Deity
Authors: Theresa Danley
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Mystery & Detective
DEITY
by
Theresa Danley
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Published by
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
Whiskey Creek Press
51052
Casper
, WY 82605-1052
Copyright
Ó
2012 by
Theresa
Danley
Warning: The
unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain,
is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal
prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and
incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the
author or the publisher.
No part of this book
may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN 978-1-61160-253-1
Credits
Editor: Marsha Briscoe
Printed in the United States of America
Other Books by Author Available at Whiskey Creek Press:
Effigy
Science unearths a deadly prophecy…
A priceless Mesoamerican artifact is
stolen from the University of Utah, sweeping archaeologists on a desperate
recovery mission south of the border. The team must decipher clues to find the
priceless effigy of Quetzalcoatl. They are in a race against the coming solar
eclipse, all the while dodging a corrupt Mexican police force still on the hunt
for a sadistic murderer.
D
edication
I
give credit to God for the gifts of creativity and storytelling. Again, I wish
to thank the work and research of John Major Jenkins and his book,
MAYA COSMOGENESIS
, 2012, for their
inspiration. And a special heartfelt thank you goes to my husband, Bryan, and
all my family, friends and neighbors who continue to support me through my writing
journeys.
HISTORICAL NOTE
The
archaeological record of the ancient Toltec capital of Tula,
in what is now known as the state of Hidalgo, Mexico,
indicates a disturbance within the city around AD 987. The peaceful artisans
and master craftsmen of Tula’s
early years transitioned into a militaristic faction centered upon human
sacrifice. Artifacts dating to the later period of Tula’s existence offer a signature of this
shift in ideological thinking.
But
the Aztecs told a different story.
According
to legend, inner strife had befallen the Toltecs when followers of the
Tezcatlipoca cult sought to overthrow the city’s high priest, Ce Acatl
Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl. They’d succeeded in their cause, banishing the priest
to the coast of Veracruz
and there setting him adrift on a raft of snakes. As he drifted away, Topiltzin
Quetzalcoatl vowed to someday regain his throne in the capital of the Toltecs.
And so the legend ends, leaving believers hopeful and waiting for his
prophesied return.
Across
the Gulf of Mexico on the very tip of the Yucatan
Peninsula, lay the remarkable ruins of
the Mayan city, Chichen Itza.
Archaeological evidence in the city’s art and architecture indicate a high
degree of Toltec influence there, suggesting an invasion of Toltec factions
into Mayaland and thus converging two distinct cultures uniquely in Chichen Itza.
But
the Maya tell a different story.
Legend
claims that around AD 987, a highly influential man arrived on the shores of Yucatan. Who he was or
where he came from, legend does not clarify, and the depth of his influence on
the Mayan culture may never be fully realized. However, his presence was
certainly notable enough to remain in the local mind centuries later.
To
the Maya, this man was simply known as Kukulkan.
Prologue
December 16, 2012
Metropolitan Cathedral:
Mexico City, Mexico
“
La serpiente!
La serpiente
ha venido!”
The
words echoed urgently between the saints, lifting to the olive rafters between
which was emitted the gloriously white sunlight. Cardinal Balbás split the
light as he chased the trailing echoes down the eastern nave, conscious of his
vestments scooping the air about his legs. His eyes remained fixed upon the
child.
Why
weren’t the auxiliary bishops around when he needed them? Where was Father
Ruiz?
Cardinal
Balbás didn’t like to rush through the cathedral. It felt disrespectful, but he
had to hurry, prompted by the little boy running ahead of him, and the Sunday
mass about to begin behind him.
“
Es la
serpiente
!”
What
was Felipe talking about? The boy understood his meager tasks well enough to
relieve the deacons of his special needs, but even without them, it wasn’t like
Felipe to disrupt preparations. Whatever the cause, the young altar boy had
been urgent, tugging on the archbishop’s robes with increasing frequency. Cardinal
Balbás tried to shoo him back to the pews until finally, with nobody else
around to usher him away, he agreed to investigate what had frightened the
child. There was still time before the call to worship.
The
organ began to play, compressing time with its hauntingly distant tones. Cardinal
Balbás had to get back. Still, Felipe led him onward, his peremptory cries
about a snake dipping in and out of the groping notes.
