wheezed. “Kill me and end my misery. I welcome your torments in Xibalba.”

Blood Gatherer drew him close to his skeletal face. The stench of rotten, putrid flesh made him gag. “Not yet, Priest. You cheated me. Your brother was mine and you stole him. The greatest torment I can give you is to force you to watch while I destroy this world you’ve protected for centuries. Watch the pitiful humans die with plague, crippled with disease, maddened and corrupted by our power. Watch me raise up other priests and bathe in blood. Watch me claim your Gates one by one until I control the worlds within. Only when I reign below and above while the worlds are lost to utter darkness will I give you the death you deserve.”

The demon heaved him backward. Tumbling through the air, he slammed into a stone column. His skull cracked and his spine shattered. Pain exploded.

Then Blood Gatherer released the terrible magic for which he’d been named.

Ruin felt his blood leap eagerly from his body, called by the Lord of Death to strengthen him. Blood poured from every wound and orifice, spraying the demon with incredible strength.

Lost to darkness, he could only lie there and wait for his body to die. His heart thumped ever more awkwardly, trying to compensate for the trauma and only speeding his death. His lungs refused to draw air. He felt every pain, every horror of death, until his heart ceased beating.

Yet he knew he would rise up and walk again when the gods refused him shade beneath the World Tree.

Please, let me die this time.

CHAPTER TWO

If men were as easy to decipher as Maya glyphs, then perhaps Jaid would have been able to translate “beware” carved in her boyfriend’s handsome forehead and saved herself the trouble.

Watching Dr. Geoffrey Malcolm, golden boy of the Mesoamerica Center of the University of Texas, she wanted to march to the podium where he was schmoozing the audience and plant her fist on his perfect aristocratic nose. He hadn’t cheated on her with another woman. No, he’d done something much worse: he’d stolen her research, and then compounded that theft by getting it wrong.

“As you can see, this glyph speaks of Sky, the three-stoned Hearth,” Geoffrey said in a southern drawl as smooth and rich as a shot of Jack Daniels whiskey. “The Jaguar God rises toward Sky each day, but then dies each night and paddles his way through the Underworld. Xibalba is known as the Place of Fright, full of demons called cizins, which derives from ‘fart.’ Evidently, all demons in hell have a gas problem.”

Jaid rolled her eyes. Out of all the things he could talk about, he’d chosen farting death gods. Of course, the chuckling audience loved every minute of it. An annoying voice in her head that sounded remarkably like her father couldn’t resist pointing out that they hadn’t asked her to speak.

“Now here’s another important glyph from the creation story. This one is Tulan Zuyua, which means Seven Caves, Seven Canyons, sometimes also called the Place of Cattail Reeds. It’s supposedly the place of origin for the Maya, but the location differs widely among the various tribes. Some people think it refers to Teotihuacan in Mexico; others speculate it’s the Candelaria Caves in Alta Verapaz. All we really know is it was a wet and swampy place.”

He doodled on the transparency, making a shaky but identifiable glyph for the Guatemalan ruin, Utatlan. “The Maya loved building new cities and calling them some derivative of the Place of Cattail Reeds. Even Copan has a few symbols that refer to it as the place of creation.”

Every word drew her step by simmering step down the aisle until he finally noticed her approach. Instead of guilt that his little impromptu lecture on her stolen research material had been discovered, he smiled to disguise the next poisoned barb. “In fact, there are so many places of creation that some archaeologists feel compelled to visit them all.”

Murmurs buzzed excitedly from the audience. Those who recognized Dr. Jaid Merritt knew her very famous father, Dr. Charles Merritt, who’d spent his entire life tromping through the jungles of Guatemala and highlands of the Yucatan searching for lost Maya secrets.

She gave Geoffrey a hard, tight smile. “Do you care to expand on that commonality, Dr. Malcolm?”

To hide his discomfort, he upped the wattage of his million-dollar white smile and blinked at her innocently. “All people have creation stories. The commonality shows that each Maya city wanted to be the center of the world.”

Even now, the stark contrast of the exotic dark eyes he’d inherited from his Spanish mother and his shining golden hair caught her attention. His good looks and charm had baited the hook, but what had pulled her to the shore were the long talks they’d shared about the Maya. Other couples talked about movies, books, or sports. They’d shared a love for Mesoamerican history.

Too bad he couldn’t decipher a glyph to save his life.

“Surely if you understand the creation story and how the Jaguar God travels through day and night, then you know that this glyph—” She took the dry-erase marker out of his hand and corrected his drawing. A few dots and marks, who would notice if one was missing or out of place? Only someone who knows what she’s doing! “Seven Caves, Seven Canyons in this situation doesn’t refer to the Place of Cattail Reeds, the place of creation, but to Xibalba. You’re in hell, Dr. Malcolm, not heaven.”

Chuckles from the audience made him flush hotly. “At least I’ve been to the center of the world.”

Inept he might be, but as her lover, he knew how best to hurt her. She lowered her voice and leaned closer, keeping a polite smile on her face for the audience. “If I left anything at your place, I’ll pick it up tomorrow. Next time, you might want to make accurate copies of my translation so you don’t make such an obvious error.”

Turning, she sauntered up the aisle, smile firmly in place. “Who needs to muck around in the jungle with snakes and mosquitoes to translate a glyph when we have computers and digital cameras? All the prestige, none of the malaria.”

Laughter and applause followed her out the auditorium, but she wasn’t elated. She wasn’t even hurt, not really. She hadn’t convinced herself that she loved Geoffrey, so losing him was no blow to her heart.

She no longer had a heart, because it’d been sacrificed long ago in a Maya ruin.

Ignoring the dull twinge in her right knee, Jaid trudged upstairs to her office. If she hadn’t forgotten the midterm composition books on her desk, then she’d never have returned to campus and learned about Geoffrey’s lecture. Okay, forgotten wasn’t exactly the right word. Deliberately avoided was more accurate.

The only thing she hated more than grading was lecturing. However, if she wasn’t actively researching a dig for the university, they wanted her to teach. Publishing research with her father was good, but it wasn’t good enough.

“Do you know what the students have started calling you?” Geoffrey strolled down the hall as relaxed as though he promenaded in the park. “The Un-Indiana Jones, because you never go on a dig.”

The name stung but she refused to show any emotion. None of them knew what she’d gone through on that last dig over twenty years ago. No tremendous discovery was worth such a terrible price. “I was called Jaid ‘the Ferret’ Merritt as a kid, too. I thought you were above such grade-school games.”

Sighing softly, he nodded. “We can’t be at each other’s throats and hope to work together.”

“I’m not at your throat.” Jaid unlocked her office door. “I was very polite. I’ll continue to be polite, no matter how much I want to hit you.”

She flipped on the light and set her leather carryall on her desk. Opening the bag, she shifted her current research notes aside to make room for the towering stack of composition books. This would take her the rest of the night to grade, and at least a glass or two of wine.

Maybe she’d grade half tonight and half tomorrow.

Or wait until the weekend and do them all at once. She heaved a long-suffering sigh. This might take the whole bottle of wine.

“I really am sorry, you know.” Geoffrey propped a shoulder against the door. Even slouching, he managed to look elegant. “You’re always doodling glyphs and leaving them lying around. Even when we’re at dinner you draw on your napkin, or reach into that pack and pull out the latest photograph from your father. I can’t help but see and be intrigued. I love the Maya as much as you do.”

“The Maya are all I know. Thanks to my father’s research, I was practically born on a dig, so I can’t help living and breathing glyphs.”

“Do you translate glyphs because you love doing it, or for your father?”

She shot a glare at Geoffrey. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“You translate one new glyph and the first thing you do is send it to him. Meanwhile, he’s scanning in a dozen more for you to translate. Don’t you get tired of doing all your work for him?”

He stepped closer and reached out to touch her, but she flinched away. His hand dropped to his side and he actually looked hurt. The bastard stole her research and he managed to look hurt.

“I understand the desire to dedicate yourself to a cause in honor of your parents. You know what happened to my mother.”

Biting her lip, she nodded but didn’t meet his gaze. His mother had been killed at the Spanish Embassy in Guatemala City when Geoffrey was just a boy. His father had never forgiven himself for being away at a dig when the massacre occurred, and he’d refused to ever return to Guatemala, even after the civil war had ended.

“I honor my mother’s memory, but I don’t study the Maya because she was killed by a corrupt government trying to wipe away the last traces of their indigenous people. I study the Maya because they fascinate me. When was the last time you allowed yourself to enjoy what you’re doing, instead of slaving away for your father? Don’t you see that he’s using you? If you spent a fraction of your time writing up your own research, you wouldn’t have to teach so much.”

“He puts my name on all his research findings.”

“So you’ll settle for always being the famous Dr. Charles Merritt’s daughter, not Dr. Jaid Merritt who singlehandedly translated and documented hundreds of glyphs. Do you know what a treasure you’ve created in that database? How easily you could publish your own definitive book on the Maya written word? And you’re only twenty-seven! You’d be the most famous epigrapher in the world, and you’ve still got an entire lifetime of research ahead of you.”

“This isn’t about me. This is about you stealing my research.”

“Oh, give me a break, Jaid. You left one scribbled note at my place, half wadded up and thrown on the floor by the trash can. I unfolded it, smoothed it, and immediately saw how I could use it. It was your trash. You’re too brilliant to waste time on something as insignificant as what I presented tonight and you know it.”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” she retorted. “You never loved me at all, did you? You were merely biding your time to steal something.”

“I never took anything from you.” His brow creased and he held his hands palms up. He certainly appeared to be confused and honest, but she’d been blinded by his smile and charm before. “I do care for you, but you’re right. I don’t love you. How can anyone love you when it’s impossible for you to love anybody back? But I am worried about you, Jaid. For the last few months, you’ve been running yourself ragged. How many times have I helped you catch up on grading this semester? Or covered your office hours so you could cram in one more translation? You’re killing yourself to make another great discovery for your father.”

Jaid picked up her satchel, marched to the door, locked it, and headed for the stairs without a word.

Following her, Geoffrey said, “At least let me give you a ride home.”

“It’s not far,” she replied stiffly, refusing to look at him.

“Jaid, please. I know it’s only a few blocks, but it’s dark.” He touched her elbow, and when she didn’t jerk away, he settled his hand more firmly. “I’ll drive you home and pick up anything I might have left at your house.”

Ah, her knight in shining armor. She’d yelled at him, dumped him, yet even now, he insisted on seeing her home safely. A cold, hard lump swelled in her throat, trying to choke her. Why did she insist on seeking out every little tarnish and ding in any man’s armor? She knew why, and so did Geoffrey.

Some things a girl never outgrew, let alone forgave, once she finally realized nothing she did would ever win her father’s love.

CHAPTER THREE

While Geoffrey climbed the squeaky stairs to pack up his things, Jaid headed for the library in the back of the sprawling Victorian mansion she’d inherited from her mother. She set her satchel on top of the massive desk, pulled out her laptop, and immediately turned it on. She’d check in first to see if her father had any last-minute translation requests…

She clenched her jaws and made herself haul out the composition books. No research tonight. She had to grade at least half before she even let herself peek at the next glyph. Grumpy, she dragged out a brand-new pack of red pens. Pity my poor students, she thought, checking her e-mail.

Adrenaline sent her heart pounding frantically. Dad had sent a scheduled video e-mail using a new service that boasted fast streaming and secure servers. What the hell is he up to?

“This is Dr. Charles Merritt at Lake Atitlan, Guatemala, also called the Mouth of Creation.” Her father’s distinctive, powerful voice made her throat tighten. When he’d still taught, his students had always been riveted as soon as he uttered the very first word. The sunset behind him was gorgeous, and she could just barely see the shimmering waters of Lake Atitlan. “My thanks to my daughter, Dr. Jaid Merritt, who made this ritual possible.”

Her eyes burned and she called, “Geoffrey! Come see this!”

“Jaid, I know you’re not ready to attempt an experiment yet, but events are whirling out of my control. Beware anyone who works for Venus Star. Don’t let them get their grubby hands on my life’s work, no matter what happens tonight. I used your last translations to set the rings.”

What? Her palms dampened with sweat. What are you trying to do? Surely you don’t think any of this is…real.

Nearly a month ago, her father had brought her a fully intact codex he’d found at the bottom of a temple in the new dig. He’d sworn her to complete silence. For the past few weeks, she’d been feverishly translating glyph after glyph, working so hard that she hadn’t actually read the pages he’d requested.

The codex reminded her of a Maya fairytale with jaguars and priests, portals to other worlds, even the Great Feathered Serpent appearing at Lake Atitlan, the once and future king or Messiah. If her father actually believed any of this…he’d finally succumbed to some kind of jungle madness.

Geoffrey dropped his hand on her shoulder and leaned closer. “What is it?”

“It’s Dad,” she whispered, her thoughts racing frantically. “He recorded some kind of ritual. Oh, God, what is he…” Her stomach heaved. That poor goat.

“Dear God, he’s gone insane. Jaid, you’ve got to call someone.”

“Who? Who can help him?”

“Isn’t Sam on site? If they’ve worked together all these years, surely he can stop your father. This is…Jaid, he’s sick.”

A new voice intruded on the digital recording. She leaned forward, pressing her hand to her mouth to fight back her rolling stomach. She could barely make out a shadowy form on the edge of the screen. Golden lights swirled about him, illuminating the stark lines of his face. Impossibly, she recognized his profile.

Not by name, of course, but he looked like one of the proud, arrogant portraits carved on a temple wall above the ballcourt. Despite the jeans—although he wore no shirt—that tall slanting forehead and full lower lip marked him as Maya as any statue of a long-dead king of Chich’en Itza.

She must have blinked or zoned out because he disappeared. Where he’d stood, a massive black jaguar crouched, snarling and growling at her father. Heart racing, she ran the recording back through her mind. Surely he hadn’t…It was impossible…

Her father popped up close to the screen and yelled so loudly she flinched. Geoffrey steadied her to keep her from falling out of her chair. “What did he say?”

“Stay away. Don’t trust anybody.” She didn’t recognize the harsh tones in Geoffrey’s normally charmingly smooth drawl. She hadn’t heard everything her father had shouted, but the words Venus Star had come through loud and clear. Geoffrey hadn’t repeated that part. Because he thought she’d heard, or some other reason? “What did he send you, Jaid? What are you hiding?”

Her father ran toward the lake with the jaguar on his heels. They both disappeared off the ledge. “No! Dad!”

Breathlessly, she waited, gripping the edge of the table so hard her fingers cramped. Sudden winds blew the camera off to tumble and roll across the ground. The picture grew fuzzy. Were the roaring, howling, shrieking noises real? Or just interference after the camera’s fall?

Please, please be okay, she prayed. Did the fall kill him? Or the jaguar?

The screen rippled again. Something pale and white moved into the picture. Leaning closer, she tried to make out what it was. It glowed against the gloom.

Ice crept down her spine. A bone. It looked like a walking femur. Voices skipped in and out, surrounded by that rushing wind and storm. She paused the feed a moment and stared at the white shape.

“What is it?” Geoffrey asked, his voice low and urgent. “Have you seen it before?”

Skin covered the bone, but it seemed loose, as though there were no muscles or flesh beneath. The floppy skin was stained and discolored with odd streaks of gray, black, and even a moldy green. As though decomposition has set in. “It looks like a corpse. The leg of a corpse.”

“But it moved.”

Teeth chattering, Jaid allowed the rest of the feed to play. “I wish I could understand the voices. How many are there? Who are they?”

The winds suddenly died. In the silence, her heart pounded so loudly the beats echoed in her skull like thunder. She heard a voice clearly—but she couldn’t comprehend the words. Horror made her stomach convulse. That voice skulked, wheedled, nasty and loathsome. It had to be the white thing speaking. A horrible screech tore through the recording and the thing lunged, crushing the camera.

She clapped her hands over her ears, wincing at the surging whine. The video ended, leaving a small black window on the screen and a shrill echo in her ears.

“What the hell was that? Jaid? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Geoffrey clamped a hand on her shoulder and spun her chair around until she faced him. “I don’t! I’ve been translating something new for Dad, but he never mentioned a ritual. I had no idea he believed this stuff. I thought it was…fairytales. It can’t possibly be real. It doesn’t even make sense! It might as well be a science-fiction movie rather than a research project.”

“That was pretty fucking real, Jaid. We saw it with our own eyes. Son of a bitch, did you see that man transform into a jaguar? And that corpse thing moved! It walked and talked. What the hell is going on?”

Her teeth began chattering. He’d seen the same things. It couldn’t be her imagination. “Dad found a new site, completely untouched. A hurricane had dislodged enough of the lakeshore to reveal the tip of a temple. The whole city was buried by a volcano hundreds of years ago. He’s been working on the site for years.”

“I haven’t heard of any new digs. You’ve known about this for years and never told me?”

“I couldn’t! Dad swore me to secrecy. The only other person who knew about the find was Sam.”

“Where’s the new dig? Do we have anyone close who can go help him?”

“Guatemala.” She scooted her chair over to her desk and dragged open the bottom drawer. She had a map of the region with every site her father had visited in his lifetime carefully notated.

A thud jerked her head up in time to see Geoffrey falling beneath a man who could have walked off a movie set. Leather and a jaguar skin covered bronzed skin dotted with tattoos. Even the man’s face bore dark markings, as well as bone and jade piercings that gave her the willies. His long black hair was pulled back high on his head into a complicated topknot.

Except for the tattoos on his face, he could have been the same man they’d seen on the digital recording. Another Maya warrior.

She was pretty sure about the warrior thing, because he held a wicked black knife to Geoffrey’s throat. Crouched on top of her boyfriend, the intruder raised cold, black eyes to hers and snarled. “Where’s the codex?”

His heavily accented English was harsh, his voice discordant and grating. Slowly, she stood and backed away, searching for some kind of weapon. “What codex? I don’t understand!”

Geoffrey slammed the heel of his hand into the man’s nose and scrambled to his feet. “Run, Jaid!”

With a bark of laughter, the intruder buried his blade in Geoffrey’s stomach.

She screamed. She picked up the closest book and hurled it at the man’s head. Missed. Grabbed another and threw it. The intruder jerked on the knife, dragging it through Geoffrey’s abdomen, slashing him until his knees buckled. His own weight pulled the knife free.

She stared at the bloody knife. Blood drained from her face, her skin tight and brittle, her ears roaring.

I’m going to die. Geoffrey, oh, Geoffrey. So senseless.

His eyes were glazed with pain, his mouth open, gasping for breath. Oh, God, he was still alive. Such pain. Where were the police? Surely her neighbors had heard her scream. She had screamed, hadn’t she?

The intruder lunged toward her and wrapped his hand around her throat. “Where is it?” he roared, his eyes cold with death. “Give it to me or I’ll let the Lords of Death have you! I know you have it—I can smell its foul magic all over you!”

“Jaid!”

Thank God—she knew that voice. “Sam! Library! Help us!”

Spitting curses, the intruder slung her aside like a ragdoll. Her father’s long-time colleague rushed into the room and a gunshot blasted the intruder backward.

He crashed into a stack of books and rolled smoothly to his feet. Probing the hole in his chest with a finger, he raised his gaze to hers. A dark river of scar tissue ran from his breastbone down to the waistband of his low-riding jeans. It looked like he’d had open-heart surgery a dozen times.

Baring his teeth in a fierce smile, he tipped his head slightly toward Sam and then whirled and ran toward the window. In a flying leap, he crashed through the glass and disappeared.

“Jaid, are you all right?”

She crawled to Geoffrey. “We need an ambulance. Geoffrey, can you hear me?”

Blood pooled beneath him. His intestines glistened wetly where they had tumbled out of his stomach to coil on the floor. From the smell, she knew his bowel had been punctured. He lifted his hands toward her, and she took them, gripping him tightly. “Sorry.”

“You’re going to be okay.”

“I do care for you.”

“I know, I know.” She smiled, even while tears blurred her vision and her throat ached. She smoothed the golden fall of hair off his brow and stroked his cheek. “I’ll give you whatever you want next time, okay? Whatever I have is yours if you hang on.”

“Remember,” he gasped, his eyes flaring wide. “Sacbeob.”

Sacbeob, white roads. Tears dripped onto their clasped hands. The Maya had a saying about entering the White Road, the journey of death through the Place of Fright.

He wasn’t breathing. His eyes were open, but…his fingers went limp in hers. “Geoffrey! No, no, help him, please!”

Sam knelt beside her and drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry, Jaid. He’s gone.”

CHAPTER FOUR

An eternity passed while she answered the policemen’s questions and watched them load Geoffrey’s lifeless body onto a stretcher. Blood stained the white sheet they’d draped over him.

Clutching the afghan around her shoulders, Jaid fought to hold on to her sanity, even while she wanted to wail and scream and pound her fists against the wall. His last words had been an apology because of a stupid translation, when she’d made hundreds, if not thousands. Why had she thrown such a big fit over something so silly?

Now he was gone. He’d died helping her. He’d become another senseless sacrifice on the road to discovery. She wept then, silent tears that burned down her cheeks and tore at her heart.

Dr. Sam Gerard sat down on the couch beside her. The usual wide smile that crinkled his eyes and warmed her heart each time she saw him had been replaced by tight, pale concern. Despite the same casual clothes—chinos, denim shirt, and the stained outback-style hat—he looked different. His shoulders vibrated with tension and he couldn’t sit still. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered, tears welling. “We’d fought, but he still insisted on seeing me home. He tried to protect me.”

A soft whimper escaped before she could quell it, and he wrapped her in a hug. “Oh, Jaid, I’m sorry, honey. This isn’t your fault. If he hadn’t been here, you might have died.”

“They didn’t believe me. I described the man down to the tattoos on his face, and they didn’t believe me. I know it sounds crazy, but the man was a Maya warrior. Where did he come from?”

“I don’t know.”

Something in Sam’s voice sounded off, just a subtle tightness that no one else probably would have noticed. She drew back and studied his eyes. How much did he know about whatever ritual her father had attempted? Watching his face carefully, looking for any sign of guilt or fear, she asked, “What’s Venus Star?”

His eyes widened but he didn’t dissemble. “They’re the sole provider of our private funding.”

Why hadn’t she ever heard of them before tonight? “Where are they based?”

“Dallas. The CEO is an old friend of ours.” Sam grimaced and shook his head. “Well, old friend of mine. Franklin and Charlie never got along.”

Few men did get along with her father. “I’ve never heard you speak of this friend.”

Sam sighed and slid his hat through his hands. “Charlie never wanted Venus Star anywhere near his dig because of Franklin, but it was the only way I could secure the dig. It was either accept private funding and utilize Venus Star’s powerful contacts with the Guatemalan government, or let some other team take over.”

So Sam was involved with Venus Star. Her fingers ached and she forced herself to ease her death grip on the blanket her mother had made. Her teeth chattered, and she felt cold, deep inside, where she could never get warm. “What’s going on? Why are you in the States?”

“Something’s happened,” Sam sighed, rolling the brim of the hat between his fingers in a slow twirl. “We’ve managed to keep the dig mostly quiet, but this sort of thing gets out eventually. Such a discovery hasn’t been made in years. I’m afraid someone may have followed Charlie the last time he came to see you. Is whatever he brought you safe?”

Her father had indeed made a quick visit about a month ago with no preliminary phone call or warning. He’d stayed only a few hours and left for the airport in the middle of the night. He’d told her not to tell a soul. By Sam’s own choice of words, even her father’s research partner for longer than she’d been alive didn’t know that the “whatever” her father had smuggled off site was a fragile, irreplaceable Maya book painstakingly painted on birch-bark pages.

So how did the intruder know?

Why hasn’t Sam mentioned the little accident in Guatemala? Is Dad still alive?

Her heart pounded so hard she rubbed at her breastbone to relieve the ache. The urge to do something, call someone, churned like acid in her stomach, but she didn’t know who to trust. At one time, she would have told Sam everything she knew, but that was before her father’s face had loomed close and large in the screen and he’d shouted that she shouldn’t trust anyone. Before she’d learned that Sam had connections with Venus Star, the very name her father had shouted for her to avoid. Was her father simply paranoid? Or was his long-time friend involved in something nefarious?

“Don’t tell me what it is,” Sam said. “Is it safe, or did the burglar make off with it?”

She resisted the urge to look at the priceless codex’s hiding place. “As far as I can tell, it’s safe.”

“Good.” His shoulders relaxed and he leaned back against the leather, but he kept playing with his hat, aimlessly slapping it against his thigh. “There have been some really…odd…things going on at the dig. I know you’re upset about your friend, and I don’t want to worry you.”

“Tell me, Sam.” Her voice rose, slightly shrill, but she couldn’t help it. “If there’s something wrong, I need to know. I need to know everything!”

“Charlie’s been acting very strange for weeks. At first, I thought he was merely excited about the dig. I mean, who wouldn’t be? We’re sitting on the biggest ruin since Tikal, and since it was mostly buried for centuries, the jungle rot hasn’t destroyed everything. The glyphs on the walls glow with color, Jaid. It’s incredible. I wish you’d come see it.”

“I’ve seen the pictures,” she replied, forcing her tone lighter. For years, he’d nagged her to join them on a dig, but he must have finally gotten the hint. Until now, he’d never asked her to come to Lake Atitlan’s dig site. Nerves made her long to wrap her hands around his neck and shake him until he told her the truth. The longer he dallied over inconsequential details, the more she doubted him.

What does Sam know? Why doesn’t he just tell me?

“Pictures can’t capture the incredible scope of the temple. Its view over Lake Atitlan is breathtaking, perfectly positioned to watch the constellations move across the sky. Once we clear out the rest of the rubble, walking through Chi’Ch’ul will be like stepping back a thousand years into a Mesoamerica we only dreamed of.”

Sam took her hand, drawing her gaze to his face. “You should be there. I don’t know exactly what you’re translating for Charlie, but he wouldn’t be as far in his research without you. He’s always been obsessed, we both know that. Now, though…” He sighed, his blue eyes troubled. “He needs you, Jaid. I’ve never been more afraid for him.”

“He doesn’t need me,” she replied automatically. Her father had made that abundantly clear over the years. All he needed was another clue to the true resting place of Seven Caves, Seven Canyons, another dot on his map to document and explore.

“He’s obsessed with the ruins to the point that I’m afraid for his health. He refuses to talk to me. We’ve been on the outs before, but once he cut Madelyn off…”

“Who’s Madelyn?”

Sam’s eyes flared with surprise. “You don’t know?”

Her stomach knotted, tangled with nerves and grief and worry. A familiar anxiety whenever her father was involved. “He never talked to me about anything but work.”

“Madelyn St. James joined us last year at the compound. She’s his research assistant and…er…they…”

“Ah. Got it.” The last thing she wanted to hear about was her father’s love life. She supposed his involvement with another woman was inevitable. She shouldn’t have been surprised at all. He was a distinguished, brilliant man, famous in archaeology circles, and his wife had been dead entirely too long.

Hurt sliced through her. She—his only daughter—hadn’t even known the woman’s name. That woman saw him every single day, where Jaid was lucky to see him a dozen days all year, every single day begrudged. Another day lost that he could have been on the dig uncovering some new clue.

A tiny flash of pride warmed her. He’d trusted her—and no one else—with the codex.

“Last night, Charlie was doing some sort of ritual at the lake, and…he disappeared. I can’t find him anywhere.”

She opened her mouth to say that she’d seen how he’d disappeared, but the look on Sam’s face froze her tongue. His face was pale, his breathing erratic, and a bead of sweat tracked down his face.

“Weird things are happening, and a jaguar has been prowling around camp.”

Fear trickled down her spine. She’d seen a jaguar on that recording. Impossibly, it’d been a man. Would Sam even believe her when she struggled to believe her own eyes? “Did you find a…goat?”

Sam twitched, his eyes flaring wide. “How on earth do you know that?”

Shaky, she tasted something bitter and metallic on her tongue. “What else did you find?”

“His backpack with your notes, a digital camcorder busted all to hell, and the goat.” Sam swallowed and averted his gaze, working the hat so hard in his hands that it’d probably sit crooked on his head. “Its chest cavity had been cut open.”

If she hadn’t been sitting down already, she would have fallen. Dizzy, she felt as though the room spun out of control, but it was her thoughts speeding crazily from one idea to the next. She’d been obsessed with the translation and hadn’t really paid attention to the details. Now, those glyphs burned into her mind like glowing brands.

Gate. Blood. Creation. The center of the world. Worlds within worlds.

“It has to be real.”

“What’s real, Jaid? What the hell’s going on here? Charlie started acting all paranoid and bizarre, now he’s disappeared, and I come to the States to tell you he’s gone and I find a stranger murdering your friend right here in your house!” Sam clamped his arm around her and dragged her against his chest. His heart thudded loud and frantic against her ear. “Dear God, if I hadn’t come when I did, you might be dead.”

She had to be extremely careful. If she started babbling about jaguar-men and Gates to other worlds, Sam would never believe her. She didn’t entirely believe herself, but she couldn’t deny that recording. Elation rose like a bubble in her chest, then popped, leaving fear rushing back to twist her into knots. Dad was right…but what happened to him? Where did he go?

“What has Dad spent his entire life looking for?”

“Tulan Zuyua, Seven Caves, Seven Canyons, the Place of Cattail Reeds. We’ve been to every site in Central America that even hints at creation.”

“He found it,” she whispered. “He found the center of the world.”

“Then where the hell is he?”

She shivered, her heart pounding frantically against the wall of her ribcage. “What if I said I think he might have passed…through…to another place?”

Sam jammed his crumpled hat on his head, and she almost laughed, her nerves ragged and raw like the frayed wiring in this old barn of a house. Laughing would be better than crying, or leaping up to run screaming into the night. “Through what?”

“Lake Atitlan.”

She couldn’t expect him to believe when she didn’t understand it herself, but Sam stunned her by jumping up and grabbing her hand to pull her up too. “You’ve got to tell Madelyn all this. Between her notes and yours, we ought to be able to piece together Charlie’s footsteps and figure out what happened to him.” When she didn’t immediately stand up at his insistent tug, he stared down at her, his face solemn. “I need you for this, Jaid. You’ve got to come with me!”

“I’m the Un-Indiana Jones.” She forced a laugh and shook her pounding head. If something has gone wrong, then Dad needs me. The thought made her knee ache as fiercely as though she’d torn the joint all over again. Tears burned hot behind her eyes but refused to pour free. “I don’t do digs.”

“I can’t find Charlie without you. Even your notes…” Sam shook his head. “I’ve read your notes before, and I couldn’t understand them. And that was after you translated everything! I don’t have any hope of finding him without you.”

Her heart pounded so hard her chest hurt. Standing, she rubbed her breastbone absently and paced back and forth before the couch. Her right knee barely held her weight. “I’ll explain everything. There’s no need—”

“It’s long past time that you face this fear you have.”

Tripping on the edge of the afghan, she stumbled to a halt. She closed her eyes and the heavy moist heat of the jungle pressed against her. She tried to breathe, but it felt like water oozing through her mouth and nose, not air. Green, everywhere, endless and oppressive, the nights filled with the shrieking whine of millions of bugs and creatures. “I don’t do jungles. I don’t do digs.”

“Jaid…”

“No! Don’t ask me to do this. I’ll tell you everything, but I can’t go to Guatemala.”

“Lake Atitlan isn’t jungle. We’re in the volcanic highlands and the weather is quite temperate. The compound is basically a rather nice hotel. Part of our agreement with the government is we’ll give our buildings to the locals eventually, for tourism of course, so it’s clean, very private and peaceful. It’ll be like you’re on vacation. Better yet, you can see the ruins yourself.”

Her hands trembled, causing her to drop the corner of the afghan, and her knee hurt so badly that she bit her lip on a gasp. “I can’t.” Her voice sounded ragged and hoarse. “You know what happened the last time I went on a dig!”

Sam nodded and came to wrap her in a fierce hug. She laid her head against his shoulder, trembling, fighting to calm her breathing. “You fell into a hidden passage and dislocated your knee. Your mother climbed down to get you, and an earthquake caused part of the wall to fall on her. Charlie said he would never force you to come on a dig again.”

Force me? She tried to laugh but she choked, her throat too tight with unshed tears. “I thought…I thought he blamed me for killing her. If he’d asked me to go…”

I’d do anything for him, if only he’d ask.

“I’m asking you for him now.” Sam stroked her back, his breath a warm puff against her cheek. So many times he’d held her just like this while she cried, devastated by her father’s absence. Sam had done his best to fill that empty place, but he wasn’t her father, no matter how hard he tried. The one time she’d tried to change his adopted father role had been a complete and utter disaster they both studiously avoided. “He needs us.”

She remembered the horrible hungry growl of the earth as it’d swallowed her mother. Her heart felt sluggish, heavy and swollen in her chest, her blood too thick to push through her leaden body. Geoffrey was dead now. Her father was missing, a jaguar had been chasing him, and something horrible had been attracted by whatever ritual he’d performed. She didn’t understand what he’d done, let alone where he might have gone if he’d been successful.

How could she refuse to go after seeing the jaguar rip itself from that man’s body? After another Maya warrior had gutted Geoffrey before her very eyes? “Okay.”

But she couldn’t help but wonder who else would die.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Merritt.” Dean Keller’s voice didn’t sound like he’d been awakened in the dead of night. Maybe he took calls from distraught professors begging an unexpected sabbatical all the time. “If you take an indefinite leave of absence, I can’t guarantee your position will be open when you return.”

“But Dr. Malcolm’s…dead.” Jaid forced the word out, wincing at the ragged tone of her voice. “He was very close to me. I can’t—”

“I understand your need to grieve and I’d certainly excuse several days in such a case,” the dean said soothingly. “However, you said you needed to go to Guatemala and assist your father on his current dig. Quite honestly, I must say I’m rather surprised. I know how you feel about his research. Why are you dropping everything, including your career and your colleague’s funeral, in order to join him in the jungle? I know you better than that, Jaid.”

A hard lump of guilt in her throat threatened to choke her. She would indeed miss Geoffrey’s funeral. Surely he’d understand. “I know you’ll be shorthanded and I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t extremely important.”

“It has nothing to do with being shorthanded. We can hire additional staff if needed.”

Jaid frowned at the phone. “Then what’s the problem?”

Dean Keller sighed heavily. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Geoffrey?”

“No, your father. Dr. Charles Merritt has been dismissed from the university.”

She sat down hard, the phone gripped tightly in her hand that her fingers ached. “What? When?”

“We asked in writing that he return to campus and perform a year of professorial duties or his position would be terminated. The letter was certified so I know someone saw it, but he never responded. We’ve been entirely too lax for years, and the board simply couldn’t excuse his behavior any longer. The only reason we kept his position open so long is because of your service to the university. The only thing that could make us happier with your career is if you’d publish your material independently of your father.”

She laughed, and the harsh sound nearly turned into a sob. All these years, she’d assumed the university kept her on because of her father’s reputation. “My research has never been independent of his. I don’t even participate in digs. How can you value my research over his?”

“In the last five years, the only remarkable outcome of Dr. Merritt’s research has been your translations.” Maybe she was reading too much in his tone without seeing his face, but he seemed to radiate disapproval. “He’s not made any new discoveries for years. You’ve turned a blind eye, else you’d know his once-sterling reputation has become rather tarnished. The academic community has begun to see him as an oddity instead of a respected peer. He’s obsessed, reckless and too arrogant to see his mistake.

“We want you, Jaid. We want you to continue teaching. We’re excited about your translations and beg you to publish your findings. I can list three journals who’d eagerly take anything you sent them. Why would you throw your career away for a man who basically abandoned you years ago to live out his obsession in the jungles?”

Abandoned. Oh, how that word hurt. How many times had she cried herself to sleep over the years because her father had forgotten an important school event or her birthday yet again? She’d even gone so far as to nearly flunk biology deliberately just to get him home, but it’d been Sam who came to the school board meeting with her and helped arrange an alternative to dissecting a frog.

At fourteen, she’d have gleefully dissected her father if he’d dared stand before her. So why would she drop everything, risk her career, and turn her back on Geoffrey? Again, she saw her father fleeing up the stone peninsula toward the lake, the jaguar on his heels, then the howls, the tearing winds, and worse, the silence. I have to know what happened. I have to find him.

“He’s my father,” she whispered.

The dean sighed again. “My condolences on Dr. Malcolm’s death. Don’t worry about your classes. Call me when you get back, and we’ll discuss your options then.”

Mumbling a thank you, Jaid hung up and stared at the phone, her eyes hot and dry. She needed to make one more call, and she dreaded this one even more. Forcing herself to pick up the cordless once more, she debated a minute on which number to try. Which phone would be more likely answered by someone other than her grandmother?

She ended up calling the Governor’s Office’s direct line.

“Governor Wyman’s office, this is Callison Norgate.”

Jaid sagged with relief. “Callie, it’s me. Is the dragon in?”

Her best friend from high school gave a low, husky laugh that had made all the girls green with envy. “Hey, darlin’. You know the dragon’s always in. Do you actually want to speak to her or have me break the news to her?”

“You already know?”

“I’m good, darlin’, but not that good. For you to break down and call her, I assumed it must be bad news. Is everything okay?”

“Geoffrey was killed tonight, right here in my house.” Despite her best efforts, her voice broke and tears escaped. “Sam came in before the bastard could kill me too.”

“Stay right there.” Callie’s sultry voice had gone brisk with concern. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“No, really, there’s no need. Sam’s here, and I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Leaving?”

Quickly, Jaid laid out her father’s disappearance without going into details of the ritual.

“So you think this is all connected.”

