Beautiful Sacrifice

two men, Carlos went to stand in front of his desk. At his signal one of the men began serving iced water with slices of lime. As the man moved, Hunter noticed that he was dressed like the others, walked like he had a sore gut, and in addition to a bruise or two, he wore what looked like a bulky bandage around his ribs under the loose shirt. All of the men had hair as thick and black as night, worn pushed back over their shoulders like a mane.
    Hunter assumed they were armed because it would be stupid to think otherwise.
    The man offered Carlos the first glass of water, Abuelita the second. When he held a glass out to Lina, she shook her head. Much to Hunter’s disappointment, no one else was offered a drink. Broken crystal had intensely sharp edges.
    “Who are these men?” Lina asked Carlos, her voice caught between impatience and unease.
    “They are my people. The one with the bandaged hand is called Blood Lily,” he said in the local Mayan dialect. “No Tomorrows is in the hallway. Two Shark and Water Bat brought you here.”
    If the others had names, Carlos didn’t mention them.
    Hunter didn’t understand the words, for they were as Yucatec as the men. Lina translated for him, and added that she would continue to do so unless people spoke Spanish or English.
    Carlos shrugged.
    Celia moved restlessly, like someone who was about to stand. A sharp gesture from Carlos kept her seated. The lines on her face tightened, telling anyone who cared that she was barely tolerating her cousin’s demands.
    Hunter looked behind Carlos, where the server had previously blocked the view. The dense mahogany desk was cleanbut for a handful of artifacts. A scepter with obsidian teeth. A censer with openmouthed skulls decorating it and faint tendrils of copal smoke oozing out like sly tongues. A Chacmool of green stone, probably jade.
    A mask of seamless obsidian.
    Understanding crawled over Hunter like insects, but it was too late. He was way outnumbered. All he could do was wait for a chance. Or make a chance, if it came to it.
    And pray that Lina didn’t notice the artifacts behind Carlos’s body.
    “Speak to Carlos only when you are spoken to,” Abuelita said to Lina. “Listen before you judge.”
    “What—” Lina began.
    “No. Listen.”
    Lina stared at Abuelita, for the first time wondering if her mother had been right, if her great-grandmother was senile. Abuelita ignored Lina, watching Carlos, her old eyes filled with the love of a woman looking at her god.
    Uneasiness condensed into ice, making Lina shiver.
    Wind blew through the open window, but there was no moisture with it, no living scent of jungle and flowers. There was only a hint of ozone, distant lightning giving a burned edge to the air.
    Carlos breathed deeply, smiled. “Kawa’il is sharpening his blades.”
    Without looking, he reached behind him and picked up a leather-wrapped bundle. Holding it like a fragile gift, he walked to Lina. As he placed the leather in her hands, his expression was both possessive and loving.
    The fact that Lina backed up until she was almost on top of Hunter told him that she was no happier with the situation than he was. He wished he could do something about it, but hehadn’t seen an opening.
    Yet.
    “Finally you are here with me,” Carlos said to Lina, coming closer despite her retreat. “After so many ignored invitations and other, firmer overtures.”
    Drawn by the unexpected gleam of obsidian on the desk, Lina looked past Carlos. Then she went pale, shaking her head as though refusing to accept what she didn’t want to know.
    But she did know it, and nothing would ever be the same.
    “The parking garage,” she said to Carlos, her voice too tight. Like her hands, her body, her throat. “Those were your men.” She looked at the silent Maya men around the room. “These men.”
    Hunter knew that she had figured out how deeply they were in trouble. Don’t lose it, sweetheart. You need every nerve you have.
    We both do.
    Yet the desire to clamp his hands around Carlos’s throat and squeeze almost overwhelmed Hunter’s control. Motionless, he fought himself. Lina needed him more than he needed to punish Carlos for Jase’s near death.
    “Yes, they were in the parking garage,” Carlos said calmly. “If they had hurt you, they wouldn’t be here. They would be in Xibalba, waiting for the wheel to turn.”
    “Why?” she demanded. “Why hurt Jase? He bled so—” Her voice broke. The package Carlos had