Dark Truth

by Lindsay McKenna

  Everything he said made sense to Ana—up to a point. She searched the man’s features and saw tears glimmering in his flat, black eyes. Ana could feel his pain, feel that he told the truth. But she had to know more.

  Then tell me your name. Let me come to you. I’ll decide whether you’re really my father or not. And since you know I’m here in Peru, why haven’t you visited me in person? I would think if you knew I was here, you’d have met me at the airport.

  Victor smiled benignly. I am called Victor, my daughter. I was not able to go to Lima when you flew in. I have a young family, a newborn daughter called Abegail, and I couldn’t leave my wife because of this. But I’m here now and I came as soon as I could. Please forgive my tardiness, for I never meant to make you wait. That is why I came to your dreams, to gently reintroduce myself to you, and I hope, to reenter your life.

  Ana eyed him warily. I’m going to Aguas Calientes in the morning. Can you meet me there in person? she demanded firmly.

  He nodded. Of course I can. My dear wife just burned her hand badly on the stove and I must take her to the doctor tomorrow, but I shall come there within a day of your arrival and find where you are staying. Is that all right with you?

  Ana agreed but she didn’t feel good about it. She saw Victor lay the branch he held at his feet.

  Let this olive branch be the beginning of a new relationship with one another, dear daughter. I will leave you now and see you in two days’ time in Aguas Calientes. I love you….

  Ana watched as he turned and dissolved into nothingness. The next moment, she jerked awake. Breathing hard, she fumbled for the lamp switch on the bedstand. When she turned it on, she gasped in terror. There, on the foot of her bed, was an olive branch with green leaves on it. Leaping out of bed, her eyes huge, Ana stared at it.

  Had Victor been here? In her room? Rattled and tense, she looked warily around her. Was he here now? Unable to shake off the unsettling energy, she went around the room and turned on every single light.

  Shaken to her core, Ana went into the bathroom after searching every possible place a man might be hiding. After gulping some cold water from the faucet, she splashed her sweaty features, then gripped the edge of the sink and stared into the mirror. She looked terrorized and felt that way in every cell of her body. No matter what this man said, she did not trust him. Stomach rolling, she walked back out into the room, picked up the olive branch and threw it in the wastebasket.

  Ana knew she wouldn’t sleep. She looked at her watch and saw that she had three hours before she had to be at the train station. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she hid her face in her hands. Oh, Great Spirit, why is this happening? she wondered. Had she lost her mind? Was she caught in some kind of elaborate dream?

  A ragged sigh slipped from her lips. Lifting her head, Ana knew she had to do something to distract herself. She grabbed a novel by one of her favorite Native American writers and settled herself on the bed.

  At this point, the only stability she had was Mace Ridfort. AndAna clung to that thread. In three hours, she’d be with him, and that gave her the strength to hold on.

  Mace was damned unhappy but he cloaked his personal feelings so that Ana couldn’t detect them. They sat in the train heading to Aguas Calientes. Mace had gotten them first-class tickets so they wouldn’t have to endure the crowds and noise of the other cars. As the train gently rocked from side to side, climbing up through the Sacred Valley above Cuzco, Mace watched Ana across the linen-covered table.

  “How’s desayuno?” he inquired, pushing his own eggs around on the china plate. Dressed in starched white, long-sleeved cotton shirts and smartly pressed black pants, waiters quietly moved up and down the aisle, tending to the few patrons in this section.

  Ana wore a long-sleeved white blouse, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and olive-green trousers. Today she looked ready for jungle duty. But then, to Mace’s consternation, he’d found out from his Swiss sources last night that everything she’d told him was true. Not one lie came from those provocative lips of hers.

  “Delicious,” she assured him. She didn’t really feel like eating after her disturbing dream last night. She glanced out the window and absorbed the natural beauty of the grassy, flat valley ringed by the snow-capped Andes.

  None of it seemed familiar to Ana. She had hoped that being here would stimulate memories. So far, nothing did. Ana saw many adobe huts, and hardworking Quero men out in the fields in the early morning hours. Strips of fog lay across the valley. As the sun rose from behind the peaks, the mist began to dissolve magically before her eyes.

