Don Miguel returned. He wore a white loincloth, sandals like hers, a cape of bright colors, and a headdress of colorful tropical bird feathers. “Are you getting dressed?” he asked Virgil.
“I’m just about done. Do you remember your part?” Virgil dotted oil the length of her arms on the tender undersides, pouring a small pool in the palms of her hands. He folded her fingers around the oil and chanted. His voice faded and his hands disappeared from her vision.
She tried to move her head to follow the sounds, but her body wouldn’t respond.
“Here are your words.” Virgil said. “Read and memorize them but don’t say them. They can’t be spoken out loud until the right moment.” Virgil’s steps faded. She could hear don Miguel pacing to her right. She couldn’t see what either one was doing.
Where was Tino? If ever she needed someone it was now, and she wished it to be the one person she could depend on.
Virgil returned. He and don Miguel stood near her head. They put their hands on her shoulders and Virgil chanted about her pureness, their journey to greatness, and the moon god. The chant ended, their hands raised, and her arms tingled. Her numbness was wearing off.
Chapter 29
Tino peered through the small hole by the hidden door. It had taken all his control to remain in the tunnel and watch the two men drag Isabella into the chamber. If her eyes hadn’t blinked, he would have sworn she was dead. Her limp body worried him, but he’d glimpsed the light of intelligence in her eyes. They may have made her unable to move, but her mind still fired. He wished he knew the sequence of the ceremony. Moving the rock would alert the men to his approach and with Isabella incapacitated barging in now could put her in danger. He would have to wait for a moment when the two men were at a disadvantage.
The men were crazy, and he didn’t want this to be a suicide mission with he and Isabella the bodies that were found. Miguel didn’t bother him. He was a rich man paying for this new experience. He’d be easy to subdue. Martin did bother him. The doctor’s zeal and calmness reflected what he had witnessed and studied about killers. Martin had reverently kissed Isabella’s head and told her sacrificing her was worth everything.
Words of a madman.
Martin returned dressed in a colorful robe and wearing a headdress similar to Miguel’s. The two men spoke quietly on the far side of the altar near Isabella’s head. He wished he could hear the conversation.
They parted and Miguel stepped up onto a raised rock beside the altar. He lifted his loincloth. Tino watched in disbelief as Martin chanted and handed Miguel a bowl of white papers. Miguel placed the bowl on another raised stone between his legs. Martin continued chanting as he held up, and then offered, a stingray spine to Miguel.
Miguel took the object, pinched the skin on his miembro, and pushed the object through his foreskin. The man’s member surged a moment before he pulled out the stingray spine and inserted a small rope through the holes. Blood saturated the rope and dripped into the bowl, staining the white paper red.
Miguel swayed, his eyes glazing over.
Martin placed a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. Miguel pulled the rope out of his miembro and dropped it into the bowl. Martin picked up the bowl of bloody paper and distributed small pieces among the bowls placed around Isabella on the altar.
The paper was lit and Martin placed a crown of flowers on Isabella’s head. The beautiful flowers and Isabella’s serene repose were a stark contrast to the obscene actions of the men.
Tino’s temples throbbed. When should he make a move? He didn’t like the unattached way Martin treated her. His adrenaline surged and his heart raced.
Do something Isabella.
Stop him.
Miguel swayed on his pedestal. Martin steadied him and held a black shiny blade to the ceiling and chanted. He placed the knife in Miguel’s hands and waved his arms over Isabella. He opened her dress exposing her chest and stepped back.
Rage and fear catapulted Tino. He grabbed the wooden handle on the boulder and shoved with all his strength. He had to save Isabella.
The sight of don Miguel’s trance and the shiny obsidian blade in his hands surged adrenaline through Isabella. She tried to sit up, knocking the burning offerings to the floor. Her body still didn’t respond completely.
“No Virgil—not work.” Frustration at her unintelligible words also hampered her movement. She swallowed and tried to work her tongue. The sound of rock scraping rock registered. Help had arrived.
