Authors: Michelle Gagnon
She tried to get her hands in front of her, pushing back off the wall, but he was too strong. He bashed her head against the rock again, and again. The swirls of the mural spun up to meet her, going fuzzy right before impact.
And then everything went black.
Thirty-Nine
Jake perched on a rickety chair. The seat was rough and chipped, and one of the front legs was shorter than the other. No matter how he tried to balance, it insisted on wobbling. He finally gave up and rocked slightly back and forth, the tempo illustrating his agitation.
Back in a hospital waiting room. Again. He’d spent most of the past seven months in rooms like this one, waiting for Kelly to heal. And now his brother hovered on the brink of death. They’d managed to stabilize Mark briefly as the helicopter landed, but he crashed again as they wheeled him toward the O.R. Jake hadn’t been able to tell what they were saying, but based on the doctor’s expression, the outlook wasn’t good.
His cell phone rang. Jake pulled it from his pocket, frowning when he didn’t recognize the number. Syd had already called to say that the fire was almost extinguished, and they’d managed to save the majority of prisoners. She and Isabela were waiting for transport vehicles to haul everyone back to Mexico City to be reunited with their families. They’d rounded up some surviving members of the battling cartels. He asked Syd what she thought the army planned on doing with them, and she professed not to know. He had a feeling that in the end, they were better off that way.
He debated, then clicked the phone open.
“Jake?”
It took a minute to place the voice. “Rodriguez?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“This isn’t a great time.” Jake rubbed the stubble on his cheek.
“I know, Kelly told me you were in the middle of an operation. I just—”
“You talked to Kelly? When?” Jake had already tried her phone twice that morning. It still went straight to voice mail.
“Not long ago,” Rodriguez said evasively. “That’s why I’m calling….”
As Rodriguez explained, Jake’s fists clenched. He couldn’t believe that Kelly would do something so stupid, not after what she’d been through this past year, what she’d put them both through. He flashed back on her expression the last time he saw her. He should have recognized that look she got when focused on a case.
“Where is she now?” he interrupted, the chair bobbling a few times as he stood.
Kelly slowly opened her eyes. It took a minute to remember what had happened.
She was in an enormous cave. It was cathedral-like, the ceiling soaring a hundred feet above her head. Thick candles were set at intervals around the space, their flickering marking a cadence along the walls. The murals here were astonishing, gloriously rendered images of mythical creatures with gaping mouths and intertwined limbs.
Stefan was nowhere in sight.
Kelly tried to sit upright, then dropped back down with a gasp. Her head pounded as if it were still being hammered against the wall. She rolled onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut, choking back bile as she willed the pain to subside. After a few deep breaths, the throbbing abated slightly. Still, her vision swam.
She realized with a sinking sensation that her hands were bound behind her. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the familiar flutter in her chest marking the onset of a panic attack. Kelly concentrated on her breathing. After a few minutes, the sensation dissipated.
All right, she thought. I’m probably going to dire. But maybe there’s still a way to take him with me.
She rolled back over to scan the room. It felt like rope bindings; she might be able to burn them off. A candle flickered about ten feet away. Gathering herself, Kelly rolled. The action induced a wave of nausea. Ignoring it, she rolled again.
“Oh good, you’re awake. For a moment I thought I’d killed you.”
Kelly froze. Stefan was ducking out of a low tunnel on the far side of the room—probably the one leading to the river.
“You must be cold,” he continued. He rustled through a pile of things in the corner: Kelly made out tools, tarps, sundry other items. With an exclamation, he drew out a ratty wool blanket. Crossing to her, he draped it over her.
Kelly considered shrugging it off, but the truth was she was still freezing. And it provided her with cover as she tried to loosen her bonds. “What is this place?”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Hands on his hips, he gazed around proudly, as if he were personally responsible. “You should feel honored. Only the highest priests were granted access to this chamber. You and I are the first to have seen it in nearly five hundred years.”
Kelly followed his eyes—she had to admit, it was impressive. The murals here were pristine, probably nearly as bright as the day they were painted. “How did you find it?”
