The Bloodgate Guardian (2 page)

If men were as easy to decipher as Maya glyphs, then perhaps Jaid would have been able to translate “beware” carved in her boyfriend’s handsome forehead and saved herself the trouble.

Watching Dr. Geoffrey Malcolm, golden boy of the Mesoamerica Center of the University of Texas, she wanted to march to the podium where he was schmoozing the audience and plant her fist on his perfect aristocratic nose. He hadn’t cheated on her with another woman. No, he’d done something much worse: he’d stolen her research, and then compounded that theft by getting it
wrong
.

“As you can see, this glyph speaks of Sky, the three-stoned Hearth,” Geoffrey said in a southern drawl as smooth and rich as a shot of Jack Daniels whiskey. “The Jaguar God rises toward Sky each day, but then dies each night and paddles his way through the Underworld. Xibalba is known as the Place of Fright, full of demons called
cizins
, which derives from ‘fart.’ Evidently, all demons in hell have a gas problem.”

Jaid rolled her eyes. Out of all the things he could talk about, he’d chosen farting death gods. Of course, the chuckling audience loved every minute of it. An annoying voice in her head that sounded remarkably like her father couldn’t resist pointing out that they hadn’t asked
her
to speak.

“Now here’s another important glyph from the creation story. This one is Tulan Zuyua, which means Seven Caves, Seven Canyons, sometimes also called the Place of Cattail Reeds. It’s supposedly the place of origin for the Maya, but the location differs widely among the various tribes. Some people think it refers to Teotihuacan in Mexico; others speculate it’s the Candelaria Caves in Alta Verapaz. All we really know is it was a wet and swampy place.”

He doodled on the transparency, making a shaky but identifiable glyph for the Guatemalan ruin, Utatlan. “The Maya loved building new cities and calling them some derivative of the Place of Cattail Reeds. Even Copan has a few symbols that refer to it as the place of creation.”

Every word drew her step by simmering step down the aisle until he finally noticed her approach. Instead of guilt that his little impromptu lecture on her stolen research material had been discovered, he smiled to disguise the next poisoned barb. “In fact, there are so many places of creation that some archaeologists feel compelled to visit them all.”

Murmurs buzzed excitedly from the audience. Those who recognized Dr. Jaid Merritt knew her very famous father, Dr. Charles Merritt, who’d spent his entire life tromping through the jungles of Guatemala and highlands of the Yucatan searching for lost Maya secrets.

She gave Geoffrey a hard, tight smile. “Do you care to expand on that commonality, Dr. Malcolm?”

To hide his discomfort, he upped the wattage of his million-dollar white smile and blinked at her innocently. “All people have creation stories. The commonality shows that each Maya city wanted to be the center of the world.”

Even now, the stark contrast of the exotic dark eyes he’d inherited from his Spanish mother and his shining golden hair caught her attention. His good looks and charm had baited the hook, but what had pulled her to the shore were the long talks they’d shared about the Maya. Other couples talked about movies, books, or sports. They’d shared a love for Mesoamerican history.

Too bad he couldn’t decipher a glyph to save his life.

“Surely if you understand the creation story and how the Jaguar God travels through day and night, then you know that this glyph—” She took the dry-erase marker out of his hand and corrected his drawing.
A few dots and marks, who would notice if one was missing or out of place? Only someone who knows what she’s doing!
“Seven Caves, Seven Canyons in this situation doesn’t refer to the Place of Cattail Reeds, the place of creation, but to Xibalba. You’re in hell, Dr. Malcolm, not heaven.”

Chuckles from the audience made him flush hotly. “At least I’ve been to the center of the world.”

Inept he might be, but as her lover, he knew how best to hurt her. She lowered her voice and leaned closer, keeping a polite smile on her face for the audience. “If I left anything at your place, I’ll pick it up tomorrow. Next time, you might want to make accurate copies of my translation so you don’t make such an obvious error.”

