Page 40 of The Lost Guardian

“To this day, they believe that Huáscar was the rightful heir and true ruler of the people. They claim that if he had won, the empire would not have fallen to Spain. They believe this completely, Santiago, and some are even willing to kill to prove it.”

“So…” Santiago thought he was beginning to understand. “They’re a religious cult. Like Jonestown?”

Ali flinched, nearly imperceptibly, beside him, and he felt bad for bringing up the massacre so casually. But José nodded, confirming Santi’s suspicion.

“They wear a tattoo of a mascaipacha—a feathered headdress known as the ‘Inca crown.’ To them, it is a symbol that means Huáscar should have worn the crown.”

Santiago followed José’s gaze to the stone the professor had passed him. He held it up, and a strangled gasp escaped his throat. A symbol was etched on the top of its smooth surface. And he’d seen it before.

“This is it,” he said, passing the stone to Ali. “Both of the gunmen in my home had this exact symbol tattooed on them.”

Ali’s lips flattened into a thin line.

“Then this confirms that they were indeed Huáscaros,” José said solemnly. “And if they are working for Torres…”

“We can assume he is one, too,” Santiago finished.

“So you are not simply dealing with thieves but fanatics. They will stop at nothing to steal Atahualpa’s treasure in the name of their ‘emperor,’ likely destroying his tomb and remains as they do.”

“We can’t let that happen!” Santiago stood from his spot. “We have to protect our history. So much of it has been lost already, especially from the Indigenous cultures. We need to stop them.”

“The only way to stop him is for us to find the tomb first and lay your grandfather to rest,” Ali said. “Once we do, the tomb will be inaccessible again.”

“Until another Guardian dies,” José added grimly, looking back at Santiago with sad affection. The look reminded Santi of both his father and grandfather.

It drove a spear through his heart.

“If he does this, won’t it put Santiago in more danger?” José directed the question to Ali. “They would want to kill him to open the tomb again.”

A cold feeling washed through him. Santiago couldn’t make himself believe that the tomb was magical, somehow disappearing and reappearing only at the death of a Guardian. But it didn’t matter whether or not he believed it. If Torres and his men did, then he would be running from them for the rest of his life.

Santiago forced his expression to stay neutral. “One problem at a time,” he said, having no better answer at the moment. “The first thing we need to do is find the tomb.”

“Did Manco say anything about how to do that?” José asked.

Santiago was forced to shake his head. “All he said was that somehow, this necklace was ‘the key,’” he told José, drawing the chakana pendant over his head and handing it to the professor.

José examined it carefully, turning the dark stone over in his hands.

“A standard chakana,” he muttered, gliding the tips of his fingers over each leveled step at its sides. “Although the center point is smaller than usual,” he added.

“I noticed that, too.” Santiago nodded. “I thought it may be a quirk in the design.”

“The ‘hole’ in the center represents the passageway through the pachas,” José said, mostly to Ali. “A way to bridge the different planes of existence. A pathway, in a sense…” He frowned.

“We are searching for a pathway ourselves, no? Could it be a clue?” she questioned.

So clever. Santiago admired her quick connection, a little embarrassed he hadn’t drawn it himself.

Looking determined, the professor crossed the room, yanked open one of his desk drawers, and rummaged through it. Santiago followed him, and at a quick glance, he spotted a spool of thread, a ruler, what looked like a golden spoon, and the largest pocketknife he had ever seen.

José riffled through all of them. “Aha!” he exclaimed, pulling out a brass magnifying glass. He used the edge of his shirt to wipe the lens, then put it between his eye and the necklace, peering at it intently. Then he huffed, his face scrunched.

“More light,” he murmured, leading Santiago to one of the large windows. Ali joined them. When the professor brought the magnifying glass up once more, several things happened.

First, the clouds parted, allowing a sliver of sunlight to escape, and it darted past its wispy prison in a gleeful beam. Second, that ray shone through the glass, straight at the pendant. And finally, José turned the chakana so the concentrated sunlight hit its perfect center.

A series of soft clicks permeated the room, and the chakana moved. Santiago jumped back as the stone vibrated in the professor’s grasp. José and Ali only leaned closer.