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He realized he was ravenously hungry. Glancing at the woven bags the women had set down, he saw they were filled with ripe mangoes. What was the word for “hungry”? He searched his memory without success, then rubbed his stomach as he pointed to the mangoes. His stomach growled obligingly, causing the women to laugh again. Bacal took a mango from her bag, peeled it and handed it to him.

The pearly gray of the early-morning sky had deepened to blue now and the sun was peeping over the edges of the trees to the east of the Ceremonial Center. Bacal and Tzytzyan picked up their bags and motioned for him to follow them. They walked toward the Great Pyramid. Nic looked around and saw women crossing the Ceremonial Center from all directions, most carrying large woven bags like Bacal and Tzytzyan. Many had babies strapped to their backs, and small naked children toddled next to their mothers or chased each other, darting in and out between the women’s legs. Some of the women held live fowl by the legs, and a few balanced iguanas atop their heads. Nic realized they must be going to market. He was the only man.

News of his presence spread quickly and he was soon surrounded by women. The bolder ones reached out to touch his shirt and his shorts. They stared at his tennis shoes while Nic stared back at them, fascinated. All were dressed alike, though the embroidery on their skirts varied.

As a group, they passed the Great Pyramid and entered the Plaza of a Thousand Columns, toward a wide-open space of packed earth. Here the women began to unload their wares, some directly onto the ground, and some on reed mats which they unfurled. Nic was amazed at the variety of foodstuffs. There were many types of dried and salted fish, piles of leathery-looking eggs which Nic at first took for very old chicken eggs but which on closer inspection proved to be turtle eggs, hollowed-out gourds full of fragrant honey, miniature pyramids of mangoes, many-hued maize, various types of dried beans, live iguanas, fowl, several types of melons, peanuts, jicamas, papayas, plums. As the women arranged their merchandise they laughed and talked with each other in rapid Maya, of which Nic caught only a few words. The children ran and played. Some carried wooden dolls, others small bows and arrows. Most were entirely naked, though Nic noticed that many of the girls had thin cords around their waists, attached to shells in front. These hung down in front like small loincloths. The boys had small white discs tied into their hair at the crown. Nic was ransacking his brain for the words to ask Bacal the reason for these when the conversation around him ceased. Looking up, he saw the women turning away from him and looking at the ground.

Before he could turn around, Nic felt his arm grasped roughly. He was spun around to find himself facing four men who looked at him without smiling. They were dressed like the men he had seen in the holographic image the other night. Two of them had high sloping foreheads and heads which rose to a rounded point, obviously the result of the infant ritual Nic had described to the tourists that day at the Sacred Well which now seemed so long ago. He tried unsuccessfully not to stare. The four men stared back at him, at his short hair and outlandish clothes, his smooth skin unmarked by tattoos and his unadorned earlobes.

One of the men with misshapen skulls appeared to be of higher rank than the other three, to judge from the elaborate embroidery on his mantle and the ends of his loincloth, where small brightly-colored feathers were woven into the designs. He was around thirty-five, with narrow, coal-black eyes, a beak-like nose, and cheekbones so pronounced it seemed they would pierce the smooth brown skin of his face. At a signal from his hand, the man holding Nic’s arm released him. All four folded their arms over their chests and looked at him. The chief asked Nic where he had come from. Nic lifted his hands and shrugged his shoulders. The chief, taller and more muscular than the other three, came closer and examined Nic’s face. Nic looked back at him. The chief frowned, and Nic dropped his eyes, belatedly realizing that it might not be a good idea to look one of superior rank in the eye. All around them the women were going quietly about their business without looking at the men.

“What is your name?” the chief asked him now. Nic answered. Unlike their modern counterparts, the men didn’t laugh. They conferred among themselves while he waited. Then the chief turned back to him.

“What’s your name?” Nic asked. There was a collective gasp, and all, even the women, looked toward the chief to see how he would handle this affront. His face reddened with anger. Nic held his breath. What had he done? The chief seemed ready to strike him, but then his face relaxed into a less threatening expression. He said, “We will teach you our ways.”

After another conference among the men, the chief spoke to Bacal in a low voice, and the four walked on. As soon as they were out of earshot, all the women gathered around Bacal and began to talk excitedly. She smiled, gathered up her mangoes and gave them to Tzytzyan. By this time the market was full of women buying and selling, and all stared at Nic as Bacal led him away from the marketplace.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked her.

