“So have I. That’s why I’m in America and they aren’t.”
“Can you tell us about this Kawa’il cult?” Jase asked, thinking of the basement he and Hunter had seen that morning. But it seemed a little more distant now. Bearable.
“As you would expect of a transitional religion—” Lina began.
“Transitional?” Jase interrupted.
“End of Maya rule, beginning of Spanish,” Hunter said without looking up from whatever he was sketching.
“Gotcha,” Jase said. He smiled at Lina. “Sorry for the interruption. I’m a cop, not a scholar.”
Lina smiled back. “Ask whatever and whenever you want. It’s how we both learn.”
“That’s why you’re a good teacher,” Hunter said. “You know that learning flows both ways.”
She enjoyed the warmth going through her at Hunter’s offhand compliment entirely too much. She shifted against the desk, trying to fit into skin that felt a little too tight.
“The end of any culture through war is a violent time,” Lina said, her voice husky, her eyes on Hunter, not Jase. “The cult of Kawa’il reflected that. He was a god of blood sacrifice and death. If my interpretations of the glyphs associated with him are correct, Kawa’il communicated exclusively through blood and sacred smoke.”
“Didn’t all the Maya?” Jase asked.
“It’s a matter of degree,” Lina said, looking at him. “Some gods are appeased with corn pollen, flowers, liquor, jade objects, food, that sort of thing. Kawa’il demanded more blood and sacrifice than other gods. Apparently a great deal more. I suspect that nobles who survived the ongoing war with the Spanish and the anger of their own people were in high demand as, er, conduits to Kawa’il.”
Hunter’s pencil paused.
Lina saw his bleak expression, and Jase’s, and hurried to explain. “Keep in mind that it was a horrible time for the Maya. War, subjugation, disease, their already declining civilization in pieces around them. They must have been desperate to know the minds of their gods, to understand why such calamities had come.”
Jase nodded. “So this Kawa’il ruled?”
“Only after the Spanish conquest, that we know of, and only in a very small part of Maya territory. On Reyes Balam land in Quintana Roo and government land in Belize. The presence of a god Kawa’il isn’t accepted by most of the academic community. My father has spent his life trying to prove it.”
“What do you think of the artifacts you saw in the photos?” Jase said.
“My gut says Kawa’il. My mind needs proof.”
“How about this?” Hunter asked, handing her the sketch pad.
Lina looked at the surprisingly good rendition of a jaguar altar, but it was the second sketch that drew a quick breath from her.
Hunter waited, savoring the scent of her and the warmth of her breasts swaying so close to him that if he moved his hand just a few inches…
“How big was the first artifact you sketched?” Lina asked.
Hunter forced himself to focus on the drawing rather than her tempting breasts. “The table was big enough to hold a man. From where and in what condition we found it, the table was associated with…rituals.”
“An altar, then. Was there a channel to allow blood to run off into a Chacmool?”
“The light wasn’t good enough to tell,” Hunter said.
“Where did you see this?” Lina asked.
“The other side of town,” Jase said. “One of the barrios.”
His voice caressed the Spanish word in a way that told her he was fluent in the language, perhaps had been raised speaking it. Not unusual along the Mexican-American border.
“Is it Kawa’il?” Jase asked, touching the edge of the drawing.
“It could be. It certainly is patterned after sacrificial altars of the time just before the Spanish came.” She frowned. “You said a basement. Is the altar in private hands?”
“Not anymore,” Jase said. “We arrested the gangbangers on murder and drug charges. The table will be entered as evidence and stored in someone’s evidence warehouse.”
“Could I see it?”
“If necessary,” Jase said.
“You don’t want to,” Hunter said at the same time.
“Why?” Lina asked, looking at Hunter.
“Let’s just say it seemed to be a bloody active altar.”
Lina’s eyes narrowed. “Sacrifice?”
“Oh yeah,” Jase said.
“Lots,” Hunter said.
“Human,” Lina said. It wasn’t a question.
“We’ll know for sure when the tests come back,” Jase said. “But judging from the shape of the body I saw and what I’ve heard since…yeah, human. Past tense.”
“You believe the altar was used at least once,” she said to Jase.
“Every time I get a text message, the count goes up.”
Hunter said something bleak under his breath and changed the subject, wanting to spare Lina the nightmare of that basement.
“One of the men arrested had tats like a brightly scaled snake winding up his arms. No head in sight,” Hunter added.
“Is that usual?” Lina asked.
“Never seen it before,” Hunter said.
“Me neither,” Jase said. “Snake seemed to be the chief badass in charge. The rest of them had the usual jailhouse-gangbanger tats.”
“The Maya had a scaled serpent associated with the gods, but not specifically with Kawa’il,” Lina said slowly. “Except, once again, in a very small territory.”
“Reyes Balam lands?” Hunter asked.
She nodded, hugging herself as though chilled. With an effort she forced her mind toward academic knowledge rather than the kind that shadowed Jase’s and Hunter’s eyes. It was one thing to study texts on ancient blood sacrifice. It was horrifying to hear about it happening in her own time and place.
Hunter gave Jase the sketchbook and pencils. Gently Hunter’s big hands closed over Lina’s arms, rubbing up and down, sharing warmth as though he understood the chill of violence sliding over her skin.
“Sorry.” She gave him an unsettled smile. “I don’t think of myself as being in an ivory tower, but to sacrifice people without the context of societal and religious approval is just…sick. Seriously sick. No meaning except depravity.”
“Don’t apologize for your reaction,” Jase said. “Cops exist to keep the criminally sick from the average healthy citizen. So ignore the whack jobs and tell me about Maya and snakes.”
Lina drew a deep breath. “Normally my sensitivity to cultural nuance is very useful in my studies. This time, not so much.” She took another deep breath. “So, snakes and Maya. Usually the serpent was a generalized sacred symbol connecting the underworld with the overworld. The snake was often drawn as smoke or having wings, perhaps both. Why a modern gangbanger would choose the sacred snake over a more recognized Western symbol —such as skull and bones—is a question for a psychiatrist to answer. I can’t.”
Carefully Hunter eased his hands away from Lina. The temptation to pull her onto his lap for some serious cuddling was simply too great.
“I can tell you that the jaguar was the exclusive province of Maya royalty,” she added. “Your altar was modeled after ancient Maya royal practices.”
Jase’s thick eyebrows rose. “Huh. Snake dude didn’t seem real royal to me.”
“You’re assuming he was the one using the table,” Hunter said. “I’d bet he was more palace guard than king.”
“If we get lucky, his snaky fingerprints are all over that altar,” Jase said.
“Oh, I think Snakeman is more than capable of murdering people just because he can,” Hunter said. “But he didn’t strike me as the religious type, old or new.” He took back the sketchbook and pointed to the second drawing. “What about this?”
