Prologue, part 1. Perú

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.

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