  “I’m not convinced. You aren’t eating like you mean it,” Mace observed wryly. He forced himself to chew his scrambled eggs and rye toast. Ana looked tired this morning. Beneath her tilted green eyes, dark circles revealed disrupted sleep. He could feel her angst, her worry and confusion. If he put himself in her place—an orphan who did not know anything about her past—he could understand her feelings completely.

  But Ana was the Daughter of Darkness. Again, Mace had trouble controlling his confusion. She didn’t feel like evil!

  The worst part was he found himself inexorably drawn to her, man to woman. His entire life had been shaped around destroying two of the most evil Tupay in the world. And now he was sitting with one of them, desiring her, his body tightening every time he looked at that full lower lip of hers, the lush curves of her mouth. His heart expanded, then ached. What a hell of a fix Mace found himself in!

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you for dinner last night,” Ana said, forcing herself to eat. If she didn’t keep her strength up, she couldn’t push forward with her plans for once they arrived in Aguas Calientes. Mace had gotten her a reservation at a hotel next to the India Feliz Restaurant, his favorite haunt when he came to town to dig nearby wells. After checking in, Ana was going to fill up her knapsack with food, water and other essentials, and follow the train track out of town. She would find Juan Sanchez’s home and speak with him.

  “That’s okay,” Mace said with a quick smile. He opened the marmalade jar and slathered the orange contents across his rye toast. “I had to work late, anyway. There were a lot of communications I had to catch up on at the office.” That wasn’t a lie. Ana just didn’t know the information concerned her.

  “When I got to my room I took a long, hot bath and just soaked.” Ana smiled. She enjoyed watching Mace. Today he was dressed casually again, in jeans, a shirt and work boots. He looked as rugged as the Andes. “I called my parents last night and filled them in on everything.” She frowned and stabbed at the eggs on her plate.

  “And what did they say about that birthmark?” Mace asked her. Last night, he’d initiated a deep investigative search on her stepparents. The Daughter of Darkness was to have been born from two Tupay. Even though

  John and Mary Rafael were her adoptive parents, that didn’t erase the possibility they were Tupay. Mace had asked for a search of their medical records to find if any birthmarks had been recorded on either of them. That way, he could further confirm that Ana was who his jaguar spirit guide insisted that she was—adopted or not.

  Shrugging, Ana said, “They were upset, naturally. For me. My mom, bless her, said that even if it were true about the symbol, that I was raised in a loving household with strong morals and values. My father added I clearly know right from wrong. They said to ignore the legend, that a person always has choices and that free will can negate the legend.”

  “I see,” Mace murmured.

  “They also pointed out that children who come from dysfunctional and broken homes, even homes where parents are on crystal meth, may struggle, but can go on to lead meaningful, healthy lives. They don’t have to mirror a bad set of parents or a poor background. They can pick themselves up by their bootstraps and make something good of themselves.”

  Mace nodded. “That’s right. I see it down here all the time.” He gestured out the window at a small town where the train was coming to a halt. “The Quero are
direct descendants of the ancient Inca people. Many are very poor and have to scramble to feed their families every year. I’ve seen their children come to Cuzco to go to school, move on to college, then graduate and become doctors, lawyers, accountants—whatever. So it is done all the time.”

  Brightening beneath his warm gaze, Ana felt hope start to dispel her worry. Mace had a magical effect on her. How much she wanted to tell him so! But she wasn’t sure he’d understand. Just from being around him, she felt her spirits lifting. He helped her feel emotionally stable in her highly chaotic world.

  Ana reached for the marmalade and slathered some on her toast. “My parents said to stay focused in my heart, to listen to it and always let it lead me. This morning, I’m working on centering myself, so I can get a different perspective on my journey from what Mother Bernadette told me yesterday.”

  Mace finished his meal. The waiter, a Quero youth, came by to remove his plate, and Mace thanked him in Quechua. Then he returned his focus to Ana.