Nodding, Jaid whispered, “It must be.”

“Are you okay, darlin’? I know you cared about Geoffrey.”

“I’m fine.” She tried not to sniffle and failed miserably. “Oh, Callie, I’m a cold-hearted bitch. We broke up earlier tonight, and then he died trying to protect me. He was my friend more than anything.”

“So he wasn’t your great passion. Mourn him as a friend, but don’t beat yourself up.” With the ease of a long-time friend, Callie deliberately changed the subject to lighten the moment. “So you want me to march into the dragon’s lair and tell her that you’ve finally lost your mind and are heading off to Guatemala to help the man who let her princess rot in the jungle.”

Jaid actually managed to laugh. “Perfect, and while you’re at it, tell her I might not have a job when I get back and there’s a bit of a mess at Gillian’s Garden to clean up. Sam took care of the broken window to keep the weather out, but it needs to be replaced.”

“Oh, she’ll just love that. You know she never wanted that house to go to you.”

“Yeah, she wanted me dependent and under her thumb at the Governor’s Mansion. I should have gone to Minnesota for my degree. That would have really torqued her.” Jaid smiled, remembering all the years she and Callie had whispered escape plots to each other under the covers.

Neither had escaped, not really. Callie had a dream job that she loved, but Governor Wyman was a difficult woman in the best of circumstances. “You have the patience of a saint, you know that?”

“Ha. I had to be in order to be your friend all these years. Seriously, though, you shouldn’t go alone, Jaid.” Callie sighed, just a soft whisper of breath on the phone. “I’m sure Jackson would go with you. It would certainly ease your grandmother’s mind.”

Jackson Davis was the governor’s personal friend and attorney, and now Attorney General of Texas. He had exactly the kind of aspirations Governor Wyman longed for in her granddaughter, and she’d been plotting for years to get Jaid to marry him. She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “She’ll probably leap at the chance to throw Jackson at me now that Geoffrey’s gone.”

“You know she will,” Callie said back calmly. However, Jaid knew the turmoil her friend must feel. Callie had given her heart to Jackson long ago, but he had eyes only for his ambition and that meant the governor’s granddaughter, not the personal assistant. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

Suddenly exhausted, Jaid slumped in her chair. “I’ll be with Sam. He helped me through all my other breakups as well as every major event in my life when my father was on another dig. The last thing I need is the dragon’s spy reporting back.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” She forced herself upright and put some life back into her voice. “Delay telling her as long as possible. We don’t fly out until the morning, so if she tries to send Jackson after me, feel free to tie him up or something. The dig is on Lake Atitlan near Santiago Atitlan in Guatemala.”

Callie laughed. “Oh, I can entertain him all right. Take care of yourself, Jaid. Text me once you’re there so I know you’re okay. If you need anything at all, call me. You know the dragon can scorch the earth with the might of her glare.”

Governor Wyman might be a cast-iron bitch on the best of days, but she’d do anything for her family. At least to keep it out of the media. “Thanks, Callie.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Ruin awoke in agony.

He tried to suck in a breath and bit back a scream. The bones of his skull re-knit, squeezing his brain back into the right shape. His ribs cracked and popped back into place, the tears in his lungs slowly plugging so he ceased drowning in his own blood. Bands of iron tightened about his chest, choking, squeezing.

His heart refused to beat.

Roaring winds had torn at his soul, trying to yank his spirit from his body. Had the Death Lords succeeded? Was he no better than the walking dead?

Like his brother?

The first thud of his heart felt as though the organ had been ripped from his body and then shoved back inside by a god’s fist. Breathing shallowly, he lay staring up at the sky, waiting for the healing to finish. Streaked with blood and bruised purple, the sky looked as battered as he felt. The sun sank from his vision. He’d lost hours, if not days. He must have been nearer than ever to walking the White Road.

He closed his eyes, swallowing back the bubbling grief and rage. Again, he’d been denied death. Even the bowels of Xibalba spewed him back to this earth, unable to bear his cursed soul.

Rolling over, he forced his trembling body up to his hands and knees. He swayed, hair dragging the dust while he waited for the pain to abate. He’d never hurt this long after waking from death, but a Death Lord hadn’t ever tried to rip his soul from his body, either. Breathing deeply and slowly to regulate his body, he caught a faint whiff of…

Magic. His magic.

A snarl pulled his lips back from his teeth. He threw his head back, breathing deeply to find the source. Weakness pushed aside, he slunk through the shadows with the jaguar’s gift of stealth and watched the car drive up the graveled road to the well-lit building the encroachers had constructed outside his ruined city. The doors opened and a woman stepped out of the car, clutching a well-wrapped package in her arms.

He didn’t need to see the contents to know she bore his codex. She’d read those pages, deciphered his glyphs, and studied his words until she breathed magic through her very pores. His palms itched, the compulsion to protect the city and his magic trying to grind his bones to dust.

This was the daughter of which the white man had spoken. She had come here after all.

After hundreds of years, his doomed city had been discovered and the last copy of the Heart of Blood Codex—which he should have also destroyed—had been found and read. His magic had been used to breach the Gate.

Silently, he glided through his abandoned city to the secret chamber beneath the Pyramid of Dawn. He unsheathed his knife and raised it toward the lake, its shimmering seduction whispering in his blood despite the stone separating him from the mighty Gate. “Great Feathered Serpent, Lord of Sun, grant me the power to kill this last threat to the Gates. Bury this city once more and all who trespass within. Then let me die, Great One. Please, let me die.”

Quickly, he drew the knife down both ear lobes. The pain was immediate, but familiar and soothing. Bloodletting pleased the gods and brought him closer to the ultimate sacrifice. If he thought the Great Feathered Serpent would let him die at last, he’d carve open his own ribcage and rip out his heart.

Soon, he promised himself. Soon I will walk the White Road with my brother at my side.

Sheathing his blade, he carefully tucked the bone knife into the modern clothing he’d stashed beneath a stone in the floor. He closed his eyes and spread his arms in silent supplication, letting magic spread with each drip of his blood. Power swelled within him, hot, sweet, and thick. A joyful flood of life danced about him, casting shadows on the painted stone walls.

His body blurred, bones cracking, limbs reforming until a jaguar as dark as the night crouched on the temple floor. He inhaled the sweet, fragile scent of his prey on the air. The jaguar padded through the temple to the dead city above, silently slinking through the trees toward the cabanas the invaders had constructed.

She would not escape his wrath like the man who’d fallen into the pit of Xibalba.

Jaid halted on the sprawling wraparound porch and turned to examine the spectacular view of Lake Atitlan below. Situated on a finger of the bay that pointed southwest, two massive volcanoes rose up to the east and southeast. Another volcano on the other side of the bay completed the trio to mirror the three stones of the heavenly hearth that made up Orion’s Belt.

No wonder the Tz’utijils had believed their city to be the center of the world.

She’d been braced for a panic attack at the sight of endless green jungles, but maybe she’d already reached her limit. After long hours driving to Dallas to catch their plane, delays through customs, and another long drive on a winding narrow road, she was too exhausted to feel much. Dazed and numbed by Geoffrey’s death and her father’s disappearance, she stared at the lake and thought it simply the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life.

Lake Atitlan shimmered in the sunset, bleeding red and lavender in the dying sunlight. Millions of years ago, a massive volcano had erupted, leaving behind a crater that filled with water to form a lake so deep that its bottom had never been sounded. Staring at the waters reflecting the evening sky, she tried to imagine passing through those cold, still waters to some other world…and failed. Her throat tightened with tears. If her father had fallen into the lake with some mistaken belief he’d pass through a portal, then he was surely dead.

The car drove back toward the gate barring entrance to the compound. Soldiers with automatic rifles spoke to the driver and allowed the car to pass. Watching the iron gate clank shut, she shivered, her fingers stiff and chilled despite the balmy, gentle breeze ruffling her hair. Another guard nodded to Dr. Gerard and walked the perimeter of the fence.

She clutched the precious bundle in her arms. “How tight is security?”

“Very tight, at our request,” Sam replied. “The site is completely intact and we’ve taken every precaution to keep it that way.”

“Until Dad smuggled the codex out.”

With a wry smile, Sam shrugged. “I never ordered the guards to search us. I trusted Charlie, and I still do. He gave the item to the most trustworthy person we both know. It’s not like he sold it on the black market for gain. You and Madelyn both are free to come and go as you please. Santiago Atitlan is only a mile down the lakeshore road, a lovely walk at any time of the day. The ruins, of course, are merely minutes away from the housing. We’ll see them tonight if you want. Charlie installed floodlights to ensure he could work day and night to uncover the city’s secrets.”

Just thinking about stumbling around in the ruins in the dark of night made her hands tremble. Her stomach pitched so hard she almost gagged. Her heart pounded a staccato thunder in her head. How was she ever going to get through this? She’d throw up and pass out long before she’d ever see the remarkably pristine panels and inscriptions.

“Later,” she ground out. Sam frowned, his brow creasing with worry, so she forced a brittle smile. “I want to see his study and all his notes first. That’ll tell me the most about what he tried to do.”

“Of course. I also want you to sit down and explain how all this works. Frankly, I’m intrigued and confused at the same time. Speaking of which, Jaid, let me introduce you to Dr. Madelyn St. James.”

Slowly, Jaid turned back to the Spanish Colonial house. Smiling with welcome like a grande dame of Hollywood, an attractive forty-something woman swept forward and drew Jaid into a hug. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Jaid. Charlie has told me so much about you that I feel like I know you already.”

Stiffly, Jaid straightened and hoped she didn’t look as flummoxed as she felt. He’d never said one word to her about this woman, but then again, he’d rarely spoken to her. E-mail was good enough, especially when he had more scans of etchings or digital photos to send.

Fighting tears, Jaid tried to think of something to say. She couldn’t lie and say she knew all about Madelyn.

Madelyn closed her eyes, a tremor shaking her shoulders. “I’m so sorry it took something dreadful like this to bring you to us.”

Jaid wasn’t a child anymore who needed her daddy, but his abandonment did hurt, terribly. These people knew him better than she ever would. Looking into the other woman’s eyes, she realized that Madelyn saw and understood that pain. Jaid burst into tears and the two women hung on to each other as though they’d known each other for years.

CHAPTER SIX

Dr. Charles Merritt might have kept secrets from his closest friends, but his private study was as familiar to Jaid as her own. In that respect, father and daughter were very much alike, and he’d taken great pains to familiarize her with his methods over the years. She knew exactly how his mind worked, as well as his system of filing and documentation. Within an hour, she was ready to fill in the other two archaeologists.

She wasn’t prepared for a stranger to join them. Sam introduced Dr. Efraín Reyes as a sponsor of the Museo Popol Vuh in Guatemala City. Wiry with fierce, dark eyes and steely gray temples, he didn’t look comfortable in the tailored suit. His shoulders were tense and he moved as stiffly as a knight in full armor.

“At last, the famous Dr. Merritt!” Dr. Reyes gave her an equally stiff smile while shaking her hand enthusiastically. “Your father has spoken of your skills at great length. I look forward to hearing more about this mysterious find.”

She shot Sam a hard look. She already felt as though she’d betrayed her father’s trust by telling his research partner his secrets; how could she tell a complete stranger the details? Let alone when there was so much she didn’t understand. “Thank you, Dr. Reyes. Did you know my father well?”

“Alas, no, and please, no formalities, not between partners. Please call me Efraín.” He gave her another tight, small smile that barely moved his mouth at all, although his eyes crinkled deeply. “Your father is a very…dedicated…man. He only rarely leaves his research. Will he join us this night?”

Sam blinked and stuttered. “I’m afraid not, Dr. Reyes. We actually…er…don’t know where Charlie has gone. Not exactly.” Pinned by the smaller man’s dark eyes, Sam implored for her assistance with a panicked look.

“My father would never leave the site voluntarily.” Efraín turned those piercing eyes on her, and she barely veiled the emotions roiling in her: disgust, that this man suspected her father of petty stealing; irony, that her father had indeed stolen something, but not for profit; and worse, bone-crushing grief for all those years she’d ached for him to tear himself away from his research to be with her, and only his disappearance had brought her to his dig. “I’m hoping to shed some light on his research that will help us understand his disappearance.”

Efraín stared at her with narrowed eyes, and she tensed, waiting for him to shout for those heavily-armed soldiers to rush inside and drag her to prison until she told him everything. He surprised her, though, with a slight incline of his head, his manner thawing. “I would be honored to assist in whatever manner I may. I look forward to hearing of your father’s research.”

On the worktable, Dr. Charles Merritt had constructed a complex diagram. Two saw-toothed wheels, one larger than the other, lay on the table interlocked.

Automatically, she slipped into lecture mode, even though her “students” were old enough to be her parents. “How familiar are you with the Maya calendars?”

Madelyn had composed herself, although her eyes were still puffy. “We know the basics. I’ve watched Charlie mess around with this thing and never really got what he was doing.”

Sam merely shrugged, while Efraín’s eyes glittered with what she hoped was excitement and not malice. Again, she wished she could read people better. Did her father trust this man? How many of his secrets did she dare expose? Yet if she kept back too much, he could die.

I may never see him again. Swallowing back another wave of tears, she flipped on the projector and brought up the digital photographs she’d taken of the codex.

They didn’t do the gorgeous hand-written pages justice. If she closed her eyes, she could see the glorious colors, the heavy yet elegant sweeping strokes of each glyph imprinted on her memory. With the pages locked firmly in her memory, she didn’t need to see the codex to make her translations, but she was fascinated by it and its author, surely a man, a very powerful mystical man.

“This codex was found in the main temple’s floor beneath a small panel very similar to one Dad had found in Chich’en Itza thirty-some years ago. At first, he thought this was some kind of Maya Book of the Dead, but after I translated the cover, we called it the Bloodgate Codex.”

Efraín made a small noise, barely more than a puff of air sighing beneath his breath. She glanced at him questioningly, but his attention was riveted on the screen. His fingers were curled tightly, fists braced on his thighs. Did his palms itch to touch the fragile, ancient pages and trace the inked glyphs with loving care? Or did he long to whisk the precious book away from careless Americans where it would be safe in his museum?

Uneasy, she continued with a careful eye on him to judge his reactions. “I’m sure you know the end-of-the-age predictions made in the Dresden Codex, and the arguments over the years about which date the long count should start at. I’m not going to get into the GMT correlations or the various arguments, because, quite frankly, they’re all wrong, and it doesn’t matter anyway.”

A genuine smile flickered across Efraín’s face, lighting up his eyes and softening his hard mouth. It was quickly gone, but she’d seen it. That bit of warmth eased the knots gnawing away at her stomach.

“Wrong?” Sam frowned. “But Charlie always said the baktun was ending soon. That’s why he was so obsessed—he wanted to find the truth before the drop-dead date.”

“But we have no idea of the exact date,” Jaid said with a nod. “It could end today for all we know. Regardless, the world will not end. Look at the calendar rounds and you see immediately that the Maya believed that while ages come and go, everything is cyclical. A new age may indeed begin at the end of this baktun, but that mystical date has absolutely nothing to do with our findings.”

Bewildered, Madelyn stared at the calendar rounds. “Then why did Charlie care?”

“The Great Cycle will indeed end, soon, but the Maya could count and mark days well past that date. Their priests knew a terrible time was coming, foretold by the position of the stars, and many of them made a decision to bypass a very grim time in our history.”

Jaid hesitated, struggling to find the words. This is the part she’d never fully believed, no matter what the codex—or her father—said. “Dad believes that the end of the Great Cycle marks a time when the Maya will…return.”

“Return?” Sam looked as stunned as Madelyn. “From where?”

Even Efraín was pale, his dark gaze riveted on Jaid’s face. Did he believe too? But why would he? Everyone thought her father obsessed to the point that his career had suffered as a result.

“Which is the crux of the problem,” she whispered. If Dr. Reyes was a Popol Vuh expert, then perhaps she should test him with some quotes. “‘We are going to the east, where our fathers came from. We are not dying…’”

He met her challenging gaze, his mouth quirking as though he knew very well what she was doing. “‘We are coming back.’”

“That passage refers to Tulan Zuyua, right?” Sam leaned forward, kneading the hat on his lap. “Seven Caves, Seven Canyons is the name of the citadel where they received their patron gods.”

“Yes. People have questioned where Tulan Zuyua was for centuries. There are references to water and across the sea. Some people believe the original Maya truly did live in a lost city across the ocean, perhaps an island that later disappeared. Others place Tulan Zuyua on the shores of the Yucatan.”

“There are as many possibilities as the stars,” Efraín whispered, his eyes flashing in challenge.

“Indeed.” Jaid smiled back, relishing the opportunity to spar words with him. “The Maya timed their calendars to the stars. The World Tree, the Great Ceiba, was the Milky Way, connecting earth and sky. Once set, the Sun, then called Jaguar Night Sun, travels through Xibalba, paddling on a canoe that passes through the Milky Way until he rises again in the east. The hearthstones are Orion’s Belt in the sky. The Maya believed they were from the stars, not from some island in the sea. Water was a metaphor for space.”

Efraín’s gaze shuttered, his shoulders and mouth tight. He gave a little shake of his head. To discourage her from admitting the truth, or did he thoroughly doubt her sanity?

“So you’re telling me the Maya were aliens.” Mouth downturned,, Madelyn didn’t look amused at all. “We’ve heard those theories about the Egyptians too. I don’t buy it.”

“Not aliens, not exactly, although the idea certainly made for a great movie and a few good television shows.” Jaid mentally groped around for the right words. If she didn’t believe her father completely, then how could she possibly make a convincing argument? Why even bother? But he might have been right enough to open a portal in Lake Atitlan. “Remember that Seven Caves, Seven Canyons also refers to the passage to Xibalba. Have you seen the Candelaria Caves in the Chisic region?”

“I know where you’re going with this.” Sam leaned forward until he was barely on his seat. “There are also man-made caves beneath Teotihuacan’s Pyramid of the Sun.”

“And natural caves in this region. Look at the church in Santiago Atitlan. That was one of our first clues. They still do a rebirth ritual, modified to incorporate Christian elements, but the idea of the watery cave leading to the Underworld is central to the Maya religion. The other key to the puzzle is Chich’en Itza.”

“The Sacred Cenote,” Madelyn said slowly. Jaid could almost see the wheels turning in the older woman’s head. “They believed it was a portal to the afterlife.”

Jaid nodded, jumping on the word. “You didn’t say Xibalba, or the Underworld, but the afterlife. The watery caves connected people with their ancestors, even those who’d successfully traversed the Place of Fright and now lived in the Milky Way at the heavenly hearthstone in the sky. The watery caves or cenotes were portals out of this world and time.”

“Portals to where?” Sam fell back in his chair, eyes wide and hands trembling. “Where did Charlie go?”

“Ah, now that is the question exactly. Dad thinks that at some point in the Classic period—perhaps even earlier, or multiple times—groups of Maya left this world. They foresaw the coming of the Spaniards, disease, the corruption of their beliefs, and they chose to leave this world for a new one.”

Efraín quoted from the Popol Vuh again in the stunned silence. “‘We are not dying, we are coming back.’”

“It’s part of the legend in Chisic that the Maya simply went into the caves,” Madelyn added, her voice rising with excitement. “And in the Yucatan, they still believe that Kukulkan is coming back.”

Jaid shared a smile with them. She loved talking with people who got this stuff, who felt the same thrill of possibilities. She’d never felt closer to her father than when they talked about Maya mythology. “Absolutely! The end of the Great Cycle isn’t an end of the world harbinger of evil, but the Return of the Maya to our world. Supposedly, Kukulkan will indeed return, along with all the Maya who followed him.”

Deep in thought, Madelyn drummed her fingers on the table. “Are you saying the gods will return, or the people who left? Their descendants?”

“Dad thinks the gods were merely the first early people who were then deified. They’ve been living somewhere in a dimension that can only be reached through their portals and isn’t touched by time. This theory is built upon many different Maya customs and beliefs, not just one region or one tribe. It’s not even just the Maya, but all of Mesoamerica. The Aztecs had many of the same beliefs and shared many of the same gods with different names. We’ve accumulated pieces from Chich’en Itza, Santiago Atitlan, Tikal, Palenque, from Guatemala to Mexico City to the Yucatan. Only by looking at all the pieces, combined with this one crucial codex, can we begin to put all the pieces together.”

Sam had his hat twisted in his hands again and jumped up to pace back and forth. “Do you think the pieces were deliberately split up at the different sites and periods?”

“Oh, definitely. This is powerful magic. The Maya didn’t want just anybody learning the secret of these portals, because then their refuge, their original home world, would be at risk.”

Slowing his frantic pacing, Sam turned to face her. “So what exactly do you think Charlie tried to do?”

She remembered the howling winds, a fierce inland storm that had blown up from nowhere and disappeared as mysteriously. “He opened the portal in Lake Atitlan.”

At the mention of his name, Madelyn looked watery-eyed again. “How did you know it was a portal?”

If she started to cry again, Jaid would too, so she quickly turned away and scanned the titles on the shelf until she found The Annals of the Kaqchikels. “From legends recorded around the time when the Kaqchikels first came to the lake. That was one of our first ties from this codex to what we already knew, an important authentication. When they came to Lake Atitlan, their king, Fire Mountain, threw himself into the lake and transformed into the Queztel Serpent. The lake became dark and a whirlpool formed. The original tribe, the Tz’utijils, was so impressed with his magic that they gave the other tribe the north side of the lake.”

“You think he passed through the portal and returned as a god.” Efraín’s voice was so flat she couldn’t tell if he was questioning or mocking her. Nothing in his face betrayed his thoughts. Between Sam’s frantic pacing and Madelyn’s volatile emotion, he remained calm and still. Was he a threat, a challenge, or an ally?

Jaid ground her teeth with mute frustration. Her father would have explained it better, surely. None of them would question his expertise. His passionate belief in his theory was undeniable. “We don’t know exactly what happened. Perhaps he went through the portal and another man returned, a Maya ‘god’ dressed in the way of high royalty. Or perhaps Fire Mountain himself returned. We have no understanding of how time might have passed on the other side of the portal or even where, exactly, it leads. And that’s what worries me.”

She stared down at the complex Maya calendar rounds and her stomach gave a queasy roll. “I translated the basic mechanics of the rounds, and how we should manipulate the positions to control the location, but I haven’t finished the entire translation. Several parts seemed…”

Sheepishly, she tried to shrug away her unease, but she couldn’t. Her gut instinct told her something had gone terribly wrong. “I didn’t feel like we had the entire picture yet. The language of Zuyua is famous for being twisted with double meanings and tricks. I wanted to know the codex inside and out, along with all the inscriptions on the walls of the temple before attempting anything as drastic as opening the portal ourselves.”

“Where could the portal lead to?” Madelyn wrung her hands. “If he ended up in Tulan Zuyua as he hoped, great. But how will he get back? Where else could he have gone?”

Staring down at the glyphs on the rounds, Jaid felt an icy trickle of dread down her spine. “He could have ended up anywhere. In fact, I suspect any time might be an option, too. He might be in any of the major Maya cities, perhaps in the past when they were at their height or before the collapse. Who knows? He could have even…” She swallowed hard and raised her gaze to Sam’s. She hadn’t told him about the recording, let alone the corpse-like creature she and Geoffrey had seen. Was that thing something dead that had crawled out of the portal by accident? Some sort of guardian? Or something more sinister? Her father’s warning echoed in her head. Don’t trust anybody. “He could have gone to Xibalba.”

Sam’s hands trembled so badly he dropped his hat. “The caves and portals lead through the Underworld.”

Jaid nodded jerkily. “The Maya knew how to use the portal to bypass the Place of Fright. But what if he didn’t? What if he’s in the Maya hell even as we speak?” Staring at the glyphs through a sheen of tears, she fought not to break down again. “I translated the glyphs, yes, but I never actually thought about them, if that makes sense. I took each page apart piece by piece, but I never read the book as a whole, not like Dad would have been doing as I translated.”

Her stomach felt like a cold pit of lead. “Wherever he is, I have no idea how to bring him out again.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Do you need anything else?” Sam asked.

Jaid tucked her father’s carefully detailed leather journal into her carryall and shook her head. “Just some time. I don’t expect that he left any clues in his journal, but I’ll scan it quickly tonight and then start going through his notes. He would have been careful in his documentation, even if he was suspicious or paranoid. We’ll figure out what he was trying to do and how, I’m sure.”

Drawn and pale, Madelyn gripped her shoulders and forced a smile. “If you need anything, please let me know. I’ll be happy to help you track down any of Charlie’s documentation. I know his filing and shorthand system he used for notes.”

Nodding, Jaid bit back a bitter comment. She might not know about her father’s relationship or exactly what he’d attempted, but she knew his techniques better than anyone. She didn’t need help translating his cryptic comments or notes. She could read his unique shorthand as easily as a Maya glyph.

Madelyn left while Sam gave her directions to her private cabana. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you?”

“No thanks.” Jaid forced a small smile so he wouldn’t be insulted. “Some alone time to think everything through will be best for me right now.”

Sam jammed his hat on his head, lingering as though he hated to leave her alone for even a moment. “I do have an early appointment tomorrow morning with the Antigua officials.”

Was he afraid she’d bail and run back home? Not while her father needed her so badly.

Well, her private library and research materials sounded heavenly right now, not to mention her own bed. At least the compound’s main building was air-conditioned, so she barely had to pretend to forget she was in Guatemala.

“Go,” she urged. “I’ll be wrapped up in Dad’s notes for most of the day tomorrow.”

He reached toward her, his eyes warm, his forehead creased with his concern, but at the last moment he dropped his hand. “You won’t try to explore the ruins without me?”

This time, she was thankful for the vicious cramp in her knee that nearly made her fall back into the chair behind her. The pain distracted her from the uncomfortable tension that hovered between them. Why couldn’t he forget her mistake? It’d almost been a year since she’d embarrassed herself by drinking a little too much wine and planting a sloppy kiss on his mouth instead of a more dutiful peck on his cheek. He’d made it crystal clear that he saw her as a daughter and nothing more, but the deep relationship they’d once shared felt brittle and stretched thin. He rarely even hugged her now, and she missed his dependable comfort.

Maybe that’s what she’d gone seeking in Geoffrey. They’d always been more friendly than passionate.

When you get back to the States, call Dr. Phil. Otherwise, quit psychoanalyzing yourself, she ordered sternly. Forcing lightness to her tone, she said, “I don’t plan to. Seriously, Sam, just trying to figure out what Dad was up to will take at least a full day. Do whatever you need to do to ensure our goodwill and I’ll face the ruin itself later.”

“Ask anyone if you need something.” Sam headed for the door. “Dr. Reyes is on site, as well as Madelyn, and they have full authority to get you access to anything you need.”

Yes, but who was Dad trying to warn me about? Them, or you, Sam?

Efraín silently watched her shuffling through her father’s papers until her bag bulged at the seams. With an awkward smile, she walked with him down the hallway and outside.

The night air was rich and verdant but not heavy with the humidity that she’d dreaded. It wasn’t any warmer than a pleasant spring night in Texas, yet Jaid felt indescribably different. The night was loud with the buzz of insects, but here it sounded like music instead of the edge of madness. Maybe it was the wide open sky that kept her panic at bay. The sight of stars instead of thick, soaring vegetation promised freedom instead of endless miles of impenetrable jungle.

Cocking his head slightly, Efraín paused to enjoy the view of Lake Atitlan shimmering beneath the night sky. “Have you heard the legends of this particular site yet?”

“No, but I’d love to.”

“Many generations ago when the Maya were still powerful and as numerous as the stars, twin brothers lived here as king and priest to the Tz’utijils on Lake Atitlan. Their city was powerful and all tribes respected them. Their magic was fearful indeed, their king wise, their temples tall like the volcanoes, until all people believed their city truly was the navel of the world.”

Efraín was a natural storyteller; his smooth voice was rich with inflection and emotion until she could almost see the once great city.

“The priest was said to speak often to the gods and could transform into a jaguar.”

Every muscle in her body tightened, but she tried not to betray her alertness. Was he trying to threaten her? Or confirm the thing she’d seen on the digital recording?

“Despite their power, though, these brothers were cursed. There are as many rumors as stars in the sky, but all agree that they used magic in a way that was forbidden. As a result, their grand city was wiped from the face of the earth by the gods’ fury. The people whisper that if this terrifying magic is ever discovered once more that the entire world will be destroyed.”

He turned his head toward her and she sucked in a sharp breath at the intensity in his dark eyes as he whispered, “I saw a jaguar on the grounds last night.”

She swallowed hard but didn’t look away. She tried to imagine him shirtless, his face shadowed, and a jaguar crawling out of his body, but she couldn’t. He was shorter than the man she’d seen in the digital recording and not nearly as muscular. Dr. Reyes was a scholar, not a Maya warrior.

Her thoughts raced so fast her face and eyes felt too hot, her skin tight across her cheekbones. Stories and fables collided with the recording of her father’s ritual. If she hadn’t seen the Maya warrior transform into a jaguar with her own eyes, she’d never believe such a thing possible. As crazy as it sounded, she was pretty sure she’d seen Efraín’s cursed priest.

How much did Reyes know? She didn’t dare ask him outright. He’d either have her committed for thinking that a legend had come back to life after a thousand years, or worse, he might actually believe her. If he thought he could steal that magic for himself, he’d silence her before she could find her father. For all she knew, Efraín could have had a hand in his disappearance.

“Nice fairytale, Dr. Reyes, but I grew up on stories of the Lords of Xibalba. If you really want to scare me, threaten me with a treatise claiming that Atlantis is the original Tulan Zuyua.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Do be careful, Dr. Merritt. We can’t afford to lose you, too.”

He inclined his head politely and took the left-hand path in the opposite direction. Shaking her head, Jaid scrubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. She felt the lump of her BlackBerry phone and groaned. She still hadn’t texted Callie. If Jaid knew her best friend, she’d have the Marines looking for her within the hour if she didn’t check in.

She took out the phone and quickly sent a brief message.

Guat strange but ok. Dad still gone. Met his gf.

She smiled. That last bit would have Callie screaming with glee and pacing frantically until she got all the juicy details.

Jaid slipped the phone back into her pocket and took the right-hand path toward her cabana. The carryall was heavy with her laptop, books, and her father’s notes. Her eyes were gritty, and her nerves jangled and shrilled, painfully on edge.

She’d get a few hours of sleep and then compile both sets of notes into something more manageable. Right now, nothing sounded better than a long hot bath and—

Her scalp tingled and burned down the nape of her neck as though she’d fallen into a fire ant nest. Slowing her pace, she glanced about warily. The white crushed-stone path gleamed, surrounded by well-lit gardens and perfect lawns that would do a golf course proud. No one approached, and a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed no one had followed her from the compound.

Yet the feeling of unease worsened, like boulders being stacked on her chest until it was difficult to breathe. Goose bumps raced down her arms. Shivering, she quickened her step to the hut, wincing at the strain in her knee.

A large dark shadow moved beneath the palm trees lining the ten-foot tall fence. Low to the ground, the shape inched closer, slinking just outside the glowing nimbus lighting the path.

Jaid stumbled to a halt and her heartbeat ramped into high gear. She knew the shadow was a combination of jetlag and long hours of strain and worry, but her body insisted on flight. Muscles aching with the need to run, she was afraid to look away for fear it would either disappear or attack. How far to her cabana? If she could get inside and call for help…against what? A shadow?

Clutching the leather strap of her bag so tightly her hand cramped, she lifted her chin and strode confidently down the path. She kept her gaze straight ahead, but watched out of the corner of her eye. Something was definitely there. Her pulse skittered with panic, but she forced her legs to keep a calm, deliberate pace.

I saw a jaguar on the grounds last night.

Only an animal, or a cursed priest who could shapeshift into a jaguar? Had it killed her father? Or had he managed to make it to the lake, only to drown in the bottomless waters?

Involuntarily, her gaze strayed back to stare fully at the shadow.

Golden eyes caught the light, gleaming eerily in the murk.

Crouched to spring, the jaguar was massive, much larger than any puma she’d ever seen in a zoo. A low, rumbling growl made her heart stutter and then leap into a frantic loud beat that thundered in her ears. The sounds in the recording had utterly failed to capture the very real threat rattling in the beast’s throat.

Instinct screamed at her to run.

She knew she’d never make it, but she tore her gaze away from the beast and ran for her hut. Skin tight and braced for rending claws, she didn’t register that a man stood in front of her until she ran into him.

“Thank God!” Raggedly, she hauled in air and glanced behind her. The jaguar had indeed followed, but now it crouched again, ears tight to its head, vicious teeth bared in a snarl. “Call for security!”

Ignoring the angry jaguar, the man grabbed the strap of her bag and yanked so hard she stumbled. Her shoulder felt jerked out of its socket. She hugged the bag tighter to her and jerked her attention to his face.

A large black circle had been tattooed on his forehead, marked as the rising sun. His ears and nose were heavily pierced with bits of bone and jade.

Geoffrey’s murderer.

With a hoarse yell, she swung her fist at his head, letting her body turn with the punch to protect the bag clutched against her chest. How had he followed her from Texas? The man wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

He raised the vicious black knife that had killed her boyfriend. Her blood froze in her veins, numbing her fingers. A strangled cry choked in her throat.

The jaguar screamed, deathly shrill like jagged glass slicing her eardrums. The murderer let go of her and laughed. Eyes wild, he shouted something she couldn’t understand, and then grabbed her throat, trying to use her as a shield. Or maybe a bargaining chip? Why would a jaguar care, especially if it had succeeded in slaughtering her father?

In a single bound, the big cat closed a dozen paces to land silently just inches away. She could smell its sharp, feral scent and feel the moist heat of its breath on her bare arms. The black rosettes on its fur were visible even in the night, its golden eyes huge and glowing like twin suns, fangs glistening like white knives.

She slammed her elbow up and back into the man’s ribs as hard as she could, tore free of his punishing grip, and staggered toward her hut. Which would she feel first, the rending claws or the knife?

Stumbling inside, Jaid locked the door and then crouched before the window to watch the battle play out.

A jaguar against a man without a high-powered rifle shouldn’t have been much of a contest. Yet the man was fearless and maintained a steady barrage of harsh words. Despite the language barrier, there was no mistaking the furious twist to his mouth or the venom in his voice. The jaguar lunged for his throat and tried to eviscerate him with those gleaming claws, but the man was just as deadly with his knife.

Jaid swallowed the bile down and forced herself to watch. Automatically, she began cataloguing details: the foot-long blade, the sound of it ringing on the jaguar’s teeth when the big cat tried to yank it from the man’s hand, the gleam of light along its length.

That knife was stone, not metal. From its color and refraction, it must have been obsidian.

No jaguar in captivity or a Hollywood construct had ever reached the size and majesty of this beast. The jaguar reared up on its hind legs and it was just as tall as the man. It swiped at the man’s head with a plate-sized paw, and he took the opening to slice the knife across the jaguar’s belly.

With a choking growl, the big cat fell, tried to get up, and collapsed.

The man jerked around, searching for her. Jaid ducked down, praying someone would come and chase him off. He’d downed a massive jaguar. What hope did she have against him? Surely with all the growls and yells, someone must have heard. The jaguar’s screams had rattled the windows. Why hadn’t Sam’s tight security come to investigate?

Gripping that vicious, bloody knife in his hand, the man strode toward the hut.

Frantic, she glanced about the small cottage, looking for a weapon or a place to hide. In the darkness, she made out vague furniture shapes. A small kitchen. Maybe she could find a knife?

Shallow and rapid, her breath sobbed out, her mind racing in helpless circles. She stifled a desperate cry. What hope did she have against a murderer obviously skilled with a blade, when she nicked her finger trying to cut a steak? Peeking out the window, her heart plummeted. He was less than ten feet away. She shoved the carryall under the nearest shadowed furniture, probably a loveseat.

She risked another peek and stared. Hope made her chest ache.

The jaguar rose up behind the man like a silent shadow. It leaped on his back. They tumbled and roared, slashing at each other, one with all four paws and the other plunging the knife over and over into his opponent’s side. The man flipped the snarling jaguar over his head. Twisting in midair, the big cat crashed into a tree, slid to the ground, and lay still.

The man slowly turned, his flat eyes as dead as the jaguar. He stared right at her and his lips curled in a grim smile.

Throat burning with acid, she swallowed hard and clutched the windowsill so tightly her fingers cramped.

Finally, one of the guards trotted up the path from the main compound with a rifle in his hand. “Take another step and I’ll blow your head off!”

The intruder pointed the knife at her with that cruel smile still curving his lips. Then he whirled and raced for the fence with the guard on his heels.

Heart pounding, Jaid rested her head against the glass and just breathed. Whew, that was close. If the jaguar hadn’t popped back up—

She jerked her head up and studied the shadows beneath the tree where the jaguar had collapsed. It had stalked her tonight—until the other man attacked. Had it protected her? Would it kill her now? If it were a normal beast, it was surely dead. If it had been the same man who she’d seen transform in the recording—the legendary shapeshifting priest—then he might be the only person who knew what had happened to her father.

She watched the jaguar for several long moments, and it never moved. Leaving the bag in its hiding place, she crept out of the hut and edged closer. Straining her eyes, she tried to tell if it was still breathing. As she neared, the wild musk and metallic tang of blood filled her nose.

A firefly sparked over the animal. More twinkles hovered and swarmed, lighting its furred sides, the rips in its skin, the dark spots of blood on the leaves and ground. The lights engulfed the animal in liquid gold, flashing in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

The jaguar moved.