Virgil clutched her wrists and held her to the table. “Now!” he shouted.
Fear sliced through her as don Miguel raised the knife above her body. Warm flickering light from the oil pots glistened on the shiny black blade clutched in his hands. She willed her arms to work to wrench free of Virgil’s grip.
A blur hit don Miguel and he disappeared from her sight.
Cursing and flesh hitting flesh resonated from the floor.
Virgil’s eyes peered into hers. Now her vision cleared as she stared into the eyes of evil. The evil she’d caught only glimpses of since arriving at the dig shone like a beacon. He dove to the ground.
She had to help Tino. But her body was only slowly responding. She managed to wrap her fingers around the small oil pot by her hip.
Virgil appeared before her, the obsidian knife clutched in his hands.
“I’m not a virgin!” The garbled words only intensified her anger. She flung the hot oil into Virgil’s face.
“Aahhhh!” He stumbled backward.
She swung her legs over the altar and spotted don Miguel and Tino struggling near the doorway. Grasping another pot of hot oil, she forced her legs to move in a stiff zombie fashion. She had to help Tino. He was the only person in her life to truly care about her and her career. Her heart squeezed with fear as don Miguel slammed a fist into Tino’s side. The two danced a clumsy dance, don Miguel trying to get away and Tino hanging on, inflicting punches and jabs to the man’s body and face.
Isabella tossed the hot oil on don Miguel’s back. He roared with pain and fell to the ground wiggling like a salted snail.
“Ezzabella!”
Tino’s warning came too late.
She felt hot breath and an arm band around her from behind. She shouldn’t have underestimated Virgil’s zealousness.
“She has to die.” The loud roaring voice in her ear made her cringe.
“You haven’t committed murder yet, Martin. Let her go, and you won’t die.” Tino stared straight at her and Virgil, but Isabella’s eyes were on Tino’s gun laying on the floor an arm’s reach from her feet.
How could Tino stop Virgil? His arm was wrapped around her middle tight; to try and slump down wouldn’t help. And even if she did, what could Tino do?
The obsidian knife wasn’t as sharp as a present day metal blade. She’d take the chance of a scrape or two. She mouthed, “Keep him talking”, to Tino and slowly relaxed, flexing each muscle to see what coordination she’d have.
“Why are you doing this? Surely, you could write a world renowned paper on the ceremony and retain your status and perhaps more funding.” Tino took a step forward.
“Stay back!” Virgil moved back a step, putting them farther from the weapon.
“Don’t move”, she mouthed to Tino and flashed her gaze to the gun and back to him.
“Okay, I’ll stay back, but you have to let her go. You have done nothing wrong so far.” Tino planted his feet firmly in place. He didn’t know what Isabella had planned but he would follow her lead even though he wasn’t happy having Miguel at his back and Virgil holding a black knife on Isabella.
“I’ll kill you, too, if you interfere.” Virgil’s voice held such conviction goose bumps rose on Tino’s arms.
“You cannot continue with the ceremony, it will accomplish nothing.” Tino started to move his foot forward out of instinct, but the widening of Isabella’s eyes stalled the movement.
“I can gain all the things I haven’t been able to attain. Prosperity, the funding and
accolades I’ve only acquired by using others. And immortality. I’ll go down in the books as the first and only archeologist to discover and carry out one of the most controversial sacrifices.”
“It was controversial because it went wrong.”
Martin’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know it went wrong?”
“Ezzabella told me. The virgin they sacrificed wasn’t a virgin and it caused the beginning of the downfall of the Mayans.”
Stumbling and cursing behind him caught his attention. Tino spun around to catch the backside of Miguel hurrying out of the dig.
Grunts, a growl, and scrambling spun him back around. Isabella sat on the floor his gun in her hands. Martin shook his head and raised the knife charging at her.
Tino’s chest constricted as he shouted, “No!” and his ears rang from the explosion of his gun.
