The mosquitoes here were the size of eagles.

Bella pushed her way through the Peruvian Amazon jungle accompanied only by two men: Satipo, a short man with a somewhat cowardly demeanor, and Barranca. Both carried backpacks filled with supplies.

The heat was unbearable, and the sounds of birds and animals around them blended with the rustling of leaves from the massive trees swaying in the wind.

Bella moved carefully. Being an archaeologist—or rather, merely an archaeology student—she had already taken part in major expeditions in search of ancient relics. By her third year in college, she had already gained a certain reputation among archaeologists. She had traveled on expeditions with her professors through Egypt, Israel, Iraq, China, and many other parts of the world. Now she was alone in search of the Chachapoyan idol, a kind of god worshiped by the ancient tribe that once bore that name, a people extinct for many decades.

“Look,” one of the men said, pointing to a small dart lodged in a tree.

Bella stepped closer. It was a dart—small, but deadly. She tested the poison after pulling it from the bark, then casually dropped it to the ground.

Satipo rushed over and picked up the dart. He tested the poison on his tongue and spat immediately. He knew where that poison came from.

“The poison is still fresh,” he said, throwing the dart onto the ground. “The Hovitos must be nearby.”

Barranca picked up the dart.

“If they wanted to kill us, we’d already be dead.” Then he tossed it aside.

Barranca reached for the revolver in his holster. One shot and the archaeologist would be dead. He aimed at her back.

Bella heard the sound of the gun the very instant her instincts told her to grab the whip hanging from her belt. With a swift movement, the tip of the whip wrapped around Barranca’s hand, sending the pistol flying away. Rubbing his injured hand, he disappeared into the jungle.

Bella retrieved her whip. She had inherited it in a rather comical situation. The same went for her old felt hat.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Satipo took the lead. He walked ahead until he suddenly froze in fear. Before him stood a horrifying caricature of a demon, the most grotesque thing he had ever seen.

Satipo stifled a muffled scream. He couldn’t show weakness in front of a girl. He had to pretend to be brave for her.

Bella stepped closer. The demon, carved from black stone, guarded the entrance to the temple like a silent sentinel. She asked Satipo to turn around and took part of the map he carried. She compared it with the other half she possessed.

She had been right. They had found the mysterious temple of the Chachapoyans.

“This is where Forrestal disappeared,” Bella said. She crouched down and scooped a handful of sand near the cave entrance into a small pouch.

“Who was Forrestal?” Satipo asked.

“A colleague. I got the notes about this temple from him.”

“Was he an archaeologist like you?”

“Yes. One of the best I’ve ever seen. He tried to date me once, but I had to refuse.”

“Why?”

“Because I prefer women.”

Satipo made a disgusted face, as though Bella’s mention of liking girls filled him with revulsion.

“Don’t start with your prejudice here,” Bella snapped. “I’m the professional here, and you work for me. Your friend who couldn’t stand taking orders from a woman will probably die in the jungle.”

Bella grabbed a torch from Satipo’s bag and lit it before stepping into the cave.

She followed the trail Forrestal had left behind: small marks, footprints, stones deliberately positioned. It had been years since he disappeared into the Amazon jungle—about three years. Forrestal had been a professor of Mesoamerican archaeology, and Bella had loved his classes. This search was not only about finding the idol. It was also about discovering what had happened to him.

They reached a narrow beam of light stretching from one wall to the other. The floor was sandy and the walls smelled of mold. Bella could feel Satipo’s eyes lingering on her legs, and it made her uncomfortable. She wore tight hiking pants with a loose short skirt over them to make walking easier. She often wore skirts, sometimes over pants. It helped conceal a small secret.

“If you don’t watch where you’re going, you’ll end up dead,” she warned.

Satipo froze when Bella stopped him before he touched the light. He stared at it, unable to understand what danger a simple ray of light could possibly hold.

Bella carefully passed through without touching it. Then she deliberately brushed against it.

Instantly, spikes burst from the walls—old wooden stakes stained with dried blood, as if many people had entered that place only to meet their deaths.

This time Satipo couldn’t hold back a terrified scream when he saw a grotesque figure impaled on the spikes: a rotting corpse with exposed bones, empty eye sockets staring lifelessly at them.

“All right, all right, nobody’s dying today. It’s just an old corpse.”

“And whose corpse is that?” Satipo asked, trembling violently. The stench of decay filled his nostrils.

“It’s Forrestal,” Bella said, pain touching her voice. “I’m glad I found you, my friend.”

She brushed aside the decayed strands of hair hanging over his face. The spikes slowly withdrew into the walls, taking the body with them, leaving behind only absence and the memory of her final touch.

Bella wiped the sweat from her face.

“Come on. We need to keep moving.”

They continued deeper into the cave when Bella suddenly stopped. Something was moving on her shoulder. It wasn’t snakes—she hated snakes.