She jerked a step back, but it didn’t roar to life and attack. Actually, it didn’t move, not exactly. It was changing shape. Before her stunned gaze, the front paws melted into hands. Sleek black fur burned away.

The digital recording had only hinted at the incredibly bizarre and wondrous transformation. Without her father’s evidence, she might have convinced herself that she was suffering from shock, that the transformation of a jaguar into a man was simply…

The man groaned.

He was big, as large as the jaguar had been. Sooty spots still dotted his face, arms and chest, along with tattoos in swirling complicated circles down his neck and shoulders. His naked chest and flanks were wounded. His abdomen was torn open, his arms slashed. Yet he groaned again.

Voices carried on the night air. More guards were coming. The wounded man still lay on the ground, bleeding, yet now his chest rose steadily. What would the guards do to him?

She knelt beside him. “Can you understand me?”

Moaning in pain, he turned his head. His eyes flashed golden like the jaguar’s. He pushed upright, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Get me out of here before the guards come back.”

“How do I know you’re not going to hurt me?”

“I can tell you about the Gate.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I’m the Gatekeeper.” The man sighed. “I know everything.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Staggering beneath the big man’s weight, Jaid helped him into her hut, muttering beneath her breath all the while. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Grading wasn’t that bad, not really. I love teaching. It sure beats bloody werejaguars, obsidian blades, and ancient Maya warriors on which real guns don’t seem to work. If you try to hurt me, I’ll beat you over the head with a book and scream until the guard shoots you and drags your carcass away.”

The man slid to the floor on a low painful hiss but his voice was amused. “If you knew anything about these ‘guards,’ you would know you could definitely trust me more than them. I won’t hurt you, lady.”

“You were a jaguar.” She’d seen it with her own eyes, not once but twice, but she couldn’t help the questioning tone to her voice.

“Yes.”

“You were going to hurt me until that other man grabbed me.”

“No.” The man’s face locked down, his lips compressed and tight. “I was going to kill you.”

“Then how can I trust you now?” Involuntarily, she tensed for flight. She could hear the guards’ heavy boots treading up the path. One call, one word, and they’d rush in here and dispose of this threat. “Did you kill my father?”

He didn’t move, but his face was colder despite his golden eyes, as hard as chiseled granite. “No, but you both tamper with something you cannot possibly understand.”

“Where is he?”

The guard called, “Dr. Merritt? Are you okay?”

She’d expected an accent, but not an unmistakable southern drawl. Exactly who did these guards work for? Putting on her best hardass teacher face, she leaned down and locked her gaze with the jaguar-man’s. It was hard to be intimidating when she had to whisper so the guards didn’t hear. “Where’s my father? What happened to him?”

“He opened the Gate,” the man replied flatly, meeting her gaze without any hesitation. “You know where he went.”

“First Five Sky.”

The man’s eyes flared and he released a small sound rather like a snort. “He opened the Gate to Xibalba.”

Her mouth fell open, her thoughts wiped blank. She’d suspected as much, but the reality was terrifying. That white walking corpse. Dear God above, what had he done?

“Dr. Merritt!”

She poked the man in the chest hard enough he winced. Damn it, she’d forgotten how badly hurt he was. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Whirling around, she cracked the door like she was scared witless. “Did you catch him?”

“We chased an intruder over the fence.” Dressed in camo pants and a black T-shirt, the guard was bald and heavily tattooed. He looked like he belonged in prison. “Did you get a good look at him?”

“It was the same man who killed Dr. Geoffrey Malcolm in the States. I ran in here and locked the door. Thankfully, he took off as soon as he heard you coming. How’d he get inside?”

The guard shrugged and turned back to the main house. “I’ll report the intruder to Dr. Gerard. He may have questions for you in the morning.”

Yeah, and she’d have a dozen for Sam. With all this security, someone should have noticed an intruder and a jaguar slinking around the perimeter. Hadn’t she screamed? The jaguar had surely roared loudly enough to awaken the dead. And what about security cameras?

Jaid went back inside, locked the door, and watched the guard. He paused in a circle of light and waited beneath the lamppost, watching her hut. She turned around, half expecting to see the strange man lying dead in a puddle of blood, but he was gone.

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 his 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.”

“Charlie thinks in Maya numbers.” Sam carefully unfolded the next panel. This one was row upon row of glyphs, mostly faces, figures, and place names, the ones she’d spent the most time on at her father’s insistence. “How on earth do you make sense of these?”

“That’s the challenge. Some of them have different meanings, depending on what they’re grouped with. This symbol by itself might mean kin, day. But combine it with this,” she pointed to Ah-Kin, “and it becomes Lord of the Sun, another name for either Itzamna or Kukulkan, the Great Feathered Serpent god.”

“So is this the pantheon?”

“Not exactly. These are place names, many of which did include the patron god of the city. Dad and I believe these correspond to the larger round on the altar and in the temple floor.”

“What are they for?”

“We’re not sure.” She weighed alternatives. Her father had warned her against Venus Star, and so had the jaguar priest. Sam had brought them onto the dig, but how could she not trust him? He’d practically raised her, while her real father had abandoned her. No one knew her better than Sam.

According to the man in her hut, her father was trapped in Xibalba and another man who looked remarkably like an ancient Maya warrior was killing people very close to her. She needed help, and Sam was her best shot, no matter what her father had warned. “I believe this is a location element of the magic. Turn the dial to the city name and open the Gate there. If you pass through this Gate, you end up in the specified city.”

“This is Chich’en Itza,” Sam said excitedly, his blue eyes gleaming with boyish charm.

Although he looked nothing like Geoffrey, he possessed that same easy manner. It would be easy to convince herself that the warmth glowing in Sam’s eyes could be more than fatherly affection. But Geoffrey was gone, Sam was her father’s best friend, and she was alone, again, as always. She had to swallow to ease the ache in her throat.

“So the Sacred Cenote is a Gate, right?”

She nodded. “That’s what we’re guessing. Although many cities are listed that we can’t identify. Many others have no cenote or body of water known at the location. Most of the cities didn’t even co-exist at the same time. El Mirador was abandoned hundreds of years before Tikal or Chich’en Itza, yet all three cities are listed in the codex. None of the glyphs in this column even look familiar. If they’re Gates, where do these go? We have no idea.”

“Now Charlie’s gone,” Sam whispered. “Do you really think he went through a Gate?”

“I don’t know.” She blinked back tears. If the man in her hut was right, Dr. Charles Merritt was worse than dead. “This isn’t something we can blindly experiment with. I still can’t believe he tried to perform the ritual before I finished the translation.”

Sam straightened, his eyes flashing with determination. “You work on the translation tomorrow. As soon as I get back, I’ll take you to the ruin and we’ll put the pieces together.”

“I was attacked on the way to my hut.”

Sam whirled around, his eyes flashing with fury. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” This time. The thought made her stomach drop to a location near her knees and her palms sweat. “It was the same man who killed Geoffrey, and there was a jaguar too. Two intruders, Sam, that shouldn’t be anywhere near this compound if it’s as secure as you say.”

“Make sure a guard escorts you back and forth. I’ll ask Thorne to keep a close watch on you tomorrow.”

The thought of having a stranger tag along with her while she suffered the biggest panic attack of her life didn’t sound appealing at all, but she’d definitely take a muscled goon with a gun on the walk back to her cabana in the dark. “How many guards patrol the fences? Do you have any cameras? Surely they would have caught something.”

“We have the main building and the entry points to the compound highly secure, but we’re remote enough and relatively unknown that we thought this would be secure enough. Ask anyone in Santiago Atitlan what’s up here, and they’ll say tourists. That’s exactly what we want. We don’t want any other research group poking around.”

“Could one of Dad’s competitors have hired him to shut this dig down?”

Sam blew out a big breath and jammed his hat back on his head. “Hell if I know. Venus Star hired some of the best private security around. With Charlie gone, your friend dead, and now the same man around here…I don’t like it, Jaid.” He lowered his voice, glancing about as though he feared someone might overhear him. “Quite frankly, they’d love to steal Charlie’s research right out from beneath him. He’s been obsessed and paranoid lately, and rightly so. Stay close, keep your eyes open, and whatever happens, don’t let anyone near the codex until I’m back tomorrow.”

So far, Sam’s advice made perfect sense, and his worry and doubts confirmed her father’s suspicions. Some of the tangled knots eased in her stomach. “Where are you putting it?”

Reverently, he folded the fragile pages back together and together they set it in a waterproof storage container. Bending down, he pressed his thumb to a control panel on the front of the lectern, and a safe popped open. “Only you, Charlie, and I have access to this safe, and only Madelyn and Efraín have access to enter this room. It should be safe enough here.”

Absently rubbing her knee, she watched him lay the precious book inside and lock the safe. Too bad she couldn’t climb in there and hide from all this craziness. Jaguars who became men. A Maya killer following her from Texas to Guatemala. A priceless codex detailing Gates to other worlds.

The warning was emblazoned in her mind, glowing red like the angry volcano.

The Place of Fright will swallow them.

Hang on, Dad.

CHAPTER TEN

“Your hut’s all clear.” The guard waved her inside, arching a brow at her continued reluctance. “As far as I can tell, nothing’s been inside since you left. Nothing’s disturbed. Your bag is still on the bed.”

No blood? No jaguar-man knocked out cold? “Thanks. I guess I’m jumpy.”

He smirked and sauntered back down the trail. “Welcome to the jungle, ma’am.”

Jerk. She might be the Un-Indiana Jones, but she knew this certainly wasn’t the jungle. Her shirt wasn’t plastered to her back, gnats weren’t crawling into her eyes, nose and mouth, and her stomach wasn’t pitching like a hurricane, which only served to irritate her more. Peeking through the windowpane, she locked the door while she watched the guard head back to his spot at the lamppost. If anything—or anyone—attacked, then at least he’d be close, right? So why didn’t she trust him?

She turned around and slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking. Golden eyes blazed in the shadowed corner, slowly moving away from the wall until Ruin stood in the center of the room. At least this time he was clothed in jeans and a white T-shirt. He almost looked…normal.

Except for those huge golden eyes, the swirling tattoos down his biceps, the scars on his ears, and the sharp angles of his face.

“How did he miss you?”

He arched a brow. “You saw me transform from jaguar to man. Did you think I have no other magic?”

He made no move to threaten her, but she edged backward toward the door. Her heart had lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. “What do you want?”

“You’re not going to knock me out again, are you?”

Her mouth fell open and she tightened her fingers on the strap of her carryall. His eyes flashed, his lips pulling back in a smile that softened the formidable planes of his face to something much more human than the austere priestly mask. Her fear melted away, only to be replaced by annoyance at being patronized by yet another male. “Don’t push me—I might, Ruin. If you’re so mighty in magic, why were you knocked out cold by the helpless library geek?”

“I was caught unawares.” He bowed slightly but didn’t lower his eyes from hers. “I won’t be so foolish again. However, it’s not my wish to alarm you. We must talk. I need you to understand what’s at stake.”

“So I can help you destroy the codex? Not hardly.”

“Allow me to tell you about the Gate and what happened when your father opened it.”

Ah, he definitely said the magic words. The recording had only hinted at what might have happened to her father, and this man had been there. He might have seen that…thing. That corpse.

He backed away and sat down on the loveseat, trying very hard to appear non-threatening. “Please. I don’t want to kill you.”

Her breath rushed out in the silence, startling her. “And that’s supposed to comfort me?”

“I’ve lived for over a thousand years,” he replied, his voice quiet, his body still. He knew any sudden movement would draw a scream from her throat and thus the return of the guard. “I’ve killed many to protect the secrets of the Gate. Yet I’ve never been as reluctant to do my duty as now. I’ll answer as many of your questions as possible, lady.”

She edged closer and sat in the chair nearest the door. She didn’t fool herself into thinking she could get outside before he killed her; despite his best efforts to ease her fear, she knew he’d be on her before she could even open her mouth. However, if she wanted to know exactly what her father had tried to do, this man was her best bet.

“When your father opened the Gate, he didn’t use the proper protection spells. The Gate was fully open and unwarded, allowing three Lords of Death to escape from Xibalba.”

Something clicked in her mind so loudly that she jumped in her seat. Of course. Dear God, that white thing was a Lord of Death. A demon. He’d said it earlier, but she hadn’t registered that little tidbit. She should have recognized the thing after all the mythology she’d studied over the years.

She knew what these demons could supposedly do, but she’d never once thought they were real, so she’d never made the mental leap to identifying the creature. “Where—” her voice cracked but she continued, “—are they now?”

“One has left the area entirely. I feel him far to the north. The other two remain close.”

“Can’t you go after them?”

He arched a brow at her again, his mouth curved in wry amusement. “I’m honored that you think I could stop a Lord of Xibalba, lady, but I’m bound to remain close to the Gates. They know the boundaries imposed by my curse.”

“If we open the Gate to get my father, will more escape?”

The grim face of the doomed priest slapped back into place. “The Gate must not open again unless I can thrust all three Lords of Death back into Xibalba at the same time. I assure you, lady, that it’s an impossibility.”

She shivered at the flat tone of his voice. “My father—”

“Was a fool to tamper with magic of which he had no understanding.” The arch of his eyebrow asked whether she was as big a fool. He leaned forward, his eyes glowing brighter. “Don’t you understand? Fresh from Xibalba where they’ve been imprisoned an eternity, they were still powerful enough to kill me. I died, lady. Blood Gatherer called every drop of blood from my body.”

Her stomach clutched as tight as a fist, cold and hard and queasy. She’d heard the horrible howls and shrieks of the winds, and then the awful silence. She’d never suspected that the jaguar-man had been slaughtered, not like that.

“Meanwhile, each moment they’re free, they’re killing and gaining power with every drop of blood. I have no magic strong enough to force them back. They’ll spread rot, disease, death, and torture, from sea to sea, people to people, as quickly as possible. I can’t stop them. Yet I must if I’m to save any of our people at all.”

Her teeth ached because of her tightly clenched jaws. What if he was right? What if hundreds, thousands—God help her, millions!—of people died because of her research? Tears burned her eyes, her knee ached, and her head hammered with her heartbeat. Stifling a soft moan, she rubbed her temples, trying to ease the painfully loud thoughts clamoring in her head. Her rational mind objected to demons and Gates and werejaguars, no matter how much evidence her eyes had seen. “I didn’t know he was going to open the Gate. He’s always been obsessed with finding Tulan Zuyua because he believed…”

She raised her gaze to the priest’s face. Staring at him, she felt a sudden wash of doubt and a yawning pit loomed beneath her feet. All her life, she’d believed in her father, even if she hadn’t understood his obsession. What if he was wrong? Ridiculously wrong?

She felt like an utter fool, a scared child who insisted the monsters had merely been a bad dream. Then she could wake up in the morning to her father’s distinguished, craggy face and his scholarly smile demanding she take a look at just one more glyph…

“The Maya did leave through the Gates,” she said in a small voice. The voice of a child, broken, because she knew her father wouldn’t be there in the morning when she awoke. He’d never been there. “Right?”

“Many left, yes. But it’s not like you think. It’ll be easier if I show you.” He stood and held out his hand. “I’ll demonstrate how the controls work.”

Her hands began trembling. She started to stand, but her bad knee simply folded up, refusing to bear her weight. Cheeks burning with shame, she hunched her shoulders and rubbed her knee. Un-Indiana Jones strikes again. “I can’t. Not tonight.”

“Then we’ll go at dawn. Get some sleep and—”

“No, you don’t understand.” She swallowed hard and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the pressure screaming between her eyeballs. “I have a bit of a phobia.”

He stared at her blankly. Why was it so hard to say she was afraid?

“When I was a girl, I had an accident on a dig site. I’ve been unable to enter ruins ever since.”

He tilted his head, his eyes grave as he studied her. “You can read our writing. You know how to use the rings or you wouldn’t have discovered the secrets of the Gates. Yet you have not actually walked any of the Maya cities?”

She shook her head, braced for laughter, condemnation, and incredulity.

Instead, he nodded solemnly. “I see. That is why you made such a grave mistake.”

Pride he understood, even fear, which made it all too easy to see her as a person, a woman, and not someone he should kill to protect the Gate. He already knew too much of her to do it.

He wearied of killing, even to protect something so sacred.

She sat there proud, defiant, and so afraid. Her hands were white, clutched hard around the precious bag she carried. Her chin was up, yes, but her lips trembled, and her eyes brimmed with emotion. “I did not make a mistake.”

He squatted down before her, putting his head on a lower level to ease the strain on her neck. “What you’ve accomplished in this time is truly amazing, but you are most definitely wrong.”

Her shoulders drooped as though he’d said the world would end. Which it might, especially with demons loose. “It is my fault, then. I killed him.”

Startled, he forgot himself enough to touch her. He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her gaze up to his. Her skin was warm and alive beneath his fingers.

He’d forgotten. In all these years of trying to die, he’d forgotten how good something alive could feel. He took a shuddering breath, stunned at the sensations flooding him. The scent of her filled his nose: burn of magic, a hint of grief’s darkness, and fresh rain. “You killed no one.”

“When I make a mistake, people die.” Her eyes spoke of a lifetime of carrying a great burden. “Geoffrey died to protect me. Now my father will die too.”

“He’s not dead exactly. Rather, he wasn’t dead when he passed through the Gate. But even if he were, death is only a journey, a new beginning to a place where you will follow at your appointed time.” His words meant nothing to her; he could see that by the confusion in her eyes. “You carry guilt needlessly. Let me tell you a tale, a true tale of guilt.

“Once there were two brothers, a king and his priest. They led a great city, very powerful and beautiful, at the heart of their great civilization. The gods chose to bequeath to the priest knowledge that would be used in a time of darkness to save all people. In his pride, this priest led the other priests of the nation. They ruled with great wisdom and prophesied a magnificent future where all people would benefit from his knowledge.”

He paused a moment, letting the truth twist his mouth and darken his gaze with bitterness. “The priest threw it all away for the sake of his brother, the king. He let his people die. He broke his solemn oath. He let his city disappear beneath the gods’ wrath. He doomed countless thousands to death by disease and persecution when the Spaniards began their conquest. Yet his brother lived, and that was all that mattered to him. Now that brother hates him, the priest has been cursed, and his people are dead. What say you of such a mistake?”

Solemnly, she gazed into his face. He let her see everything: rage, self condemnation, regret and agony. “What did this brother do to cause the priest to break his oath?”

Ruin let out a harsh bark of laughter. “He loved. The brother fell in love with the wrong woman. For love, he was willing to leave his city, people, and brother. He was willing to walk the White Road to be with her. But this brother could not bear to let him go, and so broke every oath and law to bring him back from the jaws of death.”

Her hand closed around his. His eyes flew open at the sensation. He’d forgotten he still cupped her cheek. Now he felt the warm silk of her flesh above and beneath his palm.

“I’m sorry you lost your brother, but I don’t believe your actions caused the destruction of your city.”

Gently, he withdrew his hand and stood. “No? Then you must come to the temple and see for yourself.”

She blanched, recoiling from his words where she had not withdrawn from his touch. “I can’t face the ruins. Not yet. Not at night. Maybe in daylight.”

“It will be harder for you to convince the humans to allow me about during the day. That is why under cover of night would be best.”

“I’ll come up with a plan.”

Ah, she might indeed. Intrigued more than he cared to admit, he moved to a chair and sat down. “Tell me of your accident, lady. It might help to talk about it.”

She sighed heavily. “Jaid, not lady. Just Jaid.”

As you wish, Lady Jaid. Every honor and pride he’d possessed as high priest of Chi’Ch’ul had been destroyed long ago, but he could still honor this woman for her courage.

She shifted the leather strap off her shoulder. Good, she had decided to stay instead of flee. He would not care to risk a chase that would provoke the jaguar. Pulling out various papers, she frowned and bit at her lip.

He found himself entranced by her absentminded worry, the flash of her white teeth, the glimpse of her tongue. The rain-rich scent of magic hung about her. Her regret and arrogance made for a curious mixture of attraction and frustration in his heart.

Ruthlessly, he wiped such thoughts from his head. He could not be distracted from his duty. If the gods decreed her death, he would be the executioner. No matter how much she reminded him of what it meant to be alive. No matter how much she reminded him of what it felt like to be a man, only a man, breathing the warm, rich scent of a woman who wasn’t afraid of his magic.

“My father and mother met on a spring break trip to Mexico. Well, my mother was on spring break; my father was on a dig. They had a small wedding and went tramping right back into the jungles. Mom didn’t even finish college. Dad headed to work a dig in the Yucatan, I can’t remember which, and she went with him. The story goes that I was conceived on a dig, almost born on a dig, and definitely raised on a dig. When I was five, Dad had a hot lead on the true place of creation and moved us further south to Guatemala.”

“Tikal,” Ruin said flatly. It was the largest known ruin in Guatemala, and the only other well-researched place that he knew had mentioned the existence of the Mouth of Creation.

“Yes. He spent several years at Tikal, researching a small panel that no one else deemed important. From there, we went deep into the jungle to a small insignificant ruin of crumbling stone. No grand pyramids, just small temples, just a hint of what the city might have been before the Spaniards had destroyed it.”

“Iximche.”

She blinked, surprised he’d figured out the path. Oh, if she’d only known how many times he’d made the endless circuit of these ruins through the Gates, watching and guarding the secrets mostly buried beneath jungle and rock and age.

“At first, he didn’t find much at Iximche. According to the family photograph albums, we came and went several seasons. My first memory of Guatemala is that dig. I was just starting to understand my parents’ work. I loved it, actually, the stacks of rocks, the pictures etched in stone, the lovely paintings.”

Her hands shifted the papers and books aimlessly; he wasn’t sure that she actually saw or read what she sorted. Her fingers trembled and sweat beaded on her upper lip.

“I was five. It was raining yet again, so everyone had stayed in camp. It was my favorite time of the day because I knew Dad was stuck in our tent. If I was very good and asked the right questions, he would sit with me for hours, teaching me everything he knew. That day, though, he was short with me. He didn’t want to sit and explain how to count in Maya. He was frustrated, flipping through map after map and his old journals. The lines around his mouth were deep, so I knew not to bother him.

“Mom was taking a nap, so I crept outside. I didn’t mind the rain.” She looked up, her large eyes haunted. “I thought I could solve his problem. I would find something and make him happy, and he would be so proud of me. I climbed the ruins, trailing my fingers over the rocks. I could already recognize basic glyphs. I made up stories for what I found. The whole city was one great big fairytale that only I could see and read.”

She sighed tremulously, a smile shaking through the tears glimmering in her eyes. “I wandered for at least an hour, maybe longer. The rain came harder, and I got cold and hungry. I decided to find a place to hide until the worst of the showers stopped. There’s a huge ditch around Iximche.”

“I know it,” Ruin replied softly. “The barranca runs on three sides to protect it from other tribes.” Especially my own.

Nodding, she continued her story. “I found a crack in the ditch, which turned into a cavern. I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to go inside if it hadn’t been raining. It was dark, deep, and I was afraid of snakes, but the rain stung my skin and I wanted shelter. I huddled there for awhile, but I got bored. I wanted to find that great discovery for Dad. I ran my hands along the walls, tracing the carvings. Later Dad asked me why I’d kept going in the dark, and I tried to explain that the swirls and pictures had led me deeper. I had to follow.”

Although he believed her, he didn’t understand how it could be possible. The hidden temple was surrounded by powerful spells. She should have been repelled, not compelled to explore.

“In the darkness, I missed a hole and dislocated my knee. I clung to the side of the tunnel, inching my way ahead. There wasn’t any light to guide me back to the crack. Finally, I heard my mom calling above. I hobbled ahead and found a patch of light shining down on me. The rain had stopped. I called for her, and within a few minutes, she looked down at me.”

She laughed shakily, and his heart flipped over. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. Relief. Love. Her cheeks were tear streaked. She’d been worried about me. I felt horrible, but wickedly pleased, too. She’d come for me. She reached down, but I was still too far away, so she climbed inside with me. She dropped into the cavern, effortless and graceful and beautiful. I loved her so much. She hugged me, and her scent of lavender took away all my fear and guilt. Until Dad yelled down.”

Her face tightened, pale, her jaw tensed. “He was angry, yelling. Mom held me up, pushing me higher so he could grab me. He yanked me out, set me aside, and leaned back for her. That’s when the earth moved. I thought it was thunder at first, but it didn’t come from above. It was below. The ground rocked and rumbled like a beast. Dad screamed and reached deeper. I leaned over and saw her looking up at me.”

She made a low, soft cry that quivered in his stomach.

“She smiled with so much love on her face as the rocks tumbled down. Then she disappeared.” Jaid swiped at the tears, her movements jerky. “She died to save me and my father never forgot it. Ironically, that tunnel was his largest find to date and led to a new underground temple.”

He watched her pull herself back together, letting her put on her armor once more. “The Temple of Days beneath Skull Place.”

“He’d never searched so deeply until I stumbled onto it. I made the great discovery I’d hoped for him.” Slowly, she raised her gaze to his, her eyes raw with pain. “But it cost my mother’s life.”

Jaid stared at the man sitting across from her, trying to reconcile everything she’d seen, his own explanation, and her research. Her brain felt numb and swollen. Maybe her head would simply detach and float away like a balloon. “I saw you die, Xbalanque,” she stumbled a bit over his name. “You said Blood Gatherer killed you, too. Yet I know I felt your heart beating.”

“If I must call you Jaid, then you must call me Ruin.” His mouth twitched briefly with amusement at her grumbled assent, but quickly firmed into a grim slash. “My body dies, but I never die. The gods always send me back until my debt is met.”

Everything made perfect, horrible sense. The books and stories she’d read all her life, everything from the Popul Vuh to the Chilam Balam and every translated glyph she could get her hands on were not simply the fables a primitive people had made up to explain events they couldn’t explain. The codex wasn’t a fairytale to decipher.

The demons were real. People were dying.

“What do we do now?”

“If you can find a way to excuse my presence to your guards tomorrow, I’ll take you to my temple. I’ll show you why the Gate opened to Xibalba and what warnings were clearly marked in the temple and on the altar itself. Then I want you to give me the codex so I may destroy it.”

She flinched. She couldn’t help it. The Bloodgate Codex was a piece of irreplaceable art. She’d translated mysterious glyphs that had never been seen before, let alone understood. Destroying the codex would be like cutting off her arm.

“If my brother gets his hands on that codex, he’ll cause much more damage than your father did accidentally. Wrack will deliberately open a Gate to Xibalba, and if all the Lords of Death escape, all the better for his purpose.”

“Why?”

“Blood Gatherer told me that Butterfly Star still suffers in the lowest level of Xibalba. He might be lying. I hope he is. But if not, Wrack will risk anything to help her. Dying will be going home for him, and nothing can keep him from her.”

“Nothing but you.”

Ruin’s face looked carved from stone, proud, arrogant and painfully untouchable. Only when he stood and moved away did she wonder if she’d hurt him.

She stood and tried to pace while she worked on the puzzle of how to explain his presence to the guards, but her knee ached worse than ever. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll go into the village. Since my knee’s bothering me, I’ll ask for a driver. While I’m there, walk up to me openly. The story I’ll give to anyone later is that you offered to sell me information because you knew something about the glyphs in Chi’Ch’ul. Dress normally, like this, and don’t carry any weapons. Then we’ll drive through the front gate and go to your temple. Will that work?”

Her stomach clenched at the thought of the dig itself, but she forced herself to ignore it. Too much was at stake for her old fears to conquer her.

“That might indeed.”

Weariness dragged at her. She rubbed her eyes, trying to decide what to do first. Review Dad’s notes? Review hers? Compile the differences? Where had they gone so miserably wrong?

“You should rest, lady. Tomorrow will be a difficult day. You’ve been injured and traveled a long distance.”

Did she dare rest with a murderer on the loose, her father missing in Xibalba, and a priceless codex in danger? Not to mention a man who could shapeshift into a jaguar. She shook her head. She had too much work to do.

“My brother might come back. I’ll stand guard if you want to rest.”

“You already died tonight. There’s no need for you to risk yourself again.”

He took her arm and gently tugged her toward the back room. She stumbled, so tired she could barely think. It was hard to remember that she’d only known this man a matter of hours, let alone that he was supposed to kill her. “Dying is easy. Thinking when you’re so weary that you can’t remember your name is not. Rest. I’ll stay until right before dawn and then slip away.”

She should have protested more, but the white cotton sheets and fluffy bed called her name. It felt weird to have a man in her room, though, especially a stranger. This man could die and live again. He could walk as a jaguar. Was she already asleep?

Her eyes felt so heavy. “You are alive?”

“You felt my heart beating.”

Warily, she lay on her side to keep him in her sights as he made a pallet on the floor between her and the door. “It’s not very comfortable down there.”

“It’s more comfortable than Xibalba. It’s more comfortable than lying in a pool of my blood on stone. Don’t worry about me, lady.” Stretching out on the floor, he hesitated and stared up at her. His eyes flashed liquid gold, sending shivers down her spine. His voice lowered with a hint of the jaguar growl. “This is First Five Sky compared to most of my life.”

Heaven.

Within moments, she was sound asleep.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The streets of Santiago Atitlan were as charming and inviting as Sam had promised. Colonial-style Spanish mansions and smaller houses lined the streets, painted in colorful pastels, and a sixteenth-century Catholic church took her breath away. She caught a glimpse of a tourist entering the columned entry who looked remarkably like Sam. Can’t be, she reminded herself, because he’d left for Antigua this morning.

Many people wore handwoven materials and traditional Maya clothing. Roaming the quaint streets, Jaid found a marketplace and paused for a closer look. The gorgeous patterns in the textiles took her breath away. They were like living glyphs woven from threads of magic.

She lingered over one tapestry of a large tree with sweeping branches. Tracing the sweeping branches, she didn’t know what she’d do with such a vivid tapestry, but she was sorely tempted. With its Victorian décor, Gillian’s Garden was much too formal for such a piece, but it called to her.

Through art and color, it told a story, even if she couldn’t read it.

“The white,” Ruin spoke behind her, “represents the World Tree. See how it goes from top to bottom, its branches east and west? These are the four corners of the world and the balam who guard: red to the east, white to the north, black to the west, and yellow to the south. There are thirteen stripes across the top to represent the levels of heaven; nine stripes across the bottom, representing hell.”

She traced darkened spots hidden in the roots of the tree. “Seven Caves, Seven Canyons.”

“I could also argue that these are the Gates that lead through the World Tree to the other worlds.”

“It’s amazing. I’ve never seen a story of creation so completely explained so beautifully.” Jaid smiled at the old woman, who smiled and nodded her head. Her face was heavily lined, her hands gnarled with age, but the brightness in her eyes told of joy for life.

When was the last time her eyes had sparkled with excitement like that? Probably the first time she’d held the codex in her hands, although she’d already been memorizing each visible glyph, cataloguing them to begin the translation.

Had she ever looked at the codex and simply appreciated it as art?

She gladly pulled several American bills out of her leather carryall and paid for the lovely tapestry. She’d hang it in the library to constantly remind herself of art, joy and the real Maya woman who’d created it with her own hands.

Ruin carried it for her back to the car where the driver waited. Dressed in jeans and a plain blue T-shirt, he didn’t even raise an eyebrow as he slid into the back with her. “Are you sure the guards won’t shoot me on sight?”

She forced a laugh. “From what I’ve seen, they don’t shoot anybody, even marauding jaguars and murderers.”

The cold, stiff mask of the mysterious and powerful priest settled over his face.

“I’m talking about your brother. He murdered a friend of mine back in the States.”

A small crack softened his face. “My brother has killed many people, but so have I.”

“If you had known where I live and that I had the codex, would you have killed me before any of this started?”

“I cannot roam far from the Gates; my curse prevents it.” He gazed at her unflinchingly. “However, if you attempt to open the Gate, I must do my duty to the gods. I failed once. I broke my solemn oath, and my people were destroyed. My life, my brother’s life, destroyed, ruined as my name. I cannot fail again.”

Her pulse jumped so hard she could feel it. Solemn promise darkened his gaze, and his jaw was a grim, hard line carved from granite. She understood, and respected, duty. Despite his resolve, she couldn’t bring herself to be afraid, not like she’d felt staring up into his brother’s cold, flat eyes.

The car slowed at the gate. A guard she didn’t recognize stepped forward, speaking Spanish to the driver. He glanced in the back and saw the stranger. “Dr. Merritt, is this man your guest?”

“Yes.”

“You are responsible for him.”

“Of course.”

The guard stepped back and the gate opened. “Sign him in at the front desk, Dr. Merritt.”

Ruin made a disgusted noise beside her.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “If only all Gates were so easy to open.”

The car pulled to a halt in front of the main house and the concierge offered to take her bag for her. Gripping it closer, she gave him the tapestry instead. He promised to have it taken to her room.

Settling her hat on her head, she fiddled with her boot and then sorted through her bag, although she didn’t know what she was looking for. Her stomach felt like it’d been twisted into a giant pretzel.

“What do you expect?” Ruin asked softly. His gaze moved constantly around the area, scanning for threats. “What are your expectations about stepping into my ruined city?”

“Danger. Making a mistake, and causing someone to get hurt.” She shrugged casually, but her stomach rolled harder. Her hands shook so badly she gripped the leather strap with both hands to keep from dropping it. “Getting hurt myself.”

“The only person with you cannot die.” He smiled and she shut her mouth, unable to argue. “I won’t allow you to be injured. I need you alive and well to help me retrieve the codex so I may destroy it before anyone else translates my magic. Change your expectations, and remove the pressure from your mind.”

He made it sound so easy. How, exactly, did she tell herself not to worry?

“You are the one putting this pressure on your mind, which causes your panic. Remove the pressure. Remove the panic. You’re doing this deliberately, whether you know it or not. This panic doesn’t serve your father. It doesn’t serve your research.”

He was right. But she wasn’t sure how to get the memories out of her head. She’d been building them up and reliving them for twenty years. “Do you know what they call me in the archaeology circles? The Un-Indiana Jones.”

Head tilted, he studied her, a small smile flickering on his face. “I have no idea what that means, but it amuses you.”

“Yeah,” she admitted, nodding. “But it’s embarrassing, too. Indiana Jones is a movie archaeologist, an action-adventure hero. I’ve built up ruins and archaeology in my mind, believing I had to be a great risk-taker, an action-adventure heroine of my own.”

“Deep down in your heart you’re still the little girl trying to impress her father.”

Ouch, but oh so true. Taking a deep breath, she held it for several seconds, and then released it. “Let’s go. I’m not going to leave Dad in Xibalba because I’m afraid.”

She followed the priest down the path to his ruined city. He was very much like something lost, destroyed and forgotten too. Something she’d definitely like to study. Maybe if she stared at the way he filled out his jeans, then she’d forget all about having a panic attack, although it’d certainly do nothing for her blood pressure. She’d never seen a man so well put together. “Did you really live here before it was destroyed?”

“Yes. Once this was a great and powerful city.”

“Before the K’iche and Kaqchikels came and you lost power.”

Arching an eyebrow, he gave a flat stare that surprised her. “I know not of what you speak.”

“You don’t know the two tribes? I thought—”

“I certainly know of these tribes, but we did not lose our power to them.”

“According to The Annals of Kaqchikels, when the other two tribes arrived, the Tz’utijils ceded the lands north of Lake Atitlan to them because they dazzled you with their magic.”

The look on his face was priceless. “You must show me these Annals, for I’ve never heard such a thing. The two tribes came and tried to conquer us, yes. My brother was a young king, newly married. I was his priest, and it’s no boastful arrogance when I say that no other priest in the land was as powerful.”

“Your brother was married to the woman he loved so much?”

“No.” Ruin sighed heavily. “That is part of a story I’d rather not explain at this time. The strangers arrived and wanted us to pay tribute. The southern side of Lake Atitlan was ours, definitely. The three volcanoes were sacred to us, a physical representation of the celestial hearthstones. When the others arrived, we demonstrated our magic and they were afraid. They left us alone on the south and took the north.”

She knew what the book said, but if he was telling the truth, it’d be interesting to see if they agreed. She could picture him standing over the waters of the lake in his full ceremonial dress, the hard planes of his face shining with power. The image gave her goose bumps. “What magic did you perform?”

“To protect my people and assure our power, I used the Gate and demonstrated our magic. I entered the waters and passed through the portal. Great Feathered Serpent appeared in my place. Filled with awe, the encroachers left us alone and were afraid to trespass on our side of the lake.”

“The Annals say that their king transformed into the Great Feathered Serpent.”

He made a rude noise. “They had no such magic. I assume they wrote this book, yes? Of course they changed history to assure their own power and pride among their tribe.”

Maybe it was naively stupid of her, but she’d never thought about it quite like that before. History was always interpreted differently depending on which side or country the author claimed. It was human nature. She’d always taken the Annals as absolute fact, but it was only correct as far as the K’iche were concerned, and the image they wanted to project to their descendants.

She thought about all the translations she or other epigraphers had completed over the years: the Dresden Codex; the Chilam B’alam; countless stelae and panels in the great cities of Tikal and Chich’en Itza. How correct and unbiased could those “histories” really be?

She stumbled to a halt. Crumbling stone surrounded her. For a moment, her heart pounded so hard that her vision darkened. The skin of her face felt too tight. Hot and cold chills raced up and down her arms.

After the initial rush of panic, she slowly brought her breathing under control. Nothing happened. Ruin had grown up here and performed feats she couldn’t even comprehend. The man could hide in plain sight, turn into a jaguar, and probably rip a still-beating heart out of his sacrifice’s chest. Surely, he could protect himself.