  Some of the darkness had dissolved from her glorious catlike eyes. She worked with jaguars. She even looked like a jaguar; the shape of her face reminded him of the magnificent animal. And her high cheekbones spoke of her Quero heritage.

  Mace knew her bloodline was Incan. But then, according to a legend found written in stone at Machu Picchu years ago, the Daughter of Darkness would be of pure Incan stock. So, how could he continue to feel such innocence around her? She seemed to trust him with incredibly sensitive information. Did he trust her in return? How he wanted to, but he simply could not.

  On guard as never before, Mace pondered the situation. Ana must be deeply cloaked, trained in sorcerery to the point of being a chameleon, so that no one—not even him—could pick up on her true purpose. If he trusted her, he might very well step into an elaborate trap. That prospect made Ana ten times more dangerous to him.

  Did she have any idea who he was? Mace had lain awake, tossing and turning all night, wondering just that. If she knew he was her would-be assassin, then she was wise to keep him close, where she could watch him.

  As he watched Ana enjoy her toast and marmalade, Mace tried to resist her magic. Fascinated with her full, soft mouth, he wondered what it would be like to press his lips against hers. Would she feel so innocent if he kissed her? Mace knew he was becoming mesmerized by this seemingly guileless woman, whose sensuality was beginning to lure him to her like a fish to a baited hook. Angry with himself, he scowled and picked up his coffee cup.

  “In Aguas Calientes,” Ana said, handing the waiter her empty plate, “is there only one set of railroad tracks in and out of town?”

  “Yeah, only one. The community sits at the foot of the mountain, far below Machu Picchu. The tracks that go south follow the Urubamba River. That’s where you want to go. The jungle’s so thick in that area that you cannot walk through it. Anyone heading south walks the railroad line or hitches a ride on the train. The forest is impenetrable except to jaguars, peccaries and other, smaller animals. You’ll see a lot of little paths through the jungle, but they aren’t wide enough or high enough for a human to follow.”

  Mace sipped his black coffee. “You’ll see what I mean when we leave the Sacred Valley and start descending to Aguas Calientes. Look at the jungle walls as we pass and you’ll get a good idea of what it’s like below that little tourist town.”

  Nodding, Ana picked up her cup after in stirring cream and sugar. “Sound advice.” She gave Mace a grateful look. “What would I do if you hadn’t walked into my life? I just shake my head and wonder at how we met in the plane. You’ve been my knight in shining armor ever since, saving me in so many ways.” She spontaneously reached out and touched the back of his hand. Her gesture was meant as a thank-you.

  His blue eyes flared with surprise, and then narrowed upon her, much like she’d seen a jaguar do when hunting its quarry. Ana was shaken by his sharp, feral look. And just as quickly as it occurred, Mace erased it from his eyes, replacing it with a much warmer, inviting expression. An unwelcome thought flitted across her mind: had she made a mistake in trusting him? Her instincts shouted at her to be cautious. Yet she needed someone she could trust right now.

  “I’m always helping tourists out around here,” Mace said. “I know what it’s like to be in a strange country, and not know the customs, the people. I always appreciate local help when I travel, so I’m just passing it on.”

  Sure he was. Mace felt his entire hand tingling from Ana’s unexpected touch. Her voice was tender with gratitude, and he soaked it up like a thirsty sponge. When Ana trailed her fingers across his hand, shock and heat had bolted up his arm and straight into his heart. Her touch made him tremble with yearning. For the Daughter of Darkness herself.

  Mace recalled his parents’ warning that a female sorcerer could seduce a man, even a highly trained Warrior for the Light, because she had a superior power. She could throw sensual energy into the mix and lure the warrior through sweet guile and manipulation. Energetically speaking, the power of a woman was twice that of any man, Mace knew. Only women could create. They could carry and birth a baby. This was why the Lord of Darkness wanted to connect with his daughter: she had the power of the feminine, and he needed that in order to conquer on a global scale.

  Even with his heightened awareness, Mace had never experienced such conflict as when Ana touched his hand. He worked to keep his disturbed feelings locked away from her. “If the Sanchez home is only two miles from town, that should be an easy walk for you. Plus, you’re used to jungle situations, from working in Belize on that jaguar project.”

