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  One afternoon, when I've lost track of all time or purpose, we stop. Untied, I fall to the ground. I hear a woman say something, and another woman drapes an alpaca blanket over my shoulders. Carried inside a building, my eyes must adjust to the darkness. Two guards toss me through a ceiling portal into a small room, a cell of sorts. I hit the hard, dirt floor, pain shooting across my body, as I gasp for breath. Rolling over on my back, the portal door, the only way out, is at least ten feet above and out of reach. I'm trapped. Will this be my tomb?

  For many days, I lie in the dark, only a small slit high on the wall letting in a tiny sliver of light. My body aches, my lungs burn, and I struggle for a full breath with what I think are fractured ribs. If my broken body doesn't kill me, I'll need to think of some way to die back so I can regroup and figure out another, better, plan. I could smash head-first into a wall, but even though I'd die back, I still find it hard to off myself. Maybe I could piss off a guard, get him to stab me with a knife. Of course, I'd need to see a guard, which hasn't happened since they dumped me in here. Food comes down to me in a clay pot lowered by rope. No one visits me. Well, except for Pizarro.

  ***

  Mi llamo Pizarro. He lay sprawled in his torment, eyes agape, terror gripping him. Espying the demon Aa-Dee-Son lurking in shadow, he leapt to foot.

  "Who are you? Show yourself? I, Pizarro, am not afraid. By Christ's blood, show yourself!"

  He lashed out at the darkness, swinging wildly, the pain from his broken ribs snatching breath from his chest.

  "I know you are here. Do you not think I hear you talking in the night, demon? Get out!"

  It, him, the demon, stood behind Pizarro. Its hot breath curled around him, a serpent hissing death. He whirled around.

  "Be gone!"

  He fell to his knees. "Oh blessed Virgin, pray to God for us always, that He may pardon us and give us grace, so to live here below that He may reward us with paradise at our death." He paused, staring into the darkness, willing the demon to show himself. He rose, anger welling deep within him. "Leave me! I am Francisco Pizarro!"

  A footstep to his left, no, his right. I will kill the demon with my bare hands. He rushed his adversary, slamming into solid stone. Darkness.

  ***

  Pizarro has retreated to the back of my consciousness, but battling for control, I've lost track of time. I hear footsteps, and a wooden ladder is lowered to the floor of my cell. A robed figure descends. On my knees, glaring light almost blinding me, I wonder if I'm hallucinating. The figure moves near me, partially blocking the light flooding my cell. The robe is azure covered in golden symbols. The oracle.

  She laughs. "They call you Wiraqucha. You know what it means?"

  I say nothing. She's speaking to me in Pizarro's language.

  "Of course you don't, you stupid Spanish asshole. It means they thought you were a god." She paces away from me. I stay on my knees, still trying to be sure I'm not in some psychotic nightmare. "You blow in on the wind with your hairy face and big fucking horses. Atawallpa still thinks you ride gigantic llamas. What an idiot."

  "Are you real?"

  She stops, turning to look at me. "Am I real? Of course, I'm real. The question is, who the hell are you?"

  She doesn't speak like an Andean or a Spaniard, but I understand her. I'm either hallucinating or she's an Inker. Playing it safe, I speak Spanish. "I am Francisco Pizarro, a loyal servant of his Majesty King—"

  "I don't give a damn about your king. What I do care about is what you said to Atawallpa's girl, Kushirimay. She speaks of magic and wonder."

  "I am but a man, a Christian, a servant—"

  "Enough of the Pizarro bullshit. You're going to convince her you're nothing but a plundering Spaniard."

  "I am Pizarro."

  She whirls around, punching me in the face with such force, I'm thrown to the floor. My cheek explodes in pain. Crap. I think she broke bone! On hands and knees I look up.

  The oracle glares at me, lifting up a "D"-shaped object of gold with four holes in it. "Brass knuckles. Well, gold, in this case. One of my contributions to Inca technology."

  She steps over to me. I am so weak from starvation and imprisonment, I can barely pull myself back up to my feet. "I, I don't understand this word you use. Ticnóloji."

