by Ann Charles
“That is not a good idea,” Teodoro enunciated in Spanish.
“I’ll be careful.”
He shook his head, but waved her forward with his hook.
She stepped closer, shining the light inside again. It took a moment for one of the snakes to slither his way over the stela. Finally, it was clear again. It rose at an angle from the dark earth like a crooked gravestone. She guessed it to be about two feet wide, but the length was difficult to estimate due to it being buried in the dirt.
“Do you see that?” she asked Teodoro, who flanked her.
“I see snakes,” he said. “Too many for our good health.”
“Look beyond the snakes. Do you see that piece of stone behind them?”
He leaned in, squinting. “What’s on it?”
“Glyphs. I can’t read them from this distance.”
“Maybe they are not meant to be read.” He searched the ground around them, hook at the ready.
“I need to read them, Teodoro.”
He sighed. “Would you like me to ask the snake gods for permission to take a closer look?” he joked.
“Maybe I would,” she shot back, rising. She stuffed her flashlight into her back pocket. A rattlesnake slithered closer.
Teodoro grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her back slowly as it veered toward the sacbe, disappearing under the palm fronds.
“Follow me,” Teodoro said, leading her around the snake den, keeping a safe distance. They both watched for more of their slithering friends as they explored the surrounding area.
From the opposite viewpoint, she couldn’t even see the slight mound, nor any evidence of the danger waiting directly ahead. It looked like a small mound covered with saw palm fronds and agave plants under a sapodilla tree.
“We need to mark that tree somehow so nobody else stumbles into that den,” she told Teodoro.
He nodded. “Good idea.”
“And then I need to figure out how I can get to that piece of stela.”
Teodoro shook his head. “Bad idea.”
She headed back toward the temple with him trailing, both keeping an eye out for more rattlers. “What do you have that might put those snakes to sleep for a bit?”
“You joke.”
“Not really. I need to see the glyphs on that stela up close.”
“It’s too dangerous, Dr. García.”
She shot him a frown over her shoulder. “And clearing snakes like we have been all morning is child’s play?”
“One snake at a time is easy.”
They reached the temple’s perimeter clearing they’d carved out of the jungle over the last week. “You know we can’t leave that den,” she told him. “Someone is going to get bit before long, and then we’ll have a bigger problem than a snake den.”
“We have antivenin.”
“Not enough for that many rattlesnakes.”
He grunted. “If you go in, you will get bit.”
“Not if you work your magic, shaman.”
“Your father is not going to be happy.”
“Can you think of another solution?”
“Yes, don’t go in the snake den.”
“You’re a funny man.”
They walked in silence across the plaza.
What did that piece of stela say? Where was the rest of it? Was it in the Chakmo’ol Temple? Was this part of the missing stela she’d come here to find? Had it been broken into pieces by looters and tossed aside? Or had it been purposely thrown in there for the snakes to shield?
She shivered in excitement. This could be something new. Something overlooked by the previous archaeologist. INAH would be happy to have some new information after all of the cleanup work she and her crew had been doing while trying to get the site back into the shape it had been in when her mother had visited.
“There might be something we can do.” Teodoro broke the silence. “We’ll need help. More hands.”
“I’ll ask Maverick. He can wear those cowboy boots he brought along.” The writer had told her at breakfast yesterday that he’d come across plenty of rattlers on his ranch over the years and would be happy to help her snag and bag them, if needed. She’d rather not put any of her crew at risk, but there were too many snakes for two people.
“What about Quint?” Teodoro asked.
“No.” She didn’t want to risk him getting bit. Not after what happened to him at the last site.
And not after losing her mother at this site.
“I need to think about this some more,” Teodoro said. “Gather supplies.”
“We can discuss it further at supper.” She needed to check on everyone else anyway and tell her dad what she’d found, including the news about the sacbe. Since he was mapping the site, he’d want to take some measurements. But first, she’d have to get rid of more snakes. It was too dangerous for anyone to be near that den, especially someone slowed down by a cast and cane.
She paused at the junction to the Baatz’ Temple and looked toward it. “How many crew members do you need to help relocate the rattlesnakes we caught this morning?”
He held up one finger.
“Grab Lorenzo. I believe Fernando has him helping Esteban and Daisy at the ballcourt.”
At his nod, she turned and headed toward her father and Quint.
A minute or two later, she found them in the narrow shadow of the temple, taking a break. Both men were soaked with sweat, swatting at mosquitoes and flies. “Where are the Coronas?” she asked, joining them.
“Gatita, you’re smiling. Did you conquer the evil snake god?”
“Not yet.” She moved next to Quint and leaned against the shaded wall beside him. He’d shaved. She wasn’t sure if she liked him better with or without stubble. “But I did find something.”
“What?” Quint asked, taking a glug from his water.
“A piece of a stela.”
Juan’s eyes widened. “How big?”
“Big enough to have several glyphs on it.” She held out her hand for Quint’s canteen, which he handed over without hesitation.
