The Bloodgate Guardian (7 page)

She risked another peek and stared. Hope made her chest ache.

The jaguar rose up behind the man like a silent shadow. It leaped on his back. They tumbled and roared, slashing at each other, one with all four paws and the other plunging the knife over and over into his opponent’s side. The man flipped the snarling jaguar over his head. Twisting in midair, the big cat crashed into a tree, slid to the ground, and lay still.

The man slowly turned, his flat eyes as dead as the jaguar. He stared right at her and his lips curled in a grim smile.

Throat burning with acid, she swallowed hard and clutched the windowsill so tightly her fingers cramped.

Finally, one of the guards trotted up the path from the main compound with a rifle in his hand. “Take another step and I’ll blow your head off!”

The intruder pointed the knife at her with that cruel smile still curving his lips. Then he whirled and raced for the fence with the guard on his heels.

Heart pounding, Jaid rested her head against the glass and just breathed. Whew, that was close. If the jaguar hadn’t popped back up—

She jerked her head up and studied the shadows beneath the tree where the jaguar had collapsed. It had stalked her tonight—until the other man attacked. Had it protected her? Would it kill her now? If it were a normal beast, it was surely dead. If it had been the same man who she’d seen transform in the recording—the legendary shapeshifting priest—then he might be the only person who knew what had happened to her father.

She watched the jaguar for several long moments, and it never moved. Leaving the bag in its hiding place, she crept out of the hut and edged closer. Straining her eyes, she tried to tell if it was still breathing. As she neared, the wild musk and metallic tang of blood filled her nose.

A firefly sparked over the animal. More twinkles hovered and swarmed, lighting its furred sides, the rips in its skin, the dark spots of blood on the leaves and ground. The lights engulfed the animal in liquid gold, flashing in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

The jaguar moved.

She jerked a step back, but it didn’t roar to life and attack. Actually, it didn’t move, not exactly. It was changing
shape
. Before her stunned gaze, the front paws melted into hands. Sleek black fur burned away.

The digital recording had only hinted at the incredibly bizarre and wondrous transformation. Without her father’s evidence, she might have convinced herself that she was suffering from shock, that the transformation of a jaguar into a man was simply…

The man groaned.

He was big, as large as the jaguar had been. Sooty spots still dotted his face, arms and chest, along with tattoos in swirling complicated circles down his neck and shoulders. His naked chest and flanks were wounded. His abdomen was torn open, his arms slashed. Yet he groaned again.

Voices carried on the night air. More guards were coming. The wounded man still lay on the ground, bleeding, yet now his chest rose steadily. What would the guards do to him?

She knelt beside him. “Can you understand me?”

Moaning in pain, he turned his head. His eyes flashed golden like the jaguar’s. He pushed upright, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Get me out of here before the guards come back.”

“How do I know you’re not going to hurt me?”

“I can tell you about the Gate.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I’m the Gatekeeper.” The man sighed. “I know everything.”

Staggering beneath the big man’s weight, Jaid helped him into her hut, muttering beneath her breath all the while. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Grading wasn’t that bad, not really. I love teaching. It sure beats bloody werejaguars, obsidian blades, and ancient Maya warriors on which real guns don’t seem to work. If you try to hurt me, I’ll beat you over the head with a book and scream until the guard shoots you and drags your carcass away.”

The man slid to the floor on a low painful hiss but his voice was amused. “If you knew anything about these ‘guards,’ you would know you could definitely trust me more than them. I won’t hurt you, lady.”

“You were a jaguar.” She’d seen it with her own eyes, not once but twice, but she couldn’t help the questioning tone to her voice.

“Yes.”

“You were going to hurt me until that other man grabbed me.”

“No.” The man’s face locked down, his lips compressed and tight. “I was going to kill you.”

“Then how can I trust you now?” Involuntarily, she tensed for flight. She could hear the guards’ heavy boots treading up the path. One call, one word, and they’d rush in here and dispose of this threat. “Did you kill my father?”

He didn’t move, but his face was colder despite his golden eyes, as hard as chiseled granite. “No, but you both tamper with something you cannot possibly understand.”

“Where is he?”

The guard called, “Dr. Merritt? Are you okay?”

She’d expected an accent, but not an unmistakable southern drawl. Exactly who did these guards work for? Putting on her best hardass teacher face, she leaned down and locked her gaze with the jaguar-man’s. It was hard to be intimidating when she had to whisper so the guards didn’t hear. “Where’s my father? What happened to him?”

“He opened the Gate,” the man replied flatly, meeting her gaze without any hesitation. “You know where he went.”

“First Five Sky.”

The man’s eyes flared and he released a small sound rather like a snort. “He opened the Gate to Xibalba.”

Her mouth fell open, her thoughts wiped blank. She’d suspected as much, but the reality was terrifying. That white walking corpse. Dear God above, what had he done?

