Mayan Blood (5 page)

He’d lived there his entire life.

Believing these people’s impossible stories would mean the monster with dark hair, empty eyes, and an inauspicious grin, was real. That she was never crazy, and all of the medications and nights spent in hospitals were a lost cause. Worse, it meant the one who cloaked his desire with torture, his motives with greed, and his power with the service of horrifying creatures, was coming for her.

If she believed them, it would mean there was no limit. The door between dream and reality would be flung open. Anything could cross between them.

And there was no doubt it would.

Her friend’s gentle touch reminded Zanya to breathe. Tara rested her head on Zanya's shoulder, spilling curls over her chest. “Even if it’s all a lie,” Tara whispered, “it’s a beautiful lie.”

Zanya searched her memory, riddled with images of the stone. “W-what does the stone look like?”

Renato stood, grabbed another book from a shelf, and handed it to her. She opened it and scanned the pages until she came found a drawing of the stone, roughly the size of a mango. Light shined from its core, illuminating its walls.

Zanya's lips parted. “I’ve seen this before.” She glanced around the room. “I, uh, I have nightmares. I’ve seen the stone in my dreams.”

“I have no doubt your true abilities have made themselves known to you, even if only in your subconscious. There are still many things you do not know. Please understand that I would not have brought you here if I was not one hundred percent sure of your identity.”

Zanya picked up the photo in the silver frame.

“You look exactly like her.” The tender edge to his voice caught her off guard.

“You have to at least try,” Hawa said. “What do you have to lose? No one will miss you at your school, and your friend is here with you. If you don’t try, you’ll grow up wondering what you could have been other than some pathetic orphan.”

Zanya sucked in a breath.

“Hawa,” Peter scolded. “How can you say something like that? What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know, Peter. But I bet you have a long list written up to share with everyone. Why don’t you start with—” As if she had suddenly become aware she had an audience, Hawa crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in silence.

Zanya turned to Tara. “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Tara shrugged. “I’ll go wherever you go, but…” Tara’s eye swelled with more tears. “I can’t go back.”

The sadness in Tara’s voice tore at her. Every day they woke in the community sleeping room, a tiny piece of her best friend died. Tara wanted the life that had always been just out of her reach. She didn’t want to go back to the probing and monthly strip searches for hidden wounds they both endured. Tara couldn’t return, and Zanya wasn’t going to make her.

She stood and offered the book back to Renato. “For the record, I don’t trust you.”

“You will learn to, in time.”

“And we don’t owe you anything.”

“Understood.”

Zanya shifted her weight. “And I’m not agreeing to this because I need you, got it? Because I don’t. We don’t.”

A smile curled the edges of Renato’s lips. “Are you agreeing to stay?”

She tightened her jaw, holding Renato’s gaze. “Under one condition. You have to tell me everything you know about my mother.”

His smile widened. “Of course.”

“So, are you going to tell her the rest?” Hawa arched a brow.

Zanya's shifted back. “Tell me what? There’s more?”

Renato put out his pipe and set it down on his desk behind him. “We can start with the day your parents told me they were expecting. Ellie couldn’t stop giggling, and your father was beaming with pride.” Zanya's jaw dropped open. “I, of course, was equally thrilled I would soon have a niece.”

Zanya’s fingers went numb and her breath stalled. Renato stood, grinning like a madman. He burst into laughter and threw his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Zanya. I desperately wanted to tell you earlier. This house is the house your mother lived in many years ago. You are staying in your parents’ bedroom.” He braced his hands on Zanya's shoulders, his arms outstretched. He admired her as if in that very moment he were seeing her for the first time. “Ellie would be happy to know you’re back home.”

Zanya’s throat tightened and she peered at Hawa. “If he’s my uncle, does that mean…”

Hawa smirked. “You’re not that lucky. I’m not your sister. I’m your cousin.”

“Good God,” Zanya whispered. “How much family do I have?”

His expression became solemn. “We are the only ones left.” The warmth slowly drained from his eyes, and was replaced with what she could only identify as pride. “Everyone here has come from different places for various reasons, all for a mutual goal. Those of us standing here are the few who are brave enough to fight for what is rightfully ours.”