Turning, she sauntered up the aisle, smile firmly in place. “Who needs to muck around in the jungle with snakes and mosquitoes to translate a glyph when we have computers and digital cameras? All the prestige, none of the malaria.”

Laughter and applause followed her out the auditorium, but she wasn’t elated. She wasn’t even hurt, not really. She hadn’t convinced herself that she loved Geoffrey, so losing him was no blow to her heart.

She no longer had a heart, because it’d been sacrificed long ago in a Maya ruin.

Ignoring the dull twinge in her right knee, Jaid trudged upstairs to her office. If she hadn’t forgotten the midterm composition books on her desk, then she’d never have returned to campus and learned about Geoffrey’s lecture. Okay,
forgotten
wasn’t exactly the right word.
Deliberately avoided
was more accurate.

The only thing she hated more than grading was lecturing. However, if she wasn’t actively researching a dig for the university, they wanted her to teach. Publishing research with her father was good, but it wasn’t good enough.

“Do you know what the students have started calling you?” Geoffrey strolled down the hall as relaxed as though he promenaded in the park. “The Un-Indiana Jones, because you never go on a dig.”

The name stung but she refused to show any emotion. None of them knew what she’d gone through on that last dig over twenty years ago. No tremendous discovery was worth such a terrible price. “I was called Jaid ‘the Ferret’ Merritt as a kid, too. I thought you were above such grade-school games.”

Sighing softly, he nodded. “We can’t be at each other’s throats and hope to work together.”

“I’m not at your throat.” Jaid unlocked her office door. “I was very polite. I’ll continue to be polite, no matter how much I want to hit you.”

She flipped on the light and set her leather carryall on her desk. Opening the bag, she shifted her current research notes aside to make room for the towering stack of composition books. This would take her the rest of the night to grade, and at least a glass or two of wine.

Maybe she’d grade half tonight and half tomorrow.

Or wait until the weekend and do them all at once. She heaved a long-suffering sigh. This might take the whole bottle of wine.

“I really am sorry, you know.” Geoffrey propped a shoulder against the door. Even slouching, he managed to look elegant. “You’re always doodling glyphs and leaving them lying around. Even when we’re at dinner you draw on your napkin, or reach into that pack and pull out the latest photograph from your father. I can’t help but see and be intrigued. I love the Maya as much as you do.”

“The Maya are all I know. Thanks to my father’s research, I was practically born on a dig, so I can’t help living and breathing glyphs.”

“Do you translate glyphs because you love doing it, or for your father?”

She shot a glare at Geoffrey. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“You translate one new glyph and the first thing you do is send it to him. Meanwhile, he’s scanning in a dozen more for you to translate. Don’t you get tired of doing all your work for him?”

He stepped closer and reached out to touch her, but she flinched away. His hand dropped to his side and he actually looked hurt. The bastard stole her research and he managed to look hurt.

“I understand the desire to dedicate yourself to a cause in honor of your parents. You know what happened to my mother.”

Biting her lip, she nodded but didn’t meet his gaze. His mother had been killed at the Spanish Embassy in Guatemala City when Geoffrey was just a boy. His father had never forgiven himself for being away at a dig when the massacre occurred, and he’d refused to ever return to Guatemala, even after the civil war had ended.

“I honor my mother’s memory, but I don’t study the Maya because she was killed by a corrupt government trying to wipe away the last traces of their indigenous people. I study the Maya because they fascinate me. When was the last time you allowed yourself to enjoy what you’re doing, instead of slaving away for your father? Don’t you see that he’s using you? If you spent a fraction of your time writing up your own research, you wouldn’t have to teach so much.”

“He puts my name on all his research findings.”

“So you’ll settle for always being the famous Dr. Charles Merritt’s daughter, not Dr. Jaid Merritt who singlehandedly translated and documented hundreds of glyphs. Do you know what a treasure you’ve created in that database? How easily you could publish your own definitive book on the Maya written word? And you’re only twenty-seven! You’d be the most famous epigrapher in the world, and you’ve still got an entire lifetime of research ahead of you.”