  She grabs my chin in her hard grasp. "If you don't convince Kushirimay you're only a Spanish asshole in the next three days, I will give you an upfront and personal experience of Ticnóloji until you scream for your god, or whatever the hell you're into, to carry you away. Do we understand each other?"

  I look into her dark, cold eyes, a scowl across her face. I've got to survive or Jules will be trapped with this crazy bitch.

  "Do we understand each other?" She punches me in the stomach, my ribs erupting in agonizing pain. Gasping for breath, I fall once again to the floor. A knee in my face slams me back to the cell wall.

  I wake up in darkness. The cell smells of piss and fear. My head throbs in concert with sharp pangs from the jagged edges of rib scraping against each other. I think she's shattered my cheek bone. At least I'm still here.

  ***

  “Aa-Dee-Son. Wake up, Aa-Dee-Son.”

  Pizarro sits across from me, wrapped in a blanket, his piercing blue eyes tracking me.

  "I said wake up, Aa-Dee-Son.”

  I struggle to a sit up, my back against cold stone. "It's Addison. My name's Addison."

  “Aa-Dee-Son. Why, demon, do you haunt my waking and my sleeping?"

  "I'm not a demon, Franky."

  "Fran…what do you call me?"

  "Franky. Short for Francisco. Think, Franky. What kind of a demon calls a genocidal conqueror, Franky."

  "Genocide. You speak strangely. What does this word…genocide, mean?"

  "If you had your way, you'd kill every one of the Inca. All you want is their gold."

  He nods, his gaze filled with suspicion. "Ah, you have seen their riches?"

  "No. But I know you, Franky. You're trouble."

  He scarfs up a loogy, and spits. "Maybe, but unlike you, I do not kill the women I love."

  "What? What do you know about it?"

  "Only what you know. Her name was Beth. A beautiful, young woman who died when you could not control your big, metal horseless wagon. She was lovely. You must cry every night knowing you killed her."

  "Shut up. You don't know her. You're just rummaging around in my head."

  "So, you claim not to have killed her?"

  He smiles at me like we're tight, having a friendly conversation, but his eyes glare with hatred.

  "Yeah. I shouldn't have been on the road that night. But having a car accident is a hell of a long way from murdering thousands of Inca."

  "I have not done what you say."

  "You will. You'll do anything to get their gold."

  He tilts his head with a bemused smile, as if my words were the absurd ravings of a lunatic. "Tis my right as an instrument of God Almighty. I have claimed this wilderness for my King. I bring these heathen dogs the blessings of our Lord and they make me wealthy. Prithee, do you not think the exchange fair and just?"

  "How's it fair?"

  He sighs, as if bored with the conversation, when our eyes meet. "Demon, you bring an ill wind with you wherever you go. Your mother, your father, Beth, Nikki, Jules. They all die when you enter their lives."

  "If I'm so evil, how are you still alive, Franky?"

  "Am I? My men, my ships, methinks Franciso Pizarro as well, are all gone. I live in this purgatory because of you Aa-Dee-Son. You take the blood of anyone who comes near. You have killed me. You killed Beth." He calls out, as if announcing my arrival to a royal event. “Aa-Dee-Son, bringer of death!" His head falls back in laughter.

  "Shut up!" I crawl toward him, my broken body complaining. He smirks at me, like I'm dirt beneath his nails. "Shut your damn mouth. You don't know me." I lunge, grabbing air, and crash to hard, cold stone. Agonizing pain jolts through my body. I look up from the floor of my pris
on, but he’s gone. At least he's gone for now. The pain of grief and hopelessness puts its smothering arms around me.

  "You don't know me."

  ***

  After two sunrises I hear conversation above my cell. The cover is pulled away and a ladder is once again lowered. I'm not sure I'll survive another beating, so I crawl to a corner, my arms up, protecting my face. Kushirimay says something to a guard, who tosses a torch into my cell, his footsteps moving away from us. She climbs down the ladder, a little girl inhabited with Jules' consciousness. Turning to see me, her eyes fill with tears. I must look like death warmed over.

  "My God, Addy. I'm so sorry. I tried to help.”

  I lower my arms, but stay seated. "It's okay, Jules. I'm okay. A little worse for wear. How long have I been down here?"

