The Bloodgate Guardian (4 page)

She remembered the horrible hungry growl of the earth as it’d swallowed her mother. Her heart felt sluggish, heavy and swollen in her chest, her blood too thick to push through her leaden body. Geoffrey was dead now. Her father was missing, a jaguar had been chasing him, and something horrible had been attracted by whatever ritual he’d performed. She didn’t understand what he’d done, let alone where he might have gone if he’d been successful.

How could she refuse to go after seeing the jaguar rip itself from that man’s body? After another Maya warrior had gutted Geoffrey before her very eyes? “Okay.”

But she couldn’t help but wonder who else would die.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Merritt.” Dean Keller’s voice didn’t sound like he’d been awakened in the dead of night. Maybe he took calls from distraught professors begging an unexpected sabbatical all the time. “If you take an indefinite leave of absence, I can’t guarantee your position will be open when you return.”

“But Dr. Malcolm’s…dead.” Jaid forced the word out, wincing at the ragged tone of her voice. “He was very close to me. I can’t—”

“I understand your need to grieve and I’d certainly excuse several days in such a case,” the dean said soothingly. “However, you said you needed to go to Guatemala and assist your father on his current dig. Quite honestly, I must say I’m rather surprised. I know how you feel about his research. Why are you dropping everything, including your career and your colleague’s funeral, in order to join him in the jungle? I know you better than that, Jaid.”

A hard lump of guilt in her throat threatened to choke her. She would indeed miss Geoffrey’s funeral. Surely he’d understand. “I know you’ll be shorthanded and I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t extremely important.”

“It has nothing to do with being shorthanded. We can hire additional staff if needed.”

Jaid frowned at the phone. “Then what’s the problem?”

Dean Keller sighed heavily. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Geoffrey?”

“No, your father. Dr. Charles Merritt has been dismissed from the university.”

She sat down hard, the phone gripped tightly in her hand that her fingers ached. “What? When?”

“We asked in writing that he return to campus and perform a year of professorial duties or his position would be terminated. The letter was certified so I know someone saw it, but he never responded. We’ve been entirely too lax for years, and the board simply couldn’t excuse his behavior any longer. The only reason we kept his position open so long is because of your service to the university. The only thing that could make us happier with your career is if you’d publish your material independently of your father.”

She laughed, and the harsh sound nearly turned into a sob. All these years, she’d assumed the university kept her on because of her father’s reputation. “My research has never been independent of his. I don’t even participate in digs. How can you value my research over his?”

“In the last five years, the only remarkable outcome of Dr. Merritt’s research has been your translations.” Maybe she was reading too much in his tone without seeing his face, but he seemed to radiate disapproval. “He’s not made any new discoveries for years. You’ve turned a blind eye, else you’d know his once-sterling reputation has become rather tarnished. The academic community has begun to see him as an oddity instead of a respected peer. He’s obsessed, reckless and too arrogant to see his mistake.

“We want you, Jaid. We want you to continue teaching. We’re excited about your translations and beg you to publish your findings. I can list three journals who’d eagerly take anything you sent them. Why would you throw your career away for a man who basically abandoned you years ago to live out his obsession in the jungles?”

Abandoned
. Oh, how that word hurt. How many times had she cried herself to sleep over the years because her father had forgotten an important school event or her birthday yet again? She’d even gone so far as to nearly flunk biology deliberately just to get him home, but it’d been Sam who came to the school board meeting with her and helped arrange an alternative to dissecting a frog.

At fourteen, she’d have gleefully dissected her father if he’d dared stand before her. So why would she drop everything, risk her career, and turn her back on Geoffrey? Again, she saw her father fleeing up the stone peninsula toward the lake, the jaguar on his heels, then the howls, the tearing winds, and worse, the silence.
I have to know what happened. I have to find him.

“He’s my father,” she whispered.