  His smile seemed wooden and forced suddenly, and this bothered Ana. She like Mace Ridfort, probably too much. “Yes, I’m okay in jungle situations,” she assured him. “It will be a piece of cake, having a railroad bed to walk on.”

  Surreptitiously she eyed his hand. There was no wedding ring on Mace’s finger, but as an engineer out in the field, drilling water wells, he might not wear any jewelry. Maybe she had overstepped her bounds with him. The thought that Mace might be taken by another woman was like rain washing away the sunlight. She had no right to be drawn to him or any man right now. This journey was about finding herself—not getting into a relationship. She had to stop thinking and dreaming about Mace, as she had done last night.

  “We’ll be in Aguas Calientes soon,” Mace noted, pointing out the window. The train began the downward portion of its journey off the high Andean plateau. The brakes were constantly applied as it headed through a seemingly impenetrable jungle that grew up on either side of the raised track bed.

  Ana forgot her disappointment over Mace’s reaction as she eagerly looked out the window. Aguas Calientes! Her heart beat a little harder. Would she remember any of it? She wanted to recognize something, if just one fragment of her life before the orphanage.

  Ana walked off the train platform, carrying her knapsack on her back, a hiking stick in one hand and a small suitcase in the other. She almost expected to find Victor meeting her here, even though he’d said he had to take his wife to the doctor today. Warily, Ana examined everyone at the station. Maybe it had all been a dream and Victor wasn’t her father. But she couldn’t shake off the haunting feelings she’d had during their supposed conversation last night.

  Mace walked casually at her side as they followed a muddy path toward the small Incan town carved out of the surrounding jungles. Ana gasped suddenly to see dark, loaf-shaped mountains rising before her. Their dark, jagged sides were covered with orchids, bromeliads and other jungle plants—a colorful, textured cloak. The sky was foggy, but the sun was quickly burning it off, leaving patches of blue.

  Excitement flowed through Ana as she spotted the mighty Urubamba River. The water was a clear sea-green, indicating it was coming from glaciers high in the Andes. Mace had told her that the foaming, splashing river wove like a snake between the three main guardians: Machu Picchu, Huaynu Picchu and Mama Putucusi. These three mountains formed a triangle, with the sacred river wind
ing between them. Mace had said that the Inca emperor Pachacuti had chosen this site because the elements came together in a magical triangle. He had built the most beautiful, otherworldly temple on the male apu, or mountain spirit: Machu Picchu.

  Ana craned her neck to see white, wispy clouds still hovering around the top of the mighty dome. She yearned to take one of the many tourist buses up to the top and walk the sacred ground of the Incas. But not today. She had more important business to attend to. Following Mace down the slippery, muddy trail, she finally reached the awakening town.

  Aguas Calientes was a conglomeration of structures that ranged from lumber, to pieces of plywood nailed together, to a three-story stone hostel called Gringo Bill’s. The India Feliz, a restaurant Mace pointed out as they climbed the road through town, was a two-story redbrick building. More modern hotels farther up the thoroughfare were made of local gray river rock.

  It was clearly a tourist town. Ana hiked at Mace’s side, gawking like a typical turista. Quero Indians already had their wares out on display—handwoven, colorful rugs and knitted alpaca and llama sweaters with beautiful geometric designs. Bushel baskets of fresh produce included peppers, bananas, onions, corn and many types of potatoes—all staples of the local populace. The noise level was high, the vendors looking up in anticipation as tourists began to filter into town from the railroad station above.

  “Here we are,” Mace said, gesturing to a river-rock archway, the entrance to Hotel Machu Picchu. “I’ll get your reservation confirmed and then I’m going to my office, which is right next to the India Feliz, in case you need me.”

  “Right. You pointed it out earlier.” Ana walked across the gray-and-black-flagstone lobby. The reservation desk was mahogany and gleamed reddish-gold in the light of colorful stained-glass lamps. Two female clerks, dressed in dark red blouses and black skirts, seemed more than happy to be of service to them.