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“I think Sarina has been here the whole time, disguised as one of the crones. Ix Chel must have helped her. She’s been the goddess’s pawn this whole time. I want her shrine broken down. Her symbol removed from the ball court. Find every effigy of her and grind it to dust. I will begin searching for the escapees another way.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked, rising from the stool.
“No, stay here. Entertain our guests.” Truthfully, he found the past winners of the death games contemptible. Small. But that also meant they could be controlled, and he’d learned the hard way that a small, controllable mind was much better to deal with than an intellect like Mr. Roth’s. “I will let nothing stop us.” He approached her, took her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “I desire you again. What spell is this that has such power?”
Angélica smiled with gratification. She gave him a coy look. “I will be waiting for you when you return,” she said in a sultry tone.
His desire spiked again, but he would wait. He could be patient. Jacob went to his changing room and exchanged his Aztec garb for modern clothing. He strapped an expensive watch around his wrist and looked at the time. It was nearly noon.
“Two of the warrior teams will be playing the ball game this afternoon,” Angélica said when he emerged.
“Those games can last all night,” Jacob answered. “I will probably be back before it finishes.” He approached her, took her in his arms, and kissed her hard. She made a pleased sound in the back of her throat.
He broke the kiss, then left the bedchamber and went down into the depths of the royal residence. The underground tunnels were lit by strands of kem äm, gathered in bundles atop metal torches like flames, except the light gave off no smoke. A corridor was blocked by a webbing of kem äm, but he waved his hand. His ring deactivated it, and he passed through the opening, restoring the kem äm with another wave of his hand. Anyone caught wandering here would be put to death instantly.
Jacob knew the maze trail by memory. It sank lower and lower into the gloom. He crossed the underground tunnel to the adjacent temple. The air was musty. His Western shoes were too noisy as they clipped on the stone floor. After he’d crossed the distance between the royal residence and the temple, the tunnel joined with another, also blocked by the magical webbing. He canceled it, passed through, and brought it back into place.
Jacob maneuvered the tunnels effortlessly. Finally, he reached his destination. It was a stone wall with a carving on it—a stela. The image was of Huracán, the furrows lined with gold. It was a complex image, a profile with one hand holding a cluster of spears and shield, the other making a hand gesture—the symbol of a magical being. One foot was normal, but the other was strangely shaped. Some thought it was a serpent, but Jacob knew better. It was the smoking mirror.
Jacob lifted his hand and drew a glyph in the air. “I salute you, Huracán, enemy of both sides. Lord of the Near and the Nigh. God of the Furious Winds, Possessor of Sky and Earth. Open.”
The stela shimmered with magic. Then the stone moved up, revealing another tunnel. Jacob had to crouch to enter it. It was a forced humility. After he passed the stela, the stone closed behind him with a grinding sound. Jacob had entered the chamber of mirrors.
A series of obsidian mirrors was fixed to each of the walls ahead of him, twelve in total. A feeling of doom throbbed within the confined space. This was a place of hallowed magic—a secret guarded almost as closely as the existence of Aztlán. The Jaguar Temple had been abandoned and covered with earth to prevent the Spanish conquerors from finding it. The cenotes had buried the gold. But this chamber, with its mirrors, was worth more than all of that treasure combined. In fact, it was how the jaguar priests of old had moved the treasure from place to place to keep the Spanish from grasping even the smallest amounts of what the Aztec and Maya had.
Jacob walked along the east wall, waving his hand over each mirror as he passed. One mirror led to the Museum of London. Another to Moscow. Each mirror was connected to a sister mirror elsewhere. Only a jaguar priest knew the sign to activate it. Only a few of the elite were trusted with the knowledge.
Jacob walked to the north wall and then stopped. One mirror led to the White House. He waved his hand across it, and the obsidian shimmered darkly. He gazed through it, seeing the corridor with people walking swiftly one way and another. A satisfied smile came to his face. He could walk into the most protected building in the world because of a “gift” that was a relic of long forgotten ways. But today was not the day to seize the president.
Passing the next mirror, which led to Mexico City, he stopped and waited at the third. It was a portal to a mansion on the shore of Lake Chapala in Michoacan. He summoned the magic and looked through the mirror. The mansion was opulent, a drug lord’s mansion that was garish in its splendor. The mirror was hung in the private office. No one was there at the moment.
Jacob bowed his head, summoning the power in his ring, then took a step forward. When his hand touched the polished surface of the mirror, he felt a jolt rush through him. Just like that, he stood in Michoacan. The smell of cloves hung in the air. The room was dark, except for a few recessed lights illuminating mountain Aztec and Maya treasures.
Sitting on the stuffed leather office chair, Jacob grimaced at the dish of pistachios on the desk. They weren’t to his taste and never had been. Then he opened the desk and retrieved the cell phone he kept there for his infrequent trips through the mirror. It activated with his fingerprint, and he called his chief of security, Victor.
The man answered immediately. “Mr. Calakmul. You’re at Lake Chapala?”
“Yes,” Jacob said. “Suki is gone.”
“What? Where?”
“Ix Chel took her to Cozumel. I think she’s with Sarina and Jane Louise. Any news from the men you left behind?”
“Nothing from the resort. But I did get a report from the police in Quintana Roo. A van from Huellas de Pan went to the marina in San Miguel last night.”
“The marina?” Jacob sat up instantly.
“The police officer followed it. Just the driver was there, Jorge. Remember him?”
“Yes. The one Mr. Roth has been sending money to. I want him brought in. See to it.”
“Of course, sir. There was no one with him. He said he was going to see one of his orphans who worked there. A girl who runs a snorkeling—oh, now I get it.”
Jacob’s anger stoked hotter. How had Sarina arranged the escape without drawing attention? It was the magic. She was just as much of a threat as Suki.
“Jorge helped them escape. I want them to find his body with the turtles on the beach. Kill him. Today.”
“Yes, Mr. Calakmul. Of course. We’ll track the boat too.”