The dean sighed again. “My condolences on Dr. Malcolm’s death. Don’t worry about your classes. Call me when you get back, and we’ll discuss your options then.”

Mumbling a thank you, Jaid hung up and stared at the phone, her eyes hot and dry. She needed to make one more call, and she dreaded this one even more. Forcing herself to pick up the cordless once more, she debated a minute on which number to try. Which phone would be more likely answered by someone other than her grandmother?

She ended up calling the Governor’s Office’s direct line.

“Governor Wyman’s office, this is Callison Norgate.”

Jaid sagged with relief. “Callie, it’s me. Is the dragon in?”

Her best friend from high school gave a low, husky laugh that had made all the girls green with envy. “Hey, darlin’. You know the dragon’s always in. Do you actually want to speak to her or have me break the news to her?”

“You already know?”

“I’m good, darlin’, but not that good. For you to break down and call her, I assumed it must be bad news. Is everything okay?”

“Geoffrey was killed tonight, right here in my house.” Despite her best efforts, her voice broke and tears escaped. “Sam came in before the bastard could kill me too.”

“Stay right there.” Callie’s sultry voice had gone brisk with concern. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“No, really, there’s no need. Sam’s here, and I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Leaving?”

Quickly, Jaid laid out her father’s disappearance without going into details of the ritual.

“So you think this is all connected.”

Nodding, Jaid whispered, “It must be.”

“Are you okay, darlin’? I know you cared about Geoffrey.”

“I’m fine.” She tried not to sniffle and failed miserably. “Oh, Callie, I’m a cold-hearted bitch. We broke up earlier tonight, and then he died trying to protect me. He was my friend more than anything.”

“So he wasn’t your great passion. Mourn him as a friend, but don’t beat yourself up.” With the ease of a long-time friend, Callie deliberately changed the subject to lighten the moment. “So you want me to march into the dragon’s lair and tell her that you’ve finally lost your mind and are heading off to Guatemala to help the man who let her princess rot in the jungle.”

Jaid actually managed to laugh. “Perfect, and while you’re at it, tell her I might not have a job when I get back and there’s a bit of a mess at Gillian’s Garden to clean up. Sam took care of the broken window to keep the weather out, but it needs to be replaced.”

“Oh, she’ll just love that. You know she never wanted that house to go to you.”

“Yeah, she wanted me dependent and under her thumb at the Governor’s Mansion. I should have gone to Minnesota for my degree. That would have really torqued her.” Jaid smiled, remembering all the years she and Callie had whispered escape plots to each other under the covers.

Neither had escaped, not really. Callie had a dream job that she loved, but Governor Wyman was a difficult woman in the best of circumstances. “You have the patience of a saint, you know that?”

“Ha. I had to be in order to be your friend all these years. Seriously, though, you shouldn’t go alone, Jaid.” Callie sighed, just a soft whisper of breath on the phone. “I’m sure Jackson would go with you. It would certainly ease your grandmother’s mind.”

Jackson Davis was the governor’s personal friend and attorney, and now Attorney General of Texas. He had exactly the kind of aspirations Governor Wyman longed for in her granddaughter, and she’d been plotting for years to get Jaid to marry him. She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “She’ll probably leap at the chance to throw Jackson at me now that Geoffrey’s gone.”

“You know she will,” Callie said back calmly. However, Jaid knew the turmoil her friend must feel. Callie had given her heart to Jackson long ago, but he had eyes only for his ambition and that meant the governor’s granddaughter, not the personal assistant. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

Suddenly exhausted, Jaid slumped in her chair. “I’ll be with Sam. He helped me through all my other breakups as well as every major event in my life when my father was on another dig. The last thing I need is the dragon’s spy reporting back.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” She forced herself upright and put some life back into her voice. “Delay telling her as long as possible. We don’t fly out until the morning, so if she tries to send Jackson after me, feel free to tie him up or something. The dig is on Lake Atitlan near Santiago Atitlan in Guatemala.”

