by Lisa Kessler
She stayed pressed up against him, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He’d never seen Gretchen frightened before. She’d been startled, sure, but never like this. Lukas took a deep breath, determined to keep a cool head for both of them.
With a shaky hand, Gretchen pulled her notebook closer and showed him the rubbing impression she’d previously taken from the altar.
“See this symbol?” She pointed to a familiar carving of a man standing, half of his body in the shape of a jaguar.
Lukas nodded. “The Night Walker, yes…”
She lifted her notebook again. “Yes, but this one is different. See the moon symbol there…and then this one.” Her finger tapped the paper underneath a symbol he’d never seen before.
He squinted, taking in the shading. It almost looked like a woman with the mouth of a snake, fangs bared.
“See the image of Chan there, the serpent?” He nodded and she went on. “We’ve seen it before, symbolizing danger or evil. But when you combine Chan with the fangs and the female torso, it symbolizes another being. Similar to the Night Walker symbol but—”
“But dangerous.” He spoke her thoughts aloud. “Evil.”
Gretchen nodded slowly. “I think they were trying to describe what’s down there. What they put in that pit. I went back to the altar today just to be certain. I’m pretty sure the tiles are telling us the story of a Demon that the Night Walkers banished.”
“A Demon?” He thought for a moment, before he started flipping through his notes. His maker turned him on the coast of California in San Diego. He’d known he was a Night Walker, but he said nothing of an enemy. Could there be a Demon as well? One the Night Walkers fought?
It would have been much easier to turn the pages with both hands, but Gretchen’s grip on him didn’t ease up, so he fumbled through the papers with his one free hand. Finally finding what he needed, he laid the drawing beside hers.
“And you think this wolf has something to do with it?”
Gretchen nodded, spreading out the drawings, rubbings from the stone glyphs, and their notepads until she had the appropriate order.
“You tell me,” she said. “What do you see?”
Lukas stared at the table for a few minutes and finally pressed his palms to his temples, trying to quiet his mind. “I see the story of a goddess of the moon and the spirit of a wolf… But I don’t see where this Demon fits in. Why isn’t it just another Night Walker? Why recognize it as something different?”
She started to point with a trembling finger. He met her eyes, watching the color drain from her cheeks. “I think she was something different, something they had to stop. The Night Walkers were honored like gods. Maybe they were protecting the people from whatever she is.”
“What?” He’d never considered that Night Walkers might have another purpose in the world other than leeching the blood from humanity. “You think the blood-drinkers were protectors?”
“I’m still not positive I’ve got the right translation, but after checking and rechecking, I haven’t found any of the Night Walker glyphs that depict the serpent. We already determined the altar records the sacrifice of a woman, and the Night Walkers performed the ritual. So, maybe this half-serpent, half-woman came into the world somehow, and the Night Walkers imprisoned her inside of the earth in this ritual.”
“But where does the goddess of the moon fit into all of this?”
Gretchen nodded. “If you look at the glyphs, you’ll see the goddess was one of them.”
“She was a Night Walker?”
“The Night Walker symbol blends with hers twice.” She flipped the pages to show him the rubbing again. “And I don’t know what to think about the wolf. Maybe it’s a symbol of a moon worshiper? It appears from these images that they sacrificed the goddess to the Demon. Maybe that banished it?”
Lukas brought his hand up behind his head, fisting his fingers in the back of his hair. If the goddess of the moon was a Night Walker, then the wolf had to be her spirit animal. But he couldn’t share the information with Gretchen without revealing more about himself than he intended.
“So, you think this Demon was real and now it’s trying to break free?” He’d come here looking for the source of Night Walkers. Finding a Demon wasn’t part of the plan.
“I don’t know what to think. I know the stories from ancient civilizations are just that—stories. But I know I felt something today at that altar…something evil. It’s probably not a Mayan Demon—I know that sounds crazy—but whatever it is, it’s not good.”
And he needed to protect her from it.
He raised her hand to his lips without conscious thought and kissed it tenderly. “You should go home while you can. This isn’t your fight, Gretchen.”
She turned and looked right into his eyes, and for a moment he felt completely bare, like she moved inside of him, inside his soul.
“Maybe you should tell me why you’re making it yours.”
Chapter Five
Lukas stood and started for the door. Apparently he had no intention of answering her question. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but it still stung.
Gretchen got up from her chair. “We both know there’s something dangerous out there, but you’d rather go out and face it alone than stay here and answer my question.”
His shoulders tensed. He turned around and his gaze locked on hers until a cool tingle crept down her spine. For a moment, she felt incapable of escaping, captured.
Lukas reached up and rubbed his eyes. Shaking his head, he stared at her again, but this time she didn’t feel that same super-charged connection.
“T’fu.” His voice made a rare slip into his native tongue. “Dammit, Gretchen, is it so hard for you to understand that I want you to be safe?”
“I just want to understand why you’re willing to stay here when you know something… possibly inhuman is out there.”