“To the fields. I am to take you to my—“ Here Bacal used a word Nic didn’t know, but he guessed she meant her husband. Walking swiftly ahead of him with head down, her glossy black braid hanging down her back, she led him away from the Ceremonial Center and through the jungle along a path Nic was not familiar with. She seemed shy now that they were alone, and made no attempt to converse. Her silence didn’t bother Nic, who gazed around him in fascination, wondering when he would have time to explore his surroundings. The jungle looked much the same, though he glimpsed several wild animals through the dense foliage: quetzales, tropical birds with long, bright blue tailfeathers, flitted from branch to branch, monkeys shrieked and chattered, and he even saw a sloth hanging from a high branch. Nic wanted to laugh with excitement: he didn’t have the faintest idea how he would get back to the present, but for now he was living his dream: to be immersed in history. The only thing that would have made it more perfect would have been to have Itzel with him.

The jungle path ended in a vast cleared area. Nic shaded his eyes against the sudden brightness and saw long fields of plowed earth. Men dressed in simpler versions of the loincloths and mantles the four men had worn moved along the rows, long staffs in their hands.

“What are they doing?” Nic asked Bacal. One good thing about pretending amnesia, he thought- it allowed him to ask as many stupid questions as he wanted.

She smiled at him and said, “They’re planting the corn. It’s almost time for the rains.”

A man had seen them and was walking toward them. Bacal introduced him as her husband and left. Nachancán looked very much like his 21^st-century counterparts. Shorter than Nic, compact and muscular, he had a shock of unruly black hair, a high forehead, prominent cheekbones and the trademark aquiline Mayan nose. Heavy black brows overshadowed his black eyes and gave him a threatening expression which his unsmiling perusal of Nic did nothing to dispel. Finally an extra staff was produced and Nachancán showed Nic how to walk slowly down the furrow, making shallow holes with his staff, dropping a few grains of corn into each one and covering them with earth. Though the work was easy, Nic soon felt tired and thirsty. The sun climbed higher in the sky and sweat ran down his face. The other men showed no signs of halting their labors. To distract himself, he thought of Itzel and her parents. They had to have discovered the amulet was missing by now. He could imagine how angry they must be, and how disappointed. Thinking about it now, Nic wished he had told Itzel about his plans. She was probably sad as well as disappointed. The thought that he might never see her again hit him like a punch to the solar plexus.

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Gingerly carrying the cap with the amulet like a captive animal inside it, Nic walked to an open area bathed in bright moonlight and knelt on the grass. This was it. His stomach felt queasy and it was difficult to breathe. His hand trembling, he took up the jade disc, grimacing in pain as the jolt of electricity burned its way through him. He held it up toward the full moon. The charge in his arm steadily increased. His whole body was vibrating now, and sweat poured from him. Clenching his teeth against the searing pain, he pressed the amulet to his chest. A wave of nausea swept over him and the arm holding the jade felt limp. As he tried to lift it from his chest, the amulet rose suddenly of its own accord, pulling his nerveless arm behind it, and slammed into his forehead. A wind howled all around him and terror engulfed him. He struggled to pull the amulet from his forehead, but it seemed to have become embedded in his flesh, and a white-hot pain bored into his skull. The wind increased and all around him was darkness. He closed his eyes and fell into it.

**

The sky was beginning to lighten when Nic stirred and opened his eyes. He was lying face-down on the ground. He wiggled his fingers and toes cautiously. They responded. Good, he wasn’t paralyzed. Suddenly a jolt of panic brought him to a sitting position: the amulet! He felt all around him, peering at the ground through the half-light, but it was nowhere to be found. Great. Now he would really be in trouble with Itzel, not to mention Malinali. Someone must have walked by during the night and picked it up. He stood up slowly and painfully, his eyes still scanning the ground. Something was different, but he couldn’t figure out what. The grass- that was it. What had happened to the grass? All around him was hard-packed earth.

Nic’s stomach turned over and he forced himself to raise his eyes from the ground. In the fresh light of early dawn he saw the pyramids and temples of the ceremonial site in all their splendor, the missing stones replaced and the ruins rebuilt. Everything was just as it had appeared to him the other night. This time, though, the structures were not holographic images, but solid and real. What was more, where there had been nothing the time before but wide expanses of packed earth, there were now a number of low wooden structures with peaked, densely thatched roofs, arranged in concentric circles around the temples and pyramids. A wave of faintness washed over Nic. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, shaking his head to clear it of the images imprinted on his mind. It was no use, however- when he opened his eyes again, the buildings were still there.

