Treasure of the Jaguar Warrior - Mystery of the Mayan Calendar Page 11

  Jessie noticed that Jacques was nowhere to be seen as her mom said, “What a nut case.”

  “And that, as they say, is the long and short of it.” Patricia’s red lips once again fought for attention with the red sweater she wore. “For some this will be seen as a portent of doom, but for this reporter, it will be a symbol of the golden rebirth of all humanity.”

  “Notice there wasn’t a, continuation of a system that has been in motion since the beginning of time, option?” Jessie pointed out.

  “That’s my logical girl,” her mom said proudly. “Spoken like a true doctor.”

  Jessie couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would say if she told her how very illogical her life had become.

  Gloria yawned. “I’m sorry, honey, but this gal’s got to get her beauty sleep. I can’t stay up anymore.”

  “I’m going to bed too,” Jessie said as she clicked off the TV. They walked up the stairs together. “Good night, Mom.” Jessie kissed her cheek.

  “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” her mom said. “Do you happen to know where Katie keeps her Christmas decorations?”

  “They’re in the attic,” Jessie said as she opened the door to her bedroom to find Jacques lounging on the bed. “Good night, Momma,” Jessie said, closing the door. “Why did you leave?” she asked him. “You missed the grand finale with the enchantress herself.” He didn’t respond; in fact he seemed unusually quiet.

  “What is the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I think it’s time that we stop saying it’s nothing and communicate.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Jacques asked. “Are we back to the séance thing again?”

  “I mean that I feel like there is something else,” Jessie said. “Like you are hiding something from me.”

  He sighed heavily but remained quiet.

  “All right,” Jessie sighed, heading for the bathroom, “you leave me no other choice.”

  “You are going to flush?” he asked.

  “No,” Jessie said, pausing to kick off her house shoes. “I am going to go first.”

  “Do what first?” He raised a brow, watching her take her robe off.

  “Not what you’re hoping,” Jessie said. “Today, when I left that store, you asked me what happened, and I said nothing.”

  “It was not nothing?” He raised a brow.

  “No,” Jessie sighed again. “It was not nothing. Something very strange happened.”

  “Strange can be a relative thing I’ve discovered.” He smiled.

  She was glad to see him come back to his old self a little. “True, and since my strange meter has gone off the charts, I tried to take this in stride, but—” She paused, thinking.

  “What happened?”

  “The lady on the News tonight, the expert on Mayans, went in to some kind of trance.” Jessie swallowed.

  “A trance?” Jacques asked, clearly curious now.

  Jessie nodded. “Mostly she was spouting nonsense, talking about smoke and mirrors.” Jacques dismissed that information with a shake of his head. “That’s not all. . . .” Jessie said. “She told me there was a dark presence near me, a demon lurking in the mist.” Jessie noticed the expression on Jacques’s face was pained as she said it. “Jacques, do you know what this means? Is an evil magician going to pop out of the woodwork next?”

  “Jessie.” Jacques stood up and started pacing the room.

  Rather than run into him, Jessie sat down on the end of the bed and let him have the floor. “Yes?”

  “I have something to tell you.”

  “Okay,” Jessie said. What could possible make him this agitated? She watched as he continued pacing the floor. “What is it?”

  He stopped. The look in his eyes was one of torment as he stared at her.

  “Jacques, please.”

  “I am so sorry,” he said, his eyes full of anguish.

  “Jacques, we have discussed this. It’s not your fault.”

  “Non!” he said sadly. “It is my fault.” He took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. “I betrayed everyone.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “How?”

  “The map.” He turned, running a hand through his hair.

  “Your treasure map?” Jessie asked.

  He nodded. “I was young and didn’t heed the warnings. Worse, I saw it as a lark, a way to escape, and have the wealth I’d always dreamt of.” He paused. “I went in search of it . . . violating the sacred oath my forefathers had sworn.” He turned eyes filled with anguish upon her. “Don’t you see? I brought the curse down on my family . . . on me . . . on everyone I ever loved.”

