Chapter 11 #2
Beneath it, he’d built a flow chart.
The bloodline connection has to exist → Lechuza transformed → The font recognized the Veil form → The key/lock mechanism engaged → FAILURE POINT = incomplete resonance synchronization?
Off to the side, he’d written another cluster of questions so aggressively the marker strokes cut into each other.
Who was her ancestor?
How far back do the records go?
Has the bloodline remained intact?
Any recurring symbols?
Oral traditions tied to the font?
Private journals?
Hidden archives?
Then lower, separated from the rest, boxed in twice:
She killed a conquistador named Cisco.
Fly stared at that line the longest.
Cisco who?
What exactly had been happening during the Incan collapse when the conquistadors arrived?
Somewhere inside all of this, buried beneath five centuries of missing information, was the variable that had stopped the font from opening.
The doors opened, and Fly looked up automatically, and for one strange second the room stopped feeling modern.
Lechuza stepped inside dressed in black and gold that caught the low light like living fire.
The simple black, capped sleeve shirt clung close to her body in layered silk embroidered with geometric gold thread that mirrored the chakana patterns spread across the documents in front of him, paired with gold, poofy, skirt-like shorts shot through with bronze.
He recognized the Urquchillay, the god who watched over animals, depicted as a multicolored, metallic llama.
The Urcaguary followed, the god of jewels and precious metals, a cross between a deer and a snake, then the Supay, the god of death, and finally the god of creation, Pacha Kamaq.
It translated to Earth Maker, a geometric face in a circle.
Gold cuffs circled both wrists. Her dark braid fell over one shoulder, woven through with thin metallic strands that flashed bronze when she moved.
She looked less like a CIA operative and more like something the mountains themselves had shaped and hidden away for centuries.
The power from the Veil swirled around her, and he swayed slightly in his chair, dizzy as he studied her aura, now shot through with that unmistakable, luscious lapis lazuli, so deeply blue he felt it in his chest.
Sunlight, thick with dust motes, slanted through the tall, arched windows, illuminating the ancient wisdom held within the shelves.
The light caressed her, loved her out in the open, and when Flash entered, Fly swore it bent toward him with an aching yearning.
His aura had been altered, too, mirroring that blue light at a paler frequency.
This place was for quiet contemplation, but the air between the two of them was charged with a tension that felt electric, a storm building in a bottle.
Fly’s shoulders eased. That bruised energy was dissipating.
So it looked like they made some inroads toward getting closer.
That was good, and a relief. Without them, the planet was doomed.
His teammates followed, and Easy sauntered over and plopped down looking rested and full of sass. “Damn, Professor, it looks like the Da Vinci Code in here.”
Fly reached for a chair, sat down, fighting vertigo, sending his hands through his hair.
Easy peered at him. “Did you get any sleep, broski? Food?”
Fly waved him off. “Slept for a bit, and if I eat another bite of delicious food, I’m going to need another nap.”
“Amen to that,” Twister said. “If we lived here, PT would be more than training. It’d be a necessity.”
North nodded. “It’s made with power in it.” He turned to Lechuza. “In that Like Water for Chocolate sense. The person who made the food resonates with your blood.”
“She’s my distant cousin. Her bloodline stems from an ancient folklore. The First Weavers, the Q’apaq Qillqay. They’re said to be the Sovereign Scribes of cosmic reality.”
Fly stiffened and sat up. “I read something about that. I’m picking up some Quechua.”
Lechuza lifted her chin. “Seriously, in twelve hours.”
“I’m a fast learner.” He tapped his temple. “Eidetic memory.”
“Photographic?” Twister said. “Ah, that explains a lot.”
“Yeah, try to deal with him when he’s acing every class, and you have to buckle down and actually study. All he wants to do is play basketball. He has the resources of the Energizer Bunny and none of the cuteness,” North said.
“Aw, come on, Than. I’m cute,” Fly said with a smirk.
“My ass,” North said with a grin.
