Time Raiders: The Whisper (6 page)

BOOK: Time Raiders: The Whisper
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Marisol stared into the stony expression on Gunnar’s chiseled features. He wouldn’t budge, and how could she hope to sway him? The man was from a time when women did not contradict or refuse men. At the very least, he’d offered her a choice, something most men of the time wouldn’t consider.

If she took him home, he’d only be confused by life in her century. Assimilation would be too difficult. The technology, the scientific advances, everything would make him crazy.

She couldn’t leave him here and she couldn’t go home until she’d accomplished her mission.

“I have to retrieve the medallion before we can leave Cusco. We need to leave before Pachacuti sends you away. He might not send me with you.”

“I am ready.”

Marisol laughed, her gaze skimming over his magnificent naked body, regretting that they didn’t have time for a repeat demonstration of his remarkable sexual prowess. “I suggest you dress for the road. It’s cool outside, especially for the naked.”

Gunnar lunged for his leggings and tunic, quickly slipping them on. He pushed his feet into his sandals and followed Marisol to the door.

Marisol leaned up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Please be careful. We can’t afford to be caught. Not now. The medallion means a lot to my people.”

“Understood.” Gunnar captured her around her waist and pulled her against him, kissing her hard. “You mean a lot to me.”

“We’ve only known each other a day.” Marisol spoke into his mouth, loving the feel of his full sensuous lips against hers.

“How long does it take to know your soul? A year, a day or a moment?”

Marisol stood for a few seconds, gathering her wits around her. The man had her head spinning, even without the kiss. His words and his kiss made her want to forget everything and return to the pallet on the floor.

“Let us go.” Gunner yanked the door open.

Marisol took a step forward and stopped.

In front of her stood Kentar with a dozen eagle warriors.

Kentar raised his eyebrows. “Going somewhere?”

Gunnar moved up beside Marisol. “We were going out for a stroll in the garden.”

“Your plans have changed. The emperor requests your presence at Machu Picchu.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You will not.” Kentar raised his hand.

In the second it took for Marisol’s mind to process Kentar’s intent, she flew in front of Gunnar, blocking his body with hers.

A bolt of electrical current hit her hard, the pain immediate, followed by an incapacitating numbness. She fell at Gunnar’s feet unable to move, her mind wavering, her vision blurring, shocked by the use of a weapon far too advanced for Incan technology.

Another flash of light erupted from the weapon in Kentar’s hand, hitting Gunnar square in the chest.

The big Norseman staggered backward and toppled to the ground.

Marisol tried to cry out, but her mouth wouldn’t work, the room darkening before she could utter a single syllable. Her universe went black.

 

Chapter Six

 

Marisol awoke with her face lying against stone, her body sore and bruised in more places than she could number, and so cold she shivered uncontrollably.

A fuzzy memory of Gunnar toppling to the floor of his bedchamber burst through Marisol’s mind, and she pushed to a sitting position, staring around at dark stone walls.

“Where the hell am I?”

“Machu Picchu.” A female voice cut through the silence. A voice she recognized immediately.

“Imac?”

“Yes.”

“What’s happening?”

“The shaman of Machu Picchu prepares for a great ceremony to honor the sun god.”

Marisol leaped to her feet, swayed and braced her hand against the stone wall. She prayed the shaman hadn’t already taken Gunnar. Her heart skipped several beats at the thought of losing the big Norseman to an insane ritual. “We have to get to Gunnar before he is sacrificed to Inti.”

“The great sun god will receive three sacrifices today.” She bowed her head, her shoulders slumping, highly uncharacteristic of the jaguar warrior.

“Three?” Marisol stared at the dark-haired, sultry woman. “Are we to be part of that sacrifice?”

“Yes.” Imac looked toward a solid wall, a tear sliding down her beautiful face. “I thought he loved me.”

“Does Pachacuti know you are to be sacrificed?”

“It was his order.”

“And you know this how?”

“I was asked to lead the warriors in defense of Machu Picchu, but once I got here, I was thrown into this cell with you.” She tipped her head up, staring down her nose at Marisol as though something smelled bad…that something being Marisol.

“Why are you still here?” Marisol asked.

Imac frowned. “What do you mean?”

