Free Mayan Blood by Theresa Dalayne Page A

gestured to a long staff with a curved blade at the end. “I’m sure Renato will want you to learn at least the basics now that you’ve found your way home.”
    “I wouldn’t say I found my way, exactly.” She followed him around the corner of the room. “More like I was brought…by force.”
    “You’re very important.” He held her gaze. “To all of us.”
     
    ***
     
    That night Zanya slipped the CD of her mother’s cello recital into the disk player in her bedroom. She pressed play and slipped under her cool sheets. The room was dark and she was exhausted, but hearing her mother’s music was the closest she’d get to knowing her.
    The rich, robust tone of the cello filled the room. Zanya closed her eyes and rested into the mattress. The tempo of the notes was slow and heavy, carrying an undertone of sadness. It was one reason Zanya loved music. Emotion flowed through it like a direct link to her soul.
    Her muscles relaxed while she absorbed every note. She could almost picture her mother, sitting with an arched back in a chair, straddling the cello, playing with her eyes closed. Zanya mind drifted into a sleepy fog.
    It seemed like moments later when she blinked open her eyes to her dark room.
    Except there was no furniture and no walls. Nothing but endless black. Zanya still wore the pajamas she’d changed into before bed. She peered into the distance. “Hello?”
    Something wasn’t right. She had been stuck in countless scenarios in her dreams, all of them fearfully lovely or dreadfully gruesome. But this time was different. This time it was vacant and somehow endless.
    Zanya turned in a circle, searching above her, below her, and in every possible direction.
    A soft glow slowly illuminated the space. She searched for the source, and after a moment, realized it was not coming from a lantern, flashlight, or even a candle. The warm light came from the center of her chest in an oval, pulsing orb.
    She ran her fingertips over her chest and settled the palm of her hand over the ice-cold light. To her surprise, it didn’t hurt.
    The light grew brighter, allowing her to see farther into the space.
    A man’s silhouette appeared in the distance. Fear thrashed through her. It was The Man. The one who haunted her. Who hurt her.
    His bitter stench filled the space as he limped closer. Zanya stumbled back and reached for a wall to lean on, but there was none. She fell to the ground—or what seemed to be the ground.
    His face was framed with dark black hair, and even blacker eyes that peered down at her. “Ah, there you are, young guardian.” He walked forward, using his cane for support. The brass handle had a dull shine, worn from years of use. “I heard they had recovered you, but I had to see it for myself.”
    Zanya coiled back her legs in preparation to kick if he got any closer. “Get away from me,” she screamed, her voice cracked with panic.
    His lip curled in disgust. “Have some dignity and stand.” He stretched out his hand to help her up. “If you can stand, please, I only wish to talk.”
    Zanya scooted back and forced herself to her feet, leaving his gesture untouched. Her body trembled, and she twisted her hands together to ease the shaking.
    “Much better.” He squared his shoulders. “Thank you.” He stepped forward. “Please forgive me. You see, meeting you here, in your mind, is much easier than the efforts I would be forced to endure in order to speak to you in person—though we haven’t had that pleasure just yet.”
    She didn’t know what to say or do. He had never spoken to her like this before. Like she was a real person. It didn’t take long to decide she wouldn’t stick around to find out why.
    As he stood waiting for a reply, she calculated her escape. What horrors the darkness held were unknown, but what The Man might do to her would be much worse.
    She sprinted into action. The darkness was consuming and frightening, but the possibility of a successful escape spiked