Satipo pointed out a spider on her shoulder. It was large and hairy, but harmless. Tarantulas only attack when threatened. Bella calmly removed the spider and placed it gently on the ground.

“Come,” she told Satipo, who stood frozen in fear.

There were dozens of spiders crawling across her back. She carefully removed them one by one and placed them delicately onto the sandy cave floor.

“These spiders are venomous, but gentle. Don’t bother them and they won’t bother you.”

They continued onward. Satipo seemed embarrassed about feeling fear in front of a girl. Bella ignored it. If he knew the truth about her, he would probably kill her on the spot. The prejudice against girls like Bella was far more frightening than Amazonian tarantulas.

They climbed a step and suddenly found themselves before a deep chasm bordered by stone walls impossible to climb. Their only option was a massive log laid across the abyss.

Bella grabbed her whip and secured it around the log. After testing its firmness, she swung herself across the chasm. It held.

She tossed the whip back to Satipo. Knowing his pride, he would surely try the same stunt just to prove his masculinity—and he did. But he nearly fell into the abyss, forcing Bella to catch him.

She left the whip secured there so they could cross back later.

At last they arrived before massive stone doors. Beyond them stretched a great chamber with decorated floors covered in moss and walls carved with figures in high relief. In the center, atop a stone pedestal, rested the golden head of an idol, its large eyes staring at the intruders as though it wished to destroy them for disturbing its eternal rest.

“That’s it?” Satipo asked. “There’s nothing scary here.”

Bella grabbed him and slammed him against the wall.

“That’s exactly what scares me every time.”

“Women…” Satipo muttered, rolling his eyes.

Bella kicked him hard in the legs, making him collapse with a groan.

“You bi—”

“Now stay there while I do my job, okay?” she interrupted.

“Okay!” he nodded painfully.

“Good.”

Bella took a torch, crouched near the chamber entrance, and examined a moss-covered tile. There was something there. She pressed it down with a stick and immediately a dart shot from one of the many holes in the wall.

“See this? Poison. Now stay there while I get the idol.”

Satipo obeyed. More than ever, he was willing to obey her.

Bella stepped into the chamber, carefully avoiding the hidden tiles. One wrong step meant certain death.

She moved slowly, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, breathing heavily. She wasn’t thinking clearly anymore—only acting.

She leapt up the three steps and stood before the idol, studying it.

Gold. Perhaps eighteen or ten karats. A museum would pay a fortune for it.

She picked up the bag of sand. It seemed heavy enough. She removed a little sand and tied it tightly.

Now her heart was racing. Sweat streamed down her face and forehead, some droplets falling into her eyes and stinging slightly.

She couldn’t afford to fail. She knew something terrible would happen if the weight was wrong.

She held the bag steady, prepared herself, whispered a prayer, and then snatched the idol away, replacing it instantly with the sandbag.

She waited.

Nothing happened.

Bella exhaled in relief. Across the room she heard Satipo sigh in relief as well.

She touched the brim of her hat and began walking away when a sudden sound made her freeze.

Stone grinding. Ancient mechanisms turning. Rocks cracking apart.

It took only a second for her to see the platform beneath the sandbag sink into the pedestal.

She had miscalculated the weight.

The sandbag was heavier than the idol.

And now the temple was collapsing around her.

But faster than anything else, she began to run. She no longer cared about the tiles, the darts shooting toward her, or even the terrified and furious man ahead of her. Now it was a matter of life and death.

“Look what you’ve done!” the man shouted. “Never let a girl do a man’s job.”

“Shut up and run!” Bella yelled back.

He ran beside her, but he was faster. He grabbed the whip still tied to the log and swung across the abyss. But the whip came loose from the trunk.

Ahead of them, a massive stone door slowly descended.

“Quick! Throw me the whip!” Bella shouted.

“Throw me the idol, and I’ll throw you the whip!” he shouted back.

She hesitated.

“Hurry!” Satipo screamed. “We don’t have time!”

There was no choice.

She threw him the idol.

Satipo caught it, looked at her, and then tossed the whip onto the ground.

“Goodbye, fake woman.”

Then he disappeared.

Satipo probably knew her secret. But who had told him? Right now it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to get out alive.

She backed away, then ran and jumped.

Too short.

A log blocked her path, and she ended up dangling from the edge of the abyss. She tried pulling herself up, but the stones crumbled beneath her fingers, making her torment even worse.

She reached for a patch of grass nearby. It tore free instantly.

Bella looked up at the descending stone door and suddenly felt the urge to give up. To surrender. To die. To let herself fall into the abyss and allow the darkness to swallow her whole.

No.

She had to fight.

She had suffered too much to become who she was. She had lost family, lost friends, fought for identity, for space, for the right to exist as herself.