  “The curse on your name?” Jessie asked, puzzled by what that meant.

  “Yes—no, it is not just the name,” Jacques said. “It is me. I am the curse,” he practically snarled. “I am the demon.”

  “What do you mean you are the demon, Jacques?” Jessie asked.

  “This,” Jacques swept his hands in front of his body, “is an illusion.”

  “No kidding.” Jessie looked at his vaporous image.

  “I am not kidding,” he said.

  She could tell he was offended. “And I’m not laughing,” Jessie responded.

  “I am a beast,” Jacques declared.

  “A beast?” Jessie asked worriedly.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “What kind of beast?”

  “A cat.”

  “Cat?” Jessie said jumping off the bed. “Oh, no,” she cried.

  “I know it is horrible.”

  “No, not you.” Jessie waved him off. “I haven’t seen Elvis since yesterday morning.”

  “You are not alarmed that I am a cat?”

  “I’m more worried about Elvis,” Jessie said. “Jacques, we have to find him.”

  “He is sleeping on the back of the sofa as we speak,” Jacques said.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Jessie sighed in relief.

  “I do not understand this,” Jacques said. “I said . . . I am a cat!”

  “And I am a veterinarian.” Jessie stood staring at him for a moment. He still looked so worried. “You’re not rabid are you?”

  “Non!”

  “Then what is the problem?” Jessie asked.

  “I am a large cat,” he said.

  “Big?” Jessie watched as he nodded. “How large are we talking here?”

  “Grande!” Jacques said. “I am a jaguar.”

  “Oh,” Jessie said in relief. “You had me worried.”

  “This does not worry you?” Jacques asked, slightly piqued.

  “Jacques, I did my internship at the zoo,” Jessie said she was slightly amused that he now seemed irritated that she wasn’t suitably impressed.”

  “Ah, but you see,” Jacques added, “the tranquilizers do not affect me.”

  “Are you not in control when you are this jaguar?” Jessie asked. . . . Now that could be disconcerting!

  Jacques shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “What do you mean, sometimes?” Jessie asked. “Please clarify.”

  “I have urges,” he said evasively.

  “This is no time to be secretive,” Jessie said. “We are about better communication here,” Jessie reminded him, “n'est-ce pas? Out with it.”

  Jacques sighed. “I cannot help myself. . . . I dig.”

  “You dig?” Jessie started to laugh.

  “For gophers,” he said with great shame. “It’s not something I’m proud of.” He watched as she fell back onto the bed and rolled around.

  “This is no laughing matter.” He struck a pose of pained silence.

  “No, no,” Jessie said as she tried to stop. “You are right. “I’m sorry to laugh when you are obviously distressed.” She sat up and wiped her eyes. “I’m better now.”

  “At least that makes one of us,” Jacques said as he sat next to her on the bed.

  “You know,” Jessie said. “I think I remember watching a documentary on a Native American belief i
n shape-shifting.”

  “Shape-shifting?”

  “Yes.” Jessie nodded. “It was about shamanistic practices and black magic.”

  “Black magic?” Jacques asked. That haunted look returned to his eye.

  “What happened to you?” Jessie asked.

  Jacques shrugged, sighing heavily again. “I’m not sure.” Jessie gave him a look of doubt. “Really, I don’t remember.” He stood again and started pacing the room. “Every time I try to . . . I go back there.”

  “Go back where?” Jessie asked. “To the place of nothing?” He nodded. “Is this the same place that the object takes you?” He nodded again, his forehead wrinkled in concentration, or pain. “I’m sorry we don’t need to talk about it.”

  “Non,” Jacques said. “I am tired of running from it.” He looked in the direction of the bathroom. “It is time to look inside the box.”

  “Are you sure?” Jessie asked.

  He nodded.

  Now, it was Jessie that took a shaky breath. “Let’s do this, then,” she said as she walked toward the bathroom door and locked it. They both stood for a moment before the potty. “Are you sure you’re sure?”

  “Oui!”