“It’s not what’s out there that worries me.” His voice softened as he took a step closer. “If something happened to you because of our work here, I would never forgive myself.”
Gretchen stared into the deep green of his eyes, almost losing herself in his gaze again, as if hypnotized by him. What was wrong with her? She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to focus. “Okay, but if you expect me to leave, then you’ll have to come with me.”
“I’ll be fine here. I’ve been following this trail longer than you’ve been alive.”
His facial features remained stoic, stoking the fire of her anger as she took a step back. “First off, you’re not that much older than me. And you do need me. I’ve worked my ass off to be the best in my field. You won’t get any further along solving the mystery of that altar without me.”
He almost took the bait, but his jaw clenched, clearly biting back the emotion she hungered to see. Instead, his voice remained cool and distant. “There is a historian in San Diego who knows something about the history here. I’ll share our discoveries with him and get his input on how to proceed. In the meantime, you should pack. I’m getting you a plane ticket back to Wyoming.”
She opened her mouth to respond but no sound emanated. Gretchen closed her mouth to keep from looking like a fish out of water, gasping for air. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and she cleared her throat.
Managing a professional tone, she replied, “If there is a Mayan historian in San Diego, I’d like to meet him. You owe me that as a colleague, don’t you think?”
She held her breath as he reached for the door. If he didn’t stop dismissing her like a child, she was going to lose the tentative grip she had on her cool. Until now, they’d always gotten along. Until now, she’d thought he respected her and her research as the best.
Now she felt like she was walking on shifting sand.
Lukas glanced back over his shoulder. “Fine, but this historian is very reclusive. If he won’t agree to meet you, you’ll have to abide by his request.”
“All right.” She met his
eyes, surprised to see emotion brewing in his gaze.
“Get packed. You’ll be on the red eye tomorrow.”
He walked out without another word, leaving Gretchen to stare at the door. Why did he have to be so confusing? If he was just a condescending jerk, she could handle it. She’d worked with many over the years. But when she’d caught a glimpse of his eyes, Lukas didn’t look smug.
He seemed desolate and more alone than she’d ever noticed before. She rubbed her arms to fight a chill.
Whatever he hid from her, it couldn’t be good.
Lost in thought, Lukas stalked through the jungle toward his daylight sanctuary. When he awoke at sunset, he would have to get Gretchen on the plane without him while he shifted and flew to San Diego in his animal form. Tricky. But he couldn’t take the red eye with her to San Diego. They’d land at sunrise, and when his body smoldered in the sun beside her, she’d quickly discover he was every bit as inhuman as whatever hunted them in this jungle.
He shouldn’t even be bringing her along, pulling her deeper into his world. But she’d left him with no choice.
Or at least he tried to believe that.
He should have taken control of her mind and planted the seed that she was going back home, but the moment the fire drained from her beautiful green eyes, he couldn’t go through with it. He wouldn’t steal her free will.
Because he cared.
But he shouldn’t.
Long-dead screams of the family he’d murdered echoed in his mind suddenly, reminding him of how little he’d valued their lives, the family he would never have. The heavy burden of guilt covered him like a suit of armor, weighing him down and keeping him separate from the rest of the world.
When had Gretchen pierced through?
Not that it really mattered. Knowing how her smiles had reached into his heart, and how the sight of the moonlight on her hair made him ache to touch her, would not change the fact that he would never be the man she deserved.
He would never be a man. Never again.
So lying to her about meeting a historian in San Diego shouldn’t bother him. She’d never believe he was meeting with his Night Walker maker, anyway. In spite of that, the lie felt like another wall between them, keeping her further from him.
The distance should have reassured him.
Instead, his stomach clenched into a ball of bitterness, and he found himself wishing for things he knew he could never have.
Lukas entered his daylight crawlspace, barely noticing the stifling heat and the stench of mildew. He lay down on his cot and pushed thoughts of Gretchen from his mind. He hadn’t communicated with Calisto, his maker, since the night he succumbed to the madness. But he was no stranger to San Diego.
His only mortal friend’s great-great-granddaughter still lived in San Diego—Muriah. Maybe he could introduce Gretchen and keep her busy while he questioned Calisto to find out if he knew anything about a Mayan Demon. Gretchen would enjoy Muriah’s quirky store, and they both shared a love of ancient artifacts. Gretchen discovered them and placed them in museums, and Muriah pilfered them and sold them to the highest bidder.
He groaned out his last breath as the sunlight stole the life from his body.
Gretchen woke up with her hair plastered to her neck. The tent felt like an oven, with the humidity of a pressure cooker. She sat up, wiping sweat from her forehead and checking her watch. Almost lunchtime. She couldn’t help but glance at Lukas’s cot. Empty again. She would’ve been more surprised if he were actually in it. Usually, he at least came back for a little while, leaving his sleeping bag disheveled when he left.
It didn’t look like he’d come back last night after their confrontation, though.
She tried not to think about it and headed for their makeshift shower. It wasn’t much cooler outside the tent. No breeze. There were also no bugs. Strange.