She strained, kicked, clawed, forcing herself to keep fighting. Her black skirt was filthy with dirt, her shirt torn, her jacket completely stained with mud.

Little by little, she dragged herself out of the abyss.

She grabbed the whip and, in the very last moment, escaped beneath the closing stone door.

At last, Bella allowed herself to breathe.

She stood up, brushing dust from her clothes.

Ahead of her, a body hung against the wall.

She stepped closer.

Satipo had been caught in a spike trap. Spears had pierced his head, chest, and groin. He had died instantly.

The idol stared at her from the ground, almost seeming to smile.

“Hello again, my friend,” she said softly, kneeling to pick up the idol. “Good to see you again.”

Bella glanced at Satipo, gave him a mocking little bow, and walked away.

“Goodbye, idiot. Fake man.”

She had barely taken a few steps when she heard the sound of something enormous rolling behind her.

Her instincts screamed run, but she looked back.

A gigantic boulder, carved into a near-perfect sphere, thundered toward her, ready to crush her into paste.

Bella ran as fast as she could with the stone roaring behind her.

She saw the cave entrance and leapt forward.

A deafening crash echoed behind her as the boulder sealed the temple forever, burying Forrestal, Satipo, and anyone else foolish enough to venture into those caves.

Bella wanted a bath, a good book, and a cup of hot chocolate.

But the day wasn’t over yet.

Covered in spiderwebs, smelling of decay and mold, she looked down at herself until she noticed an arrow pointed directly at her.

She raised her eyes.

The Hovitos were there—the warrior tribe of the upper Amazon.

Beside them stood a tall man dressed in white shirt and shorts, his expression severe and mocking.

“You really need to choose your companions more carefully, Bella,” he said, staring directly at her.

“Belloq,” Bella muttered.

“And look at that. Just like every other time, what belongs to you now belongs to me.”

He extended his hand.

Bella reached instinctively toward her gun, but the natives immediately aimed their blowguns and arrows more aggressively at her.

Slowly, she handed over the weapon.

Barranca was there too, smiling.

Then his smile vanished.

A second later he collapsed, his back pierced by countless poisoned darts.

“Betrayal always follows you wherever you go, doesn’t it, Bella?” Belloq said coldly. “For a woman, you really should be smarter. Though perhaps that’s because you aren’t really a woman at all—just a man pretending to be one.”

This time Bella felt genuine rage.

Somehow, Belloq knew her secret.

Bella was a trans woman, but she hid it from society and from everyone around her. Women like her were not accepted in the early twentieth century. People like Bella could easily be beaten—or killed—because of prejudice.

Belloq had discovered her secret after trying to kiss her one day and touch places he shouldn’t have. She had given him the punishment he deserved.

“And now,” he continued with contempt, “you’re going to pay for your mistake.”

He stretched out his hand again.

He wanted the idol.

Bella had no choice. He was going to kill her either way.

Reluctantly, she handed over the idol.

Belloq raised the golden relic high above his head, and all the natives knelt in worship.

Bella seized the opportunity and ran.

She could hear arrows and darts slicing through the air behind her, but she didn’t stop.

She sprinted toward the river.

She desperately wanted to escape. She wanted to go home.

Even without the idol, she would find a way to take it back.

She reached the riverbank.

Her pilot was there, fishing.

“Jock! Start the plane!” she shouted.

Jock seemed reluctant to abandon his fishing rod. He looked like he had finally caught something.

“Come on, Jock! Start the damn plane!”

Bella threw herself into the water.

Arrows splashed down all around her.

She tried to dive, but one arrow struck her leg, drawing blood. Fighting through the pain, she swam toward the aircraft, which was already beginning to move.

She climbed onto the float and dragged herself into the passenger compartment.

Pain. Frustration. Anger.

She wanted to relax. She wanted her bathtub and her hot chocolate.

As the plane lifted into the sky, the wind against her face finally made her feel safe.

Bella closed her eyes, hoping to sleep for a little while.

Then something moved in her lap.

She touched something cold, slimy, and soft.

Her heart nearly stopped when she opened her eyes.

“Jock! There’s a snake on the plane!” she screamed.

The snake seemed perfectly content slithering across her black skirt.

“Oh, that’s Reggie,” Jock replied casually. “My pet snake.”

“Jock, you know I’m terrified of snakes.”

“I know. Here, give her to me.”

He took the snake from her hands.

Bella liked Jock. Of all the men she knew, he was one of the few who truly respected her.

Finally, she relaxed, feeling the wind through her curly hair, breathing in the fresh air, and savoring the comforting sensation of finally going home.

Bella wore her usual outfit for teaching: a simple cotton blouse and a long black skirt that traced the curves of her body. Already in her sixth year at university, she taught history classes at a school connected to the university where she studied, in the town where she lived—Bedford, Connecticut—to help pay for her tuition.

Bella was not American.

She was Brazilian.