“It took some time, I’ll admit.” Stefan settled down on his haunches. “I have to say, Agent Jones, seeing you again took me by surprise. But after thinking it over, I think it’s oddly appropriate you turned up. Don’t you?”
“More like bad luck.”
“That’s right, I keep forgetting you lack in faith.” Stefan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Don’t you think this surpasses any sort of coincidence, the two of us meeting up here, under such similar circumstances, years later? Once again underground, by the water.”
“I was following up a lead claiming you were still alive,” Kelly scoffed. “It wasn’t exactly magic.”
“Ah—” he held up a finger “—but then your gun failed on you. Was that a coincidence, too? Or divine intervention?”
“More likely cheap ammo,” she said. “The gun dealer wasn’t exactly reputable.”
“And you found me here.”
“You left your book back at the dump.”
“Still, impressive.” He eyed her. “How did you manage to penetrate the outer chamber, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“C4.” She took some pleasure in the expression of horror on his face. “How did you do it?”
“There was a switch located behind the eyes. It merely required sticking the appropriate instrument through the holes.” He appeared disappointed. “And you think I’m a monster. Those murals were nearly a thousand years old. Granted, it took me months to uncover the secret, but still. No need to resort to such extreme measures
“How did you even know the tunnel was there?”
“Same as you, I’m guessing. The wind told me.” He winked at her. “I researched the Templo Mayor extensively. Legends claimed it was constructed on top of caves filled with primordial water, home to Huitzilopochtli, the ancient god of fire who occupied the center of the earth. I realized that if the Aztecs knew about those caves, there might be remnants of their civilization down here.” He pointed to the murals surrounding them. “Don’t you see? It’s all outlined here, the exact steps to take.”
“What are you planning?” Kelly asked. She couldn’t make out anything in the murals but a slew of random images.
“I initially came here out of necessity,” Stefan said thoughtfully. “Driven by you, of course. But then I stumbled across the most wonderful book, a book that proved I was meant to be here all along.”
“So you decided to skin a child?”
“Everything has a reason and a purpose, Agent Jones. I came to realize that the rituals I was seeking were much older than anything in the Raudhskinni. And it’s not the easiest thing in the world to skin someone. I needed practice, to do it correctly when the time came.”
“You’re insane,” Kelly said. “None of those rituals accomplish anything. You’re just looking for excuses to murder people.”
“Again, that’s your lack of faith talking.” He shrugged. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“What’s the ritual supposed to accomplish?”
“There’s more than one, of course. The gods don’t just hand out immortality.”
Kelly’s head throbbed. In a tired voice she said, “Think it through, Stefan. If those rituals actually endowed immortality, wouldn’t the Aztecs still be running things?”
“There are examples in the book,” he said excitedly. “Native tribes in the mountains that shun modern society. Some members are rumored to be a thousand years old.” His eyes glinted. “Many of them have red hair. Descendants of Quetzalcoatl, God of the Aztec and Olmec people. He arrived from across the sea and taught them to raise corn and build structures. That’s why they called him Quetzalcoatl, you see. It means ‘the culture bringer.’ This is where our cultures intersected. And that is why my arrival here was more than mere coincidence. I will complete the rituals, then join them. Together we will raise civilization from the ashes.”
Kelly opened her mouth to argue with him, then realized it was pointless. It was like trying to reason with a child. At least he didn’t seem to have another victim down here. Unless she was about to fill that role. “So are you planning on skinning me?”
“Oh, no.” Stefan barked a laugh. “You wouldn’t be appropriate at all. You’re far too old for that ritual, and I’m guessing probably not a virgin, either, eh?”
Kelly didn’t reply.
“I will kill you, eventually. But your skin is safe for the moment
Kelly dreaded his response to the next question, but forced herself to ask, “Do you have another victim?”
“You provided an unfortunate interruption of my original plans.” Stefan glanced at a large watch on his wrist. “The specific time, date and location of the rituals are critical for success. So I’m afraid we’re going to have to wait a bit.”
“Sorry, there’s someplace I’ve got to be,” Kelly said.
Stefan laughed again. “Ah, Agent Jones.” He tapped her left foot with his hand. “You’ve finally found your sense of humor. That’s good to see.”