“This isn’t about me. This is about you stealing my research.”

“Oh, give me a break, Jaid. You left one scribbled note at my place, half wadded up and thrown on the floor by the trash can. I unfolded it, smoothed it, and immediately saw how I could use it. It was your
trash
. You’re too brilliant to waste time on something as insignificant as what I presented tonight and you know it.”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” she retorted. “You never loved me at all, did you? You were merely biding your time to steal something.”

“I never took anything from you.” His brow creased and he held his hands palms up. He certainly appeared to be confused and honest, but she’d been blinded by his smile and charm before. “I do care for you, but you’re right. I don’t love you. How can anyone love you when it’s impossible for you to love anybody back? But I am worried about you, Jaid. For the last few months, you’ve been running yourself ragged. How many times have I helped you catch up on grading this semester? Or covered your office hours so you could cram in one more translation? You’re killing yourself to make another great discovery for your father.”

Jaid picked up her satchel, marched to the door, locked it, and headed for the stairs without a word.

Following her, Geoffrey said, “At least let me give you a ride home.”

“It’s not far,” she replied stiffly, refusing to look at him.

“Jaid, please. I know it’s only a few blocks, but it’s dark.” He touched her elbow, and when she didn’t jerk away, he settled his hand more firmly. “I’ll drive you home and pick up anything I might have left at your house.”

Ah, her knight in shining armor. She’d yelled at him, dumped him, yet even now, he insisted on seeing her home safely. A cold, hard lump swelled in her throat, trying to choke her. Why did she insist on seeking out every little tarnish and ding in any man’s armor? She knew why, and so did Geoffrey.

Some things a girl never outgrew, let alone forgave, once she finally realized nothing she did would ever win her father’s love.

While Geoffrey climbed the squeaky stairs to pack up his things, Jaid headed for the library in the back of the sprawling Victorian mansion she’d inherited from her mother. She set her satchel on top of the massive desk, pulled out her laptop, and immediately turned it on. She’d check in first to see if her father had any last-minute translation requests…

She clenched her jaws and made herself haul out the composition books. No research tonight. She had to grade at least half before she even let herself peek at the next glyph. Grumpy, she dragged out a brand-new pack of red pens.
Pity my poor students
, she thought, checking her e-mail.

Adrenaline sent her heart pounding frantically. Dad had sent a scheduled video e-mail using a new service that boasted fast streaming and secure servers.
What the hell is he up to?

“This is Dr. Charles Merritt at Lake Atitlan, Guatemala, also called the Mouth of Creation.” Her father’s distinctive, powerful voice made her throat tighten. When he’d still taught, his students had always been riveted as soon as he uttered the very first word. The sunset behind him was gorgeous, and she could just barely see the shimmering waters of Lake Atitlan. “My thanks to my daughter, Dr. Jaid Merritt, who made this ritual possible.”

Her eyes burned and she called, “Geoffrey! Come see this!”

“Jaid, I know you’re not ready to attempt an experiment yet, but events are whirling out of my control. Beware anyone who works for Venus Star. Don’t let them get their grubby hands on my life’s work, no matter what happens tonight. I used your last translations to set the rings.”

What?
Her palms dampened with sweat.
What are you trying to do? Surely you don’t think any of this is…real.

Nearly a month ago, her father had brought her a fully intact codex he’d found at the bottom of a temple in the new dig. He’d sworn her to complete silence. For the past few weeks, she’d been feverishly translating glyph after glyph, working so hard that she hadn’t actually
read
the pages he’d requested.

The codex reminded her of a Maya fairytale with jaguars and priests, portals to other worlds, even the Great Feathered Serpent appearing at Lake Atitlan, the once and future king or Messiah. If her father actually believed any of this…he’d finally succumbed to some kind of jungle madness.

Geoffrey dropped his hand on her shoulder and leaned closer. “What is it?”

“It’s Dad,” she whispered, her thoughts racing frantically. “He recorded some kind of ritual. Oh, God, what is he…” Her stomach heaved. That poor goat.