“So…what now?” Tara asked.

Renato handed Zanya a small stack of books. “Here is some literature for you to read. Please don’t skip any of them, as all of them hold pertinent information that will be useful to you.”

“And will these books tell me how to, you know, do whatever I’m supposed to do?”

“You need to protect the stone, but first, we must locate it so there can be a bond. You cannot do that alone. Not yet. I’ve called in reinforcements to help.”

“Really?” She gripped the books tighter against her chest. “Who?”

After a slight shake of Hawa’s head, Renato sighed. “This cause is of the utmost importance. Sometimes we must do things in order to ensure that our plans move ahead without delay or errors. The person who is coming to help—please, just promise you will try to be patient.”

“What?” She glanced between Hawa and Renato. “You won’t tell me who it is?”

Marzena’s voice echoed in her mind. “One step at a time, Zanya. You have been through quite a lot today. Take some time to explore.”

Renato nodded. “Yes. I believe some rest and relaxation would be good for you before things get…eventful.”

Hawa stood and strutted past her, pausing just long enough to let out a fleeting comment. “Better get ready. I hear he’s excited to see you.”

Chapter Five

Arwan

Arwan walked through the open entryway of the front of the house. “
Hola
.” He closed the door, listening for a response. “Renato, I’m home.”

“In here.” Peter’s voice came from the kitchen. Arwan walked through the hall, turned the corner, and stopped short. A fair-skinned girl with red hair sat at the kitchen bar, giggling as she picked at a burnt pancake.

She didn’t look anything like Renato, or Eleuia from what he’d seen of her in the photo on Renato’s desk. Perhaps her father had red hair. Arwan stepped forward and gave a formal bow while holding her gaze. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

The redhead’s expression wiped blank, and Peter chuckled. “Arwan, this is Tara. Zanya’s friend. Tara, meet Arwan. The local trainer and general badass of the town.”

Arwan stood, examining her. “You’re not the guardian.”

“Nope.” Her eyebrows bounced. “But I think she’ll be mighty happy to see you.” She winked.

Arwan shifted his weight. Was she hitting on him? Though she seemed nice enough, he wasn’t interested. He turned to Peter. “Where’s Renato? I need to speak with him.”

“He ran into town to grab some supplies, but he’ll be back soon.” Peter pushed a plated pancake across the counter. “Hungry?”

There was no time to eat. Not when the guardian was there, and he hadn’t laid eyes on her. “Did he take the guardian with him?”

“No. She’s on the beach. Renato said he wanted you to wait to talk to her.” He shrugged.

Arwan checked his watch. It was only nine-thirty. “
Bien
. Then we have time to train. Get geared up.” He had to see her, just for a second, to know she was really there.

Peter’s shoulders slouched forward. “But I haven’t eaten—”

“Then you should have woken up earlier.” He gestured to the veranda that lead to the beach. “Five minutes.” He looked at Tara. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.” She swallowed a mouthful of pancake. “You too.”

He walked through the double doors, onto the veranda. The guardian was nowhere in sight. He yanked off his shoes and socks, then stripped off his shirt. The warm breeze wove through the tall, alabaster pillars. He jumped the railing and landed in the hot sand.

Arwan drew in a deep breath, balling his hands into fists.

“Ready.” Peter followed him over the railing.

“That’s what you said last week.” Arwan pulled the drawstring to his sweatpants tight. “Have you been practicing while I was gone?”

Peter stretched one leg out in front of him, then the other. “On and off. I’ve been kind of busy—”

Arwan threw a low kick and swept him off his feet. Peter hit the sand—hard—and sucked in a labored breath. He coughed and rolled to his side.

“I thought you said you’re ready.”

Peter nodded, pushing himself to his feet. “You caught me off guard.”

“Do you think your enemy is going to give you a heads up every time he attacks?”

“No.” Peter swept grains of sand off his shorts. “I guess—”

Arwan threw a left hook. It landed on Peter’s chest, throwing him back. Peter narrowed his eyes. “Come on, man.”

“Your lack of preparation is disappointing. You said you would train every day while I was gone.” He readied into a fighting stance. “Every. Day.”

