By A.J. Hartley
Six months in the past, museum curator Deborah Miller had by no means heard of Ek Balam, an imprecise Mayan archaeological web site recognized for its carved figures. Now the following she is, having traded Atlanta’s city jungle for a distant village in Mexico’s Yucatan, tasked with overseeing Ek Balam’s excavation. but if a unexpected rainstorm factors a partial cave in on the website, an unforeseen treasure is unearthed: a set of rough-cut rubies hidden from the realm for 1000's of years—and very out-of-place within the Yucatan. it's a locate of immeasurable price, one who Deborah vows to protect—and but is powerless to avoid from being stolen quickly after its discovery. made up our minds to retrieve the stones, she units out to track their advanced historical past throughout 4 centuries and continents, from Mexico to northern England the place the jewels as soon as performed a harrowing position within the Lancashire witch trials of 1612. yet Deborah isn't the just one looking for the stones; shut on her heels are archaeologists, occultists, and one very decided hands broker, all of whom will cease at not anything, no longer even homicide, to say the prize for themselves.
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Additional resources for Tears of the Jaguar
She hoped to wake up to the village to determine Adelita ahead of the day used to be out. She had introduced her a crammed endure dressed up, ridiculously, like a yeoman warder of the Tower, and a publication on English royal heritage. If she can make definite every thing right here used to be alright, she may well take the rest van. She opened her computing device. She desired to see if Hargreaves used to be up and doing. She had known as the health facility two times yet he were resting they usually wouldn’t patch her via. If he was once getting his electronic mail they may agenda a time to speak. but if she opened her electronic mail there have been messages, one from an surprising address—probably spam—the different from her mom. ideal, she idea. shedding me a line to inform me what she thinks my formative years domestic will fetch, without doubt. That wasn’t reasonable. They have been in order that assorted, Deborah and her mom, consistently have been. Deborah were her father’s daughter, and as soon as he had long gone, her mom had looked like the enemy, the depraved stepmother, the... Witch. Deborah frowned, now not liking the way in which the notice had spring to mind. She opened the email reluctantly, looking forward to to discover it spiteful and petty in ways in which may well justify Deborah’s feel of herself because the aggrieved occasion. It used to be, even if, extra cautious than ordinary, and notwithstanding it wasn’t what you will name soft, there has been a observe of feeling in it that she couldn’t think her mom really announcing. therefore the email. She knew she’d by no means get it out if she known as. She had acquired a suggestion at the condominium. She could hold up the sale if Deborah could come. She desired to see her, desired to speak face-to-face, didn’t wish any longer indignant cell calls, didn’t are looking to promote with no Deborah coming domestic first. That, the letter acknowledged, will be bad. it'll positioned us again. Deborah wasn’t definite what that intended. placed who again? Her mom and Steve, delaying their plans? Or did it suggest Deborah and her mom? She ended, “I love you, Debs. i do know you don’t consistently imagine so, yet I do. ” The phrases she by no means acknowledged. She used to be contemplating the best way to reply to this whilst she opened the opposite notice, however it all went out of her head while she learn the hot message. It stated easily: I’m sorry. relatively sorry. His identify is Dimitri, i feel. i believe he’s Russian. uncertain. I’m sorry. —Alice. connected to the message was once a record. it all started: My honoured mom, a lot has occurred considering the fact that I final wrote and the results of my small doings have stuck up with me at last... Deborah sat bolt upright, her eyes large. She checked the identify on the finish of the letter after which reached, fumbling for her mobile. this can be it, she concept. It’s what we would have liked. proof of Edward Clifford’s ultimate resting position. He went to Uxmal! after which the telephone in her hand rang earlier than she had had probability to dial, and he or she replied it, flushed with pleasure, her eyes scanning the letter at the monitor. “Nick! ” she exclaimed. “I was once on the subject of to name you... ” “Deborah... ” “You’re unlikely to think this,” she stated. “Edward Clifford wrote one other letter... ” “Deborah, listen,” he stated, and his voice used to be leaden.