Fly looked at Lechuza, his face sobering. “Have a seat, Killa. I have some questions.”
She walked over and settled in the seat Easy vacated. Flash stayed near the doorway, leaning against the frame. He looked calm, but Fly sensed his agitation, and something else brewing, but being held tight by his formidable control.
“Our number one priority is to understand you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, that font opened to you. It knows you.”
“Yes, I felt that, but when I tried to open the way into the Veil, it responded to me but ignored my request.”
Fly nodded. “Yeah, you’re the bloodline, but something has to be missing. What do you know about your ancestor, the one from the vision?”
“Not much.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Close your eyes and think about that vision. What did you feel from her?”
Lechuza swallowed and looked over her shoulder to Flash. He pushed off the doorframe and came up behind her, sliding his hand against her neck. She blinked several times, the terror she obviously experienced framed in those dark eyes, but like the badass she was, she closed her eyes.
“She was protecting the font. That much was clear, but…she’s the Keeper, a mystic, warrior…
and priestess. She’s the only keyholder.
Our bloodline…” Lechuza gasped and Flash’s hand steadied her.
“Vilcabamba. We killed their emissary, so much distrust and too much violence between us. We burned the city and fled. They rode us down, slaughtering indiscriminately, defenseless men, women, and children.” She reached up and covered Flash’s hand.
“She loved Cisco…I can’t get a first or last name.
He was Spanish, a conquistador.” She bent her head, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“The look on his face. I’ll never forget it.
No blame or anger, just…aching sorrow.” She covered her face, weeping.
Flash’s expression contorted in rage as he pulled her up and cradled her against him. In a tone he’d never heard from his easy-going brother, Flash rasped out, “Is this necessary?”
Fly nodded. “I’m afraid it is. This isn’t going to get any easier. Truth hurts, but we have to get at it. That’s all I can think. I’ve been having nightmares about it being a white rabbit and slipping out of my grasp. It’s the key.”
“To what end?”
“Her name. If we know her name, Lechuza can have something solid to identify her, something with which to know her, reconnection. This is all about connection. It’s obvious that this vision is important or she wouldn’t have seen it.” Fly gentled his voice. “What caused the flashback?”
Lechuza angrily wiped away the tears. She looked at Flash. “The scar on his side, the one that touches his chakana tattoo.”
“Can I see it?” Fly asked.
Flash released her enough to pull up his T-shirt.
He looked at Lechuza. Her mouth tightened, and she untucked and pulled up hers.
They were identical except for Flash’s trident…
something dropped into place. Fly rubbed the trident beneath his heart.
She shifted and her tattoo came into contact with his.
They both closed their eyes and gasped, and a wave of energy pulsed out of them, catching them all in its wake.
Everyone made some kind of sound, but instead of something releasing, it only built.
The power buzzed in his fingertips, along his skin, the hair lifting at the back of his neck.
“O…kayyy,” he said, his voice strained. “That’s something. We’ll talk later, Flash.” He returned his attention to Lechuza.
“I’ve been hampered by the language. I need your help.” He reached across the table and picked up a book. “This is a copy of an ancient volume, the original, your dad told me, is in a museum in Lima.” He pointed to a column. “Can you read this?”
She took the book in her hands, and her eyes went over the text. “It’s about the fall of the empire and the conquistadors. The author is terrified.”
“Why?”
“The priestess was killed, and with her death, something was sealed, something vital, but it doesn’t name it.”
A current of pure excitement went through him. “Does he name her, the priestess?”
“No, not here. Let me see.” She turned back and searched, then went past the passage he found. She stiffened with an audible gasp. “Quri Killa Inti. Sun, moon, gold. My name in between.”
Flash reacted in the same manner. “What did you just say?”
“Quri Killa.” She swiveled to look up at him. “You called me that before I tried to get you to leave. When you refused.”
He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes. “I know that name, but I don’t know how.”
“That’s it,” Fly said softly. “Quri Killa Inti. That gives me a starting point. Now let’s find out about her.”