Cult of the Black Jaguar Read Online Free

clenched his teeth until his jaw ached but he did as the man asked, tossing his custom Colt and military knife to the ground. Rory Amos, eyes flashing with the same anger Ethan was feeling, complied as well. He placed his short-barreled shotgun on the ground and kicked it towards Veracruz. His blade went next to Ethan’s.
    Veracruz smiled, his narrow eyes and thin mustache turning the gesture into a sardonic grimace.
    â€œInto the Ossuary, please. You will remain there until it is time to feed your bodies to the Jaguar gods.”
    â€œI don’t think so!” Ethan dove forward and seized Veracruz’s wrist, aiming the gun up in the air at the same time. He brought his free hand around in hard haymaker, his fist connecting hard with the point of the traitor’s chin.
    Veracruz stumbled backwards, dragging the larger man with him. Ethan had a moment to curse his bad luck to be fighting in the daylight, and then the two of them were rolling on the hard, dusty ground, fighting for control of the pistol.
    Ethan landed another punch, this time to the midsection. Hector’s breath sailed out in a large gasp and Ethan was able to wrest the gun away. He placed the barrel against Veracruz’s head.
    â€œI don’t know what your game is, Hector, but it’s over.”
    Veracruz coughed as he attempted to fill his lungs with air. “Yes, it is, Señor Foster. You and your people will not leave here alive, no matter what you do to me. Your blood will give the Priestess the strength to bring the Gente de Jaguar back to life.”
    Ethan hesitated, torn between pulling the trigger or just tying the man up, but before he could decide, the opportunity slipped from his hands.
    A sharp pain in his shoulder made him turn around. Popi stood just inside the entrance to the Ossuary, a long blowgun in his hands. Ethan’s suddenly numb fingers relinquished their hold on the gun. His legs collapsed under him.
    Ambush, he had time to think, as the bright Guatemalan daylight turned gray. Stupid! I forgot about Popi and Luz. He tried to stand but his muscles refused to obey. Distant sounds of fighting and shouting registered on his fading consciousness.
    Then everything went black and silent.
    Ethan. Ethan.
    Someone was calling for him in the darkness. Where are you? he shouted, but there was no sound to the words.
    Ethan!
    He turned, but didn’t, because he had no body. The thing he kept caged up inside him, the animal part of him, howled and shrieked, begging to be set free. Ethan told it to go, but it remained trapped, as lost and immobile as he was.
    This isn’t right. It’s dark. Dark means night. Only daylight could—
    Ethan!
    Closer now, that voice. I know it. I—
    â€œEthan, wake up. Can you hear me?”
    Cool wetness on his forehead accompanied the familiar voice. Ethan Foster opened his eyes. Rory Amos’s round face hovered above him, its high forehead creased with worry. Behind him, tiny windows let in just enough light to turn darkness to dusk within the tomblike oven of the Ossuary.
    Still daylight. That explains it.
    Ethan attempted to raise his head but the movement sent everything spinning in rapid circles. He closed his eyes and groaned as nausea gripped his stomach.
    â€œHe’s coming out of it,” Rory’s voice moved away. Another took its place.
    â€œMr. Foster. Drink some of this juice. It will help you feel better.” He knew those nasal tones.
    â€œHarrison?” Even to his own ears, his voice was barely more than a croaking whisper.
    â€œRight the first time, old sport. Now drink. Doctor’s orders.”
    A shadow fell across him and warm liquid dribbled into his mouth. Sour-sweet fruit juice of some kind. Not what he needed. His already churning stomach protested the insult. He doubled over, spitting the nectar onto the ground. Dry heaves and cramps racked his body for several minutes afterwards.
    After the episode passed, taking