Burial Ground

I

Andes Mountains, Peru

October 30^th

1:16 p.m. PET

The words poured out of Galen's mouth so fast that even he could barely keep up with them. He knew how fantastic his theory sounded, but he became increasingly convinced each time it played through his head. Sam had said that the golden skull was far too precisely crafted for the Chachapoya, whose metallurgical skills were historically limited. Heck, just looking at the abstract faces of the six purunmachus verified their artistic style and shortcomings. The skull had been anatomically perfect, from the seating of the gold teeth in the alveolar sockets to the positioning of the orbital housings, and the irregular sutures between the cranial bones to the hollow concavities of the system of sinuses. Even the way the mandible articulated into the temporomandibular joints reflected an almost medical understanding of the skeleton. If it were simply a sculpture, then it had to be based on something the creator could physically see while he was sculpting it, but Galen didn't think it was anything as mundane as that. Then there were the feathers incapable of flight, the avian-hybrid, snake-faced deity carved into the stone walls in the village, and the immense fortifications and impregnable alpaca pen. Combined, they painted a picture that was impossible to ignore.

Something had survived in these mountains, hidden in the dense jungle, something capable of running down and butchering a jaguar, the crowned king of the Amazonian food chain.

He didn't vocalize the summation of his theory. Colton and Leo needed to reach that conclusion on their own. All he said was that it was a species of raptor, though not the modern kind that nested high on the cliff-sides and feasted upon carrion.

From the questions the men posed and the way they communicated silently in glances while he spoke, he could tell they didn't necessarily disbelieve him. But they didn't quite believe him, either.

After Galen finished, he drew a deep breath and waited for either of them to speak. The crackle of dead branches and leaves announced the approach of the rest of their party.

"Have you shared this theory with anyone else?" Colton finally asked. The hard look in his eyes and firm set of his jaw indicated that the question was heavily loaded, but for the life of him, Galen couldn't imagine why. He grew uncomfortable under the man's scrutiny, and paused to formulate his reply.

"No," he lied.

Leo nodded. "Let's just keep this between us for the time being. Even if you're right, there's no point in alarming the others just yet."

"If I'm right? We shouldn't even be here. Lord only knows what these creatures are capable of. Think about the alpaca bones around that tree. That could easily be us."

Colton took a step toward him and Galen instinctively cringed. Even the man's posture radiated menace.

"You will keep your mouth shut until given clearance to open it," Colton whispered. Voices filtered through the underbrush behind them. Colton's stare ticked toward the sound, then returned to meet his. "Do you understand?"

Galen could only nod. No threat had been uttered, but the implication hung in the air between them.

Christ. They already knew, didn't they? How long had they known, and why the hell hadn't they turned back yet, or at least warned the rest of the party?

Colton's expression softened as though controlled by the flick of a switch. He reached forward, lifted Galen's poncho, and plucked the feathers from the breast pocket of his vest.

"Thank you for sharing your concerns, Dr. Russell," Colton said. A genuine smile lit his face. What kind of man could cycle through emotions so quickly? "Believe me when I say that your safety is our primary interest, and there's absolutely nothing that would compromise our commitment to maintaining it."

Colton tucked the feathers into a pocket beneath his poncho, clapped him on the shoulder, and struck off on the path with Leo. He could hear them whispering, but couldn't decipher their words.

What just happened?

Galen was terrified. Something was out there in the jungle with them, possibly mere feet away in the underbrush, something that should never have survived this long. They had no idea exactly what they were up against. If he was right, as he firmly believed, they were dealing with a species of predator the likes of which mankind had never encountered.

His breathing grew fast and shallow, and his legs started to tremble.

Merritt scrambled down the wall of roots and hopped to the ground beside him. Galen opened his mouth to tell the pilot about his encounter. Then he remembered the expression on Colton's face and thought better of it. His mouth fell closed with the click of teeth.

Sam climbed down next, while the three remaining guards began the arduous task of scaling the wooden jungle gym with the crate of supplies. Her eyes appeared haunted as well. What had she seen?

The attractive director and her cameraman stood behind the men, filming their efforts. They were blissfully unaware of the danger surrounding them, as though capturing footage in a park rather than the black heart of the Amazon.

Galen turned to the forest and watched for any sign of movement. Anything. Only the insects stirred. They stayed near the tree trunks, out of the path of the raindrops.

And even though he couldn