Virgil fell across Isabella.
Tino lunged for the two, pulling the doctor off Isabella, flinging him to the side and gently prying the gun from her hands.
“I had to…”
“Shhh, do not look. You are safe. I have you.” Tino held her tight. If he’d lost her he would never have been able to shake the pain or the curse of losing those he loved.
Chapter 30
Isabella snuggled into Tino’s strong arms. She’d shot a man. Not just any man, her mentor and a man she’d thought cared about her. The revelations she’d uncovered on this trip had her unsure of everyone except the man holding her tight and whispering sweet endearments in her ear.
Voices erupted in the small confines. She tipped her head and peered into the only set of eyes she cared to see. Her glasses were slipped onto her nose, and she reveled in the warmth and love in Tino’s eyes. Tears burned, and she buried her head in his shoulder. The cleansing tears washed away the fear and frustration of her past two days.
Tino’s arms remained wrapped around her. She smiled as his heartbeat slowed under her ear. Sounds of scuffling and numerous male voices in both Spanish and English captured her attention. She opened one eye and watched Pedro and several other men remove Virgil. Who were all these people?
“Is there a chance I can talk to my daughter?”
Isabella froze. What was her father doing here? The only time he ever came to her was on her birthdays and then they never met at her apartment; they always met some place he and her mother suggested. Believing she still hallucinated but curious that her father’s voice sounded so clear, she slowly unburied her face from Tino’s shoulder.
She stared at her father’s wide shoulders and authoritative stance, but she’d never seen him in camouflage. She shook her head and stared again, this time at the square chin and blue searching eyes that definitely belonged to her father. “Daddy?” She wiped her nose on Tino’s shirt and continued to stare.
Her father?
In Guatemala?
What was he doing here? And at this moment?
Isabella started to push away from Tino, still unbelieving. He held her in place. She peered into his eyes but his gaze watched his hands, pulling her ripped dress together. Leave it to Tino to make her presentable.
“Gracias.” She kissed his cheek and shifted to stand in front of her father. “What are you doing here, Daddy?
Her question pulled his assessing gaze from Tino to her and his eyes softened, reminding her of the last time she’d received a visit from him.
His gaze slid down her front. “Is that your blood?”
His question was warranted given Virgil’s blood had spattered on her dress, but the casualness of the question hurt. It was as unemotional as all their contact.
“No, it’s from Virgil. I shot him.” She could hide her feelings as well as him. Her insides quivered like jelly replaying the squeezing of the trigger and Virgil’s blood seeping from his chest as his surprised eyes stared at her.
Tino rubbed a hand up and down her back in a comforting reassurance of his presence.
“So what are you doing here?” she asked again.
“When your tracking device stopped working and Pedro told me you were in trouble, I dropped everything and headed here. It looks like I didn’t have to worry. You and your friend seem to have things under control.”
“You’re the one who had the tracking device in my watch?” Isabella backed into Tino. His arms immediately wrapped around her waist. Confusion spun in her mind, mixing with anger. Why would he track her, how—?
She slapped a hand on her forehead. “That’s what you did every year on my birthday. You installed a new tracking device. Why?” She wasn’t sure if the anger bubbling inside was from his tracking her or his secrecy about it.
Daddy scanned the chamber. The men had cleared Virgil from the room. Only Pedro stood inside the door. Her father glanced at the cook and he nodded. How did he know Pedro?
Her father reached out a hand. “There’s a lot your mother and I have kept from you. After what Pedro has told me, I think it’s time you knew.” His gaze rose above her head. “Both of you.”
Isabella pushed deeper into Tino’s arms. Her father’s serious tone disturbed her as his child and frustrated her as a grown woman. She needed Tino’s restraint to keep her anger in check. High emotions only further confused issues.
“This chamber is secure,” Pedro said, stepping out of the room.
Her head hurt. What did Pedro mean the chamber was secure? Why was he acting so much like…Tino?
