His Lost Mate (A Steamy Paranormal Romance Novel) (22 page)

Deven shook his head and smiled at Lauren. “Don’t worry about it. She has no reason to be angry. We haven’t dated in over a year.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Lauren felt uneasy about the confrontation. Somehow she didn’t think that would be the last run-in with Sylvia.

* * *

At the excavation site, Lauren lifted the canvas tarp covering her grid. The clay vessel was completely out of the hole and resting on the edge. An icy chill crept along her back. She stared at it as if it was alive. That was not how she’d left it yesterday afternoon. She was here last night. It wasn’t a dream. What was she going to do now? She’d have to tell Margaret and Margaret would want her to tell Deven.

Muan had told her to dig beneath her pottery to find his stone chisel. As she peered into her hole a chill raised the hairs on her arms. Was there a chisel beneath the packed clay? She was dying to continue digging as if she was digging for buried treasure.

Archaeological excavation was slow and meticulous, one shallow layer at a time. If she scooped out dirt by the shovelfuls, she could damage delicate artifacts and the others would think she’d gone mad. And what would it prove if she did find it? She knew Muan was real. Deven thought Muan was an intruder. If she told the others about the ghost’s prediction and the chisel wasn’t found, she’d look pretty foolish. She would have to take her time and if she found it, then she’d tell the others.

She didn’t think sleepwalkers remembered their walks. What if she was experiencing something different other than sleepwalking? A semiconscious or trance state—half awake, half asleep. The thought disturbed and frightened.

What if she had stepped on an artifact and broke it? Or moved artifacts around to other grids? Or got lost in the jungle? On the verge of panic, Lauren knelt down and stared at the clay vessel. She pressed her hand to her mouth and felt nauseous. Why was this happening?

Placing her suitcase in front of the tent door wasn’t enough. She’d have to figure a better way to secure her tent at night, block the door, to stop her nocturnal outings.

Lauren cradled the delicate piece in her hands. If Deven sees the pottery uncovered like this, he’ll know something is up. Maybe I can put it back and pretend to finish dig—

“Jim and I found it like that last night, Lauren.” Deven stood over her. “It doesn’t seem to have been damaged. Apparently someone has taken an interest in our dig. I’m not sure if he’s a thief since he didn’t steal your artifact, but I’m going to take extra precautions. I need to hire another guard or two. Hopefully the project’s funding will hold out.”

Lauren’s mind raced. If she was going to tell him about Muan, now would be the time. Otherwise, he’d spend money needlessly hiring more guards. She had to be completely honest with him, especially after last night. Still, she doubted that he’d believe her.

“Go ahead and bag your piece,” Deven said. “Make sure you label it properly. We’ll be taking the artifacts over to the museum tomorrow with Sylvia. I don’t want to store anything here at the site. Might be too tempting for the bandits.”

But there weren’t any bandits, only the ghost of a Mayan shaman who claimed to be her father from a past life over thirteen hundred years ago. “Deven, I need to talk to you about last night.”

“Everything okay?” The wounded look in his eyes told her he was thinking about their sex last night, not the intruder.

“Yes, that was wonderful, only lost a couple of hours’ sleep.” She smiled.

“Complaining?” He winked at her.

“No, I’m not.” She felt heat rise in her face. Why did she have to blush so easily? “I mean I need to talk to you about the intruder. You don’t need to get more guards.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, Lauren. Only a precaution. Our intruder is probably someone from town or one of the Lacandon Indians checking out our dig.”

“He wasn’t an intruder.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain. This is kind of a long story.”

Deven frowned. “All right, let’s go take a break and talk.” He held out his hand to help her up, then retrieved two bottles of water from the cooler and handed one to her.

“Deven,” Jim shouted from the edge of the woods. He stood at the entrance of the trail that Lauren and Margaret had explored the day before. “The Lacandon are here. Can you give me a hand?”

“Sure, be right there.” He handed Lauren his bottle of water. “Guess we’ll have to talk later.” Deven ran over to Jim who was tying up several stacked cardboard boxes.

Lauren welcomed the interruption. She preferred to have a little more time to bring up the supernatural topic. Although she didn’t like confrontation, she had to be honest or their relationship—personal and professional—wouldn’t have a chance.