The rusted spring on the shower door squeaked, protesting as she pulled it open. When she was a little girl, she’d seen reruns of M*A*S*H* on television and laughed at their silly showers. Now, those portable war showers seemed fancy.
She peeled off her clothes and washed them first. Once the clothes were draped over the shower stall wall, she turned around and wet her hair. The sun-heated water did little to cool her off, but she shampooed her hair anyway and reached for her razor.
And sliced the top of her finger.
“Ow! Damn it!” She popped her bloody digit in her mouth and glared at the razor. After a few seconds, she pulled her finger free to check the wound.
My blood is beautiful.
A chill shot down her spine. Where had that thought come from? Maybe she had stayed in the jungle too long.
Gretchen grabbed her towel and pressed it to her finger to staunch the bleeding. Once her finger stopped throbbing, she dried off and wrapped herself in the towel. Her shower shoes squeaked with each step back to the tent, reminding her of her strangely silent surroundings. For a moment, she felt like the last person on earth.
Inside the tent, she dressed quickly and hung up her towel. What if she was the only person here? Lukas never came back last night. Could he have gone to the airport without her?
She almost laughed at the irrational thought. Lukas was the one trying to get her out of the jungle. He’d never leave her behind.
Would he?
She caught herself staring at the wound on her finger. Her skin felt hot, already sweating after her shower. Gretchen closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead as if she could physically wash out the disturbing thoughts, while deep in her mind she heard the voice again.
Your blood can make you free.
Chapter Six
The air in San Diego felt dry and crisp, a direct contrast to the stifling heat of the Yucatan. After months in the rainforest, Lukas had grown accustomed to the blanket of humid heat.
He soared over the downtown skyline. San Diego no longer resembled the tiny settlement he remembered. When he’d first discovered the village on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, only a few hundred natives and the Catholic mission populated the land.
And the first time he walked this shore, he could barely speak the language.
He’d come to the new world, as many did in those days, in search of a brighter future. Using the hunting skills passed down from his father, Lukas became a trapper and fur trader. At sixteen, he’d left his home in Russia, and by 1776 he was trapping deer and mountain lions in the wilderness that would become southern California.
By the following year, he was a Night Walker.
After scanning the area, Lukas found a deserted spot and landed on the rocky seawall of the bay three hours before Gretchen’s plane would land at the nearby airport. His spirit animal stood a full foot higher—and with an added four-foot wingspan—than his natural brothers. In the air, humans couldn’t distinguish his size, but he was always careful to land without being seen. The last thing he needed was for a human to post pictures of his giant horned owl on the internet. Scientists from all over the world would have a bounty out to capture him for study.
His head swiveled around, taking in his surroundings. Satisfied that he remained alone, the air around him rippled with energy, blurring his form until his wings became arms, his feathers melted into skin, and finally Lukas stood as a man. He straightened his shirt, staring out at the water. His human form remained frozen inside while his animal spirit took over, his clothing unchanged and untouched when he regained his natural form as a man. He climbed the rocks up to the sidewalk and quickly rushed toward the airport. Thankfully, Gretchen had bought his story that, because of full flights, he’d been forced to get a seat on another plane.
Now he needed to arrange for a hotel room and a car to meet Gretchen when she landed. Then he’d find Muriah before sunrise.
Until he was back among humanity, he hadn’t realized how difficult hiding his nature was going to be.
An hour later, with Gretchen’s hotel and car plans settled, Lukas made his way through the alleyways of Pacif
ic Beach without hesitation. Loud music, flashing lights, and the laughter of inebriated men and women polluted the air around him. He caught himself aching for the serenity of the Yucatan rainforest.
The songs of the night creatures were music to his ears. This was noise.
Lukas could remember when this area was simply a beach. Almost two hundred years earlier, after his madness and rage over being turned into an immortal monster had subsided, he had set out to find a cure for his affliction. On a visit to the small beach town, he’d met a strange man with knowledge Lukas yearned to acquire. He had books—rare books, dangerous books—and his mind was open to possibilities that Lukas himself had never considered.
Girard La Deaux.
An immigrant from France, he’d settled in the small town on the shore with his wife and his children. Over the years, Lukas grew to trust the old man and returned many times to his store to visit. He shared his condition with Girard and his desire to be healed, and instead of running in fear, Girard agreed to take up the challenge.
Together they found journals and manuscripts documenting other blood drinkers in this New World. But they couldn’t find a cure.
Muriah La Deaux, his great-great-granddaughter, ran the store now. Lukas smiled at the thought of her. He’d visited the family store many times over the years. When he needed research materials, the La Deaux family always came through for him without any questions. They were the only mortals who knew his secret, and they’d kept it within their family for generations.
Muriah was tenacious in her search for forgotten, out-of-print books. Many times he had watched her eyes light up with excitement when she told him of tomes she’d found to aid his research on Native American healers. Anything he ever requested she would search out without question or judgment.
She reminded him of Girard. Very much.
Rounding the final corner to the store, Lukas knocked on the faded red door. “Muriah? Are you in there?”