Peter shifted his foot back and lifted his fists. “Things got crazy while you were out.” He tightened his fists. “Warm up?”

Arwan grinned “Warm up.”

Peter sprinted down the beach. Arwan chased, staying on Peter’s heels as they raced over grains of sand. “Faster.”

Peter puffed out his chest and picked up the pace. Good, but not good enough. Arwan leaped ahead and threw a roundhouse kick at his head. Peter skidded to a stop and arched his back, barely dodging the attack before he rolled forward and landed on his feet. Peter struck a few punches, all of them too slow and not strong enough.

“You’re not focused.” Arwan tested his theory with a solid punch to Peter’s jaw, followed by a front kick to his chest.

Peter landed in the sand and spit out a mouthful blood. “Just because I can heal fast doesn’t mean I enjoy getting my ass kicked.”

“Then stand up and show me what you got.” Arwan extended his hand. Peter took it, and Arwan pulled him to his feet. The blemished skin on Peter’s face had already begun to heal.

Peter punched Arwan in the gut. Arwan let out a muffled grunt and raised his brow. “Not bad.” He slashed Peter in the face with an elbow strike, cutting deep into his cheek. The clash of bone on bone vibrated up Arwan’s arm. Peter doubled over and cradled his face, mumbling a string of curse words as blood seeped through is fingers. A moment later the wound had healed, and Peter fisted his hands even tighter.

“Healing is your one advantage. But you can still be killed. Never forget that.”

A flash of blue caught Arwan’s eye. He peered over Peter’s shoulder.

Peter glanced back, and returned his gaze to Arwan. “Before you go doing something crazy—”

Arwan stepped around him and to get a better look at the guardian. Long, brown hair brushed over her narrow shudders, with olive skin. Every muscle in his body tensed. There was an aura about her—the way the sun reflected off of her petite silhouette.

“Hey.” Peter stepped in his line of sight. “Renato said to wait.”

Arwan clenched his jaw. “Did he say why, exactly?”

“I don’t know. Ask him.” Peter gestured to the house. “He just got home.”

Arwan turned to see Renato’s SUV pull into the covered garage. “
lo haré
.” He walked toward the house.

“Um…” Peter jogged to catch up with him. “Are we done with training?”

“No. Meet me at the cliffs in one hour. I have to talk to Renato.”

Peter slowed his pace. “I guess I’ll just…hang out.” He huffed.

Arwan reached the veranda and hopped back over the railing. He grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, then continued inside. “Renato.”

“
Sí
. In the welcoming room.” Arwan followed his mentor’s voice through a pair of open double doors, into a small room with a bay window. He shook Renato’s hand firmly.

“It’s nice to have you back,” Renato said. “I hope your trip went well.”

“I’m sorry if I was gone too long. I hope you didn’t need me.” Arwan withdrew his hand, glad to see Renato smoking the familiar bone pipe—the same pipe Renato had smoked since Arwan was a boy. Renato was most likely worrying about him, as he often did. Even at Arwan’s lowest times, Renato was always there.

Renato slid his hand down the lapel of his gentleman’s vest and braced his pipe in his mouth with the other. “We can survive without you for a short while. Besides, what you were doing was equally as important.” Sadness flooded his gaze. “I hope you gave your mother my regards.”

Arwan’s chest tightened. It was still difficult to talk about, even though he’d done his mourning years ago. “I did.”

“And the headstone?”

“It was a fine replacement. Thank you.” He leaned against an alabaster pillar supporting the Victorian style fireplace. “It’s been too long since I went to see her.” He perched an elbow on the stone mantel, admiring the night sky through windows.

“Your mother would have understood.”

“Maybe.” She would have, but there was no excuse that would make him forgive himself.

An electronic ring came from Renato’s pocket. He pulled the phone and promptly answered the call. “Yes?” His expression stayed passive. “You’re where?” He looked at Arwan. “Did he?” Renato pinched the bride of his nose. “Yes. Stay where you are. I will contact you when it’s time.” He held up his finger for another moment of patience. “I’ll wire the money right over.” Renato flipped the phone shut and tucked it back into his pocket. “That was the seeker. He requested funds for food and hotel stay. Did you not assist him before you left?”