Marisol strode across the room and grabbed Imac by the shoulders. “Why are you still in this cell?”

“I am to be sacrificed. Were you not listening?”

Marisol pushed aside her desire to claim the medallion for the more immediate need of staying alive. “You can escape.”

Imac shook her head, more tears sliding down her cheeks. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Marisol tipped the woman’s chin up. “As a jaguar, you can leap up to that window and escape. Why haven’t you?”

Imac stared at the meager light streaming through the window high on the wall. Too high for a human to reach, but not for a cat as powerful as a jaguar. “Why should I? If I escape, what do I have to go back to?”

“You would have your life. You are a beautiful woman. I bet Pachacuti did not sentence you to death as the shaman insists. Kentar convinced the emperor to send you here. Kentar probably sent word that the emperor wants you sacrificed.”

Imac stared into Marisol’s face. “You believe this?”

“I was there when you witnessed Kentar’s meeting with Pachacuti. Kentar is very persuasive.”

Imac stood, her shoulders pushing back, the warrior in her standing tall. “He charms snakes out of the grass.”

“Or charms an emperor to send his true love away.”

“Men are weak, even my love, Pachacuti.” Imac sighed.

“From what I saw through your own eyes, Pachacuti loves you. He would not have you killed.”

“Sacrificed,” Imac corrected.

Marisol pressed her lips into a thin line. “Dead is dead. Now are you going to stand around and let Kentar defeat the great jaguar warrior?”

“No.” She eyed the window far above. Then she turned back to Marisol. “How did you know this about me?”

“I know what you are, both woman and jaguar.”

Imac drew in a deep breath and held it, staring at Marisol for a long moment. “You are the only one who knows this.”

Marisol edged into Imac’s mind, reassuring her that she meant her no harm and the secret remained safe with her.

At long last, Imac sighed. “I can sense you speak the truth. I will allow you to live.”

“Well that won’t be long if we are both sacrificed.” Marisol nodded toward the window high on the wall. “If you plan on leaving, now would be a good time, before the Machu Picchu shaman comes to collect his first victim.”

“I will go. Rest assured I will return to release you.”

“Release Gunnar first. He is the one Kentar and Pachacuti wanted out of the way most.”

“The shaman will save the most important for last.” Pachacuti’s lover stripped out of her clothing, her dark skin glowing in the limited lighting.

“Please,” Marisol implored. “Release the Inti shaman first.”

Imac’s gaze softened. “You must love him as I love Pachacuti.”

Marisol shook her head. “We have only known each other a day. I can’t love him. I don’t know him well enough.”

“It was that way with me, as well. After knowing the emperor for a day, deep in my heart, I knew he was my mate.” She reached out and brushed her fingers across Marisol’s cheek. “I knew you were with me when I spied on Kentar and Pachacuti and when you first appeared in the great hall.”

Marisol swallowed hard. “You, me and Gunnar have gifts that must be used wisely.”

“You desire this, don’t you?” Imac fingered the medallion hanging by a leather strap around her neck.

“Yes.” Marisol’s chest tightened. The shifter held the crux of Marisol’s mission in her grasp. “My people sent me here to collect it. The medallion is greatly needed where I am from.”

Imac nodded. “I found this amulet in a secret chamber here at Machu Picchu.”

An image of the location filled Marisol’s mind, complete with hieroglyphs on the walls surrounding the medallion. Marisol saved Imac’s memory as her own.

Imac continued. “With the amulet, I have better control of my ability to shift to a jaguar. Before, it took longer and was more painful. Because of your concern for my well-being and your honesty, when I leave, the medallion shall be yours.”

“Thank you.” Marisol bowed her head in acknowledgment of the great gift Imac promised. She raised her head.

In Imac’s place stood a black jaguar, her gold eyes possessing the same intensity as the warrior woman’s. The animal dipped her head and the strap around her neck slipped to the floor, the medallion clinking against the stone.

Imac shook her body, her beautiful black pelt shimmering. Then she turned, leaped for the high window ledge, landing with ease. After a quick glance at Marisol, she disappeared.

Marisol blinked several times to clear the moisture from her eyes. Then she lifted the medallion in her hand, turning it over, tracing the pattern of alien inscriptions in the metal. Such a small, yet significant piece to an ancient puzzle that could change Earth’s future.