“Dear God, he’s gone insane. Jaid, you’ve got to call someone.”

“Who? Who can help him?”

“Isn’t Sam on site? If they’ve worked together all these years, surely he can stop your father. This is…Jaid, he’s sick.”

A new voice intruded on the digital recording. She leaned forward, pressing her hand to her mouth to fight back her rolling stomach. She could barely make out a shadowy form on the edge of the screen. Golden lights swirled about him, illuminating the stark lines of his face. Impossibly, she recognized his profile.

Not by name, of course, but he looked like one of the proud, arrogant portraits carved on a temple wall above the ballcourt. Despite the jeans—although he wore no shirt—that tall slanting forehead and full lower lip marked him as Maya as any statue of a long-dead king of Chich’en Itza.

She must have blinked or zoned out because he disappeared. Where he’d stood, a massive black jaguar crouched, snarling and growling at her father. Heart racing, she ran the recording back through her mind.
Surely he hadn’t…It was impossible…

Her father popped up close to the screen and yelled so loudly she flinched. Geoffrey steadied her to keep her from falling out of her chair. “What did he say?”

“Stay away. Don’t trust anybody.” She didn’t recognize the harsh tones in Geoffrey’s normally charmingly smooth drawl. She hadn’t heard everything her father had shouted, but the words
Venus Star
had come through loud and clear. Geoffrey hadn’t repeated that part. Because he thought she’d heard, or some other reason? “What did he send you, Jaid? What are you hiding?”

Her father ran toward the lake with the jaguar on his heels. They both disappeared off the ledge. “No! Dad!”

Breathlessly, she waited, gripping the edge of the table so hard her fingers cramped. Sudden winds blew the camera off to tumble and roll across the ground. The picture grew fuzzy. Were the roaring, howling, shrieking noises real? Or just interference after the camera’s fall?

Please, please be okay
, she prayed.
Did the fall kill him? Or the jaguar?

The screen rippled again. Something pale and white moved into the picture. Leaning closer, she tried to make out what it was. It glowed against the gloom.

Ice crept down her spine. A bone. It looked like a walking femur. Voices skipped in and out, surrounded by that rushing wind and storm. She paused the feed a moment and stared at the white shape.

“What is it?” Geoffrey asked, his voice low and urgent. “Have you seen it before?”

Skin covered the bone, but it seemed loose, as though there were no muscles or flesh beneath. The floppy skin was stained and discolored with odd streaks of gray, black, and even a moldy green.
As though decomposition has set in.
“It looks like a corpse. The leg of a corpse.”

“But it moved.”

Teeth chattering, Jaid allowed the rest of the feed to play. “I wish I could understand the voices. How many are there? Who are they?”

The winds suddenly died. In the silence, her heart pounded so loudly the beats echoed in her skull like thunder. She heard a voice clearly—but she couldn’t comprehend the words. Horror made her stomach convulse. That voice skulked, wheedled, nasty and loathsome. It had to be the white thing speaking. A horrible screech tore through the recording and the thing lunged, crushing the camera.

She clapped her hands over her ears, wincing at the surging whine. The video ended, leaving a small black window on the screen and a shrill echo in her ears.

“What the hell was that? Jaid? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Geoffrey clamped a hand on her shoulder and spun her chair around until she faced him. “I don’t! I’ve been translating something new for Dad, but he never mentioned a ritual. I had no idea he believed this stuff. I thought it was…fairytales. It can’t possibly be real. It doesn’t even make sense! It might as well be a science-fiction movie rather than a research project.”

“That was pretty fucking real, Jaid. We saw it with our own eyes. Son of a bitch, did you see that man transform into a jaguar? And that corpse thing moved! It walked and talked. What the hell is going on?”

Her teeth began chattering. He’d seen the same things. It couldn’t be her imagination. “Dad found a new site, completely untouched. A hurricane had dislodged enough of the lakeshore to reveal the tip of a temple. The whole city was buried by a volcano hundreds of years ago. He’s been working on the site for years.”