“Dr. Merritt!”

She poked the man in the chest hard enough he winced. Damn it, she’d forgotten how badly hurt he was. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Whirling around, she cracked the door like she was scared witless. “Did you catch him?”

“We chased an intruder over the fence.” Dressed in camo pants and a black T-shirt, the guard was bald and heavily tattooed. He looked like he belonged in prison. “Did you get a good look at him?”

“It was the same man who killed Dr. Geoffrey Malcolm in the States. I ran in here and locked the door. Thankfully, he took off as soon as he heard you coming. How’d he get inside?”

The guard shrugged and turned back to the main house. “I’ll report the intruder to Dr. Gerard. He may have questions for you in the morning.”

Yeah, and she’d have a dozen for Sam. With all this security, someone should have noticed an intruder and a jaguar slinking around the perimeter. Hadn’t she screamed? The jaguar had surely roared loudly enough to awaken the dead. And what about security cameras?

Jaid went back inside, locked the door, and watched the guard. He paused in a circle of light and waited beneath the lamppost, watching her hut. She turned around, half expecting to see the strange man lying dead in a puddle of blood, but he was gone.

The trail of blood led to the bathroom. She opened the cupboard and fumbled through its contents. “Maybe they’ll have a medical kit stashed in here.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, lady. I’m perfectly fine.”

Taking a deep breath to calm her frantically pounding heart, she gestured at the blood. “I’m troubled because you’re bleeding to death.”

He swiped a hand across his stomach and wiped the blood away. His skin was smooth and unmarred.

Impossible. She knew his abdomen had been slashed open. She’d seen the deep, puckered punctures where he’d been stabbed. She reached out to touch him, her hand shaking. “I saw the wounds.”

He shrugged. “They healed. I’ll wash the blood away and then we can talk.”

“Healed?” Her voice trembled and her knees felt like jelly. A jaguar, transformed into a man, with terrible wounds that should have killed both man and beast. Why shouldn’t he be able to heal himself as well? If he really was the cursed priest from Dr. Reyes’s story, then he’d been alive for a thousand years and more.

It was too much for her analytical mind to comprehend. Nothing added up. Nothing made sense. The man who’d murdered Geoffrey had been shot, walked away, and attacked her again. This man standing nude in her cute little vacation hut had been a jaguar not fifteen minutes ago.

A secret Gate to another world or dimension suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched.

The man stepped into the shower and turned on the water. As though nothing had happened. As though her foundations hadn’t just quivered and collapsed into a heaping pile of rubble. Numb, she watched as he quickly showered. A jaguar-man who knew how to work modern-day plumbing and spoke English well.

“Where did you come from?”

“There are many abandoned huts in the hills and jungle. They serve as shelter until I can’t stand the loneliness any longer. Then I seek people, usually a tavern where I can listen to their conversations without feeling obligated to participate. There, I can also watch television and keep track of the world events, though there have been too many changes for me to fully understand the technologies you take for granted every day. Mostly, I read books, many books, entire libraries at a time, it seems, for the years pass too slowly.”

Silently, he turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. His chest and stomach were unmarred except for the swirling tattoos. Not even a scar remained. Holding her breath, she reached out to touch him. His skin felt real, warm and supple beneath her hand. She flattened her hand against his chest and felt his heart beat.

She raised her gaze to his face. His cheekbones and forehead were high and chiseled, black hair pulled back tight from his face to hang loose down his back nearly to his waist. Both cheeks were tattooed with jaguar rosettes. His earlobes were ragged and laced with white scars. She stared at those scars, her thoughts jumbled together.

Did the Maya today still sacrifice blood to their gods? “Who are you? What are you?”

Gently, he lifted her hand from his chest, and holding it in his big, warm palm, he stepped out of the shower. “I protect the Gates and keep the secrets of the magic.”

“The Gatekeeper,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, her mouth dry.

“Your father tampered with my magic. He opened my Gate.” The man’s face tightened, his mouth lined, his lips tight and flat. “In doing so, he released three Lords of Death. Do you understand what they are? What they’ll do to this world? Was such destruction worth your research, lady?”

A short, high sound escaped her lips. Shrugging, she tried to pretend derision instead of terror. “Like the twins in the
Popul Vuh?
Come on, mister. Other kids heard stories about the Three Little Pigs and Red Riding Hood, but I grew up on the hero twins and how they outwitted the Lords of Death.”

His nostrils flared and his golden eyes flashed, very much the predator. Gliding past her, he strode over to her suitcase thoughtfully placed on the bed by one of the staff and threw it open. He began rifling through her things. “So if I say that Blood Gatherer escaped, you know exactly whom I mean. You understand that he’ll lead the other two demons in as much death and destruction as possible, gaining power with each death until they can reopen the Gates and empty the bowels of Xibalba on your civilization.”