Nic resisted the urge to turn and run and forced himself to be calm. As far as he could see, there were two possible explanations: either the world’s largest construction crew, overseen by Mayan archaeologists and historians, had been here overnight, rebuilding the pyramids and temples of Chichen Itzá and erecting the wooden dwellings which stubbornly proclaimed their existence before his unbelieving eyes—or the ceremony he had performed with the amulet had catapulted him back in time. The first explanation was absurd and impossible, but the second was even more so. His brain refused to accept either.

Nic resolved to draw no conclusions for the moment. He judged that it was still early, since the sun was not yet up and no one was in sight. With no idea of what to do next, he began to walk toward one of the wooden structures. As he neared it his curiosity made him forget everything else. It was a long building with an overhanging thatch that ran the length of it. A whitewashed wall bisected it lengthwise. Several doors opened into the back half of the house, but the front half was open on three sides, like a deep porch. The whitewashed wall was decorated with colorful frescos. Nic came as close as he dared and stared at them, marveling at the freshness and brilliance of the paintings. There was Itzámná, the Corn God, with the young cornstalk springing from his head, and Ixchel, the goddess of childbirth, as he had never seen them before. Forgetting himself, Nic lifted his foot toward the raised wooden floor when the sound of footsteps behind him froze him in mid-step.

There was no place to hide. He turned and saw two women walking toward him, engrossed in conversation. They wore loose, sacklike cotton dresses with colorful embroidery around the scoop necks and on the sleeves. One had a baby slung across her back in a shawl. Each had a large woven basket in her hand.

The woman with the shawl saw him first. She halted abruptly and turned to her companion, saying something in a low voice. Together they stared at him, eyes wide. Nic frantically tried to remember the Mayan words and phrases he had learned at school that year. It had been modern Mayan, but hopefully the language hadn’t changed too much in a thousand years. He brushed the dirt off his clothes and waited for what came next.

Nic estimated that the women were in their mid-twenties, not much older than he was. He took a step toward them and held out his empty hands. They retreated. He smiled, pointed to himself and said in Mayan, “My name is Nic.” The two women looked at him in wonder and again at each other. The baby started to cry. Without taking her eyes off Nic, the woman set her basket down, reached into the front of her dress and pulled out one of her breasts. Then she moved the sling around her body so that the baby was positioned in front of her. It started to suckle.

Flustered, Nic averted his eyes. His embarrassment increased when he realized he was wearing khaki cargo shorts and a tie-dyed T-shirt. He took a deep breath and looked at the women again.

The other woman said something to him in a soft, singsong voice. Nic was thrilled when he caught a few words. She was asking him, predictably, who he was and where he came from. She was taller than he would have expected and wore her hair in a long, shining coal-black braid, as did her companion. Her black almond-shaped eyes reminded him of Itzel’s, but the resemblance ended there. Both she and her friend had amber studs in their noses and multiple rings in their earlobes, and their chests and upper arms were tattooed in graceful patterns.

He lifted his hands and shrugged his shoulders. She looked at the other woman and said something he didn’t understand, then both looked at him, frowning.

Now what? On impulse, he took off his T-shirt and held it out. The one without the baby extended her hand timidly and took it. Her friend approached and both examined the shirt as he watched, feeling the weave, tracing the multi-colored tie-dyed pattern with their fingers, even raising it to their noses. Nic blushed again and hoped it was clean.

They turned back to him and smiled for the first time. Their top teeth were filed to sharp points, and the one with the baby had a jade stud embedded in one of her front teeth. Her companion stepped forward now and handed Nic’s T-shirt back to him. He put it on, feeling a barrier had been surmounted.

“My name is Nic,” he said again. He pointed to himself, then toward the women. “What are your names?” They looked at each other and laughed. Then the one he had handed the shirt to pointed to herself and said,

“Bacal.” She pointed at her friend and said what sounded like “Tzytzyan” and then at him: “Nic.” He indicated the nursing baby and said “What’s his name?”

Tzytzyan spoke for the first time: “Balam.” She drew the shawl back, revealing the child’s head. It had abundant black hair cut in a bowl shape and was about ten months old.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Nic asked. Tzytzyan smiled again and repeated the word he had used for “boy.” They all laughed as Balam, at his mother’s touch, pulled his mouth away from the breast with a sucking sound and stared at Nic with round black eyes.

Nic was filled with elation at the success of his attempts to communicate. This was history! These were his ancestors, the ancient Mayas!