The worst thing that’s going to happen is I pass out and embarrass myself.

She opened her eyes. He stood before her, sliding his palms up and down her arms soothingly while he whispered softly in his language. Staring at his chest just inches away, she found her gaze wandering across the wide muscle to his biceps. Tattoos tracked across the swell of muscle, disappearing beneath the short sleeves only to crawl up his neck toward his face. She tried to picture him with jade or bone piercings, but she couldn’t manage to get past the solid strength and proud confidence projected by the sharp planes of his face.

He towered over her. As Ruin, he could walk as a jaguar. He’d sworn to show her how the Gates worked, the magic that was his birthright. Yet he touched her as gently as he would a newborn baby.

She’d never been into big, beefy sort of men. He projected brutal strength and arrogance, yes, but she found this softer side of him intriguing. Combined with his magic and his knowledge of the real Maya, it was a heady and dangerous combination.

He smelled…threatening, wild like the jaguar prowling inside his body. He was a warrior who’d fought with his bare hands and killed, ruthlessly and efficiently, who had died and gotten up to fight again. And again.

“I’m okay.” Her voice sounded strange to her ears, husky and breathless. He must have agreed, because he didn’t cease his soothing caress. The sensation of his calloused palms sliding across her skin made her throat tighten even more. What would such a wild, powerful man be like in bed?

She stepped away. Suddenly, a panic attack wasn’t as dangerous or frightening as her libido running amok.

Forcing images of dusky naked skin and muscle from her mind, she concentrated on the pyramids rising in the center of the plaza. There were three, positioned to mimic the volcanoes. She would have been shocked if they didn’t. The Maya were known for the astrological and positional significance of their structures. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if this whole city had been angled to provide the perfect viewing of both the lake and the sky.

Volcanic rubble still clogged the main plaza. Her father’s team had been working for the last year simply to clear the main area of debris. They’d decided that an earthquake must have occurred first, burying the city in rocks; then the eruption had occurred, casting a layer of molten lava and ash on top. If the lava had come first, they likely would have lost the city forever. The rocks of the pyramids would have melted and fused together into a new, real mountain that was no longer man-made.

One question had always troubled her. Anyone who’d seen images of Pompeii and the mother’s bones curled protectively over her child’s would wonder at the absence of bodies. “Where did everyone go before the eruption? Did you have warning?”

Silence was her answer. She turned to face Ruin. His face hardened stone by stone, the weight of this city and his duty crushing his soul. “I knew what would happen when I broke my oath, so I sent my people away. Some left to live with other tribes. Others chose to use the portal. I sent them ahead to Kukulkan, Great Feathered Serpent, before the appointed time, but he accepted them. Instead of following, I changed the settings and went after my brother.”

“Wrack was…dead?”

“His enemies betrayed him, and Butterfly Star was dead.” Ruin swallowed hard, the column of his throat corded with tension. “He thought he would join her beneath the shade of the Great Ceiba. When I crossed the Gate in search of him, he was running through the levels of Xibalba, calling her name, chased by demons and shades. He’d denied his own place beneath the World Tree in order to save her.”

“He loved her.”

He made a low, ragged sound. “You don’t understand, do you? She wasn’t waiting beneath the Ceiba Tree. She still travailed in Xibalba. If she’d died honestly and bravely, she would have passed directly to First Five Sky.”

Her heart ached for this man who’d suffered so much guilt, as well as his brother who’d been willing to do anything for love. “Even though she betrayed him, he still went after her, and you went after him. How can that be wrong?”

Ruin flinched, the turmoil of that day swelling within him once more. Perhaps his story would help her see the error in opening the Gate to save her father.

“Butterfly Star’s father, the king of the K’iche, promised her to a Kaqchikel prince to further cement their alliance against us. With her help, they laid a trap for Wrack, and she died in the fight. He begged me to send him through to Xibalba so he could help her through the Place of Fright, so I opened the Gate for him. Before he could find her, the Lords of Death captured and sacrificed him. As his twin, I felt his death. Of course, I went after him.”

“If he was already dead, what did you hope to gain?”

“Death is only the beginning of a new journey. I fetched him back to this journey. I had the power. I had the knowledge. But I did not know that he would be changed so much by the betrayal. I thought he would welcome my rescue. Instead…”

His chest was tight, his breath short and loud. It had taken his greatest magic to blow a spark of life back into his brother’s body. Returning through the Gate had been his first death. He’d awoken on the lakeshore stiff, sore, and thirsty for revenge, but once revived, his brother had waded back into the lake calling his woman’s name. When he’d found no portal back to Xibalba, he’d turned on his brother. He’d sworn to never rest until Ruin had paid the price of her death a thousand times over.

He forced his voice to ring with vehemence. “I allowed my heart to interfere with my duty. It will not happen again.”

Jaid stared at him solemnly. He feared she would attempt to comfort him, but she finally turned aside to explore the city.

At first, he simply watched her. Her steps were hesitant, her eyes large, her face damp with sweat. Yet she pushed onward, refusing to let her fear dictate her. As the sun climbed in the sky and moved in its downward swing toward the lake in the west, her manner eased. The stiffness in her shoulders disappeared and her eyes glittered with excitement.

“The colors are still bright and beautiful. I’ve never seen panels so well preserved.”

He ran his hand over the stone. “The layers of rock protected it from damp and exposure.”

“Does it bother you to walk through the plaza and remember what it was once like to live here? I can’t imagine how that must feel.”

He shrugged. “For the most part, it feels like a dream of a dream, only a vague memory. I’m not the same priest who stood at the top of the temple each morning to bid the sun good day, and each night, safe journey through Xibalba.”

“I’m ready to see your temple.” Her voice was quiet, but the fear had left her.

She’d faced her fear and overcome it. No small feat. Her courage only served to draw him closer. The man he’d once been yearned to pull her into his arms and feel her courageous heart beat against his while he whispered praise and sweet words in her ear. Words he’d never allowed himself to say to any woman.

His magic swirled inside him, a painful swipe of claws that reminded him of his purpose.

He led the way to the Pyramid of Dawn, mirroring Volcano San Pedro. Twin pyramids across the plaza represented the other two stones of the three-stoned hearth and completed the triad. She started to climb the stairs to the top but paused when he didn’t join her. Instead, he entered an unimposing structure which sat at the base of the mighty pyramid.

Inside, the walls were painted with the story of creation, very similar to the story the K’iche had recorded in the Popol Vuh, only with his people’s interpretation and memories. Patiently, he waited while she looked about the room.

Her mouth moved slightly, her brow furrowed as she translated the glyphs on the walls. “These are easy and straightforward glyphs, fairly typical of most ruins. This isn’t what my father found.”

His mouth quirked. “Do you think my most sacred knowledge would be so readily available?”

He stepped over to the inner wall where a large map of the region had been engraved into the stone. He touched the three carved volcanoes in quick sequence, and the rock cracked.

“A secret door,” she breathed, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Now I’m really starting to feel like Indiana Jones.”

“Did you bring a light? The tunnel’s dark.” She shook her head, so Ruin held his hand out. “I know the way. Take my hand and I’ll lead you through.”

“We’re going…” She paled and her eyes dilated. Agitated, she gripped the leather bag, her fingers aimlessly playing with the strap and the catch. “I don’t think I can do that. Not in the dark, with all those heavy rocks pressing down on my head.”

She shuddered and took an involuntary step backward.

“Shhh.” He stepped closer and took her hand. “It’s only a few feet and then we’ll be in the open chamber beneath the pyramid. It was made with a hole at the top to allow the sun to come through, and the last time I was inside, your father had left supplies inside to light the chamber. Trust me. This tunnel has been safe and sound for hundreds of years. It survived an earthquake and the eruption of the nearest volcano. Nothing’s going to make it collapse today.”

Swallowing, she took his hand, her fingers squeezing hard. With halting steps, she followed him. Her panting breath echoed in the small room, worsening at the door to the tunnel. “Distract me. Please. I want to see your temple, but I’m afraid.”

She stepped closer to him, her face pale. Her free hand settled on his other arm. Heat from her palm seeped into him, surprising him with a sudden uncurling of desire. Her scent filled his nose, laden with the pheromones of burgeoning attraction.

Very slowly, she laid her cheek against his chest. The feel of her against him stirred longings he’d believed dead a very long time ago. She was so small against him, courageous and afraid, brilliant and yet so curiously naïve, arrogant in her ignorance. The complex twisting tightened his stomach. He could not afford any sentiments for this woman. He had one goal only: protect the Gate. She knew too much.

Truthfully, he should have already killed her.

The wary priest in him insisted this softness was merely a ploy to gain his trust and admiration. A betrayal. But he didn’t believe such fearful courage could be pretended. In this time, in her country, such weakness would not be readily displayed.

Without letting himself think too much, he picked her up and strode into the tunnel. She burrowed deeper into his arms, hiding her face against him. Her arms came up around his neck, her fingers gliding through his hair, torture and heaven at once. All too soon—and not soon enough—he reached the inner temple.

Reluctantly, he set her back on her feet. Her hands remained on his shoulders and she turned her face up to his. Her dark eyes gleamed, her lips soft with emotion that he didn’t dare consider. Would her mouth taste as rich and decadent as promised by her cacao eyes and hair?

He turned away, ruthlessly crushing that softness threatening his duty once more.

Her father had set up large lamps and a generator in the corner. He flipped the machine on, glad to have some activity to occupy his hands before he did the unthinkable.

Light bloomed, and she gasped. “Oh, Ruin, I had no idea. It’s so beautiful!” She rushed to the wall and stroked her fingers over the pictures and carvings. “Yes, these are familiar, yet so strange and complex. Did you write them?”

“As I wrote the codex.”

She glanced back at him. The warm glow of admiration in her eyes burned him. The women of his time had never been able to look at him without fear, yet this modern woman—who shouldn’t have believed a single word of his explanations—looked upon him with enough heat to crack the ancient foundations of his temple. “How can you bear to destroy it?”

“Originally I made thirteen copies.” He sighed. For all his determination to be as immovable as stone, he’d found it impossible to wipe all evidence of his sacred knowledge from this earth. “Only one remains.”

“Thirteen, one for each level of heaven?”

“Yes.” He watched her move around the room, waiting for her to notice the floor. “I gave a copy to each of the great cities of the age.”

“What did they use them for? If it was forbidden to use them, why make copies and give them to the other cities?”

“The magic itself wasn’t forbidden, merely its misuse. I often used the portal to communicate with our allies and even our enemies. It also enabled us to contact our ancestors and the gods, if the appropriate sacrifice was offered. When Great Feathered Serpent blessed me with this knowledge, I swore to never use the Gate for personal gain, yet I misused the Gate to bring my brother back to life.”

“I thought you used obsidian mirrors and various herbals to induce visions…” His words must have finally dawned on her, for she whirled, eyes wide and sparkling with interest. “You communicated directly with the other cities through the portal?”

He nodded. “We could travel from city to city without ever stepping from this room. The high priests often communicated in secret to unify ourselves before warfare. We still warred, yes, but the Gates gave us the chance to arrange treaties in privacy.”

“How?” She whispered. “How did you do it?”

“I’ll show you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Look at the floor,” Ruin said.

Jaid dropped her gaze to the tiles. Her eyes couldn’t make sense of the colorful mosaic. The swirling pattern of spirals and glyphs, carvings and lines made her so dizzy that her vision blurred. The room swam.

“This is the first level of protection. We deliberately designed the pattern to make you uncomfortable, so your eyes will seek out something solid, anything but the fluid, blurring floor.”

A headache already threatened between her eyes, so she closed them.

“Step toward my voice,” he whispered.

It only took three steps to reach him. He settled his palm in the small of her back and turned her around, adjusting her until she stood in a certain spot.

“Just like the wall panel, the floor contains a map. As with any map, you must know the key to understand how to read it.”

She hadn’t seen any sort of map in the floor. The patterns were too overwhelming. Even with her eyes closed, she could sense the moving design, as though waves rocked the room back and forth.

“Open your eyes and see the map.”

Bracing against a sick lurch in her stomach, she opened her eyes. The room remained solid and the pattern in the floor became visible. Blue waters spread from her feet, with the triangle of three volcanoes, so she stood on Lake Atitlan. Various glyphs were arranged in a large circle about her. It looked like a calendar round, only instead of the kin glyphs, they were cities. She’d definitely seen this before; she could recite the known city names from memory.

Padding silently like the jaguar, he edged around her so he could see her face. “Each location glyph corresponds to a portal. Straight ahead, you should recognize the sign for Chich’en Itza.”

“And the number four beneath it.”

She didn’t understand the small quirk to the corner of his mouth. “This is where your father stood when he snapped the photographs he sent to you, right? This is how you decided the translation of city to number.”

Even in perfect sequence and carefully numbered by her father, the photographs had lost the intricacy in the floor. Standing here in the middle of it, she could almost feel the location ring revolving about her.

“We couldn’t translate all of the city names, but we figured out the key using the numbers. The only one Dad was really interested in was First Five Sky.”

“Everything you’ve just told me is wrong.”

Shock splintered through her, followed by frustration. “What do you mean? I can see it.”

“Of course you do. That’s why it’s a good secret, yes?”

She pivoted on the blue waters. “Are you saying this is encrypted again?”

“What number do you see for Lake Atitlan?”

A black shell winked beside her right boot. “Zero.”

“Knowing that my city was named Mouth of Creation, does it make sense to see a zero by Heart of Lake?”

She frowned. Images flipped through her brain like a massive database of glyphs, settling on Cosmic Hearth, the three-stoned hearth of Orion’s Belt. “Three is the sacred number of creation.”

“Also four, the cardinal directions; nine, the levels of Xibalba; thirteen—”

“The levels of heaven,” she whispered. She’d never seen zero applied to any sacred location.

“Did you read the entire codex?”

“Of course not. It might take the rest of my life to fully translate every single panel. Dad had me concentrate on the rounds.” Her stomach felt rather queasy, but she couldn’t blame it on the swirling floor. Even after she closed her eyes, the map remained emblazoned on her retinas. “I warned him that Zuyua meant twisted speech and riddles. Some parts that I’d translated seemed…”

“Wrong?”

She hated that word. Her thoughts whirled as badly as the floor had earlier, a roulette wheel, and she was the tiny, insignificant pea tossed blindly by chance.

“Do you remember this passage in the codex: He who wishes to see heaven stands, one foot on the Jaguar Throne Stone and the other on the First Sorcerer’s Seat.”

Of course she’d read that passage. While poetic, she’d assumed it was merely narrative.

“We used several secret codes in the codex to keep the magic secure. One is the positional key in the map. If you don’t stand in the appropriate location on the map—which varies by city—safeguards kick in. As the Gatekeeper, my curse compels me immediately to the source of the tampering. I knew you were reading the codex long before your father ever attempted the ritual, because I felt you like an itch in the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet. I simply could do nothing about it, because you were too far away.”

She leveled her gaze on him, searching his hard, proud face. “And now?”

“And now,” he whispered raggedly, “my palms still itch with the need to kill you, at war with my need to touch you.”

Shivering, she felt her skin tingling with the memory of his palms gliding over her skin. So he felt the attraction, too. Had he felt the need to kill her even then? Yet he’d done nothing but soothe away her fear. To distract them both, she returned to the passage he’d quoted. “The First Sorcerer could only be Itzamna, who placed the third hearth stone in the sky.” Holding his gaze, she slid one foot to Volcano San Pedro, the largest volcano on the shore of Lake Atitlan, and her other foot back to the smaller volcano further south, the Jaguar Throne. Very deliberately, she dropped her gaze to the map.

The glyph of Chich’en Itza now had the bars and dots of seven by it. “How do you open the portal to First Five Sky?”

“That’s a whole other secret.” His voice cracked with strain, drawing her gaze back up to his hardened face. His eyes glittered like chips of frozen sunlight. “Any tampering with a Gate without the proper precautions results in access only to Xibalba, which should never have allowed the Lords of Death access to this world. Your father managed to fully unlock the Gate.”

Her fingertips ached with cold. “The last thing we wanted to do was open the Gate to Xibalba.”

“I know what you wanted, but the Gate to First Five Sky is more secure than all the others. Because you hadn’t yet translated the entire codex, you didn’t understand that there are degrees of access. The Gates can be used for communication, passage through, or passage back to our world. The latter, unfortunately, allowed the Death Lords to escape.”

She flinched. “Dad has been fascinated with the supposed Return at the end of this age. He would have tried to open the Gate for them to come through. He’s always had a vision of the Great Feathered Serpent…” Her bad knee gave out and she sat down hard on her backside. “Did you lock it back?”

“Absolutely.”

“So how are we going to put the demons back?”

For the first time, the all-powerful priest looked shaken. “I don’t know.”

Chilled, she started shaking, her head buzzing. What had they done? Who would suffer because of their curiosity? How many would die? “You said earlier that Blood Gatherer had escaped. Which others?”

“Seven Death, second Lord of Xibalba, and Bloody Teeth. They’ll be looking for a priest to sacrifice for them, spreading disease and death everywhere they walk, gaining strength with every passing moment. Soon, they’ll try for another Gate.”

“Why?”

“There are seven more Death Lords to release. If they—” His jaws clenched tight. Eyes narrowed, he turned away.

He doesn’t trust me.

Could she blame him? How could he believe that she wouldn’t take every bit of knowledge he’d given her and misuse it again? She didn’t need him to finish his thought. “If the Death Lords command the Gates, they’ll destroy our world, and then use those Gates to destroy everything else. The Maya who planned to Return will either be locked away or killed.”

“First, they must gain a human priest.”

“You.”

“They killed me because I refused to help them.”

“Who can they get in our world?”

Staring at her, he didn’t say anything, his mouth flat and hard.

Black spots floated into her vision. Her voice squeaked. “Me?”

“I should kill you quickly and gently, if only to prevent you from falling into their hands. I worry, also, for your father in Xibalba. They will recognize the taste of magic in him, and they’ll feel the Gate. They know that three of their kind already passed through. They’ll torture him until he tells them every bit of magic he possesses.”

Her heart pounded too hard, pumping adrenaline through her body. She couldn’t sit here and do nothing. She leaped to her feet and resumed pacing, limping on the bad knee. “What can he do there? Is the equivalent of the Gate rounds in their world, too?”

“The portal is there, but there’s no key or rounds to sequence in order to open the Gate.”

Tears burned her eyes and her hands trembled so badly she finally shoved them into her pockets. “We have to help him.”

Ruin stared back at her, the implacable warrior priest. How could she expect him to go back on his word again? She had to devise a way to use his duty to convince him. “If they gain his knowledge, couldn’t they eventually break through the locks? We have to get him out!”

Alarms blared in the distance. They both rushed for the exit. Jaid didn’t even care about the tunnel this time. She gripped his hand and ran beside him, her right hand flung up just in case the stone had slid back in the wall. When they emerged, she suddenly realized how many hours had passed. Evening cloaked the ancient stone in shadows, and the sun had made a glorious fiery descent.

At the main compound, armed guards hurried like soldier ants protecting the nest. Smoke billowed from the rear of the building.

“The codex!” She ran into the building, ignoring the soldiers. The concierge lay across the front desk, blood pooling on the gorgeous carpet. The key-pad door hung off its hinges. Blackened, the heavy vault door still smoldered. The safe beneath the podium was torn open.

Sick, Jaid stared numbly at the empty safe. “What are we going to do now? Who took it?”

Ruin sniffed the air, his eyes glowing. He prowled about the room, sleek muscles flexing and flowing like the big cat. “Wrack.”

“Could he be the human priest for the Death Lords?”

“No.” He shook his head, black hair falling about his shoulders. “He hates them too much to ever submit fully to their control. He could, however, bargain with them.” A look of death flashed across his face. “Especially if he has the White Dagger.”

The White Dagger was mentioned in the Popol Vuh. The Xibalban Lords had sent the owl messengers with the knife to cut out Blood Moon’s heart before she could deliver the hero twins.

Understanding dawned. She didn’t think more horror could churn in her stomach. “The knife of sacrifice.”

“If he gets the knife, and he possesses the codex explaining how to open the Gate, then he’ll go into Xibalba himself.”

“Why would he risk letting all the Death Lords out again? That doesn’t make sense.”

Ruin stared at her, his eyes flickering with darkening shadows. “He won’t care about anything but getting to Butterfly Star.”

Two guards rushed into the room with semi-automatic weapons. “Dr. Merritt, please come with us.”

She recognized the man who’d stood guard at her hut and escorted her last night. “What’s going on?”

The other soldier wore an official-looking military uniform. “Dr. Reyes has ordered us to place you under arrest.”

Jaid forced bravado to her voice despite her trembling. “A priceless codex has been stolen, and you put me under arrest?”

Dr. Reyes was seated in the elaborate lobby of the main compound. Gaze narrowed on Ruin, he indicated the chair beside him. “Who’s this?”

She froze. Dr. Reyes had originally hinted at the legend of the twins. He was sure to recognize the jaguar-priest.

“I’m Balam,” Ruin said calmly. He’d taken up a defensive position behind her. “I met Dr. Merritt in Santiago Atitlan this morning.”

However, Dr. Reyes didn’t appear alarmed or stunned by her companion’s choice of name. He leaned forward, his eyes sharp and intent. “So you admit you were both there.”

“Of course,” Jaid replied. “I took a driver to town and did some shopping. I bought a textile that should be in my room. While I was there, I met Balam, who impressed me with his knowledge of the area’s folklore. He agreed to accompany me back here, and the guards allowed him inside as my guest.”

“And where have you been since ten o’clock this morning, when the guards acknowledge your return?”

“We’ve been in the ruin.”

“The whole time?”

“Yes.” Jaid sharpened her voice. “What’s going on? Why the sudden show of force? I thought I was a guest here.” She glanced around the room suspiciously. “Where’s Madelyn?”

“After we received the news, she was questioned first. She was quite distraught by the images and retired to her office to rest.”

“What news? What are you talking about?”

Silent, Dr. Reyes picked up a television remote. The large flat-screen on the wall flipped on. At first, she couldn’t make sense of it. Someone spoke in Spanish, narrating an event, while images of death filled the screen. People lay broken and twisted everywhere. Blood coated the walls, the floor, even the ceilings. Men, women, even children, it didn’t matter.

Ruin dropped his hand on her shoulder, his grip firm and strong, else she likely would have thrown up. The violence and death were worse than anything she’d ever seen before. A few survivors stumbled on screen, moaning, blood staining their hands and clothes as though they’d tried to help loved ones. A close-up shot revealed horrible sores on the woman’s face, leaking pus.

Jaid’s stomach churned. “Where is this?”

Without answering, Dr. Reyes paused the show. A distinctive white church filled the screen, the six-columned grand entry now draped with bodies and stained with death.

She gasped. “The church in Santiago Atitlan!”

Nodding, he played the show and translated the Spanish for her. “Authorities believe some bizarre ritual was performed here in the church. The most bodies were found here. The small hole in the center of the church that the locals call ‘the navel of the world’ was desecrated, thrown open and fouled with blood, as well as the altar. Specifically, hearts were ripped out of the victims’ chests. They were sacrificed.”

The camera panned back to the faces pocked with infection and disease. “It appears as though some kind of plague has broken out. Authorities have quarantined this entire area in hopes of containing the illness. Where will the plague and murdering occur next?”

He paused the show again, leaving a sobbing, grief-ravaged woman frozen in time, her face oozing blood and yellow-green fluid.

It was all Jaid could do not to curl up against Ruin’s chest and bawl in his arms like a baby.

“When we first met, I told you a story about the twins and what happened to their grand city. You asked if I was trying to scare you with tales of curses and werejaguar priests. What do you say now?”

“What do you mean?”

Dr. Reyes leaned forward, eyes drilling her. “The curse has awoken. The innocents of the village have paid the price of destruction. You must tell me exactly what you and your father were researching.”

“Or?” Her voice rasped slightly, but she was proud that it didn’t break with fear.

“At this time, you’re under my protection.” Nerves made her snort out loud, and he arched an eyebrow at her. “Don’t you think the natives know that Americans came here to this ruin that the gods deliberately buried hundreds of years ago? You’ve awakened the curse. Death and disease have returned once more. Maybe it will all end if they kill you, yes?”

Her stomach heaved. Ruin pushed her head down to her knees, or she might have passed out. Panting, she struggled to contain flooding panic and guilt.

What are we going to do? How can I stop demons?

“I need to know where your father is and exactly what he did. If I know the truth, I may be able to help you.”

“Sorry, Doc.”

Still gulping air, Jaid raised her head and stared at Knightley. He touched a Bluetooth headset at his ear and leveled his weapon at her. “I’ve got orders to take over this interrogation.”

Reyes surged to his feet. “You can’t do that!” The weapon swung over at him and he froze. “I’m here on behalf of the Guatemalan government. If you refuse my authority, we will kick you out of our country faster than—”

Reyes’s eyes flared. Jaid realized the comforting hand had left her back. She jerked her head around, searching for Ruin.

Silent and swift, he rushed the guard. Casually, Knightley whipped the gun toward him and fired.

She cried out, clamping her hands over her ears, but there was no retort. The barely audible pop sounded like a party favor. Ruin went down like an elephant tagged by a high-powered rifle. He crashed into a table that shattered beneath his weight, slinging glass, fresh-cut flowers and splinters flying.

Crying, Jaid stood to go to him, but the gun was suddenly pointed back at her. Ruin gave one last twitch and went still. He was obviously dead. The back of his head had been blown away. She didn’t try to stop the acid boiling up her throat. Instead, she aimed it at the guard’s legs.

“Son of a bitch,” Knightley growled. He cocked his arm back and the butt of his gun slammed into her head.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sound of soft crying persisted until Jaid finally opened her eyes. The room was semi-dark and unfamiliar. She tried to sit up. Her head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“You’re awake! Thank God!” Madelyn crawled over and brushed Jaid’s hair off her forehead, her fingers gentle around the spot that throbbed with each beat of her heart. “I wasn’t sure if you’d ever wake up again.”

“Where’s Ruin?” Grimacing, she shook her head. The man simply had too many names. “I mean, Balam.”

“The man you were with? I’m sorry, Jaid. He’s dead.”

“I know,” she rasped, carefully pushing up to her elbows. “Where is he?”

“Those horrid beasts threw his body over there in the corner. Every time I look at him, I can’t help but burst into tears all over again. They’re going to kill us too.”

In the shadows, Jaid couldn’t tell if the gaping hole in his skull had closed or not.

He’ll wake up. I know he will.

The older woman helped Jaid sit up. She scooted back and leaned her head against the wall. It was too hard to hold it up by herself. Pain splintered through her skull with each move, but she was clearheaded. Too much, perhaps, for her brain immediately raced to fill in—very creatively—Madelyn’s grim prediction.

“Did they take my bag?”

“Yes,” Madelyn replied gloomily. “They grabbed me before I could even call for help. There aren’t any windows, and the door is solid steel.”

Call. Beyond hope, she reached down and felt her pocket. They hadn’t taken her phone. “Are they monitoring this room?”

Madelyn blinked with surprise, her gaze flickering to the ceiling and corners, checking for cameras. “I never thought of that. I don’t know.”

She had to risk it. Quickly, before a guard could charge in and steal her only hope of salvation, she dragged out the BlackBerry. Good, she still had power. That would have been just her luck to have a dead battery. As long as the signal held…

SOS. Send Dragon.

The door slammed open so hard both women jumped. Guiltily, Jaid tried to hide the phone, but it was too late.

“I’ll take that, Dr. Merritt.” An African-American guard dressed like Knightley bent down and held his hand out. “Knightley will hear about failing to frisk you.”

What she wouldn’t give for a nice heavy tome right about now. She’d crack that smirk right off his face. Blowing out her breath loudly, she shoved the BlackBerry into his hand and pretended to pout. Hopefully the text made it out to Callie.

“No phone calls. Not until you tell us what we need to know.”

“What’s that?” Madelyn retorted. “What have you done with Dr. Gerard?”

“Someone will be down to get you in a while.” He gave Jaid a suggestive look that made her breath catch in her throat. She pressed back harder against the wall and wished Ruin would turn back into a jaguar and eat this jerk’s face. “When we’re ready.”

The guard shut the door, leaving them alone once more.

“Last night, Sam said he was going to be meeting with officials in Antigua,” Jaid whispered. “Did he make it?”

“I don’t know.” Madelyn threw herself down beside Jaid with a heavy sigh. “I haven’t seen him since last night. Maybe he’ll see the news and call for help.”

“Or maybe he’ll rush here and be taken hostage too.”

The other woman dropped her head to her knees and hugged her legs tight to her chest. “I hate this. I can’t stand feeling trapped and weak and useless. Can you distract me? Talk to me about the ruins, the rings, anything.”

Staring at Ruin’s body, she thought she saw a slight twitch. She forced herself to remain still against the wall instead of rushing over to help him. The guards were most definitely watching from some hidden camera. They’d lose every element of surprise if she gave any indication that he was more than a dead body dumped in the corner to terrorize them. “What do you know about the White Dagger?”

“Not much,” Madelyn replied, her voice muffled against her legs. “I know it was mentioned in the Popol Vuh as the Knife of Sacrifice.”

“It was a Xibalban weapon, right? Not something in our world.”

The other woman let her head fall back against the wall, her brow creased in thought. “It’s described as a spherical knife, which I never really could visualize. Why do you ask? Is it important?”

Jaid closed her eyes and let her mind fill with knowledge. Her father had once joked that her brain must be like a massive library catalogue. People never truly “forgot” important information; they simply forgot where they put it. They forgot the memory address. She never forgot a single thing, even a page from a book she’d read ten years ago.

“Jaid?”

“I’m thinking,” she replied. Which was true, but not about the subject of the White Dagger. She pulled up everything she’d heard about Venus Star, the researchers here at the compound, and in particular, Madelyn. Could she trust this woman? Her father hadn’t, not fully, even if he was sleeping with her. “Do you know of any archeological findings in another site that mentioned the White Dagger specifically?”

“Seems like I remember something in your father’s old notes. Where did he find the Temple of Days?”

Again, Jaid felt the earth rumble, its hungry belch as it devoured her mother. Pages of her father’s journal fluttered through her thoughts, falling open to a passage he’d copied off the walls in the subterranean temple. “Iximche.”

“I think he found something there about—” Madelyn let out an ear-piercing screech. “Guards!”

“Shut up,” Jaid retorted fiercely. Ruin was definitely moving. “Don’t say anything about him He’s our ticket out.”

The door opened. “What’s going on in here?”

“We’ve had enough,” Jaid said loudly. “We want to cooperate, but I’ll only speak to Dr. Reyes.”

The guard laughed. “Pretty professors can’t stand the hole, huh? It doesn’t matter. You want to talk to the curator, fine. As soon as the copter arrives, we’re out of here.”

Jaid scrambled to her feet and jerked Madelyn’s arm sharply, dragging her gaze away from Ruin. If the guards thought he was dead…

“Please, please, I just want to get out of here. I want to talk to Reyes. I’m sure we can come to some understanding.” Deliberately, she drew on the panic she’d felt the first time she stepped into the ruin. She clutched at the guard’s arm, gripped Madelyn’s sleeve fiercely, and practically ran for the door. “I can’t be down here any longer.”

Rolling his eyes at Knightley, the guard handed the two women over. Jaid snuck a glance back as she ran up the stairs and barely suppressed a smile.

The guard had left the cell door open.

Dr. Reyes had the tabletop covered with stacks of photographs, notes, and journals. He’d dumped her entire carryall out, mixed her papers with her father’s, and totally messed up her orderly filing. She despised people mucking around with her research.

Tight-lipped, Jaid sat across from him without making any demands that her things be returned. Madelyn paced back and forth behind her, muttering beneath her breath.

With his scholarly manner, Dr. Reyes could have passed as one of her colleagues. But it was hard not to see him as an enemy. At least he didn’t have a gun, and he hadn’t been happy when the guards had taken over. If she used him against the guards as an ally, would he simply turn around and arrest her for the Guatemalan government?

“I had a dream, once. A very silly dream, I suppose.” Staring down at the table, Dr. Reyes spoke so low and softly that she leaned forward slightly and concentrated on listening. “The Maya people have been slaughtered for hundreds of years, even by our own government. But you know nothing of such suffering.”

“My friend,” she began carefully, slowly, searching for the right words to reach him and prove herself sympathetic, “almost died here years ago as a boy. His father was an archaeologist, like mine, who fell in love with a beautiful secretary at the Spanish Embassy in Guatemala City.”

Dr. Reyes’s head snapped up and his gaze locked with hers.

“Geoffrey was at school when the demonstration began, but his mother was at work. She was held captive by the demonstrators and died in the fire. He told me that he saw the smoke from school and ran crying through the streets, pushing through the bystanders who could do nothing to help the people trapped inside.”

“The Guatemalan police locked them inside,” Dr. Reyes whispered. “Most of them were peasants, farmers determined to protect their families and their lands. A few were idealistic students who thought they could change the world with a demonstration or two. Instead, they watched helplessly while their friends burned alive and the police did nothing but laugh and congratulate one another.”

“You were there,” she whispered back, her voice shaking.

He inclined his head slightly and flickered his gaze to the Venus Star guard she knew stood behind her. “Many died in the civil war, Dr. Merritt, and their dreams of safety and peace burned with them. A few escaped to live the dream again, praying for the day when their honor and glory might return. They might have taken a young white boy with them to ensure his safety until his American father could be found.”

“Geoffrey Malcolm.” She sat back in her chair, stunned. “You knew him.”

Again, Dr. Reyes gave a tiny nod. “Although he studied El Mirador for the most part, Dr. Malcolm’s name is familiar to me.”

She bowed her head and didn’t hide her grief. “He was murdered, Dr. Reyes. The night before I came here to find my father. I believe his death is connected to my father’s disappearance.”

“I’m very sorry to hear such distressing news.”

She glanced up at his face. He did appear sincere. The grooves had deepened about his eyes and mouth as though he suppressed great emotion.

How many times had Geoffrey come to Guatemala over the years? At least two that she knew of, and always to the El Peten department, although he always traveled through Guatemala City. It was quite possible that he’d continued his connection with Dr. Reyes, and if Dr. Reyes had continued his connections with the guerrillas who’d participated in the demonstration at the Spanish Embassy all those years ago…

He might be able to help her escape from Venus Star.

As if Dr. Reyes knew exactly what she was thinking, he leaned forward, his dark gaze boring into hers. “Did Dr. Malcolm give you something before he died? A word, perhaps?”

She closed her eyes, remembering Geoffrey’s final words. That stupid argument. Then he’d whispered something else about the White Road. Her heart suddenly pounded so loudly that her head throbbed. He’d said sacbeob, plural. He hadn’t meant the White Road of death’s journey, but the incredible spanning causeways that had connected El Mirador to its neighboring cities.

“Sacbeob,” she whispered.

Tension bled out of Dr. Reyes and he released a long sigh. She knew, then, that he would help her. Her heart ached so much that she rubbed her knuckles against her breastbone. Even from beyond the grave, her gallant golden-haired knight had managed to help her yet again. Thank you, Geoffrey.

Dr. Reyes dropped his gaze back down to her meticulous notes translating the known location symbols from the temple rings. “Do you believe?”

“Yes.” Wonder sparked through her, relaxing some of her churning worry and grief. She did believe, in Ruin, in the Gates, everything. “It’s all true.”

“Do you remember the legend I told you the first night you arrived?”

The corner of her mouth quirked briefly. He was being very careful indeed with Knightley still standing at the door. “Yes, I do.”

“Does Balam…” Dr. Reyes raised his gaze to her face, “…know that legend?”

“Yes.” Jaid watched him glance at the guard at the door, grimace, and drop his gaze back to the papers. “I suspect it was the other brother who took the codex.”

“Do you know why he’s here?”

Softly, she quoted the passage her father had found in Iximche all those years ago. “‘The Gatekeeper guards the way between worlds and time, between heaven and hell. The Gatekeeper roams the waters of time, never resting until the Return. Beware the Gatekeeper’s wrath if his Gate is violated. His wrath is great.’”

“Yes!” Madelyn whirled around, her eyes lighting up. “That’s the passage I was thinking of! It says something about him walking the Place of Fright and stealing ‘Xibalban power,’ which I assumed was the White Dagger. How on earth did you remember that?”

Uncomfortable, Jaid didn’t answer. People were usually awed or creeped out by her memory. She’d rather the other woman didn’t know the extent of her special abilities, not until she knew whether she could trust her.

“The locals believe the chapel was built on top of Seven Caves, Seven Canyons.” Dr. Reyes held her gaze, his face solemn, his eyes carrying the weight of the world. “Whoever’s behind the massacre in Santiago Atitlan ripped the floor tile away inside the church to reveal the pool. Blood covered the area.”

She felt the skin of her face tighten and knew she’d gone pale, but she didn’t look away. The demons had tried to use the underground water in the church as a Gate. It hadn’t worked, but they’d try again, and again, and again, perhaps at different locations, but always with the same goal. With each failure, the victims’ blood would only give them more power.

Dr. Reyes nodded slightly, a silent acknowledgement of her fear. “We need to determine where they’ll try next, pray they can’t find anyone or anything that helps them, and figure out a way to stop them. If they get the codex…”

“I don’t think that alone will give them what they need.”

“Who are you talking about?” Knightley moved closer. He didn’t have his gun out, but he’d shot Ruin and hit her. She knew where his loyalties lay. “If we have competition, the boss needs to know.”

She asked, “Who’s the boss?”