  Jessie lifted the lid off the back of the tank and set it on the seat, glancing back to make sure that he was still there as she did. She reached in and pulled out the box, holding it over the tank as liquid leaked out the side. “I guess it wasn’t water proof after all,” Jessie said. “I’m sorry.”

  Jacques was still standing where he had been, but as the water dripped to a trickle he moved closer and closer toward the box.

  Jessie set it in the sink and stood looking down at it. It had a clasp type closure. “Ready?” she asked before she touched it. Once again he nodded. She could see the perspiration on his upper lip as he concentrated. That is so odd for a ghost, she found herself thinking.

  “Why did you stop?” Jacques asked.

  Jessie shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “The wait is killing me,” Jacques said. Her eyes flew to him in alarm, but he added quickly, “It’s nothing, a figure of speech. Hurry.”

  “Oh.” Jessie nodded, looking back down at the box. Taking a deep breath, she opened it. They both stared in open mouthed wonder and astonishment.

  Jessie could hardly believe her eyes as she stared down at the object inside. It was an obsidian dagger, but the black glass was streaked with golden grains where the light shone on it. A Mayan god wearing a feathered headdress was at the top of the ornate handle. Beneath it was a disk embellished with two cats on either side. The symbol in the center of that looked like a skull and crossbones, oddly reminiscent of the Sun calendar she’d seen on television earlier.

  It was both beautiful and frightening to behold. The golden streaks seemed to intensify as she continued to watch its shimmering surface. The air itself felt charged with energy as she looked up to see Jacques’s image glowing, his eyes burning with golden intensity as he looked at her. She could feel a slight throbbing in her own limbs and ears as she stared. She couldn’t speak—she froze, watching as his face merged with that of the jaguar.

  The knife pulled at him with increasing intensity, gaining strength as even the disk on the knife grew brighter. He held his hand over his heart, and then in twinkling golden lights his image dispersed, vanishing before her eyes.

  Chapter 11

  “Jacques,” Jessie whispered hoarsely as she turned on the tap, immersing the dagger once again in hopes he would return. A folded piece of paper that was still partially tucked into the lid floated to the top of the water. Afraid to touch it, she used the tweezers out of her makeup bag to fish it out.

  “Now what?” she asked the air. “What am I supposed to do?” She stood for a moment, scrutinizing the evil blade, trying to commit it to memory. If Jacques did make it back, he’d want to see it without being transported away.

  “Wait,” Jessie said before she ran to the bedroom and found her cellphone in her purse. She quickly came back and snapped a photo of the knife. She was relieved to see the photo on the screen but at the same time hoped the image wouldn’t melt the screen. She felt only a modicum of safety when she closed the lid and immersed it once again into the back of the toilet.

  She carefully moved the wet paper onto a face towel and spread it out. The ink had blurred, but the stain on the paper was still dark enough to see the writing. . . . “Now, if only I could read it,” Jessie said as she tried to make out the scrawl.

  “It’s in code,” Jacques said.

  “Ahh! Jessie gasped as her hand flew to her heart. “Jacques, thank God you’re back!” she cried, trying to blink back the tears.

  He ran his finger through the droplet of moisture on her cheek. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

  She put her hand through his on her own cheek as she looked into his eyes. He looked down at her, his expression filled with love. “Jacques,” she whispered, knowing hers reflected the same emotion. How could this have happened? How could I be in love with a ghost—kitty?

  “I see now my fear was false.” Jacques smiled. “You like kitties, oui?”

  Jessie laughed. “What am I going to do with you?”

  He grinned wickedly, moving his eyebrows suggestively.

  She shook her head before returning to her study of the paper. “Can you read this then?”

  “Oui,” he said, turning his attention to it.

  Jessie waited as he silently read. She watched as his eyes carefully went through it twice.

  “Well?”

  “That’s just like Theodore,” Jacques threw up a hand in annoyance, “to leave a poem that is both poorly written and full of horse. . . .” He paused, taking a calming breath.

