Page 68 of The Lost Guardian

Ali grinned at him. “Yeah, coca, like what eventually makes cocaine.”

“Uh…” Santiago said as he leaned forward, ready to spit out the wad in his mouth.

The pair laughed, which embarrassed him worse than the soroche. Ali pushed him backward.

“Don’t be silly, Rios. It takes a lot of steps to turn this”—she grabbed a few leaves from José’s hand before popping them into her mouth—“into a highly addictive stimulant.”

In theory, Santiago knew that. In reality, the thought of having “cocaine leaves” in his mouth conflicted him.

José looked amused, and Santiago felt younger than his years. “You must know the Inca had a wide variety of uses for coca leaves. Do you recall any?”

“For religious and ceremonial practices,” Santiago answered instantly, as if in one of the doctor’s lectures that he had always wanted to attend. “Spiritual rituals. In medicines, as…” He trailed off.

“As an analgesic, a mild anesthetic, and?” José prompted him.

Santi had paused for breath, not for lack of knowledge, and the implication otherwise prickled his skin.

“And in helping combat altitude sickness,” Santiago admitted.

“Exactly,” José said.

He knew the chewing of coca leaves and drinking of coca tea were still common practices; he just hadn’t expected to join that practice. Santiago didn’t like to feel out of control of himself. And, to be fair, he didn’t.

“Would it help you to know that because of its nonaddictive properties, coca tea has been used to help in the recovery of cocaine addiction?” José asked him.

It did help a bit. The leaves seemed to help, too, as he no longer felt dizzy or out of breath. Cautiously, Santiago stood, Ali springing up next to him as if he was about to topple over at any moment.

“Your body will get used to the altitude, but go slow, and take all the breaks you need,” José cautioned him, rising with them.

“Yeah, we can go slow,” Ali said.

“I thought there wasn’t time to waste.” He couldn’t help but tease her…and remind her.

Santiago could not be convinced that they were racing against an ancient Incan curse. But his throat grew dry every time he recalled the gunmen on their tail.

With shaky hands, he accepted a cool metal bottle from José and drank some water down.

Ali’s brows pulled in severely at the bridge of her nose. “We won’t get very far if you pass out, Rios,” she said.

“I’m not going to pass out,” he swore, hoping he was telling the truth.

Gingerly, he took a few steps, and when the world didn’t sway around him, he reached his arm out toward Ali for his pack.

She hesitated. “I can carry it for a while,” she suggested, but Santiago shook his head. Not with his grandfather’s ashes inside.

“I’m fine now, really,” he insisted.

Reluctantly, Ali handed him his share of the supplies and they continued. José took the lead, but Ali stayed close to his side.

He wanted to be annoyed by her obvious coddling, but it was nice to walk next to her. Now that he wasn’t fighting against his lungs, he could truly appreciate the scenery. And it was, well, breathtaking.

Ha.

The archeological site was covered in rock formations, jutting proudly toward the sky. Santiago saw why it was called the “stone forest.” The towering pillars loomed like the trunks of ancient trees and were covered in almost as much vegetation.

Through the center of it all was a winding pathway, nestled into the small valley between the stone giants. At one point, it led them through a crack in one of the formations into a dark and winding cave. There, they inched their way forward and up, with ledges and fingerholds worn into the rock from centuries—maybe even millennia—of use. The path was so narrow that Santiago feared for their packs, but after a few dark twists and turns, they emerged once again. They paused for a moment on the other side, blinking against the overly bright sun.

“So, what are we looking for?” Ali asked.