“I know you’ve been through a lot, but we need to talk. Now. Before others ask you questions.” Her father motioned to the altar. “Can you manage to sit there? I don’t see anywhere else and you look like you need to.”
The memories, both good and bad, of the altar made her hesitant. Not minutes before, a madman had tried to drive an obsidian blade through her chest on this very slab. She couldn’t stop the trembling or the way her knees buckled.
“I am with you,” Tino whispered in her ear. “If you wish to leave this place I will take you.”
She shook her head. “No.” She placed a hand on the prickly stubble of his cheek. “This place also has good memories. I’ll focus on those.”
His eyes lit and he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. Her father cleared his throat, and Tino grasped her waist, placing her on the altar.
“Did you happen to bring a medical doctor in with you?” Tino asked, hoisting his backside up on the altar next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“Are you wondering about that bullet in Dr. Martin or don Miguel? Who by the way is in custody,” her father added.
Isabella studied Tino’s profile. How did he feel about her shooting a man? The firm set of his jaw and the dark scowl said it all—He knew it had been her or Virgil.
“No. I could care less what happens to either of them. If Ezzabella had not shot him, I would have killed him. I want a doctor for Ezzabella. They drugged her. I want to make sure there are no after affects.”
Isabella put a hand on Tino’s thigh. His concerned gaze searched her face. “I’m fine.”
Her father stepped in front of her. He winked and did a cursory examination, lifting her eyelids and feeling her pulse.
“Daddy’s a doctor,” she said as he tapped on her tendons checking her reflexes. “Among, it appears, other things.” Isabella scowled at her father. What had he and her mother been keeping from her? Why was he dressed like some military operative, and why did he have her tracked? Frustration at her stupidity mocked her. She, a genius, hadn’t figured out he’d planted a tracking device in her watch every year.
“What did they give you?” he asked, continuing his examination and ignoring her jab.
“It was odorless but had a faint bitter aftertaste. Given the area and the Mayan ceremony, I’d say it was L-Dopa with a paralyzing drug of some kind mixed in. Don Miguel gave me coconut milk to drink before, and I didn’t consider he’d tampered with the second glass. Once I realized, I didn’t drink any more but it was enough…”
She shuddered and Tino pulled he
r into an embrace.
“Shh, querida. I will not let them touch you again. I promise.”
She wasn’t usually a crier but after all that had happened today, she couldn’t keep the tears in check. “I should have known Virgil was luring me down here. No collector of artifacts would pay half a million to learn about a ceremony.” The shame of having been duped would have consumed her if not for her anger at the man. “But if I’d left when I discovered the truth, they could have used some unsuspecting woman and there would have been a murder and perhaps even more unhappiness inflicted on the Mayans.”
The papers! She grabbed her father’s hands. “Daddy, we have to make sure all the papers at don Miguel’s hut in the settlement are burned along with any notes in Virgil’s tent. They discovered a ceremony that could devastate the Mayan population.”
Her father nodded and held up a small device. “Vincent, did you hear that? Keep Dr. Martin and Miguel isolated and go through their belongings. Gather everything and put it in a guarded spot. My daughter will decide what’s dangerous and what’s of archeological importance.”
Daddy wanted her to go through the papers and share the important details with him. He believed in her and respected her knowledge. How many times had she wanted to show him a report or paper and he was never around. And now when she came close to dying he was here. Would her birthdays and death be the only times she saw him? After all these years why did she care? She’d learned long ago she wasn’t her parents’ first priority.
Strong warm arms squeezed her.
Tino put her first. She gazed into his eyes and squirmed as the slab under them warmed, heating a part of her that ignited from the inside at the love and caring in his eyes.
“Konstantine. I’ve been told you’re a man who thinks on his feet and knows the jungle.”
How did her father know Tino’s real name? Her father’s gaze flicked to her waist where her hands rested on Tino’s.
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