Callie laughed. “Oh, I can entertain him all right. Take care of yourself, Jaid. Text me once you’re there so I know you’re okay. If you need anything at all, call me. You know the dragon can scorch the earth with the might of her glare.”

Governor Wyman might be a cast-iron bitch on the best of days, but she’d do anything for her family. At least to keep it out of the media. “Thanks, Callie.”

Ruin awoke in agony.

He tried to suck in a breath and bit back a scream. The bones of his skull re-knit, squeezing his brain back into the right shape. His ribs cracked and popped back into place, the tears in his lungs slowly plugging so he ceased drowning in his own blood. Bands of iron tightened about his chest, choking, squeezing.

His heart refused to beat.

Roaring winds had torn at his soul, trying to yank his spirit from his body. Had the Death Lords succeeded? Was he no better than the walking dead?

Like his brother?

The first thud of his heart felt as though the organ had been ripped from his body and then shoved back inside by a god’s fist. Breathing shallowly, he lay staring up at the sky, waiting for the healing to finish. Streaked with blood and bruised purple, the sky looked as battered as he felt. The sun sank from his vision. He’d lost hours, if not days. He must have been nearer than ever to walking the White Road.

He closed his eyes, swallowing back the bubbling grief and rage. Again, he’d been denied death. Even the bowels of Xibalba spewed him back to this earth, unable to bear his cursed soul.

Rolling over, he forced his trembling body up to his hands and knees. He swayed, hair dragging the dust while he waited for the pain to abate. He’d never hurt this long after waking from death, but a Death Lord hadn’t ever tried to rip his soul from his body, either. Breathing deeply and slowly to regulate his body, he caught a faint whiff of…

Magic.
His
magic.

A snarl pulled his lips back from his teeth. He threw his head back, breathing deeply to find the source. Weakness pushed aside, he slunk through the shadows with the jaguar’s gift of stealth and watched the car drive up the graveled road to the well-lit building the encroachers had constructed outside his ruined city. The doors opened and a woman stepped out of the car, clutching a well-wrapped package in her arms.

He didn’t need to see the contents to know she bore his codex. She’d read those pages, deciphered his glyphs, and studied his words until she breathed magic through her very pores. His palms itched, the compulsion to protect the city and his magic trying to grind his bones to dust.

This was the daughter of which the white man had spoken. She had come here after all.

After hundreds of years, his doomed city had been discovered and the last copy of the
Heart of Blood Codex
—which he should have also destroyed—had been found and read. His magic had been used to breach the Gate.

Silently, he glided through his abandoned city to the secret chamber beneath the Pyramid of Dawn. He unsheathed his knife and raised it toward the lake, its shimmering seduction whispering in his blood despite the stone separating him from the mighty Gate. “Great Feathered Serpent, Lord of Sun, grant me the power to kill this last threat to the Gates. Bury this city once more and all who trespass within. Then let me die, Great One. Please, let me die.”

Quickly, he drew the knife down both ear lobes. The pain was immediate, but familiar and soothing. Bloodletting pleased the gods and brought him closer to the ultimate sacrifice. If he thought the Great Feathered Serpent would let him die at last, he’d carve open his own ribcage and rip out his heart.

Soon
, he promised himself.
Soon I will walk the White Road with my brother at my side.

Sheathing his blade, he carefully tucked the bone knife into the modern clothing he’d stashed beneath a stone in the floor. He closed his eyes and spread his arms in silent supplication, letting magic spread with each drip of his blood. Power swelled within him, hot, sweet, and thick. A joyful flood of life danced about him, casting shadows on the painted stone walls.

His body blurred, bones cracking, limbs reforming until a jaguar as dark as the night crouched on the temple floor. He inhaled the sweet, fragile scent of his prey on the air. The jaguar padded through the temple to the dead city above, silently slinking through the trees toward the cabanas the invaders had constructed.

She would not escape his wrath like the man who’d fallen into the pit of Xibalba.