“Mr. Franklin. He’s excited to meet you and gave me orders to see you safe and sound at any cost.”

She couldn’t help but touch her forehead lightly and wince. Knightley tried to look sheepish, but the hardness never eased in his eyes. He was a paid soldier, a mercenary. He’d been given a job, and he’d do it, no questions asked, even if it meant hitting a woman or killing an unarmed man. “What does Mr. Franklin want? Why is Venus Star so determined for me to work for them?”

“I’m muscle, not brain power like you, so I don’t know all the details. They built a weird sort of temple in Dallas. It’s supposed to be a replica of what your father found here. My guess is they want you to translate the symbols inside. That’s all.”

That’s all. Sure. Let them figure out how to open a brand new Gate in the heart of Dallas. What if they accidentally opened Xibalba again? Jaid shivered, her stomach churning. How much did they already know?

“No offense, Mr. Knightley,” Dr. Reyes said with a wry grin, “but I don’t think you’d believe me.”

“Try me.”

“From my study of the Popol Vuh, I surmise that the perpetrator of such horrendous crimes in Santiago Atitlan could only be a Lord of Xibalba.” At the guard’s blank stare, Dr. Reyes explained further. “Xibalba is the Maya hell.”

Shaking his head, Knightley chuckled. “You three go ahead and talk fairytales while I check on that copter.”

As soon as he pulled the door shut, Jaid leaned closer and whispered, “If you were going to hide the White Dagger somewhere in our world, where would it be?”

“The Knife of Sacrifice resides in Xibalba.”

Jaid began stacking her notes and quickly shoved them into the carryall. Either Ruin would provide a distraction so they could escape, or the helicopter would arrive. No matter what happened, she wasn’t leaving here without her notes. Even though she had everything memorized, she couldn’t bear to part with the journals written in her father’s own hand. They might be all I have left of him.

Tears thickened her voice, but she didn’t have time to cry. “Not if the Gatekeeper stole ‘Xibalban power.’”

“Suppose the White Dagger is here instead of Xibalba,” Dr. Reyes said. “Why do you care?”

“We’ve lost the codex. The only other thing that might gain some kind of bargaining power with the Xibalban Lords…” At the horrified look on his face, she retorted, “Not me! Let’s just say I suspect someone may need a bargaining chip. He’d be willing to do anything, even hand over the keys to earth, certainly steal our codex, if he could gain one thing from the demons. He’d certainly find the White Dagger and give it back to them.”

Dr. Reyes crossed himself. Heavily lined, his face had aged at least ten years. “Such a weapon of power loosed on earth would cause devastation unequal to anything we’ve ever seen before. If any part of your theory is correct, they must not be allowed to retrieve it.”

“I think my father passed through to Xibalba. If we can figure out where the White Dagger is first, and then use it to lure the demons back to Xibalba, maybe I can get him back out.”

“No,” Ruin growled.

She whirled around. Madelyn squeaked, thankfully not very loudly. Dr. Reyes muttered Spanish beneath his breath and pushed to his feet so hard the chair flew back and bumped the wall.

Relieved, Jaid wanted to touch the back of Ruin’s head and verify for herself that he was truly alive and well. Tearfully, she smiled, but he didn’t return her welcome.

“If you tamper with my Gates, I will kill you.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fury pulsed through Ruin.

She planned to lure the demons deliberately, and somehow trick him into letting her open the Gate. Had she learned nothing in his temple? Did she have no regard for her world?

The jaguar paced within him, entirely too close to the surface. Fierce emotions weakened his control, making him act more beast than man. Or perhaps more man than priest. He couldn’t deny that he admired Jaid’s courage and intelligence. Part of him wanted to watch her solve the puzzle of the Bloodgates on her own. Given enough time, she would do it, he had no doubt.

She would devise a plan to trap the Death Lords and rescue her father in one fell swoop.

He wanted to breathe in her scent of green magic and rain while watching her eyes spark with excitement. Would she taste like magic, too? Would she rub against him, skin-to-skin, heart-to-heart, stirring his lust and feeding his power with the natural magic of her body? Angry at himself for such foolish thoughts, he strode into the room ready to boom and blast like Chac’s thunderclouds.

Jaid laid her hand on his forearm. “I wouldn’t use the Gate without you.”

That easily, she diffused his anger to something worse. Fear. He feared for her, the world, and yes, for himself. He knew what torments awaited him in Xibalba. They’d never let him travel through the nine levels and reach the Great Ceiba. He’d be better off to hang himself and skip directly to Kukulkan’s side, but he’d never been able to bring himself to end it all, not when his brother still roamed in tormented misery.

“The Gatekeeper,” Reyes breathed, his eyes wide with reverence that only served to make Ruin even more uncomfortable. The man inclined his head, giving him respect he didn’t deserve. Didn’t he know how much destruction he’d wrought on their people? “I saw you once, many years ago in the city you would know as Kaminaljuyu. At the time, I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t understand why you allowed so many innocents to die in the fire. Later, I learned that the government had found something buried in one of the mounds beneath the city. You came to destroy it.”

As well as the man trying to understand the carvings on the delicate tile that had been buried beneath crumbling adobe. Ruin nodded gravely. Many had died that day, but many more would have died if someone had succeeded in learning the locations of each Gate which had clearly been marked on that precious tile.

“The Americans plan to whisk Dr. Merritt away in a matter of minutes. With your leave, I’ll arrange a diversion that may enable your escape.”

Drawing on the long-forgotten dignity and power he’d wielded as the High Priest of Chi’Ch’ul, he spread his hands open, palm up, and bowed formally back to him. “I thank you for your assistance.”

Dr. Reyes ran for the door, cell phone in hand.

“Jaid…” The other woman edged toward the door, her eyes wide with panic. “He was dead. I saw it. This isn’t possible!”

“It’s all right,” she replied soothingly. “Trust me. If you can believe in the Gates, believe that this man is the Gatekeeper. He’s our only hope of saving my father.”

“Forget him,” Ruin retorted. The other woman cringed at his harsh voice, but he didn’t care whether she trusted him or not.

All he cared about was Jaid.

“I won’t damn the whole world to save my father, but our goals are aligned to a common purpose. You want the Death Lords sent back. I want my father out. Let’s see if we can come up with a plan to accomplish both.”

“I have my brother to deal with, too. He’ll try to use the codex to save his woman, and he won’t care what he releases. He believes this world deserves whatever it gets, especially me and all I hold dear. If he gains the White Dagger, he can persuade the Lords of Xibalba to do anything.”

“What does the White Dagger give them other than a way to sacrifice their victims, which we already know they can do?”

“You know that we infuse life into our buildings, yes?”

The other woman had calmed somewhat, her interest in their discussion overriding her fear. Her scent changed. It was subtle and not something his human nose probably would have noticed, but his jaguar immediately sensed her eagerness, combined with a sense of falsehoods that tainted her scent.

“K’ulel, soul-force.” Jaid’s eyes glinted with that now familiar spark of interest. He only hoped she didn’t say too much in front of the other woman. “There are ceremonies to ‘birth’ the building, and then each sacrifice adds power to it over time. That’s why we often find older structures beneath—you wanted to make use of the power already there.”

“Think of the power living in the White Dagger. Think of the soul-force it carries.”

The other woman sat down beside Jaid, her hands shaking. “Of course,” she breathed, her eyes wide. “It captures souls of those it sacrifices. But why—”

“It contained your brother’s soul,” Jaid whispered, her eyes locked on him.

He let her see the rage and self-recrimination in his eyes. “I tried, but I couldn’t free them all. I had my brother’s body, and with my sacrifice, his soul was freed. Because he’d entered Xibalba alive with my help, they cut out his heart with the damned thing. Afterward, I could make him walk and talk once more, but I couldn’t make his heart beat inside his body, because his heart is still gone. The thought of my brother’s heart trapped in some dark, fetid layer of Xibalba, still beating, while his body roams this earth…”

Guilt tore at his own heart, beating frantically in agony. He shouldn’t have violated his sacred oath to save his brother, who was already dead, sacrificed, beyond this world. He’d committed an atrocity. He’d raised a monster. No wonder Wrack hated him so fiercely.

Jaid stood and moved closer to him, the soft look in her eyes only putting more wounds on his guilty soul. “His heart is in Xibalba with Butterfly Star.” She touched him, that small hand on his arm again, and a shudder ran through him. She saw too much, this woman. Cared too much.

“I never intended to keep the dagger, but once I had it in our world, I couldn’t send it back. Bringing the knife through the Gate killed me. It was the first time I died under this curse. It was that crossing that made the earth shake and the volcano spew, not when I first opened the Gate for my brother.”

“Where is it?”

He shook his head mutely.

She cupped his cheek, her fingers gentle on his face, and she might as well have reached her hand into his chest and stroked his heart. His gaze locked on her smooth, dark eyes. “You can trust me with this knowledge.”

Could he? Staring into her eyes, he wanted to trust her. Every bone in his body ached to believe in her.

Jaid nibbled her lip in thought, her hand still on his face, and every muscle in his body tightened with longing, shocking him. He had not felt such fierce desire for a woman since…

Since his brother had wed the woman he loved, forcing him to watch from afar the powerful but unloved queen until she died in childbirth.

Jaid’s muscles tensed sharply, and then she relaxed so fully she leaned against him as though her knees couldn’t hold her weight. Her eyes met his and he saw the knowledge gleaming in those depths. Gently, he placed his finger across her lips and willed his eyes to speak.

Don’t say it. Then I won’t have to silence you.

Stolen power resides in the Eye of Heaven.

Jaid could see her father’s journal page in her mind. The Temple of Days in Iximche was one of her first translations for him. The glyphs had waited for over a decade until she was old and knowledgeable enough to help him.

The Eye of Heaven could only be the Sacred Cenote at Chich’en Itza.

Tension strained in Ruin’s cheek beneath her palm. His eyes pleaded. For what?

Slowly, she dropped her palm from his face. She shouldn’t have touched him. She shouldn’t be remembering the way he’d helped her through her panic attacks about entering his ruined city, after years of therapy had done nothing for her. She shouldn’t remember the feel of his powerful arms around her as he’d carried her through the tunnel. Or the way he’d charged the guard and taken a bullet in the head. For her.

Geoffrey had been a calculated and acceptable risk. As the university’s golden boy, he’d been attractive, gentlemanly and well respected, but he’d not exactly been earth shattering in bed. That had been her lack, not his. She’d known he’d never rock her world. That’s exactly why she’d chosen him. He hadn’t touched her heart, so it’d been impossible for him to distract her from her ultimate goals.

This man before her distracted her on unheard-of levels. Ruin radiated heat, power, and animal magnetism. With hands as large as her head and his eyes gleaming like trapped suns in his dark face, he emanated danger.

And her stupid heart kicked into high gear.

He made her want to pull that T-shirt off his impressive body and lick every single tattoo. Heat swirled in her abdomen, a warning as clear and threatening as the message in his codex about the gods’ wrath if someone tampered with the Gates. Desire for him would destroy her, just as the volcano had destroyed his city.

Firmly, she turned away and walked over to the large map of the entire region. I won’t touch him again. “Madelyn, do you have any notes in your office? Anything that might help us?”

The older woman gave her a tight, worried look, as though she didn’t want to leave Jaid alone with this man. “Sure, let me see what I can find. I might even have a change of clothes stashed away.”

Madelyn carefully cracked the door, stuck her head out, and then hurried down the hall.

Known ruins were preprinted on the map, with Dr. Charles Merritt’s additions scribbled in with a Sharpie. Chich’en Itza was in the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico. How could they get there when they were held prisoner by Venus Star and couldn’t even get out of this compound?

In case this room was bugged too she tried to keep the details vague. “How do we get the White Dagger out?”

“You can’t,” Ruin said, his voice hard and tight. “It’s protected by the Gate itself. It’s not wholly in this world.”

Basically, only he could get it out. And if he wouldn’t divulge that information…

“I have my codex notes and the snapshots of all the pages. I also have Dad’s notes. Between the two—”

“No.”

She could feel his anger like a swarm of wasps dive-bombing her head. Her skin prickled hot and cold. Did he have the ability to use magic on her? She didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, she ignored him.

She felt him stalk closer. The room shrank to the size of a closet. “Did you forget the guards? They’re not going to let us leave this compound without a fight.”

“Dr. Reyes—”

His palms slammed down on her shoulders, his grip relentless as he whirled her around to face him. “You can’t retrieve the dagger. There’s nothing you can do to stop the Lords of Death. Don’t you understand? If you go anywhere near them, they’ll kill me and torture you into becoming their priest. They must have already taken some poor soul to commit their evil in the church. I don’t want you to be next!”

“If I hadn’t translated the codex, then none of this would have happened. My father would want us to stop it.”

His fingers tightened, digging into her skin just this side of pain. “Remember who and what I am. Remember what I did to save my brother. Do you think I’ll allow you to make the same choices? I was determined to save him at any cost. Now I must pay any price to stop him. Are you prepared to pay the cost?”

“I’ll do whatever I must to save my father.”

“Your father was a fool. He attempted to control magic that he didn’t understand. Will you do the same? Will you damn the world to death and disease?”

His words stung, boiling in the pit of her stomach like acid. “Like you did?”

He recoiled, his mouth tight and grim. White lines grooved his mouth.

“All you cared about was your brother. You doomed your city and people. The volcano killed them, and those who survived were later killed by the Spaniards. How is that not death and disease? Was it worth the cost?”

Hands fisted, he breathed hard, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. “Yes, damn you, damn me, damn the world. I’d do it again for him, and that’s exactly why I’m cursed. I loved him, more than I should have. I loved him more than my duty, my people, even myself. So I was the fool.”

His voice broke, a flood of rage and heartache that shook her in its wake. Had she ever loved someone so completely? He’d given up everything, risked everything, for the love of his brother.

Very much like my mother did for me.

Throat aching with unshed tears, she laid her hand against his cheek. She’d sworn not to touch him again, but the raw emotion tearing across his face moved her like nothing else. Her touch moved him, too, if the flare in his eyes was any indication. Fury and self-recrimination bled to something hotter. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

He might as well have stabbed her. The sudden thrust of desire stole her breath, left her trembling, staring into his feral eyes. Before she could stop to think of all the reasons this was stupid, she lifted her mouth to his.

For a big, hard warrior, his lips were incredibly soft. His breath rushed out, hot against her. His lips parted, inviting her deeper, and she sank into his warmth and strength. With a jaguar living inside him, she’d expected raw wildness and danger, but he simply pressed his palms against her back, stunning her with his gentleness.

His scent rolled over her, raw musk and jungle. She slid her tongue into his mouth. Shuddering, she tasted him, dark chocolate, man, hot and wet. Still, he remained passive, only responding to her kiss, not leaping to take control. In fact, he made her kiss him thoroughly, every inch her own choice.

Releasing his mouth, she laid her head on his chest. His heart thundered beneath her cheek. He wrapped his arms around her, not crushing her but definitely locking her in place. His breathing was ragged, but his voice was soft when he spoke.

“I thank you.”

But. The word echoed in the room like a mournful sigh between them.

She knew it was a mistake to get any closer to him, let alone kiss him. He had a duty to his gods as the Gatekeeper. She had a duty to rescue her father and right the nightmare they’d accidentally released. That duty involved the Gates at cross-purposes. Eventually, she’d be forced to make a decision to which she knew he’d object.

He might even be forced to kill her.

She remembered her mother’s face down in the cave, streaked with dirt but so beautiful. All her life, Jaid had struggled to understand that kind of love. That kind of sacrifice.

This man knew that sacrifice.

She tilted her head up and gazed into his solemn eyes.

“This is my last fight, my last sacrifice. One way or the other, I will end my brother’s torment. When he dies, so will I. My curse—”

She reached up and placed her fingers against those soft, full lips. “I understand.” Forcing a wry smile, she pulled away. She turned back to the table and continued to shove more notes into the carryall. The leather sides bulged, but she got it all inside. With some hard work somewhere safe, she’d figure out how to open that damned cenote and retrieve the White Dagger. What she’d do when she had that knowledge, she wasn’t sure.

An explosion rocked the compound. The floor shook beneath her feet. “The volcano—”

“No.” Ruin peeked into the hallway. “I would have felt the gods’ warning.”

Gunfire. Maybe this was Reyes’s diversion?

Madelyn rushed inside with a duffle bag, her eyes huge. “What’s happening?”

“Stay here,” Ruin ordered. “I’ll scout out the best escape route. Don’t leave without me.”

As soon as he was gone, Madelyn snapped, “What’s going on, Jaid? Who is he?”

“He’s the Gatekeeper.”

“But what does that mean? He’s dangerous, and I don’t think you should trust him.”

Jaid looked inside her heart and whispered, “I trust him with my life.”

“When did you meet him?”

“The first night I was here, someone attacked me on the way to my cabana. He saved me.” She didn’t try to explain that he’d been a jaguar, or that the only reason he’d saved her then was to stop his brother from killing her. “He’s going to help me get Dad out of Xibalba.”

Madelyn’s eyes narrowed as though she wasn’t quite convinced. Truth be told, Jaid still wasn’t sure how she’d convince him to help her. He would. He had to. She didn’t think she could do it on her own.

Muttering beneath her breath, Madelyn squatted down and rummaged in her bag. “This is ridiculous. What are we going to do, Jaid? I still don’t know how the Gate works, not exactly.”

“What time did Sam leave yesterday morning?”

Madelyn shrugged, jerked the bag closed, and very deliberately avoided her gaze. Standing, she slung the bag over her shoulder and began pacing. “I don’t know.”

Something wasn’t adding up. How well had her father known this woman? If he hadn’t told her anything at all about his plans to re-enact the ritual, he didn’t trust her. But he didn’t tell me either. Musing aloud, Jaid said, “Sam left, then the codex was stolen, and the massacre happened at Santiago Atitlan. What’s going on here, Madelyn? Why should I trust you at all? Dad warned me to keep the codex absolutely secret—not to discuss it with anyone. He specifically said not to give it to anyone at Venus Star. Who, exactly, do you work for? He didn’t tell you about it, did he? Or Sam. He also never mentioned you to me. I’ve never even heard your name from him. So maybe you’re the one he was concerned about.”

“Grow up, Jaid.” Madelyn stiffened, her features haughty and cold. “We were going to discuss our relationship with you in person as soon as he could arrange a trip back to the States. You ended up coming here, which he would have loved.”

Bitterness coated Jaid’s tongue. “Yeah, right, that tells me more than anything how little you know. Dad never wanted me to come on a dig. He certainly never planned to introduce you to me in the States. He couldn’t bear to tear himself away from this dig.”

Ruin stuck his head in the door, and his golden eyes immediately locked on her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Can we go?”

He didn’t push her, but he seemed to read her shock and grief in her eyes. She didn’t dare say more in front of the other woman. It might already be too late. Mentally, she made a tally of everything she’d said and demonstrated before Madelyn and Sam. She’d asked about the White Dagger. If Madelyn remembered that journal entry about the Gatekeeper, then she might also remember the line about the Eye of Heaven.

And Sam. What if all his awkwardness the last few months had nothing to do with the night she’d kissed him, and everything to do with his involvement in whatever Madelyn had planned? What if he was trying to steal the site out from under her father? Dear God, what if that really had been him entering the church?

Impossible. That would be like finding out that Geoffrey had really been a serial killer.

“Guerillas have attacked the compound,” Ruin said. “The guards are defending the perimeter. If we can reach my city, I know a tunnel in the ruins that we can use to escape the compound unseen.”

From there, I’ll figure out how to get to Chich’en Itza—and make sure that Madelyn doesn’t.

“Keep low and close to the wall. We’re going left, staying tight to the building, until we can make a break for the ruins. Ready?”

Jaid nodded. He stepped closer, took her arm, and drew her close to his body.

In the hallway, the shouts and gunfire outside were loud. Surely the guards were too busy fighting the guerillas to worry about two female professors making a break for it, especially after their panicked response to “the hole,” which even she had to admit hadn’t been that horrible of a holding cell.

They ran outside and turned hard to the left, racing along the wraparound front porch. She couldn’t help but clamp her hands over her ears and bite her tongue to keep from screaming. Shouts, explosions, some kind of artillery fire. It was deafening.

Ironically, her knee didn’t pain her at all, despite the jump off the porch. They raced across the open yard toward the ruins. She risked a glance back to check on Madelyn.

The other woman broke toward the guards. “Help! She’s escaping!”

Ruin snarled. “She betrays you.”

“Let her go.” Her voice remained rock steady, despite the tears blurring her vision. It would have been nice to have a mother, even a stepmother, in her life. She hoped her father hadn’t loved the woman much. Knowing him, he hadn’t. “I don’t think she knows enough to worry about.”

As he grabbed her arm and dragged her toward his city, she glanced back over her shoulder.

Madelyn jerked and her arms flung outward. Her body went stiff. Blood bloomed on the back of her white blouse.

Jaid bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, but she didn’t cry out. Whether the guerillas or the guards had shot her, the traitor had met an appropriate end. The bit of knowledge she might have had about the Gates wouldn’t get to Venus Star.

Ruin didn’t stop at the temple, but led her down a winding path through the crumbling pyramids to the far corner of the city. At the foot of the volcano, a large panel had been carved and inset into the rising obsidian. Automatically, she let her memory capture the images: three pyramids, mirroring the city; a priest on the tallest pyramid, holding a sacrifice up to the sky; a volcano spewing ash and rock into the sky as the lake whipped into a frenzy below.

Whispering in his language, he pushed on the sacrifice in the priest’s hand—surely a heart—and stone slid open to reveal a black tunnel. Shivers ripped up and down her spine. A dark, tight tunnel at the base of a volcano, where an earthquake could cause it to collapse at any moment.

Her teeth chattered and her palms dampened with sweat. So much for her conquered panic attacks. “Sorry,” she laughed raggedly. “Maybe I should stick to teaching and grading after all.”

He stroked her cheek. “This tunnel has existed over a thousand years and survived endless earthquakes. I’ll light some torches and we’ll get out of here. Can you make it?”

She nodded woodenly, her heart thumping in her throat. She would. She had to. Even if she had to walk with her nose buried against his chest. Or better yet, he could carry her out and she’d simply pull his hair over her face so she could breathe his scent.

He disappeared into the black mouth. Mentally, she began counting, imagining the corresponding Maya number. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get very far, but he’d surely be back by then.

Something slammed into her back and dragged her to the ground. Weight crushed her. Her right arm jerked backward so hard she thought it would tear out of its socket. Her ribs screamed with pain. She tried to get her head around to see who had attacked her.

A knife descended toward her throat. Black obsidian. Wrack had come back for her. Had Madelyn managed to send him?

Warmth gushed down Jaid’s chest. It took her a moment to realize it was blood. Her blood. There was no pain, just a fountain of red splashing against the black glassy rock. Weariness suffused her limbs. The knife came down again and she braced against the pain, but with a tug, the leather strap of her carryall fell down.

Her notes. He was taking her research, her life’s work.

She struggled to chase him, but she couldn’t control her limbs. Her arms and legs refused to move, as though puppet strings had been sliced.

Gone. Her research was gone. Too much blood. Dad was trapped. Demons were free because of her research, which was now in the hands of a deranged man willing to do anything to end his torment. Darkness closed in. She fought to keep her eyes open, her mind working, her heart beating. She couldn’t go. Not yet. She still had too much to do.

Hands rolled her over. She blinked hard, forcing her eyes to focus. Ruin leaned over her, his eyes blazing like golden beacons. His lips moved, but she didn’t hear anything over the roaring in her ears. She remembered his mouth, the taste of him, the solid press of his body against hers. He would have rocked her world. Devastated her resolve. Ruined her careful attempts to protect her heart.

Ruin. It almost made her smile.

He touched her forehead and suddenly she heard him, deep inside her, his words a growling echo of night jaguar. “I can save you, if you will it.”

She didn’t understand how it was possible for him to speak in her mind. However, she also didn’t understand how the Gates actually worked, or how he was able to transform into a jaguar, let alone how he could sacrifice everything for the love of another. She did understand the flood of emotion in her heart at his voice, regret, longing and more. He would grieve at her death, this Gatekeeper sworn to kill her.

She wanted to stay alive to help her father. She couldn’t die and leave the Death Lords destroying her world, killing innocent people.

And yes, she wanted to remain with Ruin.

Her head moved in a feeble nod. “Do it, as long as you don’t have to cut out my heart.”

He must have heard her words, for the barest smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. His brow remained furrowed, telling her he was worried. Why? If he could save her…

The cost. What was the cost? Who would pay it? Everything had a cost. For once in her life, she was willing to pay, whatever it took.

His eyes glowed brighter, twin suns that consumed her vision and burned her. She opened her mouth to scream. Then the light of his eyes obliterated the world.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Watching Jaid sleep, Ruin felt a tug deep in his chest. He carried another piece of her in his heart. First, an affection he dared not admit, now a magical bond tied their spirits together. He anchored her spirit in this world.

What would happen to her when he finally died the final death?

The itching compulsion he usually felt from his magic to eliminate all threats had completely disappeared. Because she was innocent? Or had he merely betrayed his duty once more by listening too closely to his heart?

They huddled inside the tunnel with the panel shut, but he dared not leave as he’d planned. Her body needed to recover from such trauma. She’d almost been beyond even his power, too much sacrifice spilled on the ground for the gods to allow her spirit to remain. His will was as strong as his magic, though, as was hers. She’d clung to life, her fingers digging into his arm right up to the very end.

Head dropped back against the rock wall, he let his thoughts roam wild and free. A tumult of doubts, hopes and fears that he could never voice churned in his mind. This woman touched him like no other. She made him want to abandon his quest to stop his brother, to allow his love and rage—that which had sustained him all these years—finally rest at peace.

He could love her as much as he loved his brother.

The thought shook him to the core. He’d destroyed his entire city for Wrack. What would he sacrifice for her?

He remembered the great pyramid of Kukulkan he’d once seen on the other side of the portal. Slick black glass had reached to Raised-Up Sky with a massive golden sun at the peak. He remembered the jade feathers and golden scales of the god, Kukulkan’s curse and his commission. Since Ruin had destroyed so much, he would become destruction on this earth, killing any who threatened the Gates.

His greatest task, though, was to end his brother’s torment, which meant killing him.

Yet his brother could not die. Every time he’d struck him down, his brother had laughed and killed him instead. Nothing he’d done ever harmed Wrack. How could it, when he had no heart? Only when he was reunited with his heart in Xibalba would he finally be at rest.

He wasn’t alive. How could Ruin kill someone who didn’t bleed or breathe?

Now Jaid had tied her life to his. Even now, he felt her body as his own, his power flowing in her veins with every beat of her heart. As deeply as she’d drunk of his spirit to survive, she would likely share the same connection with him. The sacrifice had been great. Sitting here in the darkness, he suddenly realized he’d unconsciously synchronized his breathing with hers.

Claws of fear dug down his spine. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d died in his cursed duty. Would she die with him? Did she bear enough of his power now to rise again as he did, or would he awaken only to find her dead body beside him?

She stirred and released a soft moan. He felt her heartbeat quicken. He knew the instant she opened her eyes and realized they were beneath thousands of pounds of rock, trapped in the darkness. He felt the twinge in her knee, the remembered pain of her childhood injury. Automatically, he reached out and took her hand. He didn’t need to fumble in the dark; he knew exactly where every graceful limb and tempting curve lay in the darkness.

At his touch, the panicked tension bled out of her. She rolled to him, her free arm wrapping around his waist, her face against his thigh.

Her first thought whispered in his mind. “I’m alive.”

“Yes.”

She froze, her heart thudding louder. “You can hear my thoughts.”

“And you, mine.”

“The price.”

Good, she understood.

Her thoughts settled. Her thoughts immediately turned to the puzzle of the Gate, the best course of action, and their vast array of enemies and difficulties. Grief gnawed at her, as well as worry. Another person had died in her quest. Her precious bag was gone, and she felt its loss keenly. It represented her last hope to save her father. With trembling fingers, she traced the tender scar that curved about her throat. “Thank you.”

Whether she would thank him when he died, he didn’t know. “You have no need of notes, lady. The codex is written in my heart.” Her head raised, her eyes vainly trying to see him in the blackness. “You’ll help me?”

As if he could deny her anything now. “Why else do we linger here? As soon as night falls, we’ll use the Gate and travel to Chich’en Itza. We must retrieve the White Dagger before my brother thinks to take it. The Death Lords must not be allowed to reclaim their weapon of sacrifice.”

Ruin pushed open the panel slightly and moonlight shone through. Immediately, Jaid felt a rush of relief from the hint of light. Endless darkness beneath a mountain of rock was her own personal hell, although he’d gone to great pains to distract her with the gentle stroke of his fingers through her hair.

“I’ll transform to the jaguar first and scout my city.” He pulled the T-shirt over his head. “We need to know if the guerillas took over the compound, or if the guards are still looking for you. If I don’t return within half an hour, light a torch and follow the tunnel deeper beneath the volcano. Within a few hours, you’ll exit on the other side of the peninsula of Lake Atitlan. I’ll find you as soon as I’m able.”

Jaid’s mouth went dry at the sight of his muscled chest. As a library geek, she’d never been attracted to brawn, but for him, she’d make an exception. Silky black hair waterfalled over his shoulder as he bent to untie his hiking boots. “If everyone’s gone from the compound, I’d like to grab a few things. A change of clothes, some of Dad’s journals I couldn’t cram in my bag.”

“I expect at least the guards to remain looking for you. Their jobs—and their lives—depend on it.” Straightening slowly, he gazed at her through his tumbled hair, eerie golden eyes glowing. His hands settled on the fly of his jeans. When she didn’t look away, white teeth flashed against his dark skin. “You might feel rather strange when I transform.”

Was that why her heart pounded so loudly she was afraid he could hear it? The attraction she’d felt earlier exploded into something demandingly feral. Heat pulsed deep in her abdomen, a whirlpool of desire that threatened to overwhelm her.

He unbuttoned his jeans and shoved the denim down his rock-hard thighs. No underwear. Thankfully, it was still rather dark in the tunnel or she would have likely embarrassed herself like a schoolgirl sneaking her first glimpse of male anatomy.

Moonlight sculpted his body into hollows and shadows that still made her drool. Need clenched tighter, and her breathing became erratic. His was too, she realized. Golden light sparked about him, tiny fireflies growing stronger, swirling in tune to the desire blazing in her. Her body jolted as though she’d stuck her fingers into a light socket. No, as if a lightning bolt picked her up and slammed her to the ground.

Weak-kneed, she propped herself up against the tunnel wall. Wrapped in a glowing nimbus, he glided closer. His scent was stronger, rawer, the musk and fur of a jaguar. Yet she smelled him, too, the man who’d saved her by dragging her back from the bowels of death with his magic.

She felt the heavy pounding of his heart, the rush of power filling his veins as his body shifted, and his response to her. He wants me.

The thought rocked her to the core. Even when he’d allowed her to kiss him earlier, she hadn’t been sure how much he really felt for her. Now, his soul was laid bare before her, as hers must be to him. A double-edged sword.

“Yes.” He whispered in her mind, a growling purr of seduction. “I can’t hide it from you any longer. A price I’m willing to pay. How about you?”

She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him down to her. “Show me.”

This kiss had nothing soft and gentle about it. On a low growl, he thrust his tongue deep. He licked the roof of her mouth, the rim of her teeth, crushing her lips. Groaning, she sucked on his tongue, reveling in his wildness. One big hand cupped her breast, searing her flesh through the shirt. He rubbed his palm in torturous circles, growling with approval at the feel of her swollen nipple.

With a last tug of her lip between his teeth, he took a step away. He glowed so brightly she had to shield her eyes. Blinking, she focused on a massive jaguar. He pushed his head into her hand, rumbling an earth-shattering purr. The big jaws gaped to take her hand in a gentle bite, teeth pressing delicately into her flesh. His tongue curled around her fingers, sandpaper rough.

“Wait here.” It was Ruin’s mental voice but deeper, winding through her like a cat twining around her ankles. Black fur, golden eyes, curled inside her. “You can have my shirt. I have clothing stashed at every Gate.”

Then he was gone.

Panting, she slid to the floor and concentrated on regaining control. Her heart raced and her hands were sweaty. She picked up his shirt, held it to her nose, and felt a flood of liquid heat between her thighs. His musky, wild scent shot straight to her core.

She wanted him with an intensity that scared her. Touching her lips, she wasn’t surprised to find them tender and swollen from his kiss. Tangling with a man like him would mean bite marks and quite possibly bruises from the force of his lovemaking. Her inner muscles clenched like a fist, drawing a groan from her lips.

Stiff with dried blood, her shirt was a brutal reminder of how close she’d come to dying. She stripped it off and slipped his T-shirt on. The too-big shirt wrapped her up in a hug. His scent enveloped her, keeping her heartbeat fast and frantic.

Closing her eyes, she felt him out in the night. He slunk from shadow to shadow, invisible, and watched his prey pace the fence. He heard the enraged orders to find her at any cost buzz through the guard’s phone, and the man’s clipped, furious response.

“They have to be in the ruins somewhere. Search every inch.”

The jaguar screamed a warning. “Run to the altar stone above the lake.”

Jaid scrambled to her feet and stepped out into the night. She had no idea how many hours had passed, or what time of night it was. Using her shoulder, she shoved the tunnel door shut. No sense in letting the guards know their secrets. It was hard to get her bearings in the darkness, but the pyramids made perfect landmarks. As fast as she dared, she slipped and slid across the scree-covered slope.

Stelae marked the rear entrance to the city. She raced across the plaza toward Lake Atitlan. Not a hint of panic tightened her chest, and her knee felt fine. She almost laughed out loud with relief. After hours beneath the volcano, the wide-open ruins didn’t seem so bad.

A black shape streaked across the ground and took the lead up the ramp. Breathing hard, she reached the stone altar, leaned against it, and concentrated on catching her breath. She remembered this spot from her father’s ritual. The lake shimmered below, deep and magical in the night. Golden light danced around the jaguar, telling her Ruin was transforming.

Would he be weakened? Disoriented? She didn’t know how his magic worked.

Voices echoed in the plaza. The guards had entered the city.

In her mind, the map in the temple blazed as clearly as though she stood in the secret room. Standing on the volcanoes, she gazed across at the symbol for Chich’en Itza. Quickly, she dialed the location round to the Sacred Cenote and the other to seven.

His human form glorious in the moonlight, Ruin lifted a massive flat stone set beneath the altar and retrieved a blade painstakingly carved from an aged ivory-colored material. I really don’t want to know what kind of bone that knife was carved from.

Straightening, he closed his eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. She felt him centered within her, vibrating with intent, his will focused wholly on the Gate. He muttered words she didn’t understand and drew the blade across his left palm.

Fisting his hand, he dripped blood on the two rings and then flung his hand outward to sling blood out onto the waters below. So little blood was required. Why had her father killed a goat? She was ashamed of the images she’d always conjured of the priest slaughtering an innocent person for his sacrifice.

Breathlessly, she scanned the lake, waiting. When her father had performed the ritual, he’d released an inland hurricane. She glanced at Ruin and then back at the lake. “That’s it?”

His mouth quirked. “When done correctly, yes.” Stones clacked together. He whipped his head around, staring down into the darkness of the plaza. “They’re close. We need to go.”

“Go where?” Bewildered, she searched the still waters, the three volcanoes perfectly reflected. Something pinged on the altar and chips of stone flew up, stinging her arm.

He shoved her up the ramped stone, using his body to cover her. “They’ve seen us. Go!”

On the rock slab that hung out over the water, she felt her stomach pitch and her head whirl like a merry-go-round. Shimmering waters beckoned, but it was at least a twenty-foot drop. This lake was so deep that it’d never been sounded. Shivering with fear, she reached back and clutched his hand. He wrapped his other arm around her, and together, they jumped.

Water enveloped her, warmer than she’d expected, and thick. In the murky darkness, she couldn’t see anything, not even the man beside her. He dragged her down, his arms locked about her. Instinct screamed at her to kick for the surface and fight his grip, but she felt him calm and sure in her mind. He hadn’t saved her earlier to let her drown now.

Lungs burning for air, she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on not breathing. She would not open her mouth. God, how deep? Where was the bottom?

“Almost through. Don’t panic.”

She clung to his mental voice like a lifeline, the stroke of fur inside her odd and yet terribly comforting.

Darkness closed. Fire exploded behind her eyeballs, searing her skin and blasting her mind. Cold seared her to the bone, making her teeth ache. Involuntarily, she gasped and choked, her lungs filling with water. It actually felt and tasted like water, and not some viscous slime.

Ruin hauled her up into air and she spluttered and coughed. The world spun crazily. It was still dark, but the moon had changed position. It gleamed directly overhead, illuminating steep cliffs all around, shaped like a bowl.

“Welcome to the Sacred Cenote of the Itza people.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

He had just enough strength remaining to give her tempting backside a shove up out of the water so she could climb onto the ledge leading to the cave. Turning around, Jaid held down her hand and helped draw him up onto the sandy ledge, or he might not have made it.

“Ruin?”

Her voice sounded very far away, vibrating with worry. She leaned over him, little more than a shadow in the cave. Her hands felt scorching hot on his face, trailing down his neck and across his shoulders.

“Are you hurt?”

Transforming again and again, while working such magic, had diminished even his cursed immortal reserves. Distantly, he wondered if he could die from exhaustion. How long would the gods allow him to rest before forcing him back to his duty? “It’s not serious.”

“Blood—you’ve been shot!”