“I haven’t heard of any new digs. You’ve known about this for years and never told me?”

“I couldn’t! Dad swore me to secrecy. The only other person who knew about the find was Sam.”

“Where’s the new dig? Do we have anyone close who can go help him?”

“Guatemala.” She scooted her chair over to her desk and dragged open the bottom drawer. She had a map of the region with every site her father had visited in his lifetime carefully notated.

A thud jerked her head up in time to see Geoffrey falling beneath a man who could have walked off a movie set. Leather and a jaguar skin covered bronzed skin dotted with tattoos. Even the man’s face bore dark markings, as well as bone and jade piercings that gave her the willies. His long black hair was pulled back high on his head into a complicated topknot.

Except for the tattoos on his face, he could have been the same man they’d seen on the digital recording. Another Maya warrior.

She was pretty sure about the warrior thing, because he held a wicked black knife to Geoffrey’s throat. Crouched on top of her boyfriend, the intruder raised cold, black eyes to hers and snarled. “Where’s the codex?”

His heavily accented English was harsh, his voice discordant and grating. Slowly, she stood and backed away, searching for some kind of weapon. “What codex? I don’t understand!”

Geoffrey slammed the heel of his hand into the man’s nose and scrambled to his feet. “Run, Jaid!”

With a bark of laughter, the intruder buried his blade in Geoffrey’s stomach.

She screamed. She picked up the closest book and hurled it at the man’s head. Missed. Grabbed another and threw it. The intruder jerked on the knife, dragging it through Geoffrey’s abdomen, slashing him until his knees buckled. His own weight pulled the knife free.

She stared at the bloody knife. Blood drained from her face, her skin tight and brittle, her ears roaring.

I’m going to die. Geoffrey, oh, Geoffrey. So senseless.

His eyes were glazed with pain, his mouth open, gasping for breath. Oh, God, he was still alive. Such pain. Where were the police? Surely her neighbors had heard her scream. She had screamed, hadn’t she?

The intruder lunged toward her and wrapped his hand around her throat. “Where is it?” he roared, his eyes cold with death. “Give it to me or I’ll let the Lords of Death have you! I know you have it—I can smell its foul magic all over you!”

“Jaid!”

Thank God—she knew that voice. “Sam! Library! Help us!”

Spitting curses, the intruder slung her aside like a ragdoll. Her father’s long-time colleague rushed into the room and a gunshot blasted the intruder backward.

He crashed into a stack of books and rolled smoothly to his feet. Probing the hole in his chest with a finger, he raised his gaze to hers. A dark river of scar tissue ran from his breastbone down to the waistband of his low-riding jeans. It looked like he’d had open-heart surgery a dozen times.

Baring his teeth in a fierce smile, he tipped his head slightly toward Sam and then whirled and ran toward the window. In a flying leap, he crashed through the glass and disappeared.

“Jaid, are you all right?”

She crawled to Geoffrey. “We need an ambulance. Geoffrey, can you hear me?”

Blood pooled beneath him. His intestines glistened wetly where they had tumbled out of his stomach to coil on the floor. From the smell, she knew his bowel had been punctured. He lifted his hands toward her, and she took them, gripping him tightly. “Sorry.”

“You’re going to be okay.”

“I do care for you.”

“I know, I know.” She smiled, even while tears blurred her vision and her throat ached. She smoothed the golden fall of hair off his brow and stroked his cheek. “I’ll give you whatever you want next time, okay? Whatever I have is yours if you hang on.”

“Remember,” he gasped, his eyes flaring wide.
“Sacbeob.”

Sacbeob
, white roads. Tears dripped onto their clasped hands. The Maya had a saying about entering the White Road, the journey of death through the Place of Fright.

He wasn’t breathing. His eyes were open, but…his fingers went limp in hers. “Geoffrey! No, no, help him, please!”

Sam knelt beside her and drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry, Jaid. He’s gone.”