Chapter Eight #2
Quint smiled back. He couldn’t help it. Daisy’s sunshine was infectious.
It was no wonder Juan found her dreamy—literally.
Last night Quint had woken to the sound of Angélica’s father laughing.
When he’d shined his flashlight on Juan, he had muttered with his eyes closed, “I need to speak with Daisy, she’ll know,” before turning on his side, his back to Quint.
Angélica had slept through her dad’s late-night talk show, her head probably full of happy-go-lucky dreams starring Maya king skeletons dancing in some creepy, claustrophobic tomb tucked away under a vegetation-covered structure at Site 5.
She’d certainly woken this morning with the gumption of a woman ready to fight off the Spanish conquistadors and their disease-ridden armies as soon as she’d finished María’s hearty breakfast of eggs, potatoes, strips of chicken, avocados, and homemade tortillas all covered in fresh salsa.
Quint’s stomach growled at the memory of breakfast alone. María and her cooking at least made their time served in this jungle hell tolerable.
“How are things with the boss lady?” Daisy asked, staring toward the trio of wannabe cartographers.
He hesitated, wondering if Daisy was the one asking that question or if the ghost of Marianne, who’d used Daisy as a human walkie-talkie at the last site, was checking in. “Things are mostly good.”
Her smile held steady. “Only ‘mostly’?”
“Well, Dr. García can’t seem to control her crazy need to dig up the past, including the people who lived it. I’m not sure if I should be concerned about that or not.”
Daisy’s laughter was light and airy, like a breeze cutting through the sweltering humidity.
“You think there’s a name for that sickness?” he asked.
“Well, there is necrophilia.”
“Angélica doesn’t want to have sex with the dead, thank the Maya gods, just study them in their graves and figure out their life stories.”
“Oh, I know the name for that malady.” Daisy brushed some dust off her pant leg. “It’s called archaeology.”
“That’s it. Too bad there isn’t a way to touch a skeleton and be able to see flashes of what the individual’s life was like way back when.”
“There is a field of paranormal studies called psychometry.”
“That sounds familiar.” He dodged a passing fly. “Remind me of what it is.”
“I saw a documentary on it once. If I remember right, it’s where you can obtain information about someone simply by touching them or something that belonged to them, like a treasured object, or even their clothing.”
“How can you learn information from an object?”
She stole his pencil, holding it up to the sky. “The belief is that all objects have energy fields. For example, this pencil would have the energy of what was written with it.”
That sounded a little out there. “You’re shitting me.”
“I’m not. The Maya believed that all objects and creatures have a spirit or soul.”
“Yeah, Angélica has mentioned their belief in animism before.” He pointed at the pencil. “Would this pencil have its own soul, or would it be part of the soul of the tree whence it came?”
One of Daisy’s eyebrows quirked. “Is it ‘from whence’ or just ‘whence’? I can never remember.”
“Just whence. The other way is redundant.”
“Duly noted.” She handed him back the pencil. “I would think the tree had the soul and passed it on to the pencil.”
“So, if the tree’s soul was malevolent with big dreams of conquering the jungle, do we now have the problem of thousands of tiny angry souls wanting to reconnect to form an army of words?”
She tittered. “You’re funny, Quint. I can see how disarming you’d be for someone as intense as Angélica.”
“I try to be dis-legging, too, but my charm only works on her top half.”
She sobered some, but her eyes still sparkled. “I ran into a wise guy like you once.”
“Did you knock him down?”
“That’s one way of describing two decades of marriage.” She looked over at the Garcías, who were slowly walking farther away from the wall with Fernel following. “What are they doing?”
“Dr. Fernel has the LIDAR map on his tablet and a software program that allows them to look at the site in real-time through the device’s camera and see the lines from the map imposed upon what’s actually here.
Although he said something about needing to set up some data points first, so they are just eyeballing things right now. ”
“Really? Wow! That sounds like it should make our job a lot easier.”
“One would hope, but the LIDAR map contains mostly a series of 3-D bumps in hill-like shapes on the ground.” Quint had taken a peek at it over Angélica’s shoulder earlier in the morning.