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Nic flinched and cried out as the jolt ran up his arm, paralyzing his shoulder and piercing his heart with thin shafts of pain. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the amulet. He felt Itzel holding his other hand and heard her calling his name, but her voice sounded faint and far away, and when he opened his eyes, he saw no one. He turned back to the Ceremonial Center, still clutching the amulet, and his mouth dropped open. Thoughts of Itzel and the searing pain in his arm receded before the scene that presented itself to him. Before him in the shadowy darkness lay the ruins of the Center, but superimposed on them like vast holographic images were the same structures made new. Not a stone was out of place, not a weed grew between the carefully placed bricks. Instead of grass, the ground between the pyramids and platforms was paved. The scene was deserted. Nic did not have time, though, to take in all the details because as he watched, a group of men came into view from behind the Great Pyramid. He squinted through the pale moonlight and determined that there were five of them and that they were headed in his direction. He stared, spellbound. As they neared, he could see they were Mayan Indians, tall and dark-skinned, with black hair cut short on top and long braids wound around their heads. All of them were dressed in strips of richly embroidered cloth wrapped around their waists, one end of which hung down in front and the other in back, like long loincloths. Around their shoulders were thrown large square mantles of embroidered muslin, and on their feet were sandals. Tattoos marked their cheeks and gold hoops hung from their earlobes. But the strangest thing about them was that he could see right through them. Like the structures around them, they were made of translucent, incorporeal stuff. Engrossed in a conversation which Nic could not hear, they walked toward him at a leisurely pace, evidently making for the same path he and Itzel had just taken through the jungle. They were almost upon him. Nic shrank back and dropped the amulet. The men vanished.

Nic slumped against the back of the bench, his heart beating violently. The adrenaline which still coursed through his arms and legs had left them rubbery. He turned to find Itzel looking at him with lively curiosity.

“What did you see?”

“You didn’t see the Ceremonial Center or the five men?”

“What five men? There’s no one else here.” She looked around the deserted site, then back at Nic, her eyes wide. “I could tell you couldn’t see me, and then your face went all white. You’re not making this up, are you?”

“Why would I make it up, especially with you?” He embraced her, glad of her solidity and warmth. The amulet lay on the bench between them. He described what he had seen. “What I don’t understand is why they were insubstantial.” He frowned and thought hard. “It’s as if the amulet wanted to take me back to the past, but it wasn’t operating at full power.”

“Maybe it’s lost power in all the years it’s been passed down in our family,” suggested Itzel. “Remember the archaeologist said they thought each amulet was invested with magical powers for one sacrifice in particular.”

“I just wish I knew how it works. I don’t think it’s lost power, I think something’s missing. Or maybe I’m not doing it right.”

“I wonder why my mom and I can’t feel it?”

“I don’t know. My mom tells me I’ve always been psychic. My dreams, especially my daydreams, are so vivid sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t.”

“You’re lucky,” Itzel said. “That must add a whole other dimension to your life.” She shifted on the bench and massaged the back of her neck.

“Are you all right?” Nic asked.

“It’s nothing, I just feel tired all of a sudden,” Itzel answered. “It’s getting pretty late, isn’t it?”

“Yes, almost midnight.” Nic stood up, contrite. “Let’s go. I’ve kept you up far too long.”

Itzel picked up the amulet and they walked back through the jungle. After saying goodnight, Nic went to his room and began to take off his clothes, then changed his mind and lay down on the bed, fully dressed. He waited until he was sure Itzel was asleep, then retrieved the flashlight from the cupboard where he had seen José put it and went out again, directing his steps to the secret room.

Inside the pyramid, he flashed the light around the walls until he found the four panels. Standing as close as he could, he examined the carvings again, moving the beam of the flashlight over them inch by inch. He acted out the high priest’s movements in each scene in order to fix them in his memory. When he played the flashlight over the top of the panels, he saw something he hadn’t seen before: a fan of dotted lines suggesting rays of light, almost too faint to be seen, descending from the upper right-hand corner of each panel to just above the head of the kneeling female figure.

“Like sunlight or moonlight,” he said aloud. The image he had seen the first time he touched the amulet came to mind: the full moon, reflected in green water. The next step was clear: he had to repeat the movements of the priest in the bas-relief when the moon was full. The fact that he had absolutely no idea what would happen sent a shiver down his spine.