Finally,
the boy stopped and turned to face the opening of a chapel. Given the iron
grate that spanned the opening, Cardinal Balbás knew immediately which chapel
he’d been led to. The
Capilla
del
Santo Cristo y de las Reliquias.
Felipe
now had a firm grip on the iron bars, rocking his body back and forth. His lips
were still murmuring and his rocking grew with alarming intensity. His head was
colliding with the bars by the time Cardinal Balbás reached his side.
“
¿Qué es?
”
Cardinal Balbás asked
as he pried the boy’s fingers from the bars.
“
Nuestro
salvador es conquistado
!”
Felipe cried. Cardinal Balbás noticed the
tears streaming down his face.
“
Nuestro salvador es perdido!
”
Cardinal
Balbás set the trembling child aside, leaving him to shift anxiously back and
forth on his feet. He turned back to the chapel’s grate and peered through the
bars. As expected, the chapel was still, slumbering in the silence of old
things set aside. The dim light made it difficult to see the ornate altar
looming in the darkness.
He
reached for his key and placed it into the lock. As soon as it clicked loose,
the altar boy rushed forward and swung the gate open.
“
Felipe,
no
!”
Cardinal
Balbás reached for the boy’s altar robes, but Felipe was too quick. He squirted
into the chapel, completely ignoring the altar and instead lunged for the side
wall where he finally collapsed, weeping.
“Jesús!
Jesús!”
Cardinal
Balbás searched the wall above the prostrate child. He spotted the gilded
crucifix that had occupied that wall for centuries, but it had changed. His
breath caught in his throat. There, instead of Christ hanging on the cross,
Cardinal Balbás found himself face to face with the menacing snarl of a
serpent’s head.
The
snake had come indeed.
PART 1
Tuesday, December 18,
2012
KIN
“In
the very far distant past it was written in this land so that it would be known
by whoever wished to know the story of the Katúnes.”
-Chilam Balam
Yucatan
Lori
Dewson drummed her fingers on the hood of the car. Impatiently, she watched a
set of headlights approach, flickering through the skeletal trees like a
mesmerizing strobe. They passed in a shocking blur that flashed precariously
close to Mike who was working the car jack in the gravel just off the narrow
shoulder. He seemed not to notice any peril from his position there within the
dome of the grounded flashlight already trained squarely upon the rear tire. Lori
paid attention to little else. The passing car’s wake gusted against her in an
eerie blast and then dissolved with the engine that faded behind southbound taillights.
Just as quickly as it had spit the car out, the haunting silence of the forest
swallowed it up once again.
I should be there by
now.
She
should have been there days ago.
“Isn’t
this great?”
Lori
glanced over her shoulder where she found Gabriella’s silhouette propping a
foot up on the front bumper of Mike’s car in an exaggerated effort to stretch
her leg muscles.
“I
love the morning colors,” Gabriella said. “Just look at that sky.”
Lori
noticed the pre-dawn glow but only by its barest reflection in the rock-pelted
bumper. Yes, the Mercury was old enough to have a metal bumper, another detail
that reminded her of why she wasn’t where she needed to be. The car was worth
little more than the footstool Gabriella now used it for. At this point Lori
swore it was bound and determined to leave them all stranded before reaching Chichen Itza. Not that a
1982 Mercury Zephyr was an ideal car to tour Mexico in, unless one hoped that
even a car thief would pass it by. It had been evident from the start that
merely driving the clunker across Salt Lake City was testing its endurance, a
gut feeling that became reality when the alternator went out a mere seventy
miles out of town. Lori knew then that this trip in this car was a bad idea,
but there were no other immediate options.
Now,
after a repaired alternator, two flat tires and a leaking gasket, she couldn’t
help but wonder if the trip was really worth this much frustration.
“Just
look at that rich color lining the treetops,” Gabriella said. “It’s almost like
gazing into the depths of the clearest blue ocean. A diver’s blue.
Scuba Blue.”
Colors
seemed to be the extent of Gabriella’s observations. For ten days straight
she’d passed the miles by commenting on an object’s color, its tint, hue, shade
and contrast. She’d compare everything to her mind’s pallet, often speculating
the effect should a new color be added to it, and then giving the colors a new
name of her own.