“Where did you find it?” Juan pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the back of his neck. “Inside the Chakmo’ol Temple?”
“In a rattlesnake den.” She tipped the canteen back, swallowing the warm water.
Quint did a double take. “You went inside a snake den?”
“Not yet.” She handed back his canteen, purposely making contact with his fingers.
“Why is there a ‘yet’ in that answer?” her father asked.
She recognized her father’s stern glare from the times she’d landed in trouble in the past. “Because I need to see those glyphs.”
“How many snakes are we talking about?” Quint capped the canteen, leaning against the side of the temple. He watched her with an intensity that added a fresh layer of sweat down her back.
“Around thirty.”
“Holy shit.”
“No, gatita. I will not allow you to go inside that den.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not going to go racing in there swinging my machete around. Teodoro is going to come up with a way to clear out the den. Then I’ll get the stela.”
Her father looked unconvinced. “This is too dangerous.”
“I also found evidence of a sacbe leading away from the temple, heading southwest.”
Juan’s frown eased. “Where? I need to see that.”
“It runs right past the snake den.”
“Or maybe you could describe it to me in detail.”
She chuckled. “Teodoro and Maverick and I are going to deal with the den. When we finish, you and I can check it out and measure the sacbe together.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.” Quint crossed his arms.
“Which part?”
“The rattlesnakes. How about you count me in on your snake removal crew?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Is there a reason behind that or are you just making a bossy decision on a whim?”
“There’s a reason.” When he and her father stared at her, she shuffled her feet. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“I’m a big boy, Angélica.”
“You don’t like snakes.”
“Not as much as bossy archaeologists, but I’m not squeamish around them.”
She faced off with him, her hands on her hips. “Have you ever handled a snake?”
The corners of his eyes creased. “Not as much as you have.”
She smacked his shoulder. “I’m serious.”
“Yes, I have. I’ve even dealt with rattlers out on the prairie back home. Did I like it? No, but if it means helping you, I’m willing to risk their fangs again.”
“I don’t like you taking risks for me.”
“I’d prefer neither of you two messed with these snakes,” Juan said. “Can’t we just blow them up with dynamite?”
She gaped at her father. “They’re just doing their thing, Dad. We’re moving into their space. Besides, did you add dynamite to the supply list without telling me, Mr. Wile E. Coyote? Because if not, we’re running a bit short on TNT.”
“It’s a bad idea. Mark my words.” He grabbed his cane. “Quint, when you’re done fraternizing with the boss, I’ll be waiting.” He walked away with a slight limp, disappearing around the corner of the temple.
“I don’t like you playing snake charmer, boss lady.”
“Well, I don’t exactly love it, but somebody has to get rid of those snakes, and that’s me.”
“And me.”
“Listen, Parker,” she started.
His eyes narrowed. “What’s really going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re out there slaying dragons, but when I take up my sword to help, you try to lock me away in the castle.”
“Are you the prince or princess in this fairytale?”
“I’m always the king. Princes are pretty boys,” he said with a smirk. “Now tell me, why don’t you think I can handle those snakes?”
“It’s not that I don’t think you can handle them.”
“What then?”
“If something happens to you …” She bit her lip, unsure how deep she wanted to dive into her emotions and uncertainties at the moment. “There’s no insurance to cover you since you’re not a crew member.”
“Oh, I see, so you’re going to tell me this is about legalities at the dig, not anything to do with losing your mother at this very site.”
Crud. He’d seen right through her smokescreen. “It’s not just that. I almost lost you and my dad at the last dig, Quint. I don’t want a repeat performance.”
He caught her hand and pulled her closer. “You can’t control that, sweetheart.”
“Keeping you two out of the line of fire would be a step in the right direction, though.”
“I won’t be mollycoddled, especially when you’re putting your own life at risk.”
“But—”
“I’m serious, Angélica. Where you go in this jungle, I go.” His voice lowered as he tipped her chin up. “Now you may be the boss lady in front of your crew, but you and I know that when it comes to us, it’s only an act we play in public.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips. “That sounds like some sadomasochistic game, Parker.”
“Well, I do like it when you run rampant all over me, taking me to task. Maybe we should look into finding you a whip to go with your machete.”
“Fine,” she gave in with a small smile. “You can help, but if you get bit …”
He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’ll suck the venom out?”
Chills ran up her arms at the images his words conjured. “That doesn’t actually work, you know.”
“Are you positive about that?” His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Maybe we should practice a few times in our tent. You know, to make sure you’re up to the task in case it does work a little bit.” He pulled back, his smile teasing.
She chuckled at his cheekiness. “If you get bit, Quint, I’m going to kick your ass.”
“And then you’ll kiss the bite better?”
“And then I’ll kiss you better.” She went up on her toes and showed him exactly how that would go, pressing against him for a few seconds of heavy breathing.
“Wow,” he said when she stepped back. “That would probably get me started on the road back to good health.”