Chapter Ten

After three endless weeks, the night of the full moon arrived. Nic had decided not to tell Itzel his plans for fear she would try to stop him. Also, he knew it would be bad for her health, which had continued to decline. She had cut back on the number of tours she gave and now rarely climbed to the top of the Great Pyramid. Nic had followed José and Malinali’s lead and avoided the subject of her health. He admired Itzel’s pluck; though tired much of the time, she was almost always cheerful.

He had kept busy, finding it the easiest way to cope with the helplessness he felt whenever he looked at her. He spent most days writing and studying, keeping Itzel company on the few tours she did give, drawing in his notebook and talking to José and Malinali. Itzel no longer talked about her exchange program, and Nic didn’t bring it up either. Mainly, he thought about what might happen on the night of the full moon. He had decided that the only way to get the amulet would be to take it. After all, he reasoned, I’m only borrowing it. He had heard a popular Mexican saying, Más vale pedir perdón que permiso, which translated to “Better to ask pardon than permission.” Maybe they would forgive him when they discovered it was gone. Or maybe the whole thing would be a dud, and the amulet would be back on the altar before anyone realized it.

Nic was lying on the grass near the Great Pyramid, looking up at the night sky. The moon was so bright the ruins glowed with a faint pearly splendor, and when he raised his arm to look at his watch, it made a shadow on the grass next to him. Only nine o’clock. He’d have to wait another couple of hours to be sure everyone was asleep. He had decided to stay at the Ceremonial Center rather than go home for dinner and risk questions about his plans for that evening. Itzel knew he loved the Center at night when it was deserted. Normally she would have come to join him after dinner, but she’d been feeling so tired lately. . . Nic sighed. Sometimes he wished he’d never gotten into all of this. It had been a month now and his parents still hadn’t called.

Here under the stars, though, peace reigned. A gentle warm breeze sighed through the treetops and ruffled his hair. It had a faint tang of salt, reminding Nic that Chichen Itzá was only a hundred miles from the ocean. That would be something fun to do with Itzel. They could pack a picnic lunch and spend the day lying on the sand and playing in the water. Why hadn’t he thought of that? After all, Chichen Itzá wasn’t the whole world. He imagined taking Itzel to Disneyland, once she was better. She would love the rides. He felt himself drifting off.

Suddenly Nic snapped awake and looked at his wristwatch. It was 11:20. The moon was still high in the sky. He jumped to his feet and sprinted across the close-cropped grass. A few minutes later, he halted before the front door, listening. There was no sound inside. He eased open the door, slipped through and went into his room, where he took off his wristwatch and left it under his pillow. Its ticking wasn’t very loud, but he wanted to be as quiet as possible in what he was about to do. Picking up a baseball cap, he left the room. Now for the hard part. He tiptoed to José and Malinali’s room. The door was ajar and from the darkness he could hear the sound of regular breathing. On the far wall, the tiny flames of the lit votive candles on the altar gave off a weak glow that illuminated the curve of Malinali’s cheek. Nic took a couple of deep breaths before entering the room. His heart raced as he tiptoed toward the opposite wall. When he reached the altar he propped the baseball cap under the stone ledge of the altarpiece. With his other hand he fished the knife he had taken from the kitchen out of his pocket. Glancing at the bed every few seconds, his heart pounding like a trip hammer, he used the knife to coax the amulet toward the edge of the altar. It made a small scraping sound as it slid over the stone. Malinali stirred and turned over. Nic froze and his mouth went dry. She gave a sigh and settled into sleep again. One more push and the amulet fell into the cap with a soft thunk. He turned and rapidly tiptoed from the room, thanking heaven for tile floors that didn’t squeak.

Once outside the house a wave of euphoria washed over Nic so he could barely contain himself. He ran down the jungle path as fast as he could and emerged into the Ceremonial Center, a safe distance from the house. Setting the cap carefully on the bench, he leaped into the air, waving his arms and letting out a wild whoop of victory. He had done it.

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At breakfast Nic and José drank their atole in silence. Malinali was washing dishes in the kitchen and Itzel was still asleep, exhausted from the excitement of the previous day. When they pushed their chairs back after breakfast, José asked Nic if he could walk with him. Nic agreed, wondering what was coming. Something to do with Itzel’s and Malinali’s illness, no doubt. He knew that, however irrational it might be, all three of the Morenos had pinned their hopes on him, and the delay his parents had run up against in their attempts to see the doctor made for a tense atmosphere in the house. What made it worse were his own feelings for Itzel. A cold hand clenched his heart every time he heard her cough or saw the dark circles under her eyes. How had José stood it all these years, seeing Malinali get sicker by the day? Even the excitement of the archaeologist’s talk the day before and the mystery surrounding the jade dimmed in comparison with his ever-present worry.

