Chapter Seventeen #3
Actually, it wasn’t her career; rather, her preoccupation with furthering her mother’s scholarly reputation.
What an idiot! Quint was alive and breathing, kind and loving, sexy and funny.
Her mom was gone. Well, sort of gone. Certainly unable to hold her hand anymore when she felt alone, or stare up at the stars and daydream about what had been and what was to come.
Angélica turned back to her father, who was stuck traveling through this world alone, half of his heart missing. Every now and then she’d catch him sitting alone in the dark on her deck, staring up at the moon with watery eyes.
Was proving her mom’s theories worth losing Quint, too? Her heart was certainly in his corner these days, bouncing happily, cheering for him.
Her father watched her with a narrowed gaze. “What’s going on in that head of yours, gatita?”
Should she tell him about her mom’s ghost?
Would he believe Angélica? And if he did, how much would it hurt him again if he couldn’t see her mom? Couldn’t touch her? Hear her voice?
It’d taken him years to reach the point where he could talk about losing his wife without tears in his eyes.
If he knew his wife wanted to channel with Daisy just to try to rekindle the flame that had burned between them for so long, would he be heartbroken all over again?
Or would he want to use Daisy in the same way Angélica’s mom had talked about at the fire last night just to feel closer to his wife?
That wouldn’t be right, especially since Daisy seemed to be warming up to him more and more. Although maybe Angélica’s mom was causing some of that fire to grow hotter inside the channeler.
Shit.
This was nuts.
Angélica needed to focus on the task at hand—figuring out what this damned site was long, long ago.
“Nothing, Dad,” she said, shooing a fly away. “I’m just worried about you and your ankle. If you injure it further inside the ruin, I can’t carry you out. I might be able to drag you, but only so far, and it’ll be dark soon.”
“Damned old ankle.” He scowled toward the shadowy interior. “How about if I just peek inside from here with the light? Then we won’t be going against your promise to your loverboy, and you can stop mothering me.”
“Deal.”
She lifted the rice paper to the lichen-covered carving on the left of the entrance, getting to work rubbing the charcoal over it. Without brushing the stone off first, she probably wouldn’t get much definition, but it was worth a shot.
Her dad eased closer to the entrance and shined the light inside. He sniffed several times, and then sneezed.
“You smell something?”
“Not really, just dust.”
That was her experience, too. “What do you see?” she asked, doing quick work with her piece of charcoal.
She’d have Esteban join them here tomorrow and instruct him to take his time with the task so they could have more detailed rubbings. She cursed herself again for not having Quint take some pictures of the entrance, but she’d been too distracted by Dr. Fernel and all of the insects attacking him.
Why had they attacked him?
That was so bizarre.
And why weren’t the bugs coming en masse after her dad and her now? Besides a curious fly now and then, the rotting fruit seemed to have them preoccupied.
Speaking of the fruit, why weren’t there any monkeys here?
This would be a smorgasbord for them. Surely they could smell the rotting fruit in the breeze, even from outside the wall.
They had extremely sensitive noses. She’d read once that they could smell ripe fruit over a mile away, especially if there was a breeze and they were downwind.
It made no sense. The wall was high, but not that high.
“You hear that?” her father said quietly as she finished up with the first stone rubbing.
“Hear what?” She squatted, sliding the rice paper carefully into her pack so as not to smear the charcoal.
“Something is moving in here.”
“You mean like rats or mice?”
“No. It’s not a rustling sound, more like a wave of applause in the distance rising toward a crescendo.”
She paused in the midst of grabbing a clean piece of rice paper and frowned up at him. A wave of applause?
He took a step into the ruin, his body half in shadow.
“Dad, do not go inside.”
“I need to check this sound out.” He took another step.
“Let me rephrase that.” She stood. “We are not going inside. Like I said before, I made a promise to Quint.” And she didn’t want to break it after the mess she made with her lie. “If you go in, I’m going to have to follow you.”
“I didn’t make any promises, though.” He stepped farther inside, almost totally in shadow now. “It’s hard to see in here.” He coughed. “There’s a lot of dust in the air. I’m just going to go a little—”
“Damn it, Dad.” She grabbed a handful of his shirt, hauling him back toward the light.
He tried to struggle free of her grip, but she held tight and pulled harder, putting her weight behind it.
“Angélica, let go!” He used his fatherly tone again on her, but she wasn’t going to bend to it this time.
“No! Get your ass back out here.” She yanked on his shirt, dragging him fully into the light, and almost fell backward down the steps in the process.
His cane clattered down the stone steps. “Gatita, let go of me right …”
A blast of air whooshed out through the entrance. It reeked of ammonia and something else. Something fetid, decaying maybe. So thick she could taste it.
She wiped her mouth with the collar of her shirt.
The applause sound coming from inside the entrance grew louder, rising in volume rapidly, reminding her of an incoming wave in a rocky surf.
She knew that sound.
Oh, fuck!
“Dad!” she called over the growing roar. “Get back!”
She rushed him down the steps, practically dragging him to the side of the entrance.
He stumbled into her in their haste, and her boot heel connected with a root.
Together, they hit the ground, her body cushioning her dad’s fall, lucky for him.
It was not so fortunate for her left butt cheek, though, which had met up with a stone and undoubtedly would be sporting a helluva bruise for show-and-tell later tonight.
Her groan as she sat upright next to her father was no match for the roaring ruckus coming from inside the tomb.
Before she could ask if he was okay, a black cloud exploded out from the entrance.
And kept exploding, and swirling, and darkening the sky.
The sound of flapping wings and high-pitched squeaking filled her ears.
Her dad turned to her, his eyes wide with excitement as he yelled one word. “Bats!”