She marched over to the supplies and picked up a box. “Can I go along? I’d like to see how you go about trading.”

“Better wait here, Miss Lauren,” Jim said. “The Lacandon are very nervous around outsiders. Deven and I should go alone. I can give you a demonstration on bartering later.”

“What are you bartering?” Lauren asked.

“A variety of things. Today I’m trading medical supplies, tools, knives, axes, garden tools, spools of thread and sewing needles and flip-flops.”

“Flip-flops.” Lauren laughed. “That an odd thing to trade.”

“Not at all. The kids love them,” Deven said. “I always bring Jim a load of different sizes and colors on each trip. It’s like a luxury treat to the Lacandons—also marshmallows and jelly beans.”

Lauren shook her head. “Amazing. What do they trade?”

“Rope, fruit and nuts, necklaces they make from colorful seeds or stones, woven baskets and cloth.”

“How many live in the jungle?”

“Several tribes live in the rainforest. About twenty to thirty in each tribe.” Jim handed Deven a couple of boxes, then picked from the remaining two. “Ready?” he asked.

“Lead on.” Deven glanced back at Lauren. “We’ll be back soon.”

Lauren watched the two men, loaded with cardboard boxes, disappear in the dense green jungle.

The sky was hazy blue and the air was warm and humid. A slight breeze cooled the perspiration on her face. She tried to brush the beige-colored dirt clinging to her hands and arms. Grabbing her water bottle, she poured a little in her hand, then splashed it on her face and neck.

Two grid squares away, Kyle was photographing an object in his area, while Margaret and Justin knelt in the dirt, collecting small objects from the bottom of Justin’s shallow hole and laying them in a small box.

“What did you guys find?” Lauren asked as she walked over to their roped-off squares. Maybe if she talked to Margaret about Muan first, then they both could explain the ghost to Deven.

Margaret sat cross-legged next to the hole. “Appears to be a handful of jade beads and shells, probably from a necklace, like those worn by shamans and kings.”

“Wow. Great find.”

After the beads and shells were stored, Margaret stood up and stretched. “We should stop for lunch. It’s a hot one today. We need to take frequent short breaks.”

“Can I get you some water?” Lauren asked Margaret.

“Thank you, dear.”

After Lauren retrieved a bottle and a couple of pastry meat pies that Jim had packed, she and Margaret sat on the steps of the pyramid. “If there’s time after lunch, could we go over to that unexcavated site that you tried to show me yesterday?”

“I’ve been thinking about that all day. I think you’ll find the site interesting. I’d also like your impression.” Margaret gave her an odd look. What was she not telling her?

“I’m anxious to see it.” Lauren bit into the spicy empanada. The ground beef was spicy hot and a little sweet and the crispy pocket dough tasted buttery. They were almost the main staple at the camp. Jim made the best empanadas and he always had a fresh batch in the kitchen.

“The pyramid mound isn’t as large as Devil’s Pyramid, but the stelae next to it are well preserved. We’ll see what Deven has planned for the afternoon. I’m sure we’ll have time for a quick stroll over there.”

“Will the university excavate that site too?”

“We haven’t gotten approval yet. We’ll have to complete this project first before we can obtain permission from the Guatemalan government and the university.” Margaret studied Lauren for a long moment. “You look tired, dear. How have you been sleeping?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Something has happened. I can see it in your eyes.”

Lauren nodded. “There wasn’t an intruder last night.”

Margaret arched one eyebrow. “Then why were the men and the guards searching the area last night?”

“It was the ghost. I saw him and so did Deven, only Deven thinks it was an intruder. But that’s not all. Muan told me about the owl again. He warned me that I have to find it right away.”

“Interesting.” Margaret pursed her lips.

“He also told me that a stone chisel is buried within my grid.” Lauren glanced over to her section. “I’m almost afraid to dig deeper. What if I find it?”

“You already believe in the ghost, don’t you?”

“After last night, I do.”

“Then if you do find a chisel in your grid, it will confirm the ghost’s message. There’s nothing ominous about that, is there?”

“I don’t know. I’m not afraid of the ghost anymore, but there’s something unsettling about his message.”

A sense of foreboding closed in around her like in an old horror movie where the heroine is trapped in a chamber and the walls are moving, shrinking the room, threatening to crush her.