Her rising panic through their magical bond made no sense to him. “The bullet went through. You’ve seen me receive much worse damage than this, lady.”

“Your skin is cold and clammy, your heart rate is erratic, and your speech sounds fuzzy. You must have lost too much blood. I think you’re going into shock.”

“I’m just tired.” He started to lift a hand toward her face, but then realized he still gripped the knife. He let it fall to the sand so he could cup her face in his palm. “For so much magic, I must pay the price.”

For her, he’d pay that price willingly.

“You said you had clothing stashed here. Do you have blankets? Maybe some food?”

“Yes, but not here in the cave where it may be found. Truly, I’ll be fine after a little rest.” He noted she was shivering, but whether from shock herself or simply being wet, he couldn’t tell. Everyone responded to the Gates differently, especially the first time. Maybe that explained her panic.

He tried to sit up and wrap her in his arms so they could warm each other. Biting back a groan, he let his head fall back. Too weak. Perhaps this was the end. He’d never exerted himself so many times without renewal before. He didn’t even have enough reserves left to transform to the jaguar and hunt.

To his great shame, his teeth began to chatter and shivers shook his frame.

Brow lined, she placed her hand on his head. She gnawed on her bottom lip and he groaned again, remembering her mouth beneath his. That would certainly restore his reserves, but it also presented a risk he dared not take. “You’re getting worse by the minute.”

He let his eyes fall closed. There was no need to expose her to the darker elements of his curse. For the first time in nearly a thousand years, he found himself wishing he didn’t have to die. That he could live. With her.

She made a soft, fragile little sound that made him want to wrap his body around hers and never let her go.

Blood. He scented her blood.

His eyes flew open. Gripping his knife, she smiled down at him, her eyes glittering, her mouth hard with determination.

“You work the magic of the Gate through blood, so surely this will help you.” Slowly, she lowered her bleeding hand toward his mouth. “Am I wrong?”

He wanted to refuse it. He should die untouched by her compassion, her courage, her spirit. Such a sacrifice. For him.

“It’s very dangerous, lady. Are you sure you want to risk it?”

Her free hand brushed his hair away from his face. “You’ve saved me at least twice, now. Let me help you.”

The taste of her blood exploded in his mouth, a sunburst of flavor and power. She tasted as she smelled: green magic, forgotten knowledge, rain, mixed with the deep, rich spice of coppery blood. Each swallow sent warmth coursing through his body, heating his throat, stomach and groin.

Ah, the danger. Exactly why he didn’t indulge in human blood. The power and temptation were too great.

He locked his fingers around her hand and set his teeth into the flesh of her palm. She made a low, ragged sound in the back of her throat that had nothing to do with pain. A sound he liked a great deal. He tugged her down, sprawling her across his chest. Her wet clothing prevented the stirring magic of skin to skin contact except through her hands. She stroked her free palm over his chest in torturous circles that seared his mind to ash.

The spirit bond between them glowed like a comet in the midnight sky, blazing fire through him. She soaked into him like the first spring rain after a drought, healing the cracks and chasms in his soul. Gods help him, how could he ever die and leave her? “See how dangerous?”

She felt fragile in his arms. Human. Temporal. He could snuff out her life with a simple twist of his powerful hands. He could wipe her memories with his power. He could open a Gate and drag her to eternal paradise, where he’d be forced to leave her and return to his punishment.

“It may be dangerous, but it feels incredible.”

Slanting his head, he dragged his tongue over the cut in her palm. She moaned and squirmed against him, her breath catching in her throat. Silk slithered through his mind, rain-slick and magic-hot.

“Touch me.”

He slid a palm down her back, relishing her response. Every soft gasp and tremble was sweet music to a man doomed to endless death. “I never dreamed to hold a woman again.”

“I never dreamed I could tame a jaguar.”

Rolling, he pinned her beneath him and laughed, low and rough, a deliberate growl rumbling his chest. “Do you think me tamed?”

“Your injury—”

He licked her palm one last time and released her hand. “Healed.”

She sought out the jagged hole the bullet had tore through his back and he knew she found only the slightly thickened skin of a scar. She raised her gaze to his and trembled faintly. His body couldn’t help but respond.

Her emotions crashed through him, a tumult of shock and desire, fear and desire. “So fast.”

Carefully, he lifted his weight off her and pushed back to kneel at her feet. “I thank you, lady. I’m fully restored.”

Still shivering, she gazed up at him with darkness in her eyes. She sat up, holding his gaze, and began to tug the soggy shirt over her head. He could not help but trace the gentle curves of her body with his gaze. So lovely. The greatest artisans of his time would have delighted in attempting to capture her form.

She stood and worked at her jeans, shoving and twisting to get the wet material down her hips. His tongue felt thick and swollen in his mouth, his throat tight, and he knew his eyes must be blazing like lamps in the darkness, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Her skin gleamed like the moon, inviting his touch, his mouth.

Biting back a rumbling growl, he averted his gaze. The rustle of clothing made his entire body tighten. He fisted his hands. He couldn’t bear to look upon such glory and be denied. It would be worse than the agonies of dying, to see the Great Ceiba in the distance and be sent back to this earth yet again to die in the service of the Gates.

She touched his shoulder and he flinched. Her scent flowed over him, sweet as honey, rich as cacao, green and fresh with his magic. His mouth watered to taste every inch. Muscles straining, he forced himself to remain still, his hands at his sides.

It was a battle he lost as soon as she slipped into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Gods above, her skin was as soft and fine as he’d imagined, even clammy and cold after her dunking. Shivering, she nestled closer, tucking her head up against his neck.

Skin to skin, the magic flared between them. Flames licked his flesh, energy pulsing higher with each breath he took. His hands trembled on the smooth expanse of her back, his fingers aching to linger lower, gripping her hips and hauling—

“Are we safe here?”

Her lips brushed against his neck with each word. It took him two tries to ease the tightness in his throat enough to speak. “Even if the demons feel the dagger’s presence, it will take them much longer to trek across all of Guatemala and the Yucatan. We’re safe enough to rest and recuperate our strength.”

“Good.” She opened her mouth and gripped his throat with her teeth, pressing harder until he let out a raw growl that should have told her how close the jaguar walked in his body. “Because I’m very hungry. For you.”

He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. Slow and gentle, he kissed a path up to her ear, where he lingered, breathing warm and moist, his lips soft against her. “You saw me die.”

She shuddered, her heart clenching with dread at the image of his powerful body crumpled on the floor at the compound with a bloody dent in his skull. “And you always come back.”

“Not always. Someday, I will die the final death. I already fear our connection. If I die, I may drag you to the White Road as well. If we make love, the spirit bond will only grow stronger. I would not cause you suffering, lady.”

She pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. “Say my name.”

His stark face was as hard as the chiseled rock of the stelae guardposts of his dead city. “For the first time in hundreds of years, I find myself unable to pray for an end to my duty as Gatekeeper. I don’t want to die this time. I don’t want to miss one moment of this life with you, Jaid.”

Such vulnerability trembled in his words. She knew what his heart had cost him in the past. Throat aching, she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t drive him to break his duty, either. Not when her father was trapped in hell and innocents were slaughtered to demons, all because of her research. “I can’t leave my father in Xibalba if there’s any hope that he’s still alive.”

Ruin sighed soft and low, his breath a whisper against her cheek. “I know. I said I would help you, did I not?”

Guilt suffocated her. “I don’t want you to suffer, either. I don’t want to put you in the same position as your brother.”

The sudden white flash of his smile stunned her. “I assure you, I never had this position with my brother.”

She laughed, he smiled, and some of the regret and tension bled away, leaving only the glide of skin, the heated press of his body, and rising desire. She needed to touch him and feel his hands on her skin. For a little while, they could forget the horrors of demons. She didn’t have to worry about Venus Star and her lost father.

This man had already opened her up and stared into her darkest self. Ruin stood at the top of his pyramid, dripping blood from her heart clutched in his hand, volcanoes rumbling and Lake Atitlan surging like a tsunami behind him. She felt new-made, as though Dr. Jaid Merritt had jumped into the lake and some other woman had emerged in the Sacred Cenote. A woman who shivered and moaned at the thought of this untamed, powerful man sinking into her.

Her breath came short and fast. Rising up on her knees, she took him into her body. He groaned harshly, his hands convulsing on her back.

“I’m doubly cursed now,” he said, his eyes glittering eerily, his voice rumbling with jaguar tones, “because I don’t wish to part from you. Ever.”

Everywhere their skin met, golden light spread liquid and warmth. Unlike the dancing fireflies when he transformed, this light grew softly, glowing brighter to fully illuminate his face, his high forehead, his sharp, chiseled cheekbones, the thick slabs of muscle across his shoulders and chest. His tattoos swirled and pulsed, spreading in a thickening vine up his neck as if they fed on the light.

As if they fed on his pleasure and need.

“Yes,” he breathed against her lips. “As you gave me blood, you give me power now. Such power.” He trembled beneath her and buried his face against her shoulder. “I feel like we’re still in the Gate. I’m drowning in you.”

Her senses overloaded. She fisted one hand in his heavy hair and clawed at his back with the other, trying to get closer, closer yet, as if she could simply crawl inside his body and meld their hearts forever. She flicked her tongue hesitantly at the dark swirls in his throat. His skin felt like living velvet, but she couldn’t feel the tattoos themselves. He groaned and threw his head back, so she pressed her mouth harder, letting her teeth dig into his flesh.

Falling through the Gate, the only thing real had been his hand gripping hers, his body dragging hers under. It was the same now, as he dragged her through a different Gate. In his mind, she saw a sleek black pyramid stretching all the way to the sun. It blazed liquid fire at its tip, casting rainbows and rivers of gold down the steep obsidian sides. Feathers fell all around, jade and gold, and the air smelled alive with a thousand scents carried on the first breath of spring.

He took her to First Five Sky. Heaven.

She heard his hoarse cry. Her throat hurt, so she must have yelled too. Her head felt disconnected, her consciousness still lingering in that place of magic. She barely felt him draw her down to lie on the sands. Cradled against his chest, she listened as his thundering heart slowed. Her breathing steadied, her pulse slowed, and so did his. It dawned on her that their breathing was perfectly synchronized.

Drifting off to sleep, she wondered how her heart could possibly continue beating when he died again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lighting a torch at the back of the cave, Ruin could not help but steal glances at Jaid as she dressed in the faint sunlight streaming through the cave opening. She grimaced at her still-damp clothing, but until he took her into the hidden temple, it was all she had available.

She, too, couldn’t help but look at him beneath her lashes. She said nothing, though, which twisted him into uneasy knots. Did she regret giving both her blood and her body to him last night?

He was completely healed and stronger than he’d ever been. The thought should have pleased him greatly. But Jaid moved as though every muscle in her body ached. Sleeping on the sand and jumping through the Gate for the first time had taken their toll, and though she didn’t complain, she wasn’t refreshed and strong, not like him.

She winced at her palm. The cut she’d made for him. He’d forgotten about it entirely.

Shame welled in his heart. He set the burning torch back into the holder and gently took her hand in both of his. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was red, angry, and the edges were inflamed. Dirt and sand had been ground into her flesh.

Holding her gaze, he lowered his mouth to the cut. Carefully, he breathed magic into her skin. He kept his lips soft and carefully slid his tongue over the cut to clean the dirt away. When he was done, her lips were parted, her eyes glazed with desire, and her breathing was a soft, rapid pant.

He placed a kiss on the now smooth skin and straightened, letting his mouth quirk. “Thank you for your sacrifice last night, lady.”

Heat bloomed on her cheeks and she tugged her hand away.

Laughing softly, he returned to the back of the cave and retrieved the torch. “Are you ready?”

“Lead the way.”

Casting wavering torch-light on the wall, he scanned the glyphs. The small depression in the wall of the Sacred Cenote was just that, a hole to the casual eye. It certainly didn’t appear to be a tunnel that led up to a hidden chamber beneath Kukulkan’s Pyramid. It had been centuries since he stared at this wall.

“They’re remarkably clear after so many years.” Jaid stood beside him, lightly trailing her fingers over them. “I suppose they’re rather sheltered from the elements, unless the cenote floods this high.”

Lost in thought as she translated the glyphs, she gnawed on her bottom lip. The lip he would relish nibbling on again.

“Great Feathered Serpent, rise again. Renew us to power and life.”

“This glyph is actually magic.” He touched the one she’d translated as power. “This picture shows the kuxan sum, or living cord, that rises toward Raised-Up Sky, connecting earth to heaven. Magic flows through the Ceiba, from the branches to the trunk, even to the roots.”

“To Xibalba,” she whispered grimly.

“Yes. The magic is there, too, but Itzamna, the first sorcerer, never gave his brothers in the Place of Fright that knowledge. Knowledge in this case truly is magic, or power as you said. If the Lords of Night ever gain the Gate magic, Raised-Up Sky will be hacked to pieces and the world as we know it will end. There will be no afterlife, no Return, no paradise. The Maya and humans alike will be slaughtered.”

Jaid shivered but didn’t stop studying the glyphs. Her fingers twitched at her side as though she traced the markings. She could be so dangerous.

Let her be trustworthy.

“So if the magic flows through the Ceiba, where are the priests, like you, who use the magic?”

“We’re the branches and trunk. Without us, the magic doesn’t flow. Unfortunately, there are few of us left. Magic in this world thins. The branches have been stunted.”

Her eyes narrowed and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind, clicking into place. “The Lords of Xibalba would want the magic to die. Because once it fails—”

“The Gates will fall open,” he admitted. He drew the knife. Immediately, her gaze focused on it. The startled flare of her eyes and quickening of her breath told him she still wasn’t comfortable with sacrifice, despite what she’d done for him last night. “Magic has a cost. I pay the cost myself as often as possible, but some magic can only be wrought with great sacrifice.”

“Did you…” She swallowed hard and her face paled. She jerked her gaze away from the knife up to his face. “Did you ever sacrifice a human?”

He kept his face smooth. “You know the answer to that question.”

A shudder wracked her shoulders, but she didn’t pull away.

“The tales of your time greatly exaggerate the role and act of human sacrifice by my people. Did we sacrifice people? Yes. But never mass slaughters where the steps of the pyramid ran red with blood. We have no mass graves. We never decimated an entire tribe by slaughtering every living being.”

“How many?” Her voice was raw, ragged, her hands fisted at her sides. The pale tightness on her face made him want to snarl.

“We fought wars. We captured our enemy. We gave them the honor of fighting in the ballgame. The losers were often sacrificed. Great kings, too, were often sacrificed, and they went willingly to save their people. What great sacrifice have you made? How would you save your people?”

“You killed people,” she whispered, backing away as though she stared at an abomination. “Did you kill someone to resurrect your brother?”

Grimly, he drew the knife across his palm, deeper than he intended in his fury. “Of course not. That price I paid with my own blood.”

Turning away, he smeared his bloody palm on the glyph for magic. Pressure built behind his eardrums. His heart quickened. Jaid must have felt the rising power, too, for she let out a soft startled sound and edged closer despite her repugnance for what he’d done.

The wall cracked. He pushed the opening deeper, revealing a rough-hewn door and tunnel beyond. She walked through without a word, her body withdrawn and closed. His throat tightened with explanations and entreaties, but he spoke not a word. For the first time in centuries, he had a reason to live as long as possible instead of finally ending his miserable existence in Xibalba.

This was something she must resolve for herself. If she cared for him, she would work out the ramifications. She had to trust his motivations and understand his culture. If she thought him capable of casual murder, his words would merely break apart, ignored and unheard.

Silently, he led her up the tunnel to the next door. This one, too, required blood. Magic pulsed in him, begging to be used, wrought by the powerful sex and blood sacrifice she’d given him last night. If she’d known what power it would give him, would she have refused? He dared not ask. The last thing he wanted was for her to regret giving herself to him, not when he would carry the memory and her scent in his heart forever.

Heavier than the other door to better conceal the secret beneath the pyramid, this one took all his physical strength to move. Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against the stone.

Jaid stepped closer and stretched out the hand he’d healed, her palm whispering of remembered blood and his lingering magic. Then she pulled away and stepped into the chamber.

Clenching his jaw, he closed his eyes and willed his heart to harden. For this next magic, he needed his mind clear and unhampered by foolish longings of his heart.

How could he ask what she’d been willing to sacrifice?

Didn’t he understand that she’d sacrificed her entire life for her father already?

How could he, when she’d only begun to realize the truth herself on this trip?

Nerves jittery, she walked into the hidden chamber. The torch cast flickering light and shadows on the walls, but she recognized the dizzying map on the floor as identical to the one in Chi’Ch’ul.

Not exactly, she decided, squinting as she moved closer. Ruin brought the torch in and started lighting the ones ready on the walls, illuminating the small chamber fully.

She brought up the map floor from Lake Atitlan in her mind, remembering the trio of volcanoes, the large blue lake, the rounds and their glyphs, and the corresponding numbers. “They don’t match.”

“Of course not.” His voice was tight with repressed emotion, but he didn’t rant or growl about like a jaguar. She knew she’d hurt him with her doubts, but she couldn’t comprehend sacrificing someone, no matter how willing the victim might have been to “save” his people. “The key for Chich’en Itza is different than mine.”

Made sense, she supposed. Each city had its own set of patron gods, so it was only to be expected that they’d have a different layer of encryption. “So what’s the key?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Whirling to face him, she stared at him incredulously. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Then why are we here?”

Pulling on a pair of jeans from the stash of clothing he’d mentioned, he arched a brow at her. “We don’t need to travel through the Gate to retrieve what we came for.”

Or did he not trust her with the knowledge? Averting her gaze—although it was too late, for every bronzed inch of his body was emblazoned in her memory—she turned back to the map. Determination filled her, as well as that familiar excitement to solve the puzzle. She could reason out the encryption by herself while he did whatever he needed to release the White Dagger from its hiding place.

Lake Atitlan and the volcanoes had been a crucial part of Chi’Ch’ul’s encryption. They believed their lake was the navel of the world, and that belief provided the answer to how to read the map—which is why she’d gotten it wrong the first time. She hadn’t really understood the Maya or the codex until she’d walked the ruin with the priest who’d lived and ruled there.

So what did Chich’en Itza believe? What was important to them and unique to their city alone?

The Sacred Cenote, obviously. They’d used crushed white stone to pave the White Way from the city proper to the cenote. They’d often tossed small items as sacrifices into the waters, and according to legend, people, too. Some dreadful accounts claimed children had especially been used. They were tossed into the hole in the morning, and if they still survived that night, they were pulled out. Often, they recounted “visions” that likely had more to do with terror and exhaustion than anything else.

Or so she’d thought. What if they had managed to pass through the portal? Would the Great Feathered Serpent have taken pity on young people thrown into his Gate?

Thanks to the legends about Kukulkan someday rising again and bringing the Maya back to their full glory, her father had spent a great deal of time here in the beginning. Here in Chich’en Itza he’d first begun theorizing about the Gates. He’d made his first significant find: a small tile in the floor of a temple beneath the main pyramid El Castillo, buried beneath inches of dust and dirt.

There was so much about the famous pyramid that they still didn’t understand. Just a few years ago, someone had noticed that a strange bird sound emitted from the pyramid, supposedly the sacred and extinct quetzl. On the Vernal Equinox, when the sun reached the peak of the pyramid, the shadow of a writhing serpent raced down the steps.

Last night, she’d seen a vision of a gleaming black pyramid with a blazing sun at its top and jade feathers falling all around. Surely a glimpse of what might lay on the other side of the Chich’en Itza portal.

Fighting to keep her gaze locked on Kukulkan’s Pyramid on the floor—painted black, she noted, matching Ruin’s memory—she walked across the floor and stood at its peak. The map settled into place and the rings appeared with the corresponding numbers. “I think I’ve got it!”

Face cast in shadows, he stood in the corner watching her. Gripping the knife in his right hand, his left hand still dripping blood on the floor, he sent shivers down her spine, even while her inner muscles clenched with remembered passion. Fear, danger and desire made a deadly combination.

She knew he’d killed people to protect the Gate. As a priest, he’d even sacrificed people. Yet he’d saved her several times. When he’d touched her last night, he’d been only tender, gentle, his touch reverent. He possessed inhuman powers she couldn’t fully comprehend, but he’d only been a man last night when he’d held her, buried his face against her neck, and shook with release.

Scanning the floor and walls, she tried to decipher what he’d done. There was blood on the wall in several spots. “Are you ready?”

With a jerk of his head, he motioned her away from the relief map. She moved to the edge, opposite him so she could see his face.

“Watch the Sacred Cenote.”

Confused, she turned her attention to the map. From the city glyphs, the White Way led a glowing path to the blue circle representing the sinkhole. The image wavered. Narrowing her gaze, Jaid edged closer.

Whispering beneath his breath, he stepped to the map and held his bleeding hand over the cenote.

Hair rose down her arms and her scalp felt alive, crawling with energy. Her skin tingled with whispered breath. Ultrasensitive, her nerves tingled, her fingers itching, burning with…magic. It hadn’t felt this way at Chi’Ch’ul. Had passing through the Gate made her more sensitive?

The blue paint of the cenote wavered with ripples like the smooth surface of a pool after a stone had been tossed in. She sucked in a breath and chills raced down her spine. Real. The water was real. A scent sparkled in the air like the moist jungle after a light rain.

Wide-eyed, she leaned closer. Something white glinted in the waters. With his voice rolling like thunder on the horizon in his chant, Ruin reached down. His fingers touched water and sank through to grasp the white shape below.

A voice floated through the living glyph. “It’s a trap!”

“Dad?” Heart hammering, she rushed forward. “Hold on! We’ll get you out!”

“Stay back!” Ruin shouted and threw up his free hand to halt her. “I’ll lose the connection if you step on the map.”

Her father’s voice wavered as though oceans separated them. “Don’t risk opening the Gate again. One Death waits.”

At first, she thought he meant that someone would die. Then she realized he meant One Death, the highest Xibalban Lord of Night. Her teeth chattered. If the most powerful demon waited for them…

She fell to her knees and leaned as close as she dared so she could hear him better. “We have to send the ones that escaped back. I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.”

“They’re waiting. Get out of there. Leave me!”

Ruin closed a hand on her arm, pulling her up. “He’s right. They’re here. We have to get out now.”

Desperation pounded in her veins and her ears roared with hurricane winds. “No, no, I can’t leave him! Dad!”

In an iron grip, Ruin dragged her toward the secret door to the tunnel. “Now is not the time. I will help you as I swore, but you have to trust me. We can’t save him now.”

“Okay,” she gulped, forcing the clamoring panic to recede. “What do we need to do?”

He gave her a quick, hard smile and pushed her toward the tunnel. “Run toward the cenote while I set the Gate to get us out of here. I have to put additional safeguards on the magic to ensure the demons can’t escape through with us.”

“What demons? If they’re in Xibalba—”

“Your father spoke truly. I feel at least one demon, here, now. If it gets the White Dagger, all is lost. Now go!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The White Dagger pulsed darkly in Ruin’s hand. He knew a demon was close because of the jarring ache in his bones. Something hurt his ears, a shrill scream just beyond his hearing. He had to get Jaid out of here, immediately.

If a demon took her, the Lords of Xibalba would have a powerful, untrained priest to torture. After they stole her knowledge, they’d kill her and possess her soul with the nasty weapon in his hand. The dagger hungered for souls like a slavering rabid beast. He despised its clamor in his head. His skin crawled but he dared not let the thing out of his sight.

He stepped on Kukulkan’s Pyramid and double-checked the map. It’d been dozens of lifetimes since he’d used this Gate and he had to make absolutely sure. With the White Dagger in hand, he was powerful enough to stop his brother. Truth be told, he was powerful enough to stop every demon as well.

He knew of only one place Wrack would go to bide his time: Iximche, Butterfly Star’s home.

Ruin clicked the rings into place and raced after Jaid. He felt her waiting ahead in the outlet above the water. Magic swelled within him, the Gate shimmering in his mind. With his bloody handprints acting as safeguards in the chamber, all the Gate needed was a touch of his blood to open it only to him and those carrying his blood.

Something he would have to correct in a heartbeat, or she’d be left behind.

A demon howled, a cry of derision or glee that skittered down his spine. His sense of time told him it should be high noon, but no sunlight reached the waters. Clouds roiled in the small circle of sky, darkening the sun.

If he failed, if he allowed a demon to reclaim the White Dagger for the might of Xibalba, the sun would be destroyed along with all the worlds within the rings. Yet dread at what he needed to do twisted his gut. What he needed from her now might be the final thing that drove her to turn her face and heart from him forever.

Terrified but calm, she smiled with relief as soon as he joined her. “Where are we going?”

Solemnly, he traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “Do you trust me?”

She stared at him, her chin trembling slightly.

“Priest!” The demon screamed above. “Surrender the White Dagger, or I’ll slice the woman’s skin from her body in thin strips and feast on her flesh!”

She paled and her pulse thumped in her neck. Staring at him, she weighed his many sins against the night they’d spent together.

Carefully, he kept his mind closed and his face shut down. He would not accidentally use the mental connection he’d forged through healing to sway her. Steeling his heart, he prepared to make the most difficult sacrifice of his life. His heart rebelled. A knife cracked open his chest and exposed his frantically pounding heart.

How could he leave her to a fate worse than death? Did he dare force her? His heart raged in the everlasting battle he could never seem to escape. This was his true curse, this desire to throw all caution away for his heart.

For his love.

“I would die to save you,” he whispered raggedly. “I love you, Jaid.”

She trembled. “You barely know me.”

“I know your heart. I touched your soul when I healed you. I love you like no one else could. Trust me. Let me save us. I’ll pay the cost myself.”

A splash told him the demon had jumped into the cenote, willing to risk that he’d send it back to Xibalba in order to gain the greatest prize of all.

Ruin clenched his hands into fists. Choose, choose, he screamed silently. Don’t make me force this choice upon you.

“I trust you.”

Relief flooded him. He wrapped his palm around the back of her head and dragged her against his chest. “Hold this,” he rasped, thrusting the White Dagger into her hand. He dared not use it for this sacrifice, and he had a better chance of surviving this journey through the Gate if the weapon of power was not in his grasp. “Whatever happens, don’t let it fall from your hand or your entire civilization will die.”

She wrapped trembling, chilled fingers around his and took the weapon. He unsheathed his personal knife. Her eyes widened and her throat worked on a swallow. Or a scream? No time. He couldn’t pause to explain or comfort her, not with the demon swimming toward them, thrashing wildly in the water.

Lifting the knife, he sliced both his shirt and chest open on a deep cut and dragged her toward his flesh.

Involuntarily, she flinched back, her mouth opening on a protest. “No—”

He hauled her mouth against his chest. Blood coated her lips and face, hot and coppery. She braced for revulsion. Gagging, retching, she’d surely throw up whatever small amount of blood he was able to force down her throat.

Her stomach clutched, but not in a spasm of sickness. His blood burned like a shot of perfectly aged whiskey, rich and dark with a powerful kick. She shuddered, her throat closing on another swallow. Another. Once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop. His scent filled her nose, jungle jaguar prowling in the night. His strength enveloped her, his magic alive and breathing like thousands of tiny fingers against her skin.

She couldn’t worry about the approaching demon, or the trap her father had warned them of, or the horrible plague, not with this man at her side. Not with this mighty jaguar prowling in the jungle night.

“Enough.” His fingers tightened on her nape, at odds with his order. In her mind, she saw his darkest desire: to be seated deeply within her while she licked blood from his throat. Her body kicked into high gear. Her veins felt full of life, swollen with energy, magic, whatever he wanted to call it. Her skin felt as though it would simply peel away from the cage of bones holding it in place and dance with joy and passion.

He murmured her name against her cheek. Rough like the jaguar’s sandpaper tongue, his tongue flicked out to lick a spot of his blood from her lip. She couldn’t help but moan out loud. His blood caught fire. Her muscles tightened with longing, and all she could think about was another night with him. Last night she’d had his tenderness and vulnerability. Tonight, she wanted his wildness. She could almost feel his teeth in the back of her neck, pinning her beneath him like a male jaguar would take its mate.

“Yes.” He growled, a threatening chest-rattling sound that tightened her scalp, sent her heart racing ever faster, and flared liquid heat through her core. “But first, we must get to safety.”

He gripped her hand so hard she winced. His eyes flared in the gathering shadows, his hair whipped by the approaching storm. “Whatever happens, don’t let go of the White Dagger. Our lives, your entire world, depend on it.”

She nodded, her breath erratic and shallow.

The demon drew close to the ledge. Spots of rotted death dotted its pallid face and it smelled like a corpse left out in the Texas sun.

Ruin bared his teeth at the demon in a snarl that curled the hair at the base of her neck. “Jump as high and hard as you can. I don’t want to risk taking him through with us in case my protective spell fails.”

He gave her no time to ask questions. They sprinted across the small cave in which they’d spent the night in each other’s arms. Muscles gathering, straining, she jumped. Her heart tried to escape up her throat, her heartbeats so loud in her skull they drowned out all noise. He leaped further, naturally, and jerked her arm so hard she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

The demon thrashed in the water, bony hands grasping frantically. She felt a sharp tug on her jeans and kicked out with her feet. Ruin hit the water and dragged her down so fast she didn’t get a good lungful of air.

Water closed over her head. An explosion rocked the cenote. Waves crashed and rolled all around them. Trapped in the epicenter of a swirling maelstrom, she clutched him in one hand and the dagger in the other, although she couldn’t feel her fingers.

Her lungs burned. Air, she needed air, and she knew she was going to breathe too soon. Panic ate at her. Coldness seeped up her arms and legs. Blackness swallowed her.

His blood blazed in that darkness, spreading warmth and life to push back her fear. She clung to that searing magical heat as fiercely as she clutched his hand. Drowning, she was drowning, but not in water.

All she tasted was blood.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Choking, Jaid thrashed in the water. Utter darkness. A weight on her right hand dragged her back under the surface and she took a lungful of water. She flailed back to the surface and coughed. Ruin stirred, taking some of his weight off her. He must have been weakened by the trip through the Gate again.

“Not the Gate,” he whispered, his voice fragile. “The White Dagger in the Gate. The backlash felt like lightning struck me a thousand times. If I’d carried it myself, it would have killed me again.”

No wonder it felt like her head wasn’t attached any longer. It took all her concentration to keep from sinking beneath the surface again. “Where are we?”

“A cave.” His hand closed over her arm, settling her worry. He was functioning, if not fully recovered. “The water’s not deep. Hold on a moment and let me get my bearings.”

She muttered beneath her breath, “Next time I complain about grading mid-terms, remind me that I jumped into the world’s deepest lake, got shot at, had my throat slit, and was chased by demons. I guess office hours aren’t so bad, are they?” Swallowing down the panic, she concentrated on treading water. Cold water encased her up to her chin, sloshing gently in the darkness. “Oh, and I’m never going swimming in the dark again.”

“This way.” He moved through the water confidently toward what she hoped was the edge of the pool. “This city was destroyed long ago, but the Gate is safe beneath the ruins.”

“Which city is this?”

“Iximche.”

Surprise splintered through her, followed by a tsunami of dread that nearly dragged her back down to the depths of Lake Atitlan. This is where her father had made his greatest pre-Chi’Ch’ul discovery. This is where her mother had died. “Why?”

A new voice echoed in the darkness. “Because he knew I’d come here.”

Ruin tensed and whipped his body around toward the speaker, pressing her back from the threat. Something slammed into him with the dull sound of flesh on flesh and ripped him away. Water splashed violently, but she couldn’t see what was happening. If she charged after them, she’d be killed. Yet standing here, doing nothing…

She heard a wet, heavy thunk, and he grunted. God, he must have been stabbed. Who was it? It didn’t sound like a demon.

“At last.”

Involuntarily, she backed away into the water. That voice did sound like a demon. Her teeth hurt and her muscles tensed so hard and fast that she shuddered. She couldn’t even call it a “voice” when it grated like metal on metal, screeching to the point of pain.

“Give me the White Dagger.”

Until then, she didn’t even remember that she held it in her hand. The thing felt slick and foul on her palm as though it were coated in rotted, feculent scum. Gritting her teeth, she forced her fingers to grip it instead of slinging it as far away as possible. It pulsed with a heavy, steady throb like a living heart.

“Jaid, don’t you dare—” Ruin’s ragged voice cut off on a strangled, bubbling sound. She didn’t need to see to know that his throat had been slit. If the first voice hadn’t been a demon, then it had to be Wrack, his brother, which made her scream in rage and betrayal for Ruin’s sake.

The demon laughed. “You surely know that the priest can’t die, so why do you mourn him? Come out of the Gate, now, and let us tend to you.”

The thought made her skin try to crawl off her bones. Stumbling deeper, she hunched in the water, straining her eyes to see anything that might help her escape. So dark, and the smell…She didn’t know which was worse, the nasty slime on the knife or the thick corpse smell in the air.

Carefully, she edged away from the demon’s voice. The bottom was littered with rocks but remained relatively level. How wide was the Gate? If she could get out, find her way to the surface…

Rock cracked into her head. Starbursts spinning in her skull, she reached up and felt the domed rock ceiling. Ruin had said the Gate was safe beneath the city. Her heart hammered, dread gnawing at the edge of her mind. She’d been underground and trapped here before, desperately afraid but also hoping to find something for her father.

Stop them. Escape. Flee. Ruin!

“Jaid.”

Oh, God. No. How could he be here? With them?

Light flared and one by one, they lit wavering torches. Her stomach churned and she sought Ruin first. He was sprawled on the beach and his brother squatted beside him with that hateful black knife in his hand. She was too far away to tell if his chest rose.

Next, her gaze fell on the Lord of Xibalba, dead white skin and bones, red glowing eyes, and immediately, she flinched away.

But oh, the worst sight of all, was Dr. Sam Gerard standing beside the demon.

Tears filled her eyes, her throat strangling on sobs she refused to release. The man she’d known her entire life, who’d read her bedtime stories, tucked her in at night, and cheered at her graduations now wore a feathered headdress and a ragged vest. His normally neat chinos were dirty and torn. A dark bag hung at his waist. His face was lined and grayed with weariness, possibly illness.

And his eyes. Even from twenty feet away, she saw the horrors crawling in his gaze.

He’d seen hell and lived. If helping demons take over the world was living. “You. You were there. I saw you at the church.”

“Jaid.” His voice beseeched, even while his eyes screamed at her to run, to save herself. No, to save him. “I don’t want them to hurt you.”

She cast her gaze around the cave, searching for any other exit. She’d backed into the far arc of the pool with nothing but rock behind and above her. The beach curved before her, with several black holes leading off in different directions. Bad guys between her and the tunnels out of here, with the only person she trusted dead.

She looked at Ruin again, straining to see his chest move, a flicker in his eyes.

The demon purred, a sound like hissing steam. “You care for him.”

He jerked his head and the man crouching over Ruin nodded. Wrack didn’t look much like his brother except in the face. He was shorter, smaller in stature and lean, but according to all the legends, he was the most important twin. His head represented the twentieth day, which also represented the last day of the baktun. Ironic, wasn’t it, when he was so willing to destroy the world? He looked up, capturing her gaze, and his black eyes were hard and grim. This man had nothing left but one final goal: to see his own brother dead at last.

He spoke harshly, jerking his head down at his brother. “Come to the shore immediately or I will cut out your lover’s heart.”

The demon cackled. “Do you think your priest will survive his heart cut out of his chest?”

Ruin groaned and she sagged with relief. His brother bit off a barrage of words too low and vicious for her to understand and slammed the knife into his chest.

“No!” She swam and ran, arms wind-milling through the water to get to him. “Don’t do it! I’m coming. Don’t hurt him.”

She fell to her knees beside him and closed her hands over the wound pumping blood like a fountain. Crying, she closed her eyes and concentrated on him. He’d healed her. In the process, he’d given her a sense of his magic. She carried his blood.

Please, she thought, straining to push some of her strength and life into him. Please come back to me.

“Always.” The jaguar prowled in her mind, sleek black fur slipping and sliding through her. “Cooperate with them. Stay safe. I’ll find a way.”

Brushing tears away so she could see, she forced a hard tone to her voice. “What do you want?”

“Something that will benefit us both.” The demon smiled, the bare bone of his jaw flashing. His eyes were locked not on her, but on the White Dagger in her hand. His teeth gashed the thin, gray flesh serving as lips, and he lapped at his own blood like a cat with a bowl of cream. “We want you to open the Gate to Xibalba.”

“No, never.”

“Not even to save Charlie?” Sam had edged closer, taking a protective stance between her and the demon. She couldn’t bear to look at him, but if he still had some lingering sense of duty or affection toward her, then she would use it. She’d use any tool at her disposal to save Ruin and her father. “I’ve tried everything Charlie ever told me, but I can’t open the Gate. I can’t save him.”

Yeah, right. Saving her father was surely the last reason Sam had done this horrible deed. Had he been involved in the massacre at Santiago Atitlan? The thought made her stomach twist and heave so hard she almost threw up. “What did they promise you?”

“Tell her.” The demon breathed out a waft of foulness that made her stomach churn harder. His high-pitched shriek might have been amusement.

Sam turned away, giving her his back.

“Tell her!”

He flinched as if the demon flayed him alive. Shoulders hunched, he whispered, “You. He promised me you.”

Bewildered, she stared at his back. Tears burned her eyes and her throat ached from straining not to sob like a baby. How many times had she clung to him, seeking the comfort and love she never received from her father? How many times had she called him just to hear a voice of someone who loved her? So how could he have done this for her?

“Sam?” She despised the quavering weakness in her voice, but at least he turned around. “Why?”

