“No.”
KuTu came up behind Angélica and spoke in Mayan. She looked around at him and replied in turn, thumbing toward Quint.
He looked at Quint for a moment, the whites of his eyes seeming to almost glow out from the green paint, and then shook his head. KuTu said something else to Angélica and then waved for them to follow, continuing down the tunnel.
“I asked KuTu about the whistling,” she whispered. “He said long ago, some Maya believed in a secret power—the use of whistling to move rocks. They’d whistle a tune to a rock, and it would vibrate or ‘sing.’ Then it would glide to wherever the whistler directed it. In time, the secret got out, and the rocks stopped answering to the sound of whistling.”
“That story is a little hard to swallow. Seems like I read that whistles were sometimes placed in graves to help the dead with the trials of afterlife.”
Angélica nodded, glancing in the direction KuTu had gone. “I’ve seen several whistles in graves, most shaped like frogs or birds or other animals.”
“Maybe there’s a ghost nearby, blowing on its whistle in boredom after years of twiddling its thumbs, waiting for some poor suckers like us to walk by. It’s probably planning to float out of the dark and scare the hell out of us.”
Angélica looked at him like he was high from sniffing too much bat guano ammonia. “It’s also speculated that whistles were used during sacrifices to put victims into a trance-like state prior to cutting them open. Are you feeling dreamy, Parker?”
He scowled. “No, just a tad freaked out. I’d rather the whistling I’m hearing be the equivalent of whispers of the dead.”
Angélica shrugged. “Whatever keeps you moving forward. Now come on.” She followed after KuTu.
“Yes, boss lady,” he muttered, tapping the end of the wooden sword on the floor a couple of times.Clunk, clunk, clunk.Gearing up mentally, he wiped off the sweat running down his face with his shoulder before heading after her, careful not to jab himself in the leg with the blades on themacuahuitl.
A short time later, they reached the wall. Only it wasn’t a wall anymore. Half of it was turned ninety degrees, leaving space on either side to pass through.
Before Quint had time to stop and figure out the “how” of turning a block wall like that, KuTu slipped on through and continued into the darkness.
Angélica looked back at him, her eyes wide. He couldn’t tell if she was excited or scared or both.
“The whistling seems to be coming from in there,” Quint said, stopping about ten feet short of the wall-door, peering into the shadows beyond.
“Gliding stones and whistling tunes,” Angélica whispered, staring at the opening in the wall. “You think it’s Dr. Fernel blowing through that bone?”
“Maybe.” Quint glanced back the way they came, missing fresh air, even if it was humid and hot.
“Let’s go find out.” She stepped through after KuTu. When Quint stayed put, she held out her hand for him, a small smile on her lips. “I remember helping you through a tight space before.”
He smirked. “That’s right. A temple within a temple.” He’d wanted to be cool and impress her that day, but his claustrophobiawas having none of it. “You were having a grand ol’ time torturing me.”
“I was mad that Dad had let you come to my dig site without talking to me first.” She glanced down over him. “And you were too damned attractive for my own good.”
“Now look at us.” Quint tapped the end of the wooden weapon on the floor a couple of times, noticing a higher-pitchedclackingthan before. “You can’t live without me, and I’m stuck in another stone-lined coffin.”
She chuckled. “You’re right.”
“I’m right that you can’t live without me?”
He tapped themacuahuitlon the floor three times.
Clack, clack, clack.
Maybe the sound was dissimilar from earlier because one part of the tunnel had limestone underfoot and the other had granite. Or it could be something to do with the wall now opened up, causing sound to transmit differently.
He tapped again, four times.
“Yes,” Angélica whispered. “I can’t.”
Two more taps.
Clack, clack.