“I remembered more this time and the experience was very vivid. I’d like to tell you about it.” Except about the part where Deven and she had sex.

“Certainly, dear,” Margaret patted her shoulder. “As soon as the men get back, we’ll take a walk to the other site. We can talk then.”

Lauren picked up her bagged pottery piece, labeled it with description, grid number and date and then placed it in the artifact crate. Already there were several plastic bags sealed and labeled containing small clay shards, arrowheads, pieces of jade, obsidian and quartz crystal. One bag held several shells of freshwater snails, which were part of the Mayan’s diet. Sylvia would sort through this at the museum.

For the next couple of hours, Lauren knelt at her grid and poked the dirt with her trowel, careful to remove only the next level of soil. Memories of the previous night’s dream flooded back into her mind. Muan had showed her what lay beneath the clay vessel. A stone chisel—a tool once owned by Muan.

Would Deven believe in her ghost then? If not, how would that affect their relationship?

Kyle tapped on Lauren’s shoulder, shaking her out of her deep thoughts. “They’re back,” he announced.

Lauren dropped her trowel and walked over to Deven and Jim. Both carried large baskets piled with colorful cloth and plantains. “You guys were gone awhile. What did you get?”

The men laid the baskets on the ground for everyone to examine. Lauren picked up a large woven blanket with vivid rainbow stripes. Each bright band blended into the next, creating an array of colors. “This is gorgeous. What are you going to do with all this?”

Jim held up the huge cluster of plantains. “I’ll fry some of these up for dinner tonight. The cloth and rope I’ll sell at the flea market.”

“How much? Can I buy this from you?” She opened the blanket and held it up. “Look at the colors and the pattern and the material is so soft.”

Jim scratched his chin. “I think I can sell that one for about twenty-five US dollars.”

“I have money back at my tent, I’ll buy it,” Lauren said as she folded the blanket and held it in her arms.

“Well now, I think I need to teach you a thing about bartering,” Jim said.

“But I think twenty-five dollars is fair. It’s handmade and must have taken weeks to make.”

“It probably took several months, but you never give a Guatemalan their asking price. They take that as an insult. To them, you’re flaunting your wealth if you don’t barter.”

“How do you barter? How do you know what price is fair and won’t be insulting?”

Deven took the blanket out of Lauren’s hands, playing an interested buyer. “Hmmm. Nice. How much for this?” he asked Jim in Spanish.

Jim crossed his arms, playing the retailer. “This is a beautiful piece. You have wonderful taste, sir. I can give it to you for two hundred quetzals.”

Deven frowned, playing along with the act. “No, too much. I’ll give you one hundred quetzals.”

Jim shook his head. “I couldn’t go that low. But for you, since I see you like it so much, one thirty is the best I can do.”

“Deal.” He handed the blanket back to Lauren. “You owe Jim about sixteen dollars. If you offer about one half of the asking price, then the seller will counter your offer. You barter back and forth until you agree to a price. Usually, you end up paying about two-thirds of the original price.”

Lauren nodded and held up the blanket, admiring the vivid colors. “Margaret, look, isn’t it beautiful?”

“It’s lovely, dear. Wonderful workmanship.”

“We’ll take the rest of this back to camp,” Deven said. “Jim wants to get the fruit out of the sun. Want to take a walk back to camp for lunch?”

“We already ate. Lauren and I are taking a walk to the unexcavated site east of here.”

Deven frowned. “I’d rather you didn’t go there alone. I’m still concerned about that intruder from last night.”

“Lauren has an interesting theory about that intruder. Isn’t that right, dear?” Margaret’s expression said to Lauren, “Don’t worry.”

Lauren cringed. No more delays. Before she told Deven, she wanted to tell Margaret first. Margaret was kind enough to let her tell him in her own words. These incidents were continuing and Lauren knew that this information was too important to the field crew and the project for it to remain a secret.

“Kyle and Justin can help Jim carry his wares back to camp. I’ll go with you,” Deven said. “There’s not much to see there. It’s a small pyramid mound, completely covered with vegetation.”

“I know, but Lauren has never seen how well the jungle can hide such a large structure. Besides there are a few things I think will be of interest to her.”