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Roth knew several things in that moment—Jacob had somehow heard his entire conversation with Angélica. Now Angélica was dead, and he would die next.
And Jacob would enjoy every moment of it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
JAGUAR TEMPLE
CALAKMUL BIOSPHERE RESERVE
January 10
Pressing his back against the stone wall of the cell, Roth came to his feet slowly. He gripped the dart tightly in his hand. He couldn’t see a whorl of kem äm swirling around Jacob. Was Jacob so confident he’d win? Was it just hubris, or was it earned? He kept his eyes focused on his enemy’s. In his peripheral vision, he saw Brower slowly rise as well. It was two against one. The other warriors had already taken their captives away.
Roth was a bigger man than Calakmul. Force was a function of weight and speed. If he moved fast, he might be able to knock Jacob down. And he had Brower, who obviously had much better training than he did. It might work.
“Well?” Jacob challenged. “Will you die without resisting? I thought you better men than this.”
Brower attacked first. He lunged across the small gap of the cell, hand reaching for Jacob’s wrist.
Jacob sidestepped the attack, which put Brower in between Roth and himself. He drew a symbol in the air with his hand—the one with the glowing ring—and Brower slammed into the wall.
“I can’t see!” Brower gasped.
“But you’re an FBI agent,” Calakmul quipped. “You’ve trained for this moment!” He struck a blow to the side of Brower’s head.
Roth took a quick breath and charged. He just needed to nick Calakmul’s skin with the dart. One little nick, and the man would be paralyzed in seconds. With his forearm raised in front of him like a battering ram, Roth tried to collide with Jacob, but the jaguar priest was impossibly fast. He didn’t evade the attack—he came right at Roth with his own body, and it felt like slamming into one of the stone stela statues throughout the temple grounds. Roth’s teeth rattled. He tried to jab the needle into Jacob’s exposed arm but found his own momentum blunted when Jacob seized his wrist with his other hand. Roth tried to lever him backward, but he couldn’t move the other man, not even an inch.
Brower kicked backward, trying to catch Jacob unaware.
But again, the jaguar priest anticipated the attack and swiveled just slightly, drawing Roth into the path of the kick. The shoe struck Roth in his hip painfully, and he grunted.
Jacob squeezed Roth’s wrist and torqued it. Involuntarily, Roth’s fingers opened, and the dart dropped to the ground. His heart sank.
“You thought you could best me?” Jacob hissed in Roth’s face. “You?” He slammed his knee into Roth’s groin, knocking the wind out of him and causing a stomachache that was debilitating. Roth groaned again, unable to breathe, unable to even stand.
Brower attacked again. He was fighting blind, but he lunged at Jacob, who dodged his various blows and kicks, returning punches to ribs, kidneys, kneecaps, and other sensitive spots. Roth hugged his own body, struggling to breathe, watching the one-sided fight continue until it ended abruptly. Then he saw the dart on the ground by his hand. His whole body ached with agony, but he grabbed it.
“Fight me!” Jacob roared. “Have you nothing left in you? I will kill millions in your country. I will burn your precious Constitution like the Spanish burned the codices. Fight! This is your only chance to win!”
Roth was going to throw up. The kick to the groin had ruined him, and now that he had an injured hand, he felt utterly helpless. He was on his knees. And that’s exactly what Calakmul wanted him to feel. This was part of his revenge.
Brower slumped against the far wall, breathing heavily. He was in pain too.
They were not fighting a normal, mortal man. The quickness, the strength—these were all augmented by Maya magic. There was no way they could beat him. Roth doubted even someone from the elite Special Forces could, despite their years of training. Hadn’t they seen the proof at the White House?
Roth swallowed, trying not to throw up. It took every bit of willpower not to. The dizziness, the pain was the worst he’d ever felt. But he kept himself from vomiting. A small victory.
Lifting his head, he looked up at Jacob’s angered face.
“We can’t beat you,” Roth said, stifling a groan. “I knew we couldn’t. You wanted it this way.”
“It didn’t have to end this way, Mr. Roth. I gave you a chance to protect your family. You would have had power and riches beyond belief. But you chose to rise against me. To spite me. You will be very alive when I wrench your heart out. Your family will suffer too. Because of you.”
Roth had made his choice, and he couldn’t undo it. He wouldn’t, even if he could. He glared at Calakmul. “I knew I couldn’t win. But I also know that neither can you.”
“I’ve already won,” Jacob snarled.
“Huracán won the last round. But he’s losing this one. The Jaguar Prophecies weren’t about you, Calakmul. Kukulkán is coming. And you can’t stop him.”