  “Will you read it to me?” Jessie asked.

  “Oh, it’s a lovely one,” he sighed distastefully. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “I think I could write you a much better one.”

  “Read it.” Jessie pointed.

  “Fine,” he sighed before reading aloud.

  The widow’s tears fall on the chest of the cruel heartless knave.

  She seeks the one who is undead to mend the error of his ways.

  He carries the banner of the bones to the nameless soldier’s grave.

  A slave to smoke and mirrors he bears the weight of the last days.

  “There, see?” Jacques asked. “It makes no sense.”

  “Well, wait,” Jessie said. “The enchantress mentioned smoke and mirrors, perhaps he is trying to tell you something, but can’t because he wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands. And considering we found this with the knife, he very well may have known a great deal about this.

  “Hmm,” Jacques scoffed. “That’s not very likely. Teddy stayed with the ship and didn’t venture into the jungle.”

  “Teddy?” Jessie raised a brow

  “Eh,” Jacques nodded. “He wasn’t one to get his hands dirty.”

  “What do you mean?” Jessie asked.

  He waved it away. “It’s just prattle. I am not a slave.”

  “But you are bound to it,” Jessie said. “Read it again.”

  “No more.” He shook his head. “He is just toying with me.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Jacques shrugged. “Why would he take my name? Wipe it from the Earth?”

  “You are the nameless soldier,” Jessie said.

  He looked even angrier over that discovery. “He was jealous.”

  “Why?”

  “She loved me, not him.”

  “Who?”

  “Our guide,” Jacques said. “The Itza princess.”

  “You and the princess were together?” Jessie asked and felt her heart squeeze.

  “I see the pain this causes.” Jacques’s voice was filled with emotion. “Non,” he said. “Like a thorn in my side, he would try to get to me again by hurting you.”

  “Jacques,” Jessie said.
“I think there is something here.”

  “Non!”

  “I offer you a trade then,” Jessie said.

  “A trade?” Jacques’s eyes lit with interest.

  “Yes.” Jessie nodded. “I have a photo of the dagger that I will let you see if you read the poem again, so that I can write it down.”

  “Ah.” Jacques shook his finger at her. “You make a hard bargain.”

  “Yes.” Jessie grinned. “I do,” she said as she retrieved a pen and paper from the bedside table.

  “You are serious about unscrambling that moron’s drivel?” Jacques smiled when she nodded excitedly. Five minutes later they were both bent over, studying the poem and the phone.

  “What was her name?” Jessie asked.

  “Nevaeh,” Jacques said. “It means heaven.”

  “Did you love her?”

  He could tell she had asked out of curiosity as he sensed no pain. “Non,” Jacques shook his head sadly. “I am sad to say that I was a selfish man. I don’t think I ever loved anyone but myself while I was living.”

  “That is sad,” Jessie said. “Perhaps, in light of that, she is the widow he refers to, and you are the heartless knave.”

  Jacques looked up at her. “Of course I’m the heartless knave in this scenario.” Jacques sighed. “I can hear him now laughing in his grave.”

  Jessie looked briefly to the window. “Really?”

  “Non.” Jacques shook his head grinning. “I was merely kidding.”

  “Well then,” Jessie said. “It’s my guess that you are also the undead one who needs to mend the error of his ways.”

  “Of course.” Jacques nodded, no longer as upset by the idea as he first was.

  “He carries the banner of bones to the nameless soldier’s grave?” Jessie read aloud as Jacques returned to viewing the screen until it went blank. “Nameless soldier. . . ? You again?”

  “He did wipe my name from everything,” he said, looking at the phone. “Ah, could I trouble you again?”

  Jessie ran her finger across it, and the image of the dagger again flashed onto the screen.

  “What is the banner of bones?” Jessie asked. “The pirate’s flag?”

  “The skull and cross bones.” Jacques looked up in wonder and then back down at the knife. “Yes, look.” He pointed to the center of the disk on the dagger. “Pirates adopted this symbol because of its ominous warning.”