His lips curled downward as though he’d tasted something vile. “The guilt is eating me alive, Jaid. I tried and tried to forget what I felt that night, but I can’t stand it any longer.”

She thought he meant what had happened in Santiago Atitlan, until she realized he was staring at her mouth. She felt her cheeks coloring, shame flooding her at the memory. She’d never thought of him as more than her father’s friend until that night, and his shocked response to her kiss had confirmed he’d felt the same way.

“Why else do you think I put up with Charlie for so long, even after he lost his position at the university? I never sought my own career because I couldn’t lose you, Jaid. Even if you never saw me as more than a stand-in for him.” Sam’s voice broke, jagged and painful to hear. “You trusted me to take care of you. All these years…Forgive me.”

“Guilt,” the demon cackled. “Such a powerful human emotion. I took away his guilt and promised to deliver you unharmed into his hands. And here you are, shimmering with the priest’s magic, ripe with knowledge that we will harvest.”

Bracing herself, she forced her gaze up to Sam’s face. “You killed those people in Santiago Atitlan.”

“Help me.” He grasped her shoulder and his fingers dug into her flesh so hard she made a low noise. Misery burned in his eyes. “I’ll do the sacrifice. All I need you to do is translate.”

“Enough.” The demon lunged closer, reaching across Sam’s shoulder toward her. “Give me the White Dagger.”

She flinched back, involuntarily dropping the knife. Sam growled like a wild animal and shoved the demon back. The demon fell to the ground and scooped up the blade, cradling it gently to his chest and crooning.

She couldn’t imagine that the creature would hold a human baby as reverently as the White Dagger. The pictures of death and dismemberment from Santiago Atitlan flickered through her mind. She lost it, then, on her hands and knees, throwing up so long and hard that she was actually grateful for Sam’s calm, steadying hands. He helped her stand, despite the thundering headache splintering her skull. Her throat burned, her back and shoulders ached from the heaves.

Tears dripped down her cheeks. What can I do? How can we get out of this alive?

She felt Ruin in her mind, even though he still lay dead. Cooperate. That’s all she had to do. Delay. Do what she loved best, puzzle out the last remaining elements to the Gate, and pray that she didn’t solve the problem too quickly.

Sam had set up a research area in a different cave. Floodlights had been brought in, along with a table and chair. Evidently, they’d been planning this trap for quite awhile. The precious codex lay on the table, exposed to the air and elements. Furious, she noted that the delicate bark pages were dampening with humidity and beginning to curl. The codex wouldn’t last long in such conditions.

Staring at the priceless book, she thought of Ruin hundreds of years ago as he’d crafted each page by hand.

Her leather carryall lay on the table. Closing her eyes, she remembered Wrack slamming into her, his knife slicing open her throat. “He nearly killed me to take my notes.”

“I have no control over the demons or their servants.” Sam stood at her back between her and the exit. To protect her—or keep her from escaping? “The demons brought him and told me to use him. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”

“How long have you been working with them?” A vicious cramp in her chest made it hard to breathe. “Did Dad know?”

“I was there,” Sam whispered, his voice faint and wispy with fear. “That night they crawled out of the lake. I’d followed Charlie. He escaped, but I couldn’t, Jaid.” His hand floated up to touch the feathered headdress on his head and then dropped. The old Sam would have held his hat in his hand, twirling it slowly. He didn’t know what to do with the ridiculous feathers. “The only reason they left me alive was to make me their priest. I hated Charlie more than ever, then. If he’d told me more instead of shutting me and everyone else out, then I wouldn’t have been tempted to spy on him. I was losing him, Jaid, and I was afraid I’d lose you, too.”

“He suspected something,” she whispered. “He didn’t trust you.”

Sam nodded jerkily. “Ever since I brought in Venus Star for funding. I had no other choice, not after he lost his position at the university. How was I supposed to fund his research without a private party? Venus Star was more than eager to fund us, but Charlie suspected them from the beginning. He was right again.”

Sam’s face twisted into a feral snarl. “They own us now. They tell us when to dig and what to report and if they don’t get results, the purse strings are drawn so tightly that we can’t function. I kept as much of that away from Charlie as possible, but he knew. He always knew. He left me alone to deal with them. He abandoned me, Jaid, just as he’d abandoned you. Then they started threatening me if I didn’t get you involved. Franklin hinted he’d even stoop to kidnapping you to force the translation faster. What could I do, Jaid? I was trapped between the demons and Venus Star. I don’t know which one’s worse.”

“Is it true that they built a replica of the Chi’Ch’ul temple in Dallas?”

Sam blinked. “How do you know about the stone rings? I saw them once in their laboratory, which is state of the art, no expense spared. They’ve got computers and imaging equipment I didn’t even know existed.”

“What rings? What do they want?”

“They rebuilt the rings from the temple with the symbols and they’re experimenting with various combinations. Franklin and his friend are crazy, Jaid. They’ll do anything to steal Charlie’s research. Whatever you do, stay far away from Venus Star. I fed them as little information as possible, but they know you’re the key.”

Tears trickled down her face. She ached to go to him and wrap him up in a hug, but she couldn’t. How many innocent people had he killed? She couldn’t even get her mind around the idea that he’d murdered. This man who’d read to her out of the Popol Vuh at bedtime and attended every function in her father’s place had killed people.

Somehow, she had to find a way to stop Venus Star, too, without giving them the rest of the translation. One emergency at a time, she reminded herself. Let’s survive the demons and their henchmen first.

A look came over Sam’s face that chilled her heart even more. “The only thing I could do was keep you out of it as long as possible.”

She tensed, her shoulders aching with strain. “What do you mean?”

He paced the small confines of the cave, his hand fluttering up toward his head, only to stop, stroke the vest, and flinch away. “When Charlie first found the hidden temple and the codex, he wanted you to join us in Guatemala. I lied. I told him you had refused, but I never asked you. I knew that if I told you Charlie had asked for you himself, then you’d be here in a heartbeat, panic attacks or not. But Venus Star owned me. They wanted results, and Charlie always was a maverick. If they couldn’t get what they wanted from him, they’d use you. I didn’t want you under their thumbs, too. I managed to keep you free of as much as possible, yet you kept sending Charlie your translations. The more he had, the further he dug, and they wanted you involved. I knew the truth.”

Throat aching, she forced herself to ask. “What truth?”

“Once they got you down here, they’d never let you escape. Help me with the translation. I swear to you that I won’t allow anyone else to hurt you. Please, if you love me even a little, help me.”

“Okay.” Playing along, she forced a shaky smile. “But don’t let them hurt Ruin.”

“There’s not much I can do about the priest.” Sam’s face hardened to flat, cold stone. “When they convince him to turn, he’ll be much more powerful than me.”

“He won’t turn.”

“He will.” Sam’s shoulders shook and his hand fluttered up to touch the feathers once more. He jerked his hand away and began pacing. “Eventually, he will. No one can bear their methods for long. Do you trust him? If something happens to me, can he protect you?”

He moved close enough that she got a whiff of his vest. It smelled…She couldn’t even form the thought. The color was fleshy, tanned, some kind of leather. Still…wet. Bile burned up the back of her throat. Something dripped from the inside of the vest, dark and wet. Blood. The vest was…

Gagging, she turned away, her hand over her mouth to hide her reaction. He was wearing skin. Human skin. Her mind clamored and her jaws ached to keep back the shrill scream that roared in her throat.

His hand settled on her shoulder and she flinched. “I love you, Jaid. I’ll get you out of here. I swear.”

Her throat felt like sandpaper, but she forced words out. “What do you need?”

“Tell me how to open the Gate, or they’ll kill us both.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“I know you’re alive again.”

Ruin held his breathing slow and steady despite his brother’s voice. He didn’t even try to move; he could feel the weight of modern steel chains banded around his body. If he opened his eyes, they’d glow like gold, for the jaguar paced just beneath his skin, snarling and clawing.

Jaid. They had Jaid. What would they do to her?

He felt her spirit moving through him like a constant sweet breeze. He knew she was bent over his codex, pretending to study it and her notes, even while he knew she had the answers she would need. She’d seen him use the Gate twice now. Her brilliant mind didn’t need too many examples to solve the rest of the puzzle. For once in his long, cursed life, he was glad.

If she used the Gate, she could escape.

“The woman is yours, and for that reason alone, she must die.”

Despite his determination to play dead, he felt his heartbeat quicken. His muscles tensed involuntarily. How could he protect her? How could he save her?

“Did you think I would let you have love when you destroyed mine?”

The ragged strain in his brother’s voice forced him to respond. “I didn’t understand how much you loved her at the time. I saw only the war it would cause if you took our enemy’s daughter.”

“Duty. Always you spoke of duty. So easy for you, brother, priest and not king.” Wrack laughed, and the sharp edge of his desperate madness sliced through Ruin’s heart. He’d caused this agony.

“When you gave me Bright Parrot to be my wife, did you love her?”

He had cared very much for the woman. Her warm eyes and smile had melted his heart. Yet she was destined to be a queen. She would bring their city alliances instead of war, and she deserved the king. Besides, she’d always feared his mystical side. If she’d ever seen him transform to the jaguar, she would have run screaming into the night and never returned. So he’d not spoken of his love and had given her to his brother instead. “I cared for her a great deal.”

“I didn’t,” Wrack said in a hollowed, haunted voice. “Even when she died trying to birth my child, I did not love her. That’s what you doomed me to, brother, with your duty and gods’ will. She should have been yours, if only you’d listened to your heart.”

Shame pierced him, but also the unfairness of his brother’s accusation. “It was my heart that drove me to save you.”

“I didn’t want you to save me!” Wrack leaned over him so their faces were inches apart. “I died for my love. What more could I want? I would have sheltered her on the White Road and seen her safely to the shade of the Great Ceiba where we’d sit at the feet of Kukulkan for eternity! Instead, I’m doomed to walk this earth endlessly, killing in my rage. I cannot die, for I have no heart. My heart is with her. Why couldn’t you let me go?”

“I couldn’t bear to see you die by betrayal. Your great love betrayed you!”

“No.” Wrack suddenly sounded tired. After all these centuries, they finally spoke of their shared doom. “You misunderstood so much, brother. Her father and newly sworn husband betrayed me, but she truly loved me. She would have dishonored herself and them to be with me, if only you—and they—had let us be. Her own father sacrificed her.” His voice broke at the memory. “They made me watch. They knew you’d come. They laughed when I escaped to live with the shame and horror of her death to haunt me. They never dreamed you would break your vow to help me, but the Lords of Xibalba had it all planned long beforehand.”

Ruin’s stomach tightened with dread. “No. They couldn’t have known I would open the Gate so you could go after her.”

“I was their lure to gain the Gatekeeper’s knowledge. They planned my betrayal and death all along. And you, dear brother, they knew you best of all. Of course you came to retrieve me, and of course you helped me avenge my enemies. The only mistake you made was leaving my heart and my love behind to suffer for all eternity.” His voice rose like a hurricane, lashing winds of fury. “They torment her in the lowest level of Xibalba! Endless agony, bound by her endless love for me! She cannot pass without me, and I’m bound to this world with you!”

He slammed his fist against the rock and the ground shuddered. “I didn’t know what they’d done to you until it was too late. I couldn’t leave you there to suffer when I had the magic to save you!”

“You’re a hypocrite.” Wrack laughed, a grim sound close to tears. “Because you loved me, you broke your vow to the gods and opened the Gate to Xibalba not once but twice. You risked unleashing Xibalba on earth for me, even while you condemned me for loving her so much that I abandoned my city and people to save her.”

Stone by stone, centuries of guilt and shame stacked on top of Ruin’s heart to match his people’s highest pyramid. His true torment had not been the endless death without peace, but the constant reminder that his own heart had led him to this doom.

“And now, I have the perfect opportunity to pay you back in kind as well as end my torment.” Wrack smiled, and even in the darkness of the cave, that look chilled Ruin’s blood. “The Lords of Xibalba have agreed to make a trade: my love for yours. Butterfly Star and I will at last be rejoined and I shall see her safely to First Five Sky, while you and your love take our place. Your only hope, brother, is to join them. Cooperate fully. Become their High Priest and work the Gate magic at their will. Otherwise…”

His voice fell, crumbled to dust. “If you love this woman, don’t condemn her to Butterfly Star’s fate.”

The demon was getting restless. With Sam constantly hovering at her back, his revolting vest smelling more and more rotten, Jaid knew she was running out of time. She flipped another page of the codex and allowed her mind to capture its snapshot. She’d never taken the time to look at each page. She’d been too determined to make that great discovery for her father. Now, she agreed with Ruin. The codex must be destroyed. She couldn’t take the time to translate everything now, but when they escaped and were safe, she’d wallow in his every word.

We will escape! Somehow.

Standing in the Temple of Days made her feel like a child again. Twenty years ago, she’d crept through a hole in the wall of an overgrown ditch that surrounded the ruins, the crack barely big enough for a five-year-old child to squeeze through, and ended up in the secret tunnel that had led her father to discover this very temple.

Her whole life had changed in that one moment of exploration. In many ways, she’d become an orphan that day.

On the last bark page, the glyphs blazed in her heart and mind. She’d translated the matching glyphs on the cover as blood, and portal or gate, and so they’d dubbed it the Bloodgate Codex. After meeting its creator, she had a different translation. The ol glyph could also be “heart of,” and the heart of his magic revolved around blood. Not the blood of innocents, but his own. He’d given his heart and soul to the Gates.

He’d given his heart and soul for her.

All her life, she’d been consumed with making her father proud, while keeping her heart locked away. She’d played it safe in love, never giving herself for fear of finding out that in the end, she was just as cold and heartless as him, driven to abandon everything in search of the next great quest.

Heart aching, she closed the codex and stroked her fingers over the glyphs.

Ruin hadn’t abandoned her, even though it meant he must disobey his god. He’s my heart, now, and I’m done playing it safe.

“Well?” Sam asked, his voice vibrating with tension. With a sigh, she forced her thoughts back to the puzzle.

The Temple of Days contained a relief map similar to the ones she’d studied in Chich’en Itza and Chi’Ch’ul. She knew it must also have its own key, but nobody knew much about Iximche. Even her father had known very little, because she’d run through years and years of his journals and hadn’t found anything but the Temple of Days in his notes. He’d gone on to other great cities, piecing together the clues one by one from those he knew better and had been more widely studied.

The only thing that had made Iximche famous—a Maya capital that became the first capital of the Spanish invaders—had also destroyed it. Years of plague, warfare and fires had taken their toll and Alvarado’s invaders had initially been welcomed into Iximche. However, soon the city had been abandoned by its people, and later the Spanish had burned it.

The few surviving pyramids and temples above ground were insignificant compared to Tikal’s or Chich’en Itza’s grand scale. Few archaeologists had spent much time here. Squinting her eyes to bring the map into focus, she traced the dark green barranca that enclosed the main city on three sides, stared at the modest plazas looking for some hint to the key, and tried to ignore her pounding headache and sweaty palms.

She knew all too well what would happen if she made a mistake in the key.

Wait a minute. She closed her eyes to block out the dizzying map so she could concentrate. If the key was wrong, she’d open the Gate to Xibalba, which is exactly what the demon—and she, indirectly—wanted. The trick would be making sure nothing passed through that she didn’t want.

Thanks to Ruin’s blood trick at Chich’en Itza, she knew how to pass through the Gate without anyone but him able to follow.

“Do you have it?” Sam whispered, but his voice was so shrill she winced. He moved constantly, pacing, his hands gliding up to the feathers, to the vest, only to flinch away. “Please, Jaid. Hurry. You don’t want to know what he will do to you. He told me if you don’t cooperate that there’s a way to steal your knowledge against your will. He’ll make me…”

The man who’d flayed people in Santiago Atitlan whimpered. Her stomach churned with bile. She didn’t want to know what could possibly make Sam that afraid.

A smell of rotting corpses even worse than his vest warned her that the demon had returned. Her first instinct was to flee, but there was nowhere she could go. Trembling, she flattened her back against the wall of the cave and tried to slow her breathing. The last thing she needed to do was hyperventilate and pass out.

“Do you know which Lord I am?”

The glyphs on the demon’s forehead were unmistakable. “Blood Gatherer.”

“Interesting. Your friend, here, did not know me. You will be a fitting High Priest.”

Sam snarled. “Never!”

The demon screeched out a laugh that sent shards of pain piercing through her. “We sacrifice the heart for courage and honor, but we sacrifice the brains for knowledge. If they’re eaten while the victim is alive, all knowledge will be transferred to the host. The only question that remains is whether I should allow your friend to perform the ritual, or simply do it myself.”

Her knees wouldn’t hold her up any longer. Slipping down to huddle against the wall, she threw up in the corner until every muscle in her body ached. How could she stop them? What choice did she have?

Ruin should have let me die in Chi’Ch’ul.

His jaguar filled her, rumbling out a growling purr while it rubbed fur inside her like a cat winding about her ankles. “Never say such a thing, Jaid. Do whatever you must to save yourself. Use the Gate. Allow the bowels of Xibalba to escape. I don’t care, as long as you live.”

Despite the horrors of this place and the darkness of their future, she felt his touch and knew the truth. “I never dreamed that I would find my heart in Guatemala.”

It might have been her imagination, but she could almost feel his jaguar’s sandpaper tongue swiping her tears away. “You are precious to me, Jaid. If we somehow fail to escape this doom, I shall meet you beneath the Great Ceiba. We’ll walk hand in hand to Kukulkan’s Pyramid and I’ll show you all the wonders of First Five Sky. Now use that wickedly sharp mind of yours and see if you can find a way to trick them into giving us exactly what we want.”

Straightening, she wiped her mouth and forced some steel back into her spine. He was right. She had a brain, she knew the codex better than anyone but him, and she’d passed through the Gates not once but twice. She refused to sit here blubbering like a baby any longer.

Harrison Ford may look better in khaki shorts, but no demon is going to outsmart this professor. “I’ll open the Gate.”

Sam’s face sagged with relief. “What can I do to help?”

“I need Ruin’s knife.”

Practically skipping with glee, the demon rushed from the cave to do her bidding.

Sam’s eyes tightened and he fisted his hands at his sides. “Don’t kill for them, Jaid. I’ll do it.”

She recoiled so hard she smacked her head on the rock. Trembling, she rubbed the sore spot. “Do you honestly think I would ever do such a thing?”

By his lingering frown, he did. After all, they’d brought him to murder. Why not force her to do the same?

“The Gate doesn’t require human sacrifice, Sam.”

Even after all he’d seen and done, her harsh words still managed to startle him. He blinked and shook his head slightly, as though he’d awakened from a stupor. “I’ll bring the codex for you.”

“I don’t need it for this. The words are ceremonial only. Magic doesn’t come from the glyphs, but from the heart.”

Only now did she truly understand. She’d sat in the library for years, translating glyph after glyph, and she’d never known the magic in her work. It had taken a jaguar priest to give her the magic.

A warm, deep throb echoed through her, a reminder of his power.

Blood Gatherer returned and offered a blade to her. The ivory blade looked like Ruin’s but she couldn’t be sure.

Reluctantly, she edged closer to the demon and tried to ignore her churning stomach. Breathing shallowly, she could still smell its rotting corpse stench. Her skin crawled, itching with urgency with each step. She gingerly took the knife, ever so careful to avoid touching the skeletal fingers upon which it rested.

The demon lunged and wrapped that disgusting hand around her throat. Lifted off her feet, she blindly plunged the blade into the demon’s body.

Blood Gatherer laughed. “If you were aiming for my heart, you missed dreadfully, for I have none.”

Agony pounded in her head. The pressure on her throat was unbearable. Surely the bones in her spine were close to shattering. She couldn’t feel her arms and couldn’t get enough air to curse the foul creature, so she kicked out frantically, hoping to dislodge its grip so she could breathe. She felt her boot slam into something soft…and kept sinking deeper with a wet, fleshy sound.

“She’s mine!” Sam roared. “You promised not to hurt her!”

The demon hurled her backward. Her boot stuck and she fell awkwardly. Her skull slammed against stone. Chest heaving, she concentrated on breathing and not passing out. When she managed to crack open an eye, she stared up at Blood Gatherer looming above her. A boot-sized hole was slowly filling back out in the demon’s abdomen.

“Then ensure she opens the Gate to Xibalba or I’ll feast on her brains and open it myself!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Jaid gripped the knife in her right hand so tightly that its carved feathers and scales dug into her palm. She stared down at the map inlaid in the temple floor. Terror was a cold, slimy ball churning and rolling in her stomach.

Even if she managed to key the Gate to her blood and escape through to Xibalba without any demons escaping or following, how could she get back? How could she hope to protect herself in hell? What if her father had died the very first night?

Deep rasps and low muttered curses jerked her gaze to the entry on the far side of the cavern. Wrack alternately carried and dragged his brother into the Temple of Days and dumped Ruin against the wall. They’d bound his arms and legs in heavy chains, and his golden eyes blazed with the jaguar’s fury.

Blood Gatherer squatted down beside him and smiled widely at her. The demon didn’t have to voice his threats; the White Dagger flashed against the dusky skin of Ruin’s chest.

His soul would be captured in that damned knife for eternity. His curse would never end, and he’d never find peace with his gods in First Five Sky.

I have to find a way to save us both.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, she held his gaze and sliced her palm open. Pain burned up her arm, but hotter yet was the smoldering flames in his gaze. He made a low, rumbling noise of hunger, and she remembered his mouth against her skin, his power flooding her. Already, she felt a slow, deep throb of awakening power, fed by his desire and her offering of blood.

“Remember what I did to reveal the White Dagger’s hiding place,” he whispered in her mind. “See if your father has another warning before you key the Gate to your blood.”

Giving him a small nod, she held her hand over the blue pool painted on the map. If the Temple of Days had been found above ground, the map wouldn’t have made sense. There was no large body of water in Iximche itself. She let blood drip onto the map and immediately felt a charge of energy rising in the chamber. Ruin chanted softly and the magic rose higher. Paint shimmered like water, and a voice rose through the stone floor.

Disappointment choked her. It wasn’t her father’s voice, but a woman’s, and she couldn’t understand the words.

“Butterfly Star!” Wrack lurched to his feet and rushed to the edge of the map. “Bring her through.”

“Is it possible?” she asked Ruin. “I can bargain with him if he thinks I can save her.”

“Yes, if you touch only the symbols I say in the locking spell.”

“Ruin’s life for hers,” Jaid said aloud, her voice shaking. “Keep him safe, and I’ll bring her through. Don’t let the demon kill him.”

The demon bellowed and howled with fury. “The dead belong to Xibalba! You can’t touch her!”

“Done.” Wrack swore, his eyes grim. “Bring her to me.”

Listening to Ruin’s voice in her mind, she made a quick circuit about the room, running faster, pressing her hand against whatever carved glyphs he ordered, while Blood Gatherer’s fury raged louder and louder. The ground rumbled beneath her feet, but she didn’t dare stop.

“Last one.” The jaguar paced back and forth, faster and faster, tail lashing. “Run to the Gate!”

Jaid ran. The hair on the back of her neck crawled, and she hunched her shoulders. Ruin snarled out loud and threw his body toward the demon, but there was nothing he could do if Blood Gatherer grabbed her, let alone if he decided to use his terrible power against her. So far, he hadn’t called forth her blood, but if she failed to open the Gate…

Instinctively, she dodged and ducked low. The demon swung too high to grab her throat, but did catch a few strands of hair. Struggling and twisting, she yanked free, eyes streaming, and stumbled down the tunnel to the pool.

Without slowing, she ran straight into the water. The other woman’s voice echoed in the cave, deafeningly loud and shrill with terror but distorted through the watery Gate.

Magic hummed inside Jaid, filling her like warm, thick honey as golden as Ruin’s eyes. Blood dripped on the water and the woman’s intense screams ratcheted up another notch.

A slim hand flailed up through the water. Jaid seized the hand and pulled the woman through. She caught a glimpse of a pretty face, dark hair, eyes wide with terror, and then she shoved the woman staggering toward the shore.

Her bones ached with each pulse of magic and her ears throbbed as though her ear drums would explode, yet Jaid hesitated. She’d been wrong before. So many people had died. Ruin was still trapped, and she couldn’t trust the man who’d killed him over and over to keep him safe this time. How could she leave him behind?

A jaguar scream echoed in the cave, rebounding louder. “Go!”

She pictured her father from one of her fondest memories: his craggy face illuminated by a camp lantern, forehead lined as he studied an inscription. He’d lifted his head, saw her as a young child, watching and so eager to help him, and he had smiled with welcome. I’m coming, Dad.

To Ruin, she whispered, “I love you.”

She dove through the Gate to Xibalba.

Using the diversion Jaid’s flight provided, Ruin summoned his powers and struggled free of the chains entrapping him. Great Feathered Serpent, protect her, he prayed. Bring her out of Xibalba alive and well.

No one had ever meant so much to him before. Not the woman he’d given away as queen, nor the brother for whom he’d doomed his city to save. For Jaid, he would doom this world and the ones within the Gates.

The demons should have cut out his love-blinded heart centuries ago.

They raced after her toward the pool. Blood Gatherer charged after Jaid, diving into the water just as she’d done, but the demon surfaced, spluttering and shrieking with rage. The Gate was locked.

Ruin smiled. He’d taught her well.

A scream of agony rebounded in the cave, pulling his attention to his brother. Wrack had fallen to his knees on the sands and stared at the woman Jaid had managed to pull through the Gate. Even now, after centuries of animosity, that cry of wounded pain from his brother demanded his assistance.

The guilt of all these lifetimes weighed heavier than ever on Ruin’s soul, for the loveliest woman ever born on the highlands had been ruined. Screaming mindlessly, Butterfly Star flitted like her namesake, frantic and wild about the cave. She didn’t recognize the man who loved her. The bones of her ribcage protruded, jagged and broken around the maw that had once held her heart. Entrails hung about her waist like a living skirt, dark with rot and disease. Her perfect cacao complexion was spotted with plague. Her teeth were broken and blackened, her lovely eyes wide with terror and madness.

Sobbing, Wrack grabbed her arm and tried to soothe her crazed flight. “It’s me, Butterfly. Don’t you remember?”

She fought and twisted against his grip, clawing at his face like a maddened beast. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her despite her struggles. “See, brother? See what your pride and dedication to duty have wrought?”

Guilt still ate at Ruin, but he knew there must be an untruth somewhere in Wrack’s memory of what had happened to her. “If she had been sacrificed, she would be safe in First Five Sky. She would never have travailed the White Road through Xibalba.”

His brother snarled and lunged at him, dragging the fighting, rabid woman with him. “You did this! It’s your fault!”

Blood Gatherer finally ceased his temper and let out a long, loud laugh that sliced down Ruin’s spine like blades. “Oh, high and mighty priest, oh, great king. How ignorant you are. How pitiful. How insignificant. You rail and squabble against each other for centuries, never looking deeper to see who your true enemy might be. Of course she was sacrificed, but by a sorcerer who was only too willing to give us her soul instead of his own.”

“You trapped her soul in the White Dagger,” Ruin whispered, his voice breaking as well as his heart. Now he knew why she’d suffered in Xibalba so long. His brother would have shared her fate if he hadn’t freed his soul. If he’d known she was trapped, too, could he have released her? Could he have ended their suffering hundreds of years ago? “You planned it all, didn’t you?”

“We know the prophesies as well as you.”

Standing, Wrack kept his arms around his woman, pinning her flailing arms to keep her from gouging out his eyes. “What prophesies?”

“The Return was foretold before the end of the age,” Blood Gatherer replied. “We are determined that the Lords of Death should rule both below and above, not our exalted brothers who left this world behind.”

Ruin felt as though the ground had crumbled out from beneath his feet, revealing a yawning bottomless pit to swallow him whole. He’d lost count of the passing katuns, but the end of the age must be close. Could the Lords of Xibalba have truly been planning this for so long?

“The next baktun will be ours, priest. We will rule this earth, the Gates, and every world within.”

“Kukulkan will never allow it!”

The demon howled. “He is nothing! We shall rule First Five Sky in his stead! I will rip his feathers from his body and wear them still bloody upon my head! I shall eat his heart out of his chest! Chac is piss in the wind; Ix Chel a whore of the night, moaning her pleasure when I impale her. They are nothing!”

“This human has proven worthless.” Shooting a glare at the man wearing a mockery of priestly attire, Blood Gatherer splashed ashore. “Give me the Gates, priest.”

Staring at the broken man, Ruin felt pity in his heart. Jaid cared for this man, and he knew all too well the punishing power of a Xibalban Lord. Even he would be broken by the demons eventually, regardless of any bravado he pretended now. “No.”

Blood Gatherer looked to Wrack. “Your woman’s soul lives in my dagger. Yours did, too, before your brother stole you. Would you like to join her again?”

“I shall free her or die.”

The demon stroked his thumb across the White Dagger’s brutal edge. Tainted blood soaked into the blade, coloring the crystal a glowing reddish pink.

Butterfly Star went limp and collapsed to the sand. Her breath expelled on a long rattle. Wrack shook her violently and called her name, but she was gone.

“Her soul is mine, king. As long as her soul lives in the White Dagger, her body obeys my commands. She has no will, no spirit, no life. You can never end her torment. Your only hope is to join her. At least then you can suffer together.”

Bent over her protectively, Wrack cried tears like rain and rocked her as gently as a babe.

Ruin couldn’t bear to see his brother in such pain. If Jaid were tortured like this, how would he feel? Was there anything beneath Raised-Up Sky that he would not give to see her free? How could he do anything less for his brother? Wearily, he said, “Free them both, and I will serve you. I will open the Gates at your command.”

“Swear it on your great god.”

“As Great Feathered Serpent breathes air into my lungs so I might walk again to do his will until this age ends, so I swear.”

Laughing, Blood Gatherer plunged the knife into the woman’s barren abdominal cavity. She twitched and air whistled through her gaping lips. He pulled the White Dagger away, and immediately, flesh began closing over the gaping hole. “It is done.”

Butterfly Star awakened, but this time she didn’t scream like a mindless thing. Her big doe eyes latched onto the man holding her and tears overflowed. “Hunahpu?”

Laughing softly, he enfolded her in his arms and held her against his chest.

Swallowing hard to clear the lump in his throat, Ruin said, “Free my brother too. They should both be free to pass to First Five Sky.”

“I cannot,” Blood Gatherer purred out a pleased smile. “To free your brother, you must retrieve his heart from my brethren. On this side of the Gate, I can do nothing to send him to the White Road.”

Ruin bowed his head and prayed. Forgive me, Great Feathered Serpent, for I must empty all of Xibalba on this earth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Endless water and darkness sucked Jaid deeper. Her lungs felt shriveled, her head pounded, and her hands and legs numbed. Finally, she broke the surface and gulped air. It took several grateful breaths before she realized that air was stale and foul, vaguely powdery like desiccated flesh and manure.

Xibalba, the Place of Fright, the home of cizins, demons which smelled very bad. She remembered Geoffrey laughing and saying all demons had a gas problem. Fond tears burned her eyes. He wouldn’t believe how far she’d come.

She’d studied the Maya all her life, but she’d never once thought about what the Place of Fright would actually be like. The Christian view of hell was fire and brimstone; the Maya hell was endless water, flowing and winding through the darkness. Sloshes and drips echoed everywhere. The vague grayish light that filtered through shadows and cobwebs above didn’t show any hope of land or walls.

The darkness and water went on forever, gnawing away at her sanity.

Treading water, she huddled as low as possible and strained to see or hear anything that might guide her to her father…and away from the demons who were surely here. Ruin’s knife kept making the water splash too much. As much as she yearned for a weapon ready in her hand, she pushed the blade underneath her belt to free her hands.

Already, her arms burned with exhaustion. After spending her whole life with her nose buried in a book, she didn’t have great stamina. She couldn’t swim for hours. What happened when her head sank beneath the surface? If she was in hell when she died, would she spend the rest of eternity swimming these endless watery halls?

Think, Jaid. Use that so-called brilliant mind for something more than a panic attack.

Why had Butterfly Star been so readily available? She had to have been bait. They knew the twins would want her freed in whatever desperate negotiations they managed. So why were there no demons waiting at the Xibalban Gate? Didn’t they know she was here?

Maybe I’m bait too. Now I know what it feels like to be a worm quivering on the hook, waiting to be swallowed whole.

Warbled sounds echoed through the watery underworld like a hint of ghostly wails. Goose bumps stacked ever higher on her arms, but she couldn’t stop paddling long enough to shiver. If they needed bait in Xibalba, then perhaps her father was not only still alive, but had also managed to evade them, or at least disrupt their plans.

Thinking quickly, she decided to push instead of wait. The more information she gained, the better. “Which Lord of the Night are you?”

She waited, barely breathing. Someone was out there watching, she knew it. Finally, the watcher answered.

“One Death, the supreme Lord of Xibalba.”

She understood the words, although she couldn’t identify the dialect. Did it even matter here, where supposedly only the dead walked? This demon’s voice sounded much more even and normal than Blood Gatherer’s metallic screech, but her ears itched and her teeth ached. She couldn’t put a finger on what bothered her about that voice.

If she was bait to entrap her father, then she needed leverage. She needed something that would foil the demon that held Ruin. A way to help him win. As long as his brother was cursed, he’d never break free, either, so she needed to un-curse them both.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to know,” she began casually. “When someone is sacrificed with the White Dagger, what do you do with the heart?”

“What an amusing question.” Louder, the scratchy voice came from the right. Fighting her instincts that demanded she tear off screaming in the opposite direction, she huddled low in the water. “Personally, I prefer to eat it.”

Her hopes plummeted. If she couldn’t retrieve Wrack’s heart and free him from the Xibalban demons, then Ruin would be forever trapped. His brother would always be the chain that prevented him from ending the demons’ plans.

The demon continued as though he merely mused aloud. “Some of my brethren adore the smell of roasting meat and so burn the offering.”

“But what about your greatest enemies? What do you do to honor them?”

The demon cackled. Finally, she realized why the voice distressed her so much. It sounded like millions of armored roaches clacking their bristled legs together. Her skin crawled, and it was all she could do not to swat at her body to brush invisible bugs away.

“No great honored ones come here. They die in battle and go directly to rest in the shade of the Great Ceiba or hang themselves and Ixtab, Rope Woman, shines upon them as they walk the White Road. Only the dishonorable travail in the bowels of Xibalba, or the stupid, or unlucky. Which are you?”

“All the above,” she muttered, straining her eyes. Darkness had faded to murky gray draped everywhere with swirling, dizzying shadows. Was she still inside the Gate? She didn’t feel a current, but her boot brushed the rocky bottom, where before, she’d been forced to tread water. Gratefully, she eased forward and gained her footing, although she remained low in the water.

A bony arm wrapped around her throat.

She tore at the sinewy arm with her free hand and scored the pale bloodless flesh.

The demon hissed in her ear, a legion of buzzing wings. “Be still. If I had wanted you dead so quickly, I would have eaten the heart out of your chest as soon as you arrived in my domain.” A growl rattled out of his throat. “I smell…”

He seized her left wrist and lifted her hand toward his mouth. The wound she’d used for the sacrifice still trickled blood. A forked tongue flickered out, the tips sharp like razors, widening the gash in her palm.

Her heart thudded so hard that her ribs ached and her head felt like it was going to float away from her body. Gritting her teeth, she jerked her arm and tried to silence the babbling moans escaping her mouth.

“It’s been so long.” One Death sighed against her palm, his fingers crushing her wrist. “So fresh. So bright. Tell me, Lady Scholar, has your education included the Gates?”

She froze, trying to devise a plan. Why would he know she was a scholar, unless they’d already taken her father and tortured him? “Of course. How else did I arrive here?”

“Indeed,” the demon snarled. “I hope you prove more knowledgeable than your esteemed father.”

“Give him to me and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“You’ll tell me everything even if I admit I have already feasted on his heart.”

Tears burned but she refused to believe it. He’s still alive. He is! She forced her voice louder, ringing with authority. “The time has come for the Return. Will you be locked away while Kukulkan reclaims my world?”

The demon’s tongue snapped back into his mouth. “The Lords of Death have always ruled below; now we shall rule your world as well!”

Softly, she whispered, “What of the worlds within the Gates? Don’t you want to rule First Five Sky?”

Hissing, One Death tightened his arm about her throat. “When the roots and branches of the Great Ceiba are hacked and burned, the entire tree will die.”

“But you don’t want the World Tree to die.” Guttural words and spittle flew from his mouth in a slew of Maya curses she couldn’t understand. She pushed on insistently. “If the Tree dies, the Gates won’t work any longer! They’ll wither away to nothing and leave you trapped here forever.”

“Die, die, every living thing will die!” The demon slung her away and howled, tearing at its stringy gray hair. “No World Tree, no Gates, no humans left! We shall rule above and below!”

Flailing, she fought to keep her head above the foul water. She backed away and stumbled into cold, slick stone. She pressed her back against it, grateful for the protection and solid strength that could help her stand tall when her knees quivered and her stomach felt like she’d swallowed too much of this rancid water. “If everything dies, who will worship you? Who will sacrifice blood to you? If there aren’t any humans left, then where will you get your power?”

Awful silence weighed heavily upon the water. Her heart thudded slow and heavy, thick blood pounding in her head.

Finally, One Death spoke. “Poor little human fool. Do you know why you fear death so much? Because I am inevitable. Nothing you can do will save you from my power. I will come to your feast unannounced, a guest you cannot rid from your house, and I will spoil your food, foul your wine, while your body rots about you until only bones and dust remain.”