“Stop it,” she retorted, crossing the room and then slamming the suitcase shut. “Quit trying to scare me.”

Laughing grimly, he scanned the room, looking for something. His eyes slid right over her laptop case bulging with notes. What the hell was he looking for? “I speak only truth.”

Tears burned her eyes and she clenched her hands into fists. She ached to pummel him until her knuckles were cracked and bleeding. Maybe then he’d stop spouting such horrible accusations. He acted as though her father had messed the ritual up deliberately. “My father would never open a Gate to Xibalba.”

“I’m sure he’s regretting his mistake very much.”

A cold sweat broke out all over her body. “He passed through? He’s…he’s…”

The man faced her, eyes gleaming in the murk of the shadowed room. “Your father’s in my people’s hell.”

The woman swayed, her face draining of all color until it resembled a skull, but she didn’t break. “How do I get him out?”

Ruin sighed. “You don’t.”

“But—”

“Did you forget the Death Lords already loose? Shall I open the Gate and make it easier for them to destroy your world?”

She cocked her head slightly and nibbled her lip, dark thoughts swimming in her cacao eyes. So vividly and easily, she betrayed her thoughts to him. She possessed his codex. She had already translated enough of it to reek of his magic. So she would simply discover how to open the Gate herself.

His chest constricted as though the volcanoes had erupted once more and buried him beneath rubble. He didn’t want to kill this woman of knowledge and magic. So far, the magic hadn’t risen in his blood, demanding her death, but it would. Soon. Unless he could convince her to abandon his city and forget everything she’d learned from his codex.

Grimly, he forced himself to stride toward her, using his bulk and strength in an attempt to intimidate her. “You’re alive now only because my brother wants something you have.”

“If you mean the man with the circle tattoo on his forehead, then your brother killed my friend.”

“He’s killed many people. You’ll be next.”

“Why? What are you? What is your name?”

“My name.” His voice was thick and tight to his own ears. Fisting his hands at his side, he fought the urge to grip her shoulders and shake some sense into her.
Flee, leave my city, and I won’t have to kill you.
“Once we were called the hero twins, but my brother and I brought destruction and death to our people a thousand years ago. We’ve warred for centuries, each of us sworn to kill the other and at last end our torment. After so many years, the people know us only as Wrack and Ruin. My brother, Wrack, for the devastation he inflicts upon the earth to punish me; I as Ruin because I broke my most solemn vow to the gods. I misused the Gate and destroyed us all.”

“Hunahpu and Xbalanque,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Which are you?”

Of course, he had forgotten that she knew more of his world than most people of this age. Gravely, he nodded. “Xbalanque.”

“I’ve seen the glyph for your name translated so many ways,” she whispered. “X-balan-que, for hidden sun, X-balam-que, jaguar sun, or Yax-balam, precious jaguar, which I personally leaned toward as the most correct.”

He made a low sound of grief. In all his lifetimes, he’d never again been known as precious. Not after misusing the Gates.

Her gaze sharpened on him. “If my father’s in danger, I must help him.”

“There’s nothing you can do for your father.” He made his voice cold, his eyes colder, even as his face ached with the strain of containing the surge of magic. His bones felt like they would shatter, his skin ripped strip by strip from his flesh. If he could convince her to abandon her quest, then he wouldn’t have to kill her to protect the secrets he’d been cursed to protect. “Even if I were willing to help you open the Gate and risk more demons escaping Xibalba, your father’s journey has begun. He entered the White Road. There’s nothing you can do to save him now.”

“If he’s still alive, I will find a way to open the Gate again, with or without your help.”

Fury, regret, shame, a thousand different emotions churned his stomach. Oh, how the memory burned like a brand. He, too, had once sworn to do anything in his power to save a loved one. “Then I must kill you to keep my magic safe. Why force my hand, lady? Do you think your father will welcome your assistance if it costs your world everything? In the end, he’ll hate you for making such a sacrifice. All your people will.”

As they hate me,
he thought bitterly.

She turned away, walking slowly over to her leather bag. Shoulders slumped, she picked up the bag and huddled in the chair, looking as alone and lost as a child. “Fine. I can’t leave tomorrow, but give me a day or two, and I’ll tell them it was all a mistake. I’ll go home.”

“You’ve made a wise choice.” Keeping his voice soft, he suppressed his amusement. Did she think him so easily fooled? Was he not the greatest priest to ever gaze into the holy waters of Lake Atitlan? Her eyes were the windows to her soul. “All I ask, then, is that you take me to the codex so I may destroy it.”

Eyes blazing, she leaped to her feet. She gritted her teeth, reared back, and slung the bag at his head. “Over my dead body.”

When it felt as though a bag full of boulders exploded against his head, he quickly regretted that he hadn’t bothered to duck.