He picked up his notebook and pencil with a listless expression and followed José out the door. When they reached the bench at the edge of the ceremonial site, José, his face solemn, sat down and motioned for Nic to sit beside him. “Ever since you and Itzel came back from that talk yesterday I’ve been thinking,” he said. “The man said the jade discs were used in human sacrifices?”

“Yes.”

“Did he explain how they were used?”

“He said that each amulet was made for a specific sacrifice. And he showed us the photo of the four panels in the secret room. Oh, by the way, I did compare the drawing of the amulet to the ones in the bas-reliefs, and they’re the same.”

José looked at him, his expression impenetrable.

“What are you thinking?” asked Nic.

The older man hesitated. “I told you I don’t think much about religion, not the way Malinali does. It’s not that I don’t believe,“ he hastened to add. “But I think there’s only one explanation for this.”

“For what?” Nic asked.

“For Itzel’s and Malinali’s condition. For the way all the women on Malinali’s side have been sick.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s the jade, don’t you see?” José’s voice betrayed his impatience. “You just told me the científico yesterday said they had only found them in the Sacred Well.”

“Yes. . .”

“So the fact that Malinali has one can only mean one thing: that one of her ancestors was supposed to be sacrificed and it didn’t happen. That’s why it didn’t end up in the well like all the others.”

“I agree, that’s a plausible explanation for why Malinali has the amulet. Of course, there could be any number of other reasons—”

José was shaking his head. “No, there’s no other reason. The gods are angry.”

Nic looked at him in disbelief. “So you think Malinali’s and Itzel’s condition is some sort of. . . curse?”

José looked at him defiantly. “Can you think of a better explanation?”

Nic stared at him. What a crazy idea. And yet. . .there was no denying there was much he didn’t understand about the amulet. He couldn’t ignore the electric shock it had given him both times he had handled it, and the images that had rushed into his mind. He felt a sudden shiver of fear. But. . . divine retribution? That was taking it too far. He said, ”José, listen to me. I don’t mean to knock your religion, but there are other more likely explanations. It has to be some kind of hereditary illness or a defective gene that’s been passed down from generation to generation. We have to be patient. Once my parents have talked to the doctor I’m sure things will be a lot less confusing.”

José shook his head. “You can think what you want, but you’re not going to change my mind. It’s the logical explanation. Mark my words, the doctor won’t be able to help them.”

The man’s obstinacy irritated Nic. “So what does that mean? You’re giving up?”

The little man’s face was stoic. “I just hope I’m wrong.” He sighed and stood up. “I’d better get to work.”

After he had left, Nic wandered around the Ceremonial Center. José’s idea was insane. Maybe it was true that one of Malinali’s ancestors had escaped being sacrificed, and that was why they had the amulet, but there were plenty of other possible reasons, and none of them involved divine retribution: perhaps the high priest had changed his mind and sacrificed someone else, maybe one of her ancestors had found the amulet lying on the ground somewhere and picked it up, or perhaps one of them was even a high priest himself who happened to have had an extra amulet. . . He shook his head. It was silly to keep speculating when he could never know the truth.

He could, however, learn more from the amulet itself. Since childhood, he had known he had psychic ability, and he felt sure that the images he’d seen were from the amulet’s past. He had to probe more into that past, whether it had to do with Malinali’s and Itzel’s illness or not. Even if it meant exposing himself to more unpleasant shocks. But how? Malinali had made it clear the night before that the jade was sacred, and not to be handled by anyone except in prayer. He sighed. There had to be a way.

Chapter Nine

“What?”  Itzel stared at him in shock. “You want me to do what?”

Nic raised his hands. “Whoa. I guess I’m not explaining myself well. Of course I don’t want you to steal the amulet from your mom, I just need to borrow it for a while.”

“Why?”

“I already told you what happened the two times I held it.”

“Yes. . .and I told you it was your imagination. You have to admit you have a pretty active imagination.” She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to one side.

Nic managed a smile. “Okay, guilty as charged. But this time I think it’s more than that. “ He decided against saying the amulet was trying to tell him something. “Could you just do me this one favor? Please? She’ll never even realize it’s gone.”

“All right. I’ll get it for you tonight after they’ve gone to bed,” Itzel said.

“Great! I knew I could count on you.” Nic reached out and took her hands. She looked drawn, even with the extra sleep she had gotten this morning. The tickle of fear that lived in his stomach these days intensified, but he kept it under control. He had to continue believing there was an answer.