She had earned a scholarship to study archaeology at Marshall College, a university of great prestige in America.

“Neolithic,” she said as she wrote the word on the chalkboard. “Neo means new. Lithic means age.”

She leaned back against the desk, looking at the students. One of the boys blinked slowly, and written across his eyelids were the words I LOVE YOU.

She ignored him.

Someone opened the door.

A short man in his sixties entered wearing a blue suit. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses was a discreet smile.

The bell rang.

“All right,” Bella said quickly. “For next week I want you to read the chapter about Babylon and the peoples who emerged in Mesopotamia. Class dismissed.”

The students rushed out of the room, leaving only Bella and the older man behind.

Bella let out a deep sigh as she looked at the smiling man.

“I had him, Marcus. He was right in my hands.”

“I know, Bella,” he replied. “You told me everything when you arrived.”

Bella glanced down at her black skirt. The fabric draped beautifully and highlighted her figure. She liked dressing that way—not to attract attention. She simply liked it.

“I can still recover it, Marcus.” She walked around the desk and took a wrapped bundle from the satchel she always carried with her. “He’ll be in Marrakesh, won’t he? He’ll try to sell the idol there.”

Marcus, the dean of the university where she studied, made a motion as if to touch her shoulder, but stopped himself. He had always been a gentleman.

“Let it go, Bella. There are some people here who want to see you. Important people.”

Bella ignored the implication. Plenty of people wanted to see her, though usually for reasons she disliked.

“I’m not interested in new romances, Marcus. You know I prefer something different. Look, I have a few things I want to show you.”

She displayed several artifacts she had excavated from the temple in Peru.

“They’re beautiful pieces, Bella. But come with me. These are people from the United States government. They’re very interested in meeting you.”

“Wait… the government? Is it because—”

“Oh no, you’re not being deported. Your documents and passports are all in order, don’t worry. It’s something else.”

“And what about the artifacts?”

“I’m sure the museum will buy them. Come.”

“Am I dressed properly?”

Bella looked down at her blouse, fixing a button she had fastened incorrectly, then adjusted her skirt so it covered her knees. The skirt fell slightly below them—a little short by the standards of the time—but she wore white stockings and black flat shoes that covered most of her legs.

“You look wonderful, Bella. Come on, let’s not keep our guests waiting.”

Marcus led her to the auditorium, a large and spacious place completely soundproofed. Bella wondered why they were holding the meeting there. Since the room was so private, whatever this was had to be truly confidential.

Below the stage, seated before a large chalkboard and a table, were two men: one tall and broad-shouldered, the other sturdy with white hair. Both wore suits decorated with military medals pinned to their jackets.

The two men stood and kissed Bella’s hand.

“Good morning, Miss…” said the taller one.

“Santos. Bella Santos. But you may call me Bella.”

“Bella, this is Major Eaton and Colonel Musgrove. Both work for American intelligence and wanted very much to meet you.”

Everyone sat down.

“So,” Bella said, “what is this about?”

“Does the name Ravenswood mean anything to you?” Musgrove asked.

The mention of the name brought back painful and embarrassing memories.

“Yes. Abner Ravenswood was my professor during my first years at university.”

“We know you studied under him and participated in several expeditions that some describe as miraculous, discovering relics nobody even knew existed.”

That was true.

Since her very first year, Bella had always thrown herself into adventures, and during those adventures she had uncovered treasures beyond imagination.

“Even though you’re still young in the field of archaeology—and a woman—you’ve developed quite a reputation as a guardian of relics,” Musgrove continued.

“Guardian of relics?” Eaton asked.

“I’m certain that everything she does falls entirely within antiquities law,” Marcus said with a smile.

“Where do you think Ravenswood might be?”

“I don’t know. I heard rumors he might be somewhere in Asia.”

The memory of Abner also brought another memory to Bella’s mind—a girl. A painful memory she did not want to revisit.

“Do you still keep in contact with him?” Eaton asked.

“Oh no. We had a small disagreement. We haven’t spoken in years.”

She called it small, but it had been quite a shock, both for Abner and for his daughter Marion, a girl of striking and exotic beauty.

The men grew more serious.

“What we are about to say is completely confidential,” Eaton said. “It cannot be leaked anywhere.”

Bella nodded.

“A few nights ago,” Musgrove continued, “American intelligence intercepted a German message referring to Ravenswood, the Staff of Ra, and a place called Tamis.”

“Wait… Tamis?” Bella felt the hairs on her arms rise. “Could it really be…?”

Her ears burned hot.

The mere mention of Tamis and what it represented was beyond extraordinary—the dream of every archaeologist in the world.

She straightened in her chair.

Could it possibly be true?

“What is in Tamis that has the Nazis so interested in it?” Eaton asked.

Bella looked directly at Musgrove.

“Tamis is the place where the Ark of the Covenant is possibly buried.”