Arwan scowled. “How much can we trust him?”

“As much as we can trust any of our people.”

“How much does he know?”

Renato waved his hand in the air. “He seems to know little of our ancestry—typical for the younger generation of descendants.”

“It’s not my ancestry. Not anymore.”

“One cannot run from their bloodline.”

Arwan scoffed. “I’ve been doing a decent job so far.”

“Indeed.” That one word, spoken in that accusatory tone, was enough to reel back Arwan’s annoyance. “How is Peter’s training going?”

Arwan examined his mentor. Anger morphed to impatience, plucking his nerves. “Why don’t you want me to meet the guardian?”

“We both know why.”

Arwan ground his teeth. “Sarian has eluded us for long enough, and she’s the only one who can help us find him.”

“There are more important things than revenge, young man.”

“
Like what
?”

“Like recovering the stone. She may be the only hope we have of finding the general who killed your mother, but we must not forget—she knows very little about the stone. Nearly nothing.”

“That’ll make finding it more difficult.”

“That’s precisely why I have called in the seeker.”

Arwan turned away. “I don’t think it’s safe to bring him around the guardian. He seems reckless.”

“He is the only one who is willing to help. We have little choice but to trust him.”

Arwan examined his mentor. “I thought you said we always have a choice.”

Renato rested his hand on Arwan’s shoulder. “Do not rush her. This mission is more sacred than revenge. The fate of the world is in our hands.”

His mentor was usually right, and had the patience Arwan had yet to learn. Arwan planted a firm hand on Renato’s opposite shoulder, engaging in a more traditional embrace. Warriors greeted each other with hands braced on alternate shoulders, such as they had done for centuries. “I’ll do my best.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Um…hello?” An unfamiliar voice called from the hall. “Renato?”

His mentor stepped away. “Well. It seems as though the gods have fated you two to meet sooner than I intended.”

Arwan leaned against the bookshelves in the corner of the room while Renato answered the door. The same soft voice came from the hall. He leaned slightly to the side, catching a glimpse of the girl he’d seen on the beach.

She curled her arms around herself, still wearing the blue dress. She drew strands of wild hair over her shoulder. “I almost got lost trying to find my way around your house.”

“Our house,” Renato replied. “You must remember, this is your home now too.”

“I don’t have a home.” Her hands dropped to her sides and she tugged on the ends of her sleeves. “It’s better it stays that way.”

“Perhaps you’ll learn to like it here if you’re given a tour. It can be quite overwhelming if you’re left to explore on your own.”

Arwan tilted his head as he observed her carefully. There was something familiar about her, as if he’d caught a glimpse of her in another life.

“Yeah, I guess that’d be good,” she said. “I should know where everything is if we’re staying here for a while.”

“Fantastic.” Renato stepped aside and waved Arwan toward them. “I have just the guide. Arwan, this is Zanya. Zanya, meet Arwan, a young man who has been a part of our rather unique family for many years.” Renato gestured him forward. “Please show Zanya around the house. She hasn’t had a proper tour. You might like to be a decent host and take some time to get to know our new guest.”

When her gaze met his, her chest jumped with a tiny gasp. Arwan squared his shoulders and gave a slight bow. “
Absolutamente
.”

A blush spread over her cheeks.

When he walked toward her, she backed toward the open door. He couldn’t be sure, but she seemed scared. She watched him with no particular expression. Just like on the beach, she was hard to read. Perhaps he would find out more about her while showing her around.

He extended his hand toward the hall. “Shall we?”

Her wolf-gray eyes examined him through a curtain of dark eyelashes. She gave a single nod. “Thanks.” She crossed her arms and stepped aside. “You first.”

He led her through the hall to a curved archway with two letters engraved in the center of a large, wooden door: E.W.

“This is the east wing.” He opened the door to another foyer, smaller than the one in the main wing.

Cement floors covered the space, giving it a medieval feel. Arwan had walked barefoot on these cold floors countless times. “This is Renato’s wing.”

Zanya ran her fingers along an alabaster statue of an Egyptian pharaoh. A large painting of a man with dark eyes and dark, wavy hair hung on the wall.

She stopped to examine the portrait. “Is that Renato?”