  "A month." She reaches out to me. "You sure you're okay?"

  I turn my head to avoid her touch, smiling as best I can through my shattered face, in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. "I'm okay. More importantly, we're at Machu Picchu, so we still have a fighting chance."

  With a despondent sigh, she steps away. "Pachakutiq's oracle controls the tech."

  "Yeah, I've had the opportunity to meet her." I put a hand to my swollen cheek. "Sweet lady."

  Jules paces my cell. "She's declared the technology as sacred objects instilled with Pachakutiq's power as the Sun God. In fact, she's sold pretty much everyone on the idea Pachakutiq is THE Sun God with all the other Emperors taking up roles as demi-gods. Atawallpa murdered his own brother for the throne, but it looks like the oracle has blackmailed him with her access to the tech. The only thing slowing him down right now is me telling him you're the incarnation of Wiraqucha, the God of Creation."

  "Me?"

  She turns to me. "Like I said, I slowed Atawallpa down. The oracle made a deal with him. If you're the Wiraqucha, you'll rise out of this cell within three days. If you don't, like any blasphemer, you'll be burned alive."

  "Three days? Aren't you mixing your religions?" I hope she gets the sarcasm in my voice.

  She shoots back angrily, "I was thinking on my feet, okay? If they hadn't bought the Wiraqucha thing, you would have died back by now."

  I put up my hands in a show of peace. "You're right. I'm still here. So we have three days to figure something out."

  Jules steps up to me, her child's body allowing us to look into each other's eyes even though I remain seated. A hesitant frown crosses her face. "No, we have today. I'm sorry, but it's taken two days just to get down here to see you. So whatever we're going to do, we've got to do it now."

  "Do you know where the tech is kept?"

  "The oracle showed Atawallpa and I accompanied him. It's in the primary temple, called Eye of the Sun." She turned away, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. "I don't know how we're going to destroy it."

  I smile. Walking a thousand miles strapped to a pole gives you time to think. "Those airships used some kind of tar for the flaming stones. I imagine I can whip up a pretty good fire with those goodies."

  She turns back, a fighting spirit returning to her eyes. “Sounds like we need to find a way to get in there."

  "We? No, me."

  "What are talking about? If you think I'm going to let you walk in there by yourself, especially in your condition—"

  "Jules, I've got a living, breathing body back in present-side waiting for me. You don't. Besides, you're ten years old."

  "But Addy…"

  "No, Jules. I'll do the best I can, but I'm not risking your life."

  "I'll have to guide you at least. You won't find your way without me."

  She's right. "Okay, but then you disappear. Once you get me to the tech, I want you a safe distance from the fireworks show. Afterwards, we'll figure out a way to get us both out of here. Agreed?"

  We look at each other, Jules an Inca princess, the child bride of the Emperor and me, a beaten up Spanish conquistador. She steps toward me, leaning in, and kisses my lips.

  "Thank you, Addison Shaw."

  ***

  From what little light filters in, I think it's evening. Once again, I hear conversation at the mouth of my cell, only this time it ends in a dull thud. Kushirimay leans her head over the opening, lowering a ladder, and motioning for me to follow her. We walk down a dark passage, and out a door into a cold, clear night. Not saying a word, she guides me, torch in hand, to a small, stone outbuilding. We slip through the doorway. Inside, the room is empty except for a reddish-brown llama wool rug. She lifts the rug exposing a wooden trap door, which opens to a pitch-black hole.

  Through the trap door we climb down a ladder, Jules’ torch lighting our way. We're walking through a dank tunnel, my hands scraping against earthen walls, Jules walking in front of me.

  "This tunnel will take us to the temple."

  We descend a short staircase into a narrow passageway slanting downward.

  "How did you find this, Jules?"

  "Kushirimay doesn't know about it, well, until now. I saw a schematic in the League file. I think this must have been built to provide a way of escape for Pachakutiq. I guess he didn't like the idea of being trapped inside his own tomb."

  I pause, Jules’ torch smoking, its light dancing down rough-cut stones of this new passageway. She keeps talking about Pachakutiq like he'll greet us at the tomb. "Jules, he's dead."