She touched the bracelet that would take her home. If she was half as mission-focused as she’d been when she’d set out on this journey, she’d touch the bracelet and take the medallion forward in time to the lab in Arizona.

As a powerful man, Gunnar was fully capable of taking care of himself, and Imac had promised to release him. What else kept Marisol from completing her mission?

Nothing.

Everything.

Marisol slipped the medallion over her head and tucked it beneath the collar of her dress, having made her decision.

 

Gunnar blinked to clear the darkness from his eyes. He pushed up on his arms, the cold stone beneath him not that of his chambers in Pachacuti’s palace. Where was he? How long had he been unconscious?

A dark-haired woman with bright green eyes filled his memory and he shot to his feet.

Marisol. Where was Marisol?

Gunnar raced to the wooden door to his stone cell and pounded against its rough-hewn surface. The ground shook beneath him, dust falling from the ceiling. Trapped, frustrated and angry, he clenched his fists and shouted at the ceiling, his voice echoing off solid stone.

After a while he ceased and leaned his head against the door.

The long bar on the other side slid sideways.

His muscles tense, Gunnar stood to the side of the door, ready to pounce on whoever was on the other side and escape.

As the door swung open, Gunnar waited until he could leap out into the hallway at the figure standing in the shadows, coming up short when he realized the figure was that of a woman. A naked, beautiful woman. Pachacuti’s lover, Imac.

He grabbed her throat, searing anger raging through him. “Where is Marisol?”

She clawed at his fingers, her face turning red. “I…can’t…talk,” she gasped, her eyes bulging.

Gunnar released the pressure but not his hands. “Where is she?”

Imac drew in a deep breath. “She’s in a cell on the other side of the compound. She sent me to free you.”

For a long moment, he held her neck, then slowly let her go. “Where are we?”

“Machu Picchu.” Imac rubbed at the red marks on her neck. “Come, we must free Marisol before the Machu Picchu shaman sacrifices her. The ceremony has begun.”

His heart skipped several beats then raced on. He left Imac standing near the cell door and ran down the hallway, unsure of his direction, frightened at what awaited Marisol on the temple’s altar.

Shifting to a jaguar, Imac caught up, slipping past him to lead the way out of the catacombs. When Gunnar emerged, he found himself at the base of the grand altar.

Inca nobles, warriors and citizens had gathered around the temple, their faces turned up to the altar where the Machu Picchu shaman chanted incantations to Inti.

Gunnar gasped when he saw the long dark hair spilling over the edge of the platform. With no doubt in his mind that the woman lying on the altar was Marisol, he pushed his way through the crowd and leaped up the steps two at a time to the top.

“Stop him!” Kentar appeared beside the shaman on top of the platform.

Eagle warriors raced after Gunnar, too far behind to catch him.

Gunnar reached the top long before they did. He threw the shaman down the steps into the mass of soldiers. Then Gunnar lunged for Kentar, blood flushing over his eyes as rage consumed him.

Kentar stepped up to the altar and laid a knife to Marisol’s throat. “Don’t, or the woman dies.”

“Run, Gunnar. Get away.” With her wrists and ankles tied to the altar, Marisol strained to see him. “Please.”

“I won’t leave without you.”

“So touching.” Kentar pressed the knife blade into Marisol’s skin, beneath the leather strap holding a medallion. “Where did you get this?”

Marisol fought to free her hands. “No. You can’t have it.”

“Leave her alone,” Gunnar roared, fear for Marisol urging him forward.

“I’ve been looking for this.” Kentar jerked the blade upward, slicing through the leather. The medallion fell to the stone below the altar.

Before the warriors could grab Gunnar, he dug deep and fast, grabbing hold of the earth with his will. Then he shook it so violently, the stones beneath his feet shifted.

Warriors slipped and tumbled backward down to the base of the altar.

Kentar’s arms rose to steady his footing.

As soon as the eagle warrior’s knife left Marisol’s throat, Gunnar dropped his shoulder and charged into the man, sending him flying backward, over the edge of the dais. The traitor bumped and tumbled down the stone steps into the crowd of onlookers.

Gunnar reached for the ropes that bound Marisol to the altar, tearing at the knots, until he had her hands and feet free.

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