Page 8 of The Lost Guardian

In his mind, Santiago was scaling a mountain, straining for the summit. He’d single-handedly discovered remnants of an ancient civilization, and he had to carefully transport some of the relics up the cliff for further study. Dr. Silva had entrusted him to deliver them to her safely.

You climb, don’t you, Santiago? she said in his mind. You’re the perfect person for this mission.

His muscles burned as he pushed higher with his legs, his fingers gripping tightly. He was almost to the top, where the crew would be waiting. They’d cheer when he made it, and they’d gather around him as he showed them their find. Then beautiful obsidian eyes would turn to him, wide and admiring behind round glasses, lips parted in amazement.

You are incredible, Ali would say, voice breathless.

Santiago’s hands were suddenly sweaty, slipping off a hold. He tried to right himself, tightening his core to keep balanced, but it was no use. There was a single, breathless second of weightlessness when his body was sure that they would plummet to their deaths. Or at least, a very nasty injury.

But in the span of a heartbeat, the breaking system engaged, slowing his downward motion. Santiago glided along the wall, kicking it lightly to keep his distance. The descent was slow enough that he had plenty of time to seep in his own mortification.

Silly, he thought. And embarrassing.

He shook his head ruefully. As if the nature of his fantasies weren’t mortifying enough, they’d actually distracted him to the point of making him fall. Ridiculous.

As if conjuring a ghost, however, now that he had thought of Ali, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. She haunted him, and again he wondered if he had heard her correctly that morning. Had she really asked him on a date?

His pulse, already elevated by exercise, kicked up even higher. Anxious anticipation surged through his body at the thought of seeing her again.

He had spent years dreaming about ancient ruins. His conversation with Dr. Silva today should have crushed him.

Yet somehow, after one conversation with Ali, the excavation in Chile wasn’t the only thing he was looking forward to anymore.

3

Santiago rushed home, toeing off his shoes and sliding them neatly beneath the small wooden bench by the door. As he did, he noticed a thick envelope in his mail slot. He grabbed it, surprised by its weight.

He had just enough time to shower, eat his dinner, and head out to Gina’s to meet Ali. But curiosity got the better of him.

He debated what to wear (anything would be better than the alpaca sweater) as he tore open the envelope. A sharp clatter rang out, something dropping to the floor.

Frowning, Santi bent to scoop up the item as he read the first line.

Then he was the one on the floor.

The breath was knocked out of his lungs, eyes struggling to focus on the page in his hand.

Santiago, it read.

Hijo mio. If you are reading this, I have passed on.

You are the last of us. You are the only one who can do what needs to be done. The necklace is the key. Come to Peru, mijo, and lay an old man to rest.

The stories were true. You must believe.

Con todo mi amor,

Abuelo Manco

Santiago read the paper several more times, translating the Spanish in his head, quickly memorizing the words.

If you are reading this, I have passed on.

Dead?

His abuelo was dead?

Slowly, Santi peeled his fingers away from his palm, revealing a stone chakana pendant strung on a sturdy leather cord.