Forty
“I can’t believe you let her go in there alone.” Jake fumed as he panned a light across the subterranean river. Threads of vapor rose off the surface.
“Hey, she didn’t leave me a choice. It was either follow her and drown, or go for help. You of all people know how she can be,” Rodriguez said pointedly. “Hell, I’ll be lucky not to get arrested for defacing a cultural site.”
“Still, you should have tried to stop her.” Jake’s light came to a halt at the hole in the wall. “Jesus. Or at least tried to find a boat.”
“Yeah, because those are easy to find at four in the morning.” Rodriguez snorted.
“Well, we’ve got one now.” Jake eyed the tiny inflatable raft the embassy had lent them. It looked like a kid’s toy. He suspected they’d appropriated it from their swimming pool. With any luck it would remain afloat. “Let’s get going.”
Rodriguez grumbled as he tightened the straps of a tiny life jacket, the only one they’d been able to locate. One of the embassy hacks was back on the surface, trying to convince some enraged archaeologists that the destruction of the mural had been necessary for national security. Jake doubted that argument was working. Still, it bought him and Rodriguez time to go after Kelly. As soon as the federales showed up, that window of opportunity would close. They had to get moving.
Jake eased the boat into the water. It bobbed a few times. He held it still while Rodriguez climbed in. The bottom almost immediately filled with water, and Rodriguez hissed. Without giving him a chance to protest, Jake climbed in and pushed off.
Taking the flimsy rubber paddle in both hands, he guided them toward the wall. He needn’t have bothered, because as soon as they slipped into the current the boat was propelled there. Rodriguez kept the light directed straight forward, illuminating the path. He clutched a dry bag to his chest, face drawn and pale.
“Get a grip, Rodriguez,” Jake muttered. “It’s probably only a couple of feet deep anyway.”
Before Rodriguez could answer, they were sucked into the hole. It was a long tunnel. The raft bounced off the walls a few times. The current gained speed, the water slipped away quickly beneath them. omething sharp pressed against his leg from beneath the raft, and his mouth tightened. With the luck he was having lately, they’d sink before finding Kelly, and he’d have to save Rodriguez. Although the way he felt about him right now, that wasn’t his highest priority.
“Jesus,” Rodriguez said loudly. “We’ll never make it through there!”
Jake looked ahead. The tunnel was narrowing to a point. Rodriguez was right; the raft was probably too large to fit through.
“Lie as flat as you can,” he ordered, “and hold on to the sides.”
Jake got low, pressing his back against the floor of the raft, knees tucked down. It sank an inch lower and water sloshed over the sides, the cold making him shudder. Rodriguez’s head crammed against his legs. He lowered the flashlight. They were suddenly hurtling into darkness.
Rubber scraped against rock, and they jarred to a stop. His body rocked slightly from the impact. The raft was caught on something.
“We’re stuck!” Rodriguez called out, panicked.
Jake could feel the pressure building up behind them. More water poured over the sides, drenching his shoulders. If they didn’t get free soon, the boat would sink.
“Hang on,” he said, unclipping the flashlight from his belt. He reached over the side and scanned the light around. They were blocking an even narrower opening inside the tunnel, impeding the progress of the water.
“I’m going to shove us off,” he said. “But the boat might puncture or go down. If it does, get away from the raft and keep your feet up. Don’t try to stand.”
Jake pushed hard with his right arm: nothing. He tried again, this time using both hands, the flashlight dangling from a strap around his wrist. With a lurch, the boat spun free. Jake dropped back to the floor, rapping his head hard against a rocky outcropping on the way down. He winced, barely processing the pain. There was a ripping sound as the raft shot through the hole.
“We made it!” Rodriguez’s head popped up, outlined by the glow from Jake’s flashlight. His eyebrows knit together. “What’s that sound?”
Jake sat back up and panned his light along the outside of the raft. There was a long slit in the rubber right above the waterline. Air was hissing out at an alarming rate. “I’ve got bad news.”
Rodriguez was beside him in a flash, the sudden motion nearly capsizing them.
“Careful,” Jake warned, but Rodriguez ignored him.