  "He wasn't always dead. And besides, to the Inca he's as alive as if he were standing here with us right now. Once you're a Sun God you're immortal." She waves me on. "Just a few more feet, I think."

  Walking another thirty feet we come to a large, rectangular stone three feet wide, six feet long, and four feet high.

  "We're here."

  "Here? Wait, Jules, that stone has to weigh a ton."

  She leans her child's body into the smoothly hewn rock, pushing until a sliver of light shines between the wall and a newly revealed door. Jules flashes me her "I told you so" smirk through Kushirimay's face. "Inca craftsmanship. The door must be perfectly balanced to shift so easily."

  She peers through the opening, then pushes the door out far enough for us to slip through. We stand in a small, enclosed area. Mummified remains wrapped in llama wool blankets lie in niches in the walls of the room.

  "We're in the tomb. Pachakutiq's temple is above us."

  I move to an opening to the outside in the opposite wall of the tomb, ready to destroy the tech and get Jules out of here.

  Jules tenses, and touches my arm. "Wait, Addy. Guards. Follow my lead."

  "Jules, no."

  She steps past me, out of the tomb. I hear a man's voice. I don't understand the language, but his tone sounds threatening. However, Jules responds assertively, the guard relenting, bowing to her with his back to me. I find a rock nearby, raising it as I creep toward him, then smash it against the back of his head. Stepping over his body, we climb stone steps leading to an arched entry to the temple. I enter first with Jules behind me. In the center of the circular room lies a massive boulder, a life-sized, golden statue of Pachakutiq atop it.

  Jules crosses the space, looking upward to a narrow, vertical, rectangular portal in the wall above us. "Kushirimay knows this place. At sunrise on the winter solstice the sun shines through the portal in the wall, reflecting off the statue."

  I scan the ceiling and the angle of the portal in alignment with the stone. "It doesn't make sense. If they've archived the technology into a set of schematics visible during solstice, they'd only be able to get to them once a year."

  She turns, keeping the light of her torch on the stone, rubbing her hand across its surface. "We may be over-thinking this. Look."

  Jules' torch flickers across the stone surface, which has been meticulously carved with fine detail. I make out a schematic for a wing and a propeller, as well as what I think is a steam engine.

  "This is it, Jules. We've found it." My excitement fades quickly. "Damn!"

  "What's wrong?"

  "I thought I could burn the technology. I
figured it would be on scrolls or something. This is solid rock." I tap its cold surface with my knuckles. "We've got to think of another way."

  We both look around for some destructive tool to use against stone. The room is empty, other than the rock in its center and the golden statue.

  "I'm going back outside, see if I can find something to use. You need to get out of here."

  "Addy, you need my help."

  "We agreed." I instinctively stoop down to a child's level. “You stay hidden while I figure out a way to destroy the schematics. When it’s done, we'll get the hell out of here. Together."

  She wraps her arms about my neck. "Be safe. I love you."

  I love her too. I hold her tight, only letting go to leave. I will get you back to present-side, Jules. And when I do, we'll be together.

  Outside, I look for a stone, something I can use to destroy the schematic carvings. By a wall under construction, I find an elongated, rounded river stone about the size of an ostrich egg. From the smaller stone fragments surrounding it, I surmise a tradesman must be using the stone to chisel a large block nearby. This should do the trick. Entering the temple once again, my eyes take a moment to adjust. The torch has been tossed to the ground. In the waining torchlight I see the circular stone walls, the large rock in its center and the oracle standing opposite me with a knife at Jules' throat.

  The oracle's voice echoes off the walls. "I had a feeling you weren't Pizarro." She speaks perfect Mid-Western American English.

  Dressed in her cerulean robe, she holds a gold and silver dagger against Jules' neck. A thin gold chain is wrapped around her dark hair, azure tassels falling to her forehead.

  I freeze, a clamp tightening around my heart. Jules has no die back. "Who are you?"

  "Drop the hammer stone." Her words are ice.

  I hesitate, not wanting to lose my only weapon.

  "Drop it or I'll slice her pretty neck. I don't think die back is in her best interest. Do you?"

  She knows about Jules? And how does she know about die back? I drop the stone, taking a step toward her, keeping my hands in front of me. "Who are you?"