Okay, Juan first, and then the whisperer mystery.
He joined the two men. “I hear you need my help with something?” he said to Juan.
Juan’s eyes widened slightly. “How did you know that?”
Quint pointed at Fernel. “He called for me. Said you needed my help.”
“When did you call for Quint?” Juan asked Fernel.
“I didn’t.” Fernel looked up from the map, his face bright red with sweat beading his upper lip and trailing down his cheeks. “I’ve been right here with you the whole time.”
Quint sheathed his machete. “Are you two messing with me?”
“Not this time,” Juan said, appearing earnest. “What did Dr. Fernel say when he called for you?”
“He said, ‘Mr. Parker, Dr. García needs your help.’ And he said my name twice, so I don’t think I was hearing things.”
When both men continued to shake their heads, Quint glanced toward the main trail again. The whisperer …
Was someone playing a trick on him, pretending to be Fernel? Maybe Pedro?
No, it was too damned hot to play games, and Angélica had everyone scattered around the site in small groups, clearing vegetation, recording structural details for her dad, and searching forstelaeor more caches.
Then what had he …There are too many whispers here, Kimi.
Daisy’s words replayed in his head, reminding him of her bizarre prophecy about the ancestors speaking to their guardian about death.
A chill finger-walked down his back, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Had he actually heard the ancestors whispering in the bushes? If he’d chopped his way through the bramble, would he have run into the ghost of one of them?
Or had it been something worse hiding there? Waiting for him? Something that had played a part in the skulls piled up outside the wall?
“Junior Mint.” Juan’s voice interrupted Quint’s spiral into doomsville. “What’s wrong?”
He shook off his dark thoughts. “Juan, I could swear I heard Fernel call to me, but maybe it’s just the heat spinning dust devils in my mind.”
“You should drink some water,” Fernel suggested. “Hallucinations are a byproduct of dehydration.”
“Are you okay?” Juan took a couple of steps toward Quint. “Maybe you should sit and rest for a spell.”
“I’m fine.” Quint wiped the fresh layer of sweat on his face withhis shirt sleeve.
Juan caned his way closer, keeping an eye on the ground along the way. “Are you feeling dizzy?”
“No. I was just …”
Behind Juan, Quint saw what appeared to be a rectangular slab of stone at the base of the large mound next to Fernel. Even from a distance, Quint could see the edges of the stone weren’t natural, showing signs of having been tooled long ago.
Was that astela? Angélica would be dancing for joy around the campfire tonight, if so.
“What’s that?” he asked, walking past Juan to take a closer look.
“We think it’s a type of threshold stone,” Fernel said.
Threshold stone?He’d heard that term before when it came to European history. “You mean a stone hewn purposely as part of an entrance to a tomb or grave?”
“It might be a door or sealing slab,” Juan added, coming up beside him.