The corners of Itzel’s mouth curled upward in a sly smile. “On the condition, of course, that I get to be with you while you’re doing your ‘experiments’.”

“Itzel—”

“It’s my amulet too, remember, not just my mom’s. Without me, you wouldn’t have any access to it at all.”

“Okay.” There was nothing else to say. It might be a good idea to have someone there in case he really did get hurt.

The evening seemed interminable. Finally Malinali said goodnight and José followed soon after. Nic sat on the small couch, pretending to read. Across the room, Itzel was working at the loom. An hour passed in silence. Lowering his book, Nic looked at Itzel and mouthed the words, “Do you think they’re asleep?”

Itzel got up and tiptoed to the door of her parents’ room, which was ajar. Looking back at him with her finger to her lips, she eased the door open and slipped inside. Nic held his breath. In a minute she was back with the amulet.

“Where?” Itzel whispered. “Here?”

Nic shook his head and motioned for her to follow him. His mouth was dry. Together they went out, closing the front door softly behind them.

The night was warm and a thin mist diffused the light of the quarter moon to a pale radiance. As they stepped outside, the neighbor’s dog began to growl. Nic tugged at Itzel’s hand, pulling her to the jungle path. The growls trailed off into silence.

“Where are you going?” complained Itzel. “I’m tired.”

“I’m not sure what’s going to happen,” Nic answered. “I don’t want to take a chance on waking your parents.” Itzel rolled her eyes.

They came out into the Ceremonial Center. Nic sat down on the bench and patted the wooden seat beside him. When they were both seated, Nic, his heart hammering against his ribs, turned to Itzel and held out his hand. Watching his face, she placed the jade in his palm.

If you missed any of the previous installments, you can find them on the “My Writing” page. Start at the bottom and scroll up! I’d love to hear your feedback.

Chapter Eight

That evening at dinner Nic and Itzel told Malinali and José about the archaeologist’s presentation. José looked thoughtful, but said nothing. Malinali asked Itzel, “Do you mean to say they’ve found other jades like mine in the Sacred Cenote?”

“Sí, Mamá.That’s the only place they’ve found them.”

Nic said, “Do you know anyone else who has one?” Malinali shook her head. “What did your mother tell you about it?”

“Nothing. She just said it was very sacred and had always been passed down from mother to daughter in our family. She taught me how to use it in my prayers just as her mother taught her and I’ve taught Itzel.”

José asked, “The man said they were used in human sacrifices?”

“Yes.” Nic explained the sequence of panels the archaeologist had shown them. “He said the panels are in a secret room inside the pyramid, one that’s not open to the public. Do you know anything about that?”

José shook his head slowly. “No. . .sorry, I don’t.”

Nic turned back to Malinali. “Would you mind—do you think I could—“

“Of course,” she said. “You want to see it again.” She got up and went into the bedroom, coming out a moment later with the amulet. As she held it out to him, a tiny arc of blue light leapt from the jade to Nic’s fingers and a jolt of electricity traveled all the way to his elbow. He jerked his hand back, sending the disc clattering onto the table, where it began to roll toward the edge. José lunged forward and caught it just before it fell. Nic fell back in his chair, his heart pounding. Images flooded his mind: a whirl of color against the dull green surface he had seen before. The reflected moon, a bright blue feather, a flash of brown cheek, a close-up of an eye like a black pool. Then, just as suddenly, the images were gone. He felt Itzel’s hand on his arm and saw her kneeling next to him.

“What was that? Why did you drop the disc?”

He looked around. All three were staring at him.

“Don’t you feel it?” he said. Malinali looked at him, mystified. Itzel took the jade from her father and held it out to Nic. He didn’t move.

“See? I don’t feel anything,” she said. She held it up before her eyes, then pulled the piece of paper from her pocket and looked at the sketch she had made. “These are definitely the same markings.” She turned it over. “The ones on the back are different, though, just as the archaeologist said.”

Malinali stood up, her eyes on the disc. “Hija?”

“Hmmm?” answered Itzel, still intent on the carvings.

“Do you think—maybe we shouldn’t be handling it like this? Maybe that’s why Nic felt something when he touched it.”

“What do you mean? I’m not doing anything to it,” Itzel said.

“Yes, but, hija, remember, it’s sacred. It’s only supposed to be used in prayer.” She held out her hand and Itzel surrendered the jade. Malinali took it back to the bedroom, then stuck her head around the door and said, “It’s getting late- I think I’ll get ready for bed. Are you coming to say prayers with me, hija?”

