“He knew you’d want us to wait,” her father answered for him. “But I convinced him that if we opened it immediately, we’d be helping you by saving a day’s time, because we’d know what structural support supplies to take to the location tomorrow. Plus, you’d be able to go inside the cavity that much sooner.”
“I also didn’t want you or Fernel to risk a limb and open it on your own,” Quint said. To Angélica, he added, “It was clear they were going to try to move the slab whether I was on board or not.”
“That’s true,” Juan said, nodding.
Quint chuckled. “They were like kids in a candy store, peering through the glass at a big swirly lollipop.”
“True again. I really wanted that lollipop.” Her father laughed, but then quickly sobered. “Thinking back, I knew waiting would be more logical, but I had this driving need to see what was on the other side of that door slab. The hunger for discovery after so many days of frustration had me practically drooling about what we might find.”
“But you didn’t feel as strongly about opening it up?” she asked Quint.
He shook his head. “I was worried we might run into another den of snakes, and I’d had enough excitement of the slithering kind at the last site.”
Hmm. The adventure bug had bitten her father, whose levelheadedness she’d counted on many times in the past when it came to potentially important discoveries, but not Quint, who Angélica would think might be more interested in “the big find” for his article.
“Did you feel that same hunger when it came to exploring the structural ruins?” she asked her dad.
“Not really. Just the usual curiosity with a good dose of caution since the peril due to structural deterioration was clearly evident.”
Angélica watched a pair of bats dart and swoop over the road in front of them, catching their evening meal. The sight of the night fliers spurred another question. “Were there butterflies at the ruins—the structureyou’d set out to find?”
Her father shook his head. “Not that I saw. Did you see any, Junior Mint?”
Quint grimaced slightly. “Only an orange one.”
“Gatita, did you see the vultures circling today?”
“Yep.” All twelve of them.
So had KuTu, who’d pulled her aside in the midst of her stone rubbings to ask if she’d noticed that their numbers continued to increase with each day that Quint was on site. However, she wasn’t going to tell her father that. Nor was now the time to tell Quint that KuTu claimed the additional number of vultures was clearly a sign that they were in more danger than before, especially her good demon.
When she’d asked KuTu if this increased danger was due to their continued digging around the site or caused by something else, he’d shrugged and said that only the gods of the Underworld would know that answer. He’d started to walk away but turned back to add that reincarnation might play a role in the vultures’ purpose, but that time would show them the true reason.
His cryptic forecast had left her temporarily stunned, with her charcoal and rice paper in hand. A reincarnation of what? Or should she say of whom? Quint? Or some spirit trapped here from long ago?
Shit. Archaeology was easier when she only saw things in black and white. This gray color of the supernatural world left her with a headache instead of answers.
“Have you smelled anything dead at the site?” her father asked her, pointing toward the darkening sky. “Anything that would be attracting so many eaters of the dead?”
Eaters of the … She did a double-take that ended with a scowl. Oh, he meant the vultures. “Why do you have to say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Eaters of the dead,” she repeated in a deep, growly voice. “Next you’ll start going on about ancient curses again.”
“It was just a turn of phrase,gatita.” He directed a narrowed gaze her way. “Why are you so touchy about it? Do you know something we don’t about this site? Something more … spooky?”
Yes, she did, dammit, but she wasn’t going to go there with her father because he’d jump on her bandwagon and race off into thesunset with his usual curse mumbo-jumbo. That in turn would scare the hell out of Esteban, who shared her father’s habit of dallying in superstitions, and maybe several others. For now, everyone needed to stay on task and leave the nail-biting to her.
Without looking at Quint, she lied, “No. But you tend to get a superstitious idea in your head and there’s no talking sense to you.”
“I always listen to sense.”
“Then why did you make Quint move that door slab?”
Quint opened his mouth to speak, but she tightened her grip on his hand, shaking her head. Her dad had acted out of character, and she wondered if there was more to it than just the hunger for adventure that he’d claimed. Something to do with the vultures, the “good” demon standing next to her, and some unnatural pull that may or may not have to do with an actual curse.
“I didn’t make him,” her dad defended.