“Some look like buried Volkswagen buses, others resemble upside down ice-cream cones, and several of the lumps are squarer and flatter, probably some sort of platforms where the stand-up comedians held their shows entertaining the troops before battles.”
“A regular USO tour, Maya style.” She chuckled. “You know, I never thought about the Maya laughing. What do you think they joked about?”
“The monkeys, mostly. Any jesting about the reigning monarchy probably landed them a starring role in a sacrificial ceremony.”
“Off with his head!” she said, mimicking the Queen of Hearts.
“More like ‘out with his beating heart’ around here.” Quint leaned back on his hands. “One can speculate all sorts of structures by looking at the mounds on the LIDAR printouts, so it’s a matter of determining where is the most worthy place to start actually digging in.”
At least that was what Angélica had told him at breakfast when he’d had his notebook at the ready to record her morning announcements and orders.
“Well, I for one am ready to dig in. I have a feeling there is something worth uncovering in this place.” She thumbed at the crumbling mess of a building behind them.
So had Angélica, who’d said it might be some kind of small temple rather than just a multi-level, flat-roofed platform at the top of a tall set of stone steps.
She’d clarified, though, that they wouldn’t know for certain until they were able to find a stela or glyphs carved elsewhere on what was left of the structure.
Quint glanced back at the heap of debris.
It had partially succumbed to gravity and weathering with the help of a couple of large trees and another unidentifiable tree that was mostly smothered by a strangler fig with roots as thick as Quint’s arms. “It looks like the giant from ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ sat on the poor building. What makes you think you’ll find something in the rubble? ”
Daisy had an uncanny way of finding needles in haystacks.
After witnessing Angélica’s mom using Daisy as a channeler at the last site, Quint had to wonder if this ace treasure-sniffing knack was actually a paranormal ability of hers.
Were ghosts able to reach out to the channeler to show her their secrets?
That would certainly be a handy gift, especially in the field of archaeology.
That notion sounded a bit off plumb, though.
But then again, according to Teodoro, Quint was a “good demon,” so why couldn’t Daisy be using ghost-flashlights to find past treasures?
“A simple comparison of this site to others I’ve studied,” Daisy answered with a little shrug.
“It’s sort of my specialty in Mesoamerican archaeology.
I like to study different site layouts, but not for their architectural styles, like Juan does.
” She looked down at her hands, her cheeks darkening slightly. “I mean Dr. García.”
“Didn’t he tell you to call him Juan?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t seem very professional.”
“Daisy, I’m pretty much living with his daughter, so any professional mumbo jumbo can be thrown out the window around me. Besides, we’re not sitting at a fancy grant donor dinner here.”
“That’s true.” She reached over and squeezed his arm, but then held tight, not letting go. Her eyelids fluttered closed.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a couple of beats.
She started humming, still holding tight.
His pulse kicked up a notch. Was Marianne trying to come through to give him some kind of message about demonhood? Or summoning? Or maybe some astrology-like predictions for the next few days?
“Daisy?”
“Shhh. I’m trying to use psychometry to listen to your soul,” she said in a solemn voice.
“Why?”
“To see if that pencil has spread its angry energy field to you.” Her eyes were full of mirth when she opened them.
He chuckled, his pulse slowing back to normal. “Well, will I be spewing a war of words on the page?” Truth be told, he’d sort of gone to war against the jungle in his notes already.
She shrugged. “I can’t predict it now. Ask again later.”
“You sound like one of those fortune teller toys.”
“Oh, I loved playing with my Magic 8-Ball as a kid. Ask me another question.” She closed her eyes, her hand remained touching his arm.
“Will the Garcías find evidence of a Maya king or some big-name shaman at this site?”
She hummed for a couple of seconds. “Outlook good.”
“Will we find the answer to what role this place had in the history books before the jungle regains custody?”
More humming, then, “Signs point to yes.”
If true, that would certainly make Angélica happy. He thought about asking Daisy if the answer found would line up with Marianne’s theories about the site, but then remembered this was just a game and Daisy had no idea what was actually in Marianne’s notes.
“Ask me another question,” Daisy said, her eyes still closed, her hand on his arm yet.
“Let me think for a second.”