The Bloodgate Guardian Page 11

  “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, sear
ching 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.