CHAPTER FOUR HIDDEN BEACH MARIETAS ISLANDS, MEXICO

HIDDEN BEACH

MARIETAS ISLANDS, MEXICO

January 8

The yacht left Punta Mita, a private peninsula on the coast of Mexico near Puerto Vallarta. It was one of dozens of luxury yachts that had been in the harbor, ships owned by Russian oligarchs, Chinese billionaires, and the wealthiest of the American tech elites. So far, Punta Mita hadn’t been affected by the plague beginning to cascade around the world. There were parties lasting all day and night. Music and dancing.

Jacob would give the final warning tonight. The time had come to retreat to the Maya Riviera. Those who had paid the price would be protected against the end times. Those who hadn’t would help feed the fish among the coral reef.

He leaned back in his cushioned seat on the deck of the boat, his shirt open to the breeze. He wore expensive sunglasses against the glare. The golden Maya jewelry on his wrist caught the light, as did the ring on his finger and the Aztec medallion that lay on his chest. It too was of solid gold, made centuries ago. The medallion could be worn out in the open now, marking him as one of the priests of the order. The time for disguises was coming to an end.

Angélica was lounging on a sofa, her skin bronzed by the sun, her beach robe open. Her bare abdomen was completely smooth. The bullet that had nearly killed her had not left a mark. Time hadn’t healed the wound. It had unwound it. He’d shown her his greatest secret—he’d brought her to Aztlán, to the tree and mountain that could turn someone young again. His own vigor had improved since going there. His feelings for her—the unquenchable desire of a younger man—had barely been slaked since they’d made it back to the Jaguar Temple with their hostage. He’d let Angélica visit his private cenote, built beneath his palace and fed by the man-made canals and natural aguadas in the area. That had been a magical night.

Angélica turned her head and looked at him, her blond hair streaming in the breeze. The throb of desire struck again.

“You haven’t told me how you will kill the American president,” she said, giving him a seductive smile. “Are there to be any more secrets between us?”

A spray of sea water kicked up from the edge of the yacht. The temperature was perfect, the humidity ripe and golden. He eased out of his chair and padded over to her, barefoot. He felt the growl of the jaguar inside him. His magic tingled within.

“You know more than anyone else who has ever been trusted,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck with his lips. “My father never shared Aztlán with my mother. You are the first woman to know of it in centuries, I think.”

“Centuries? Maybe I should be fearful that I’m the first to know in so long.”

He nodded, stealing a kiss from her mouth before pulling away. “Yes, we must both be careful. There are those who would kill for the knowledge. We’re almost there.”

The yacht was nearly to the island. He’d been there multiple times, of course. It was an uninhabited island where the Mexican military had practiced bombing techniques. They’d inadvertently created an inland beach, inaccessible by land. It was called Hidden Beach—or Lover’s Beach, depending on why it was sought out. Surrounded by cliffs and jungle, the beach was the ultimate private retreat. The Mexican government banned tourists from going there because of environmental concerns, but in truth Jacob was the reason for the ban. He’d decided to keep it for himself. He owned the Punta Mita peninsula. The luxury hotels paid him to lease the land for their hotels and comforts. And the island, which he also owned, was only a fifteen-minute ride from the hub of resorts.

Angélica sat up as the yacht began to slow. In the past, the area had been overcrowded with tourists coming to visit the pristine waters. Without them, the area had begun to heal, the aquatic life reviving.

The captain of the yacht maneuvered to the right spot on the rocky cliff before killing the engine. There was no beach there—it was hidden within the island.

Then the captain killed the engine. “We’re here, jefe.”

Jacob walked to the edge of the yacht. He removed his shirt and tossed it aside. Angélica slipped out of her sheer beach robe, revealing the bikini beneath. Together, they jumped off the yacht into the warm, fragrant waters of the ocean.

“Hold on to my fin,” he told her and then used the magic to transform into a dolphin. She hooked her hand on the dorsal fin, and he swept through the waters. The beach was only accessible during low tide. It was a short swim, even shorter for a dolphin. The opening between the rock and the water was barely six feet during low tide. During high tide, the beach was flooded.