“If you want more of that, you need to get back to work and keep an eye on my dad. I’m worried about him overstressing his leg.”
Quint’s eyebrows lifted. “Manipulating me with kisses? What’s next? Bribing me with sex?”
“Parker,” she warned, pointing after her father.
“All right, boss lady.” He grabbed his canteen from the ground. “But to be clear, if you want to use sex to sway me one way or another, I’m easily corrupted.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Save me a seat at lunch.” He winked at her and followed after her father.
She stood there for a moment, enjoying the sight of his broad shoulders and everything below them. Her mind flashed back to Quint, her beach house, and the feel of his mouth trailing over her …
A howler monkey let out a loud growl in the canopy overhead, snapping her back to the present. Fanning her shirt, she headed toward the ballcourt where Esteban and Daisy should still be working.
One way or another, she was going to find some answers at this damned site. There was no way in hell she was going to let a few snakes get in her way.
Chapter Six
Uay: Form changers; animal spirits of evil sorcerers.
Quint waited outside the mess tent in the dark. The sound of forks clinking on tin plates and the din of conversation coming through the mesh-covered opening were almost drowned out by the party raging all around him in the trees and thick undergrowth.
He tried to imagine what it must have been like centuries ago with nothing but some scraps of clothing and a spear to fend off bugs and beasts. The buzzing of mosquitoes alone must have driven the Maya people nuts. It was no wonder they had thought ritual bloodletting sounded logical. It would take only a few months of picking off ticks every night and fending off snakes by day for the poke of a stingray spine on a regular basis to seem tolerable. After a few years of living under the trees, sacrificing a goat every now and then to some unseen gods in exchange for relief from the heat and humidity might sound downright reasonable.
“What are you doing out here, Parker?” Angélica’s soft voice cut through his thoughts. She approached from the shadowed pathway that led to the tents, joining him at the edge of the light seeping from the mess tent. The humming of the generator was barely audible above the drone of crickets.
“I’m contemplating bloodletting in exchange for a relief from the heat and humidity.”
She chuckled, moving closer, playing with one of the buttons on his shirt. “Can I hold the stingray spine?” she asked in a husky voice.
A zing shot through him. “That depends on what you’re planning to poke with it.”
“Well, the Maya believed that the ritual had a more powerful effect if the blood was drawn from the tongue … or the penis.” She ran her fingertips down his shirt. “Now I know you’re going to need your tongue to work your charm on me, but since my father is sharing our tent I doubt you’ll have much use for the latter.” Her hand hesitated at the top of his fly, her teeth and eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “So, what do you say, Parker? Shall I sterilize a spine tonight?”
“You know,” he said, snagging her hand and lifting it to his lips. “On second thought, this heat isn’t so bad.” He kissed her bold fingers.
Her smile widened. “Damn. And here I was hoping to sting you a little bit for disappearing for weeks on end without a word.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still sore about that silly business,” he jested, tugging her around the side of the tent and deeper into the shadows.
“Let m
e consult my ego and pride,” she said, allowing him to draw her into his arms. “Yep, they’re still cursing your hide.”
“What can I do to make it up to them?”
“The stingray spine is a start.”
He grimaced. “How about something that doesn’t involve pointy ends.”
“There’s always my machete.”
“Or sharp edges.” His hands found the hem of her shirt, slipping up inside. The feel of her soft skin under his fingers made his pulse rev. “Something more …” his fingers grazed her ribs, finding spots he’d memorized last month. “Ticklish.”
She squirmed, a giggle escaping into the darkness. “Parker, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” He strummed her ribs again, making her laugh louder this time. When she pressed fully against him, he felt lightheaded. “Don’t touch you with my blunt objects?”
“Quint,” she whispered, trying to chastise him only to ruin it by laughing into his shirt when he tickled her again. “I’m going to pay you back when you’re sleeping,” she threatened.
She tried to wriggle free, but he pulled her closer instead, his hands sliding around to her smooth back and then lower. Sweet Jesus, he’d missed her curves.
Her laughter ebbed as he moved against her, her breathing picking up speed to match his.
“Forgive me, Angélica.” He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck, trailing his lips down to her collarbone. Her skin tasted sweet and salty at the same time, making him want to strip her naked and nibble further. “I don’t like it when you’re thinking violent thoughts that involve your machete and me.”
Her chuckle was throatier this time. She wrapped her arms around his neck, staring up at him in the moonlight. “I’ll think about it.”
“Boy, you’re a tough nut to crack.”
“Maybe I like it when you work extra hard trying to find a weak spot.”
“Is that a challenge?” he asked, angling toward her mouth.
She went up on her toes, closing the distance. Her breath was warm against his lips. “More like a tip, heartbreaker.”
“Gatita?” Juan’s voice reached them before Quint’s lips made contact. “Where are you?”
She sighed, lowering back onto her heels. “I’m over here, Dad.”