“Sí, Mamá.” Itzel got up from the table a little stiffly. Nic noticed the violet shadows under her eyes. “Good night, everyone.” She left the table. Nic and José sat in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Finally, José stirred and said in a whisper, “Meet me outside.”

Nic looked up, startled. The little man stood and started for the door. Nic followed. Outside, José said in a low voice, “The secret room you asked about- I do know about it. I have a key to it.”

“What?” Nic said. “You do? Why didn’t you say so?”

José looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice still more. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the women because I won the key a long time ago in a poker game with one of the other groundskeepers. Malinali doesn’t approve of gambling.”

“Where is it? Have you been inside? Have you seen the—“

José put a finger to his lips and walked farther away from the house. “Only once, long ago. The other worker told me he used it to take naps on the job, but I didn’t like it. Too dark. It gave me the willies.”

“So you never saw the carvings?”

José laughed. “I didn’t know there were any. It’s dark in there and I forgot to take a flashlight. And once I got out I never felt like going back in.”

“Would you lend it to me?“

“That’s why I told you about it. I’ve always kept it with my other keys.” He took a small rusty key off his keyring and laid it in Nic’s palm. “I suggest you go at night and take a flashlight. I have one I can lend you. I hope the padlock’s not so rusty you won’t be able to turn the key.”

Nic said, “Don’t you want to come with me?”

“No,” said José. “Once was enough for me.” He turned to go back into the house, then stopped. “Would you mind not telling Itzel? I don’t think she needs more excitement right now.”

Nic agreed reluctantly, then asked, “How do I find the entrance?”

“It’s a small door at the back of the pyramid. You have to go down some steps. People don’t notice the entrance because it’s hidden behind bushes. Wait a minute.”

He went into the house and came out again a minute later with a powerful flashlight, which he handed to Nic. “I figured you’d want to go now.”

Nic took the flashlight, his hands clammy with excitement.

It was almost ten PM. Nic forced himself to wait until eleven, then set out. He followed the now-familiar path as it wound through the jungle and came out onto the wide lawn that bordered the Ceremonial Center. There he halted for a moment. The moon was a sliver of white in the black velvet of the night sky, the Great Pyramid directly ahead of him a black cutout against the starry backdrop. The silence was absolute. He took a deep breath and walked across the lawn.

When he reached the base of the pyramid, Nic followed it around to the other side. Training the beam of the flashlight on the lowest stones, he continued to walk until he saw a clump of bushes. He kneeled and parted them with his hands. His heart beat faster as he saw a small flight of steps leading down to a padlocked door. After looking quickly around him, he pushed his way through the foliage and descended the steps, where he took the key out of his pocket and inserted it into the rusty padlock. The key threatened to bend in the lock, but at the last moment he felt it turn and the padlock creaked open. Once inside, he carefully closed the door and shone the flashlight in front of him, praying that the batteries were new. A low earthen tunnel stretched away into the darkness. Holding the light in one hand, he felt his way with the other along the musty corridor, first downhill, then uphill, then down again. The passage was cramped and he had to duck his head several times. The inky darkness pressed in on him and the silence hammered in his ears. A couple of times he heard small scrabbling noises close to his feet, and once a hanging root brushed his cheek, startling him. He took huge gulps of the stale air. Finally he reached a wooden door. He put his shoulder against it and pushed. The door resisted, then gave.

He was in a small room. As he played his flashlight around the walls, intricate scenes in bas-relief materialized from the darkness. Promising himself to return soon with extra batteries so he could examine them in detail, Nic continued to move the beam along the walls until he found what he was looking for: the four small panels he had seen earlier that day.

Nic examined the carvings. What the archaeologist had said was true, the markings on the jade amulet were much better defined in the bas-reliefs than in the photograph. He took the piece of paper Itzel had left on the table from his pocket and compared the carvings. There was no doubt. The amulet depicted in the carvings was identical to Malinali’s.

Nic sat down with his back against one of the earthen walls and switched off the flashlight to save the batteries. What did it all mean? The images that had filled his mind when he touched the amulet—where did they come from? Why did no one else feel the electrical charge from the jade? And why did Malinali have it in the first place? He wrinkled his brow in an intense effort to put the pieces together. One thing was certain: he had to touch the amulet again, and not for just a second. He stood up and looked at the panels once more, memorizing them, before making his way back through the passageway.