Passing beneath the jagged rocks, they entered the secret cove. Jacob transformed back into a man again, and they walked together up the beach. The white sand stretched for hundreds of yards in a circle. The blue-green water of the sea came lapping or crashing up onto it according to the rhythm of the tide. In the cliffs above, they could see the verdant brush of the jungle.

“This is ... this is so beautiful!” Angélica said, walking around in a full circle. It was just the two of them. No one else.

“This is my gift to you.” He clasped her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Hidden Beach belongs to you. So does the Punta Mita peninsula. They’re yours.”

Her eyes widened with shock.

“A queen has her own lands. Her own domains. Cozumel is mine. The Isla Mujeres I already gave you. And this I give you too. Our secret place.”

“I’m ... I’m overwhelmed,” she said. She looked so beautiful in that moment he wanted to give her everything.

“I almost lost you, cari?o,” he whispered huskily. “I want each moment with you to matter.” He extended his arms. “No technology here. No spy satellites. I’ve seen to it that we’re safe from prying eyes.”

Her mouth parted, the excited smile on her face showing him he’d pleased her with this gift. She was grateful. She was always so grateful.

“Thank you,” she said, coming close and kissing him. “Thank you for this.”

“You asked me how I was going to kill the American president. I would not speak of it on the boat. As much as I trust el capitán, it is not wise to share secrets too loosely.”

“So you will tell me?” she asked eagerly.

“Tell me what you know of Huracán.”

“He was the rival of Kukulkán of course.”

“Indeed he was. The two were great rivals in those days. What was Huracán known for?”

“He was the god of jaguars. Your priesthood comes from him,” she said.

“How was he depicted?”

She blinked, thinking quickly. “I don’t remember.”

“I take away your computer and you forget?” he teased. She always accepted his teasing. He liked that too. “Huracán was one of the creation gods. He was master of wind, fire, and storm.”

“Yes!” she said, sighing. “Now I remember. And his foot.”

“Some believe he lost it battling a monster. But that’s not true. He is depicted with an obsidian mirror on his foot or his chest because he knew the magic of the smoking mirror. He is the god of the night sky, the hurricane, hostility, discord, rulership, temptation, jaguars, divination, sorcery, beauty, war, and conflict.”

Her eyes sparkled more with each term he said. She wanted to learn the magic of the kem ?m so she could levitate objects. Control people and things. He could tell she was a little jealous that he’d begun teaching Mr. Roth’s daughter, Suki, the secrets of sorcery. Although she’d feigned concern about the price the “innocent” child would have to pay to fully harness the power, he knew it was at least in part because she wished for the magic herself.

“Huracán is mighty,” Angélica said.

“Strong enough to defeat Kukulkán, certainly,” Jacob agreed. “To rule all these lands. The magic of the smoking mirror bestows the ability to travel between mirrors. Years ago, the Mexican government gave certain relics as gifts to the Americans, the British, the Germans, and other powerful nations. The Maya made mirrors out of obsidian. A jaguar priest can walk from mirror to mirror. And there is one inside the White House.”

She had a look of wonder as she whispered, “You already have a way inside?”

He nodded, tipping her chin. “Many of my order have been gathering in Washington, DC, to witness its fall. Roth has turned on me. I know he is there. He thinks he is safe. Just as Cortés had Moctezuma murdered, so will I do the same unto their leader. As the prophecy said, and none can deliver them. The American president has been meeting with his cabinet because of the pandemic. On Friday, every member will be in the room. All at the same time.”

“How do you know this?” Angélica asked.

“I have someone who used to be a college student like you”—he stroked her chin—“someone who works in that false temple. I know about the meeting. I know where it will be held. And that is when I will take him. I will bring him to our lands to execute him, to cut out his heart and throw his body down the temple steps.”

“And the other jaguar priests?” she asked.

“They are taking their places now to abduct the other leaders. One day. One strike. First we unleashed the plague on the world’s unsuspecting populace. Now we take out their beating heart to show them we mean to rule once again. The new capital of the world will be the Jaguar Temple in Calakmul.”