Jaid halted on the sprawling wraparound porch and turned to examine the spectacular view of Lake Atitlan below. Situated on a finger of the bay that pointed southwest, two massive volcanoes rose up to the east and southeast. Another volcano on the other side of the bay completed the trio to mirror the three stones of the heavenly hearth that made up Orion’s Belt.

No wonder the Tz’utijils had believed their city to be the center of the world.

She’d been braced for a panic attack at the sight of endless green jungles, but maybe she’d already reached her limit. After long hours driving to Dallas to catch their plane, delays through customs, and another long drive on a winding narrow road, she was too exhausted to feel much. Dazed and numbed by Geoffrey’s death and her father’s disappearance, she stared at the lake and thought it simply the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life.

Lake Atitlan shimmered in the sunset, bleeding red and lavender in the dying sunlight. Millions of years ago, a massive volcano had erupted, leaving behind a crater that filled with water to form a lake so deep that its bottom had never been sounded. Staring at the waters reflecting the evening sky, she tried to imagine passing through those cold, still waters to some other world…and failed. Her throat tightened with tears. If her father had fallen into the lake with some mistaken belief he’d pass through a portal, then he was surely dead.

The car drove back toward the gate barring entrance to the compound. Soldiers with automatic rifles spoke to the driver and allowed the car to pass. Watching the iron gate clank shut, she shivered, her fingers stiff and chilled despite the balmy, gentle breeze ruffling her hair. Another guard nodded to Dr. Gerard and walked the perimeter of the fence.

She clutched the precious bundle in her arms. “How tight is security?”

“Very tight, at our request,” Sam replied. “The site is completely intact and we’ve taken every precaution to keep it that way.”

“Until Dad smuggled the codex out.”

With a wry smile, Sam shrugged. “I never ordered the guards to search us. I trusted Charlie, and I still do. He gave the item to the most trustworthy person we both know. It’s not like he sold it on the black market for gain. You and Madelyn both are free to come and go as you please. Santiago Atitlan is only a mile down the lakeshore road, a lovely walk at any time of the day. The ruins, of course, are merely minutes away from the housing. We’ll see them tonight if you want. Charlie installed floodlights to ensure he could work day and night to uncover the city’s secrets.”

Just thinking about stumbling around in the ruins in the dark of night made her hands tremble. Her stomach pitched so hard she almost gagged. Her heart pounded a staccato thunder in her head. How was she ever going to get through this? She’d throw up and pass out long before she’d ever see the remarkably pristine panels and inscriptions.

“Later,” she ground out. Sam frowned, his brow creasing with worry, so she forced a brittle smile. “I want to see his study and all his notes first. That’ll tell me the most about what he tried to do.”

“Of course. I also want you to sit down and explain how all this works. Frankly, I’m intrigued and confused at the same time. Speaking of which, Jaid, let me introduce you to Dr. Madelyn St. James.”

Slowly, Jaid turned back to the Spanish Colonial house. Smiling with welcome like a grande dame of Hollywood, an attractive forty-something woman swept forward and drew Jaid into a hug. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Jaid. Charlie has told me so much about you that I feel like I know you already.”

Stiffly, Jaid straightened and hoped she didn’t look as flummoxed as she felt. He’d never said one word to her about this woman, but then again, he’d rarely spoken to her. E-mail was good enough, especially when he had more scans of etchings or digital photos to send.

Fighting tears, Jaid tried to think of something to say. She couldn’t lie and say she knew all about Madelyn.

Madelyn closed her eyes, a tremor shaking her shoulders. “I’m so sorry it took something dreadful like this to bring you to us.”

Jaid wasn’t a child anymore who needed her daddy, but his abandonment did hurt, terribly. These people knew him better than she ever would. Looking into the other woman’s eyes, she realized that Madelyn saw and understood that pain. Jaid burst into tears and the two women hung on to each other as though they’d known each other for years.