Shivering, she pressed back against the wall and tried to think. This demon was awful, yes, but she was missing something. Something important.

She forced herself to look fully upon the demon and catalogue his appearance. His skin was as pasty and corpselike as Blood Gatherer’s, but she didn’t shiver with dread simply by looking at him. His flat black eyes were hollowed caves of misery, his teeth jagged and stained, but he seemed less. Smaller. A parody of the horrifying demon she’d bargained with in Iximche.

His power is less. Of course. “Blood Gatherer is waiting for you on the other side of the Gate, fresh from slaughtering an entire village. Just curious, but how long do you think it’ll take you to gain as much strength? If he gives you the chance…”

A scuttling sound like roaches scratching across the floor tightened her throat, but she stared him in the eye and knew she’d found his weakness. How could he be the supreme lord of Xibalba if one of his underlings was stronger than him?

“What do you want?”

“I want to see my father alive and well, and I want the king’s heart returned to him.”

The demon made a choking, sniffling noise that took her several moments to recognize as laughter. “Come out, learned man. Reveal yourself to your daughter so I may show her the Caged Heart.”

A shadow peeled away from the murky ceiling where he’d been hiding and dropped into the water half a dozen feet away.

Jaid stared at her father. Tears welled in her eyes and her tongue plastered to the roof of her mouth. What could she say? That she’d been so afraid she would never see him again? That she wished they hadn’t wasted all these years apart?

Dr. Charles Merritt clamped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed firmly, but that was the only sign of affection he gave her. “How much do you know?”

She closed her eyes a moment and swallowed down the cold lump of tears and wails that threatened to come out. Even if he was glad to see her, they couldn’t let the demon see how vulnerable they were. Her mind knew they had to play cool and calm, but her heart bled, huddled in her chest like a lost, cold child. “I know everything.”

“Excellent.” However, his eyes narrowed, the skin crinkling about his eyes. Frowning, he started to say something else, but hesitated.

The sight of his craggy, handsome face made her chest hurt all the more. She remembered him slaving over his latest find by the flickering light of a camp lantern. She’d always thought him the smartest man in the world. How she’d longed for a word of praise from him. Her whole life had been spent trying to impress him and show how much she could help him.

Maybe then he wouldn’t leave her behind for the next dig site.

Her heart pounded and she stared into his hollowed eyes, silently begging him to say something, anything. What horrors had he seen here? Did he regret anything? Did he think they would ever see sunlight and the real world again? His face lined even more, grooves deepening about his mouth. His fingers tightened on her arm so hard she thought she might bruise.

Please, Dad. Say something. Tell me—

“Don’t forget your bargain, humans,” One Death hissed out, breaking the moment of silent communication. “Follow me to the Caged Heart. Then you will open the Gates for me. With two Gatekeepers to power my magic, Blood Gatherer must bend knee to me once more.”

Jaid smoothed her face and hoped that one of the demon’s powers wasn’t telepathy. Ruin was much more powerful than she’d ever be, and Sam had already killed for the demons. She didn’t think it’d be much of a match, but she’d worry about that once they crossed back home.

Her father turned to follow the demon. “You surely won’t allow Blood Gatherer to overthrow you.”

Of course, her brilliant father had effortlessly picked up on the underlying Xibalban politics.

One Death let out a high-pitched shriek that sent Jaid reeling, her ears aching. Her father reached out and steadied her. Shocked, she stumbled again when he kept his hand on her arm as they walked.

“They must both be gaining strength with every passing moment.” His calm, conversational manner helped steady her nerves and keep her fear at bay. He acted like their companion was just another person, not a demon bent on destroying the world. “I’m sure they’ve availed themselves of many sacrifices.”

“Sheep for the slaughter.” One Death made a clashing sound like an iron portcullis closing off a castle’s defenses. Blackened blood and pus oozed down the demon’s bone-white jaw. “They’re feasting while I remain locked away from such a wealth of blood and suffering. You must open the Gate!”

Of course, she thought wryly. Two or three demons on a killing spree weren’t nearly enough.

One Death led them downward through a sloped narrow tunnel. At first they splashed through knee-deep water, but soon they left the endless waters behind. The dichotomy made Jaid want to moan and massage her temples. If they went lower into the bowels of Xibalba, how had the water disappeared? The tunnel should be flooded instead of dry.

The rock glistened wetly, slick and smelling of rot and slime. No natural swamp had ever smelled so wretched. She slipped and reached out to steady herself against the noisome wall. The rock squished like living flesh and moved beneath her palm. Gulping back a startled cry, she jerked her hand away.

One Death laughed and wheezed so hard he expelled some kind of foul spittle onto the floor of the tunnel. This time the rock gave a mighty heave that sent her tumbling into her father. They gripped each other, fighting to keep their balance while the tunnel bucked like a rodeo bronco.

“Don’t look,” her father whispered, his voice low and urgent against her ear. He pushed her face against his chest and held her close. “Keep walking. Stay calm. I don’t know…” He shuddered and his arms tightened.

Twisting her head slightly, she had to see. Shapes undulated, slowly filling the tunnel ahead. In the darkness, it took her a moment to make out distinct arms, heads, and torsos. Flailing arms rose from the floor, tugging and clutching at her jeans. Something grabbed at her hair, tangling like a briar branch. Her breath a loud pant, she reached up and tugged, trying to free herself.

A face rose out of the stone directly at eye level, its mouth wide open on a silent scream of agony. The eyes were wide and white with panic, still wet and alive.

They’re alive.

She jerked her gaze away from those horror-filled eyes. A naked torso gaped, ribs white and cracked, flesh still dripping dark blood. The heart was missing.

She was caught in a screaming whirlwind, tossed, shaken, the noise so deafening…

Her cheek stung. Again. Blinking, she realized her father had pressed his forehead against hers. He shook her, his voice sharp. “Stop it, Jaid.”

She shut her mouth and the shrill, whistling hurricane wind silenced. Crying so hard she choked, she fisted her hands in his shirt. Her mind felt shattered, broken like a thousand-year-old vase discovered at the bottom of a jungle ravine. “I’m the Un-Indiana Jones! I don’t muck around in jungles or battle demons. I can’t do this. I have to get out.”

“We will,” he promised, smoothing his hand through her hair. “We’re going to get out. Hang on just awhile longer. You’ve been so strong. I’m so proud of you, Jaid.”

His unfamiliar words of praise did more to shake her out of the mindless terror than his calming manner. “You are?”

He stared down at her and for the first time in her life, she saw the unmitigated guilt and grief in his eyes. “Always.”

“Come,” the demon crooned. “We have a special spot reserved for our dearest, most prized sacrifices. If you’re not too afraid to see it…”

She longed for a good long cry and an equally long heart-to-heart talk with this stranger who’d once been her distant, reserved father. Instead, she took a shallow breath—her stomach twisting at the rank, rotting stench—squared her shoulders, and said, “Lead the way.”

Her father’s eyes gleamed with what looked suspiciously like tears.

Hand in hand, they turned and ran after the demon. Her boots squelched and sank into the living rock, sucking and clinging so hard her thighs ached from the strain of tugging her feet free. Her skin crawled, but she pushed the horror away. She couldn’t think about walking on tortured, living people. It was all a horrible vision, a trick to scare the weak-willed away from the demons’ greatest secrets.

A lighter area beckoned ahead. Shaking with exhaustion, she threw herself toward that clearing from the tunnel of horrors. The grasping, writhing bodies disappeared. She bent over, bracing her hands on her knees, and concentrated on breathing…and not throwing up.

“Few humans have ever seen this chamber,” One Death said. “You’re very lucky. Most have been sacrificed long before they enter the tunnel. Then it’s just a matter of deciding where to place our latest ornament.”

“Your ornaments are rather old and decayed.” Dr. Merritt’s once proud, arrogantly confident voice quivered. That small weakness made her feel a little better about her breakdown. “How long has it been since you were able to add a new trophy?”

One Death howled. “Since the priest stole the White Dagger!”

Forcing herself to focus, Jaid tried to play along with her father. If they could keep the demons squabbling against each other, they had a small hope that the Lords of Death might eliminate each other. “Blood Gatherer has it now.”

The demon raged louder. “It’s mine! Mine!”

The rock quivered and shook beneath Jaid’s feet. She glanced about the large chamber, searching for another exit, but none materialized.

In the center, black stone rose up from the floor, sticky and wet. A living, beating heart still oozing blood sat on top. Waves of wispy blue light swept across the chamber.

Moving across the chamber to stroke and pet the still-beating organ, One Death’s rage slowly died. “Behold the Caged Heart, some of our greatest magic. Only the heart of a king can last so long, except possibly…” His head turned slowly, his glowing red eyes latching on to her. “A cursed priest’s who cannot die.”

She shuddered at the thought of Ruin’s heart ripped from his chest, magicked into beating for the Xibalban Lords’ pleasure. They must gain a great deal of power from the constant flow of fresh blood.

“The greatest wonder is that we need do nothing to keep it beating. Only the king’s great emotion keeps his heart caged and alive, his love, hatred, and fierce desire for revenge. Ah, such sweet, delicious emotions. I’d forgotten what human emotion felt like until he came into our hands. He’s given us much to savor.”

Jaid fought to keep her face smooth despite the burning acid churning up her throat. “If you get so much power from it, why are you willing to give the Caged Heart to us?”

“What is one small heart balanced against a whole world of human sheep?”

Dread crawled down her spine. How could they risk letting such evil loose on the world? But how could she remain here in hell, while Blood Gatherer forced Sam to murder innocents and Ruin suffered in their hands?

Dr. Charles Merritt pointed to the ceiling and whispered, “The rings.”

In her revolted study of the heart, she’d missed the stone rounds. As in the ruins, the map stretched across the stone. It made her dizzy to stare up through swirling blue tendrils of fog at the ceiling with its distracting encryption.

“Why seven…” Yet as soon as she started to voice the question, she knew the answer. There were seven rings above, not two as in the earthly temples. Seven Caves, Seven Canyons, of course, another name for the underworld. She kept a wary eye on the demon, who hovered by the bloody heart with a sly, knowing smile on his sluglike lips.

Keeping his voice low, her father asked, “Do you know the key?”

She shook her head slightly. “If the wrong key is used, the Gate opens only to Xibalba. They have a built-in protection that typically keeps it open only on our earthly side, locking anything that might try to get out inside Xibalba. Whatever you did at Lake Atitlan unlocked the Gate’s protection.”

He stroked his chin. “So where do we end up if we use the wrong key on this side?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Staring up at the seven rings, she felt sick. Dully, she answered, “We can’t turn the rings to align the glyphs. They’re too high.”

“So they are. How very interesting.”

She felt like crying, or better yet, running stark raving mad. What would One Death do to them as soon as he realized it was impossible for them to open the Gate?

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Open the Gate to Xibalba.”

Ruin nodded curtly to the demon. “I need a blade. The woman took mine.”

With a nasty white-bone grin, Blood Gatherer offered the White Dagger.

Arching a brow, Ruin stared at the fabled knife. “Are you sure you trust me with that?”

“Imagine how much power you’ll release if you use it to open the Gate.” Blood Gatherer made a greedy, hungry sound and his eyes burned brighter. “My Lord and greatest enemy will be coming through. I don’t plan to bow to him ever again. So give me power, priest, and open the Gate at my bidding, else I will use your brother’s lovely woman to ensure I’m stronger than One Death when he comes.”

Centering himself, Ruin reached out and wrapped his palm around the White Dagger. A buzzing shock jolted his palm and numbed his whole arm. Such power. Such agony.

A legion of souls filled the knife, their life energies shaking with terror, providing a churning, vibrant sea of energy for the demons. So many were trapped inside, more souls than he could ever safely release. Freeing his brother’s freshly entrapped soul had caused the trio of volcanoes surrounding Lake Atitlan to erupt and his city had been buried in rubble.

He returned to the Temple of Days and adjusted the rings. An unnecessary step, but he was curious to see how Jaid had set them. To go to Xibalba, she didn’t need a key; the safeguards would ensure that’s the only place she could go, unless she correctly set the rings for another world according to the map. Staring at the dried blood and scuffs she’d left in the dust, he felt his throat tighten.

The message she’d left for him was simple and subtle: Chi’Ch’ul and “heart.”

My heart is yours, he whispered softly in his mind, even though he doubted she could hear or feel their bond. More than distance separated them now, an entire watery underworld. Please be safe, whole, and waiting for me to open the Gate for your return.

Crusted and crumbled with disuse, the circular stone shrieked as if the earth knew what was coming and wailed at him to stop. What choice did he have? In one act of desperation, he could save Jaid and her father—if she’d found him—and free his brother’s soul. At last, his beloved brother would be free to journey to First Five Sky with Butterfly Star. Yet his very soul trembled with dread and horror.

He could not stop Blood Gatherer, let alone the other two demons already loosed on this world. How much worse would they rage and pillage with their leader and commander freed from Xibalba?

“Do it.” Blood Gatherer snarled, his teeth clashing like swords. “Do it or your brother is mine forever!”

Ruin walked with heavy feet back to the pool. Had he given her enough time to find her father? How would they even know the Gate was opening? He couldn’t remember much of his own trip to Xibalba except endless water and horrors he’d deliberately wiped from his memory. Even if he could bring her back, would Jaid even be sane?

Forcing his doubts aside, he sliced his palm. “Great Feathered Serpent, forgive me.” Then he cast out his hand and slung blood onto the water.

An oppressive silence weighted the air in the cave, broken only by his thundering heartbeat and blood rushing in his veins. Blood Gatherer paced eagerly to his left; the broken human priest wept and shivered in the corner of the cave; and Wrack held his woman tightly in his arms; but everyone’s eyes were locked on the dark waters.

This time, there were no gales or hurricanes to announce the opening of the Gate to Xibalba. The water merely darkened, thickening into a viscous sludge. Black water bulged outward, stretching. With an audible pop, a hand broke the surface.

White, ghastly, and spotted, the hand clutched a frantically beating heart.

Wrack inhaled sharply and groaned. Reflexively, he touched his chest. Weeping softly, Butterfly Star buried her face against him.

“There is the one who took your heart,” Ruin said in a cold, hard voice. “There is the one who tortured your beloved.”

Hissing out his breath, Wrack unsheathed his obsidian blade. He set his woman aside and came to stand beside his brother. “He’s mine.”

Ruin couldn’t answer; instead, he concentrated all his will on Jaid. With his eyes closed, he stretched out his senses, seeking the warm spirit he’d come to associate with her, her scent of rain-fresh magic and ancient tomes.

She’s alive. I know it!

With each beat of his heart, the White Dagger pulsed, glowing with a pale, cold light. It throbbed against his palm as hard as the heart in the demon’s hand. Like a sinkhole, the White Dagger sucked all life energy toward it. His fingers numbed. His brother made a low sound of pain and moved several steps away. Even Blood Gatherer could not take his eyes off the coveted blade.

So much power sparked within. His enemies would use it to obliterate this world…

Unless I use it first.

His skin zinged and his scalp crawled. The White Dagger blazed so brightly its image was burned into his retinas. He drew that power into his body and cast it down the faint, shimmering spirit bond that tied him to Jaid.

Find her. Bring her through.

Magic sparked in the cavern, the air so thick and heavy that it became a strain to breathe. His heart thrashed against his ribs as though Blood Gatherer had begun working his unique gift to draw forth his heart. Fireballs blazed in his mind.

The first Lord of Xibalba crawled onto the shore.

Blood Gatherer inclined his head but edged closer to Ruin, his enslaved pawn. “Welcome, Great Lord. I have prepared the way. If you—”

“Silence!” One Death wheezed on hands and knees, struggling to gain his bearings. “Surrender the White Dagger to your supreme Lord of Xibalba!”

Wrack didn’t give him a chance. Prowling as silently as a jaguar on the hunt, he seized a hank of the demon’s lank hair and jerked his head back. Wrack’s breath rushed out on a groan of pain and he hesitated, staring down at his hand with horror. His fingers had turned into emaciated flesh, leathered skin stretched tight over dry bones. The decay crept up his forearm, cracking his skin to reveal brittle sinew and stringy muscle.

Wide-eyed, he met his brother’s gaze, and Ruin watched the emotion flicker from fear to resignation. Gritting his teeth, Wrack sawed at the demon’s throat with a vicious snarl twisting his mouth. Decay reached his elbow, his biceps, so he hacked faster, deeper, determined to finish before he lost control of his body that had died a thousand years ago.

Great Feathered Serpent, is that all I will become in the end? A desiccated bundle of rotten bones?

One Death clawed at the blade and the arm wielding it, and everywhere the demon touched, death and rot spread. Clumps of flesh fell away, but Wrack refused to stop until he decapitated the Lord of Xibalba.

The demon’s body crumpled into a writhing sack, skin filled with beetles, roaches, maggots, all of which made quick work of the foul flesh. Wrack fell to his knees. Half his face had rotted away, leaving a gaping hole where his eye, nose and mouth should have been.

Every instinct Ruin possessed shrilled at him to leave his work and assist his brother, but he couldn’t abandon the Gate, not until Jaid came through. Helpless, he forced himself to watch, uncaring of the tears that fell from his eyes.

Wrack dragged himself across the crumbling pile of bones. His fingers closed around his frantically beating heart and his body shuddered. Twitching, he screamed until his voice broke and only ragged sobs escaped his throat. The woman threw herself on his body, keening, and only then did his agony subside.

Rising power hammered at Ruin’s skull and the Gate swelled. Staring at the blazing weapon in his hand, he knew the greatest temptation. With this blade, he was powerful enough to raise his brother’s body once more. He could cut down the demons one by one. He could power the Gates and conquer the very gods who had cursed him. He could spill out the bowels of Xibalba, crack the very foundations of the world, and climb to the highest branches of the Great Ceiba unaided.

Power sizzled through his veins. His bones ached as though they were dissolving in acid. A ring of fire whirled in the water, growing higher and hotter by the moment. Pain built, squeezing his lungs until he couldn’t breathe.

I can’t release the Gate—not until Jaid comes through.

He felt the Gate in Lake Atitlan blaze to life. It poured more fire into him, wide open and unwarded. Chich’en Itza’s Gate in the Great Cenote burned into life, another ring of fire searing him. One by one, each Gate he’d sworn to protect blazed to life, wide open, allowing countless denizens of Xibalba to escape.

And he couldn’t stop.

“I shall be the First Lord of Xibalba now.” Blood Gatherer cackled. “My greatest enemy is gone, and I have my Gatekeeper. What more should I want with the middle world stretched out like a goat for the slaughter?”

“If you want my world,” a human male yelled, “you’ll have to go through us to take it.”

Waves of golden and ruby fire filled the cavern and the air hummed with rainbow sparks. Ruin forced his eyes to focus on the water and the shapes—people—standing in the pool.

Jaid. Not only had she made the crossing, but she’d also managed to retrieve her father too. Joy filled him and relief momentarily eased his straining shoulders, until he thought about the Gates. If he kept them all open much longer, they might never lock again. He had to slam them all shut at once before the Underworld emptied upon the earth.

Closing his eyes, he smiled at Jaid, even though she might be too far away to see the love shining on his face. “My heart is yours.”

“Ruin—”

Without hesitating, he plunged the White Dagger into his heart.

Jaid felt the knife slide into his chest as though he’d stabbed her instead. Banded in iron, her lungs tightened with pain. Her heart refused to beat. Her blood felt like concrete in her veins, filling and swelling to the point of bursting.

Her mind shrilled. Ruin!

A detonation rocked the cave, throwing her to the ground. Pebbles and rocks rained down.

Sagging, he fell to his knees. She struggled to her feet and staggered, stumbling, determined to reach him. Demon howls punished her ears, but her only thought was Ruin. He’d been cursed by his own heart and love for his brother. He’d taught her enough to use the Gates so she could save her father. Then he’d broken his vow to the gods yet again and opened the Gate. For me.

His bloody hands still gripped the blade in his chest. Through the magical bond he’d forged, she felt his heart stutter. His life energy slipped away.

Gritting her teeth, she held on to that shimmering black-spotted jaguar trying to dissolve. “I’m not letting you go, do you hear me? You’re immortal. You’ve died before.”

“Not…with…White Dagger…heart.” He stretched out a trembling hand but he didn’t have the strength. She lifted his palm to her cheek. “Goodbye.”

“No!”

He fell back, his body flopping like a rag doll. “Final…death.”

His mouth opened, closed, but no more words, no breath, passed his lips.

Crying, she leaned down and felt for a pulse. He was gone. Truly gone. The air felt less alive, empty and cold without his spirit. His magic faded and died. A gaping pit spread inside her. Did she feel his death more completely because of the bond? Or because this death was his last?

Her heart wailed in denial. Another death stacked on her conscience, but that old pyramid of guilt tumbled apart like a deserted ruin. This time, she’d made no mistake. In fact, she’d finally gotten everything right. She even understood why he’d done it. Ruin would always pay the cost himself, and this time, he paid it gladly, because he loved her.

As I love him.

Blood Gatherer’s metallic laughter made her teeth ache. “The priest is of no consequence, woman. His knowledge and power are mine—because you are mine.” The demon turned toward the Gate and spread his arms wide open. “Come forth, brethren, and reap the harvest of this world!”

In answer to the demon’s call, the waters thickened into a lumpy, viscous fluid like quicksand.

The Gate’s still open.

She jumped to her feet, but the demon stood between her and the Temple of Days. Wildly, she looked around the cave. Sam rocked back and forth against the wall, gripping his head and tearing at his hair. Wrack must have died in the fight; his woman clutched his shoulders, holding his lifeless body to her breast. Deeper in the adjoining cavern, her father bent over the altar that held the smaller replica of rings. His mouth moved and his brow was furrowed, but she couldn’t hear what he said.

“Turn the rings!” she screamed. Blood Gatherer lunged at her, and she threw her weight to the side so hard she fell over Ruin’s body. “Turn it to anything! It’ll break the magic!”

Her father must have been successful because Blood Gatherer screeched so loudly she had to cover her ears. A swirling maelstrom of water erupted like a category five hurricane crashing to shore. Winds tore at her clothing and tugged on her hair. Grit and sand scoured her face and exposed flesh.

Scrambling upright, she wrapped her fingers around the White Dagger still buried in Ruin’s chest and yanked it free. The knife looked like it was made from crystal, but it pulsed in her hand like a slimy mockery of a living heart. She’d never touched anything more loathsome in her entire life.

Darkness hammered at her, demanding that she offer sacrifice. She could kill Sam, the one who’d betrayed them. He’d slaughtered innocent people in cold blood. He’d conspired with demons. He deserved punishment, eternal damnation, all the agonies of hell.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

A legion of voices screamed in her head. Trapped inside the White Dagger, thousands of souls wailed in agony. They’d been sacrificed by the Lords of Xibalba over a thousand years ago, but they were still trapped inside the knife, and now Ruin was one of them.

She hadn’t heard all those bedtime tales from the Popol Vuh for nothing; she knew exactly how to kill a Lord of Xibalba. “Come and get me, you son of a bitch!”

The demon snarled, blackened blood dripping from his mouth, but didn’t dare approach. Wary, he knew very well what the blade in her hand could do to him. So I will hurt him in a different way.

She slammed the point of the knife into the stone wall of the cave. A bone-deep shock vibrated up her arm. With a clatter of claws and snapping teeth, the demon charged. Ignoring the shattering pain in her arm, she slammed the knife again with all her strength, grinding the tip into the rock, frantic to break the damned blade before the demon could kill her.

Screeching like a demon himself, Sam leaped to his feet and threw himself at Blood Gatherer. He tore at the white flesh and those red burning eyes, screaming, “I hate you! Look at what you’ve done to me!”

Blood Gatherer fisted his hand in the human’s hair, peeled him twisting and clawing away, and bashed him into the stone wall until Sam crumpled to the ground.

Blinking tears away, Jaid redoubled her efforts, using the time Sam had bought her. The tone of the knife changed, rising brittle and sharp. Voices shrilled so loudly in her head that her skull ached. Taking one last deep breath, she crashed the sparkling blade against the stone with all her strength.

The White Dagger exploded, flinging her backward with a turbulent wave of power. Dazed, at first she thought the spots swimming in her vision were the beginning of a concussion. Energy hummed in the air, a dizzying rainbow glowing and swirling over her head.

Her breath caught in her throat. Souls. So many.

They ranged from a sweet liquid gold like honey to fiery red and sky blue. Some were darker, a bruised violet that made her involuntarily wince. They carried such pain and rage. Many of the lights flooded toward the Gate; some of the souls raced up the tunnels toward the surface; and others flooded Blood Gatherer, tiny battering lights of fury.

Swiping at the vengeful souls, the demon howled at her, even as he fled toward the tunnel. “There are other priests in this world! Other Gates! When I forge a new Dagger, your soul will be the first to empower it!”

Her body ached, stiff and brittle as though she’d broken something deep inside, but she forced herself upright. Someone touched her shoulder. Numbly, she raised her gaze to Ruin’s brother.

The horrible scar that once had run from Wrack’s breastbone to his pelvis was gone, and the flat look of death in his eyes had been replaced by new emotions: sympathy, forgiveness, and love.

“Thank you for bringing my heart out of Xibalba.” He sighed heavily and squatted down beside his brother. “I wish he’d lived to see us free and happy.”

“He knows,” Jaid whispered, her throat aching. “He always loved you. Everything he did…” She swallowed hard, unable to continue. Everything he’d done had been for love, even if he’d broken his oath to his gods.

Wrack stood. Now healed and returned to her beauty, his woman stepped closer and wrapped both arms around his waist. He smiled down at the brother he’d been trying to kill for centuries. “I shall sit in the shade beneath the Great Ceiba and tell him how you saved us.”

Jaid’s heart screamed with rage and grief. I don’t want to lose him. Not so soon.

Together, Wrack and the woman walked into the water. “When you destroyed the White Dagger, something changed. The Gate feels…”

He turned back once again, his face twisted with grief yet alight with wonder. “I hear the sweetest music I’ve ever heard in my entire life. It’s so golden. So bright.”

It might make her a cruel bitch, but his sorrow made her feel a little better. This man had killed Ruin before her own eyes, yet now he was happy and reunited with the love of his life, while she was left alone to grieve. “I don’t hear anything.”

They waded deeper into the water. He smiled down at Butterfly Star with such a look of love that Jaid had to turn away. It hurt too much.

A flood of light made her jerk her head back around in time to catch a glimpse of the inner world through the Gate. A gleaming black pyramid touched the sky with a brilliant sun blazing at the apex, spinning rainbows down the obsidian slopes. Jade-colored feathers flickered like a wing brushing the world, and the pair disappeared into the void.

While the man who’d died to free them lay crumpled in a forgotten cave beneath a crumbled, insignificant ruin.

Smoothing Ruin’s hair out of his face, she forced herself to face the truth.

He was really gone this time.

Even when he’d been shot in the head, she’d quickly felt a sense of his returning spirit. She’d known, deep down, that he was coming back. Now, his body cooled and the prowling jaguar had melted away into mystical jungles where she couldn’t follow.

Behind her, the Gate pulsed with light that felt warm upon her back and shoulders like a toasty fire. A deep sense of peace beckoned, offering not a Place of Fright, but a place of rest. Heaven, First Five Sky. Wrack and his woman had gone to peace. Now it was his brother’s turn.

She swallowed the hard, cold lump of grief in her throat. He’d suffered for so long. He deserved his paradise for everything he’d done to save her and this world.

Forcing a smile, she whispered, “Go home, Ruin. You will always be Yax-Balam, precious jaguar, to me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Panic and rage still shrilled through Ruin’s consciousness. He didn’t feel dead, or at least no different from the many other times he’d died. Yet this time he felt a deep compulsion from the Gate. A rich voice rumbled through his mind.

“Well done, my jaguar son.”

Flying through a night sky, he followed a sparkling trail of stars. Blue-green feathers fluttered around him, bearing a bright, sharp scent of magic. Sorrow choked him. Jaid had smelled like magic, too.

“Forgive me for my failures, Great Feathered Serpent. I used the Gate once more for personal gain in defiance of my oath. The Lords of Xibalba have escaped.”

“There is no sin in following your heart.”

Even without a corporal body, he felt numbing shock. All these lifetimes, he’d believed his greatest sin had been using the Gate to save his brother, a sin he’d repeated by allowing Jaid to continue learning and ultimately using his magic.

He’d carried the guilt of his failure and the death of his people for centuries.

“There is nothing to forgive, my son. Your heart led you to accomplish my will.”

“But my people, my city, all destroyed…”

“The Lords of Death conspired to capture the great king and his priest to use as puppets of Xibalba. My dark brothers have always coveted the gates and the worlds within. You kept them from succeeding. Now you may have the rest you deserve in my shade.”

Centuries of guilt tumbled away. Eagerness filled him. At last, he could cross to First Five Sky. He could sit beneath the Great Ceiba with his brother with all the other great warriors of their age.

Yet there were demons loose in this world. They would ravage the face of the earth until the Return. Jaid, the brilliant woman with knowledge of his magic and the sweetest soul, still lived.

His heart.

At the thought of her, he saw her beside his empty body. She cried for him, but she smiled, too. Yax-Balam. It might have been his name, but only she had ever thought to call him precious. She wanted him to have peace.

How could he leave her? He’d never again see her brow furrowed in thought, her teeth nibbling at her lip as she puzzled out a glyph. Never hold her against his heart and feel her courageous spirit.

“The choice is yours.”

After a lifetime of suffering and death, he wanted a single life with her. It would make the centuries worthwhile if only he could see her face once more and touch her hand and see her eyes light up with excitement.

“It is done.”

As a jaguar once more, he prowled through a darkened jungle. Scents of loam and fresh green things filled his nose. A cacophony of monkeys and quetzl sang in giant trees with pearly trunks and jeweled leaves. The moment he caught a female scent, he knew it was Jaid’s delicate magic. He streaked through the night, beneath the earth into the caves of Iximche, to hover over his empty body. Glowing with light and love, he studied her a moment, waiting for her to look up and acknowledge him.

She had not escaped unscathed from the Gate’s magic, for her cacao eyes glimmered jade green and her mouth fell open with shock.

He dropped into his body. His eyes flew open and he sucked in a deep, rattling breath. Choked. Took another breath. He wanted to touch her so badly, but his arms moved jerkily, as though they were disconnected. Words formed in his mouth but couldn’t pass his lips.

Then her hand cupped his cheek and she leaned down over him. Tears dripped on him, each splash soaking into his skin, filling him with such emotion. Such love.

“I thought you were gone.”

“I was,” he finally whispered, his voice raw and hoarse. “After the countless times I have died, this price I was more than willing to pay. I never wanted to live so very much—until you.”

Water glistened in the torchlight, neither the strange swampy, noisome Gate to Xibalba nor the black pyramid home of Kukulkan.

Shivering, Jaid huddled against Ruin, her arms tight around his waist. Deep inside, she felt changed. Different. Magic pulsed through her body and the water rippled in answer. Glyphs from the stone rings burned in her mind like a brand. His power through the bond? Somehow, she didn’t think so. Her heart quickened, and magic rushed through her veins, making her voice shake. “What do we do now?”

“When I used the White Dagger to take my life, I hoped the Gates would fall shut, but they didn’t. We must assume that more demons escaped along with Blood Gatherer and the other two that disappeared as soon as you released them from Lake Atitlan. Wrack killed One Death, but we must burn the body and scatter the ashes to be sure.”

At the mention of his brother, she felt his shoulders tense and a cold, gloomy rain flooded their bond. “He passed through the Gate with Butterfly Star. He was…happy. Very happy.”

Ruin sighed softly and rubbed the top of his head against her head. “Thank you. At last, he’s found peace.”

“He told me he would sit beneath the Great Ceiba with you and tell you everything that had happened.”

“In time, I will do so, but only if you enter the White Road with me.”

“We have to reclaim our world.” Her father joined them at the pool. “How do we stop the demons?”

Ruin gave him a narrowed, considering glance, weighing his earlier reckless acts against this new urgency. “Did Blood Gatherer make off with the White Dagger?”

“No,” Jaid answered. Loosed demons were bad enough; the thought of them wreaking havoc by capturing souls to empower that awful blade made her stomach tighten with dread. “I smashed it.”

“So that’s why the magic is still so volatile. I’m surprised the entire place didn’t crash down on our heads.”

“Most of the souls went through the Gate, but some of them attacked Blood Gatherer as he escaped through the tunnel.” At her words, Ruin’s forehead creased with concern. “What?”

“The ones that stayed, were they darker in color? Red, or even black?”

“Mostly, yes,” she answered slowly. “What does that mean?”

Turning away from the pool, he gripped her hand as though he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight ever again. “It means we have our work cut out for us to restore order to your world. The Lords of Death found great power in taking the souls of sorcerers.”

“Did they have powers like you?”

“Some. Many had darker gifts they gained from dedicating themselves to other less pleasant gods than Kukulkan.”

Shivering, she could only imagine what horrors might be happening in the world above.

It wasn’t easy to watch Ruin gather her notes scattered about the Temple of Days and stack them on the stone altar, along with Sam’s body and the demon’s remains. Reverently, he placed the codex on top.

Jaid touched the fragile bark cover and traced the gorgeous glyphs hand-painted in brilliant colors. Below the glyphs, an illustration showed a priest holding his offering up to the heavens. A lump strangled her throat. He’d made this with his own hands. The thought of destroying it—

“You know it must be done,” he said in a gentle, low voice.

“I know.” She didn’t look at the codex as he set fire to the stack. Instead, she reached up and traced her fingers over the proud, arrogant slant of his forehead, his full, sensual lips, and traced the spotted tattoos down his cheeks. His eyes glowed gold, the jaguar peeking out at her. His bond hummed within her, blending with the magic of the Gates until she heard the distinctive call of the holy quetzl echoing in her mind. “Your Heart of Blood is written on my soul.”

“And my heart beats for you alone, Lady Jaid. You are my First Five Sky forevermore.”

“It’s my fault,” her father whispered, his face lined and gaunt. His eyes were hollowed and dark in his face, and his hair, which she’d sworn just a month ago had been lightly sprinkled with gray, gleamed a stark white in the dim torchlight. “I hunted for these secrets my entire life. I lost my wife in this search and my best friend. I hope…” His trembling hand reached toward her, hesitating above her arm without touching her. “…I haven’t lost my daughter too.”

“Oh, Dad.” Hugging him, she didn’t try to stop the tears. “If you’d died…”

He squeezed her so hard she couldn’t breathe, but she welcomed his embrace, until he whispered low and rough in her ear. “You remember every symbol, don’t you? Did you read the entire Codex?”

Her heart felt like the mighty temple of Chi’Ch’ul had collapsed on top of her. She’d faced demons and walked the White Road to save him, but in the end, all she was to him was another translation. Without answering, she pulled away and pressed close to Ruin’s side. “We have to find a way to stop Venus Star, too. Sam thought they had a replica of the temple and said something about stone rings. Could they build a new Gate?”

A low, threatening rumble rolled out of Ruin’s chest at the thought. “Indeed, they could.”

“We’ll hike to the nearest village,” Dr. Merritt said, his eyes gleaming. She hated that look in his eyes. He’d been proved right, survived Xibalba, and now had a new insurmountable challenge to draw his interest. Hopefully he hated Mr. Franklin’s Venus Star too much to help them create a Dallas Gate. “Patzun’s not far and we should be able to find transportation to Guatemala City. Once we’re home, I’ll make a few calls. We’ll figure out where to begin.”

“I can’t come with you.” The Gates tugged at her consciousness. She closed her eyes, and she felt them all. She knew them by name, from Chi’Ch’ul to Chich’en Itza, El Mirador to Tikal. She also felt the demons like a black stain of spreading ink, so clearly that she could point to them. Her bones ached with the need to stop them and keep the magic safe. “The Gatekeeper is tied to the Gates.”

“I’ll bring help,” her father promised. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible, assuming I can find anyone to believe me.”

Wryly, she nodded, not voicing her suspicions. If he came back, great. Perhaps they could start anew. If he didn’t…

We’ll know immediately if he’s tampering with the Gate magic again.

Ruin didn’t say anything as they walked up the tunnel toward the ruined city of Iximche, but she knew he understood the true reason she didn’t go for help with her father, and it wasn’t simply because she loved Ruin too much to leave, even for a short while.

Sunlight, blue sky, and riotous green jungle had never looked so good before.

She clutched Ruin’s hand, staring up into his gleaming eyes, and she felt the answering pulse of magic in her blood. “Hurry, Dad. We’ll work on a plan while you’re gone. I texted Callie for help already, so Grandmother already knows I’m in trouble.”

“That old dragon,” he groaned. “She’s probably already called the President and every General in the country.”

She leaned against Ruin and waved one last time as her father disappeared into the jungle. No words were necessary between them. Even if he’d passed through to First Five Sky, Jaid knew she wouldn’t have made it far from Iximche without using his magic.

The Bloodgates had claimed a new Gatekeeper.

Even though she had no idea how horrible the coming months would be, her heart still leaped with joy. She could deal with anything, even Lords of Death and sorcerers, if she had Ruin by her side.

About the Author

Joely always has her nose buried in a book, especially one with mythology, fairy tales and romance. She, her husband and their three monsters live in Missouri. By day, she’s a computer programmer with a master of science degree in mathematics. When night falls, she bespells the monsters so she can write. Read more about her current projects on her Web site: http://joelysueburkhart.com.

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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9015-4

Copyright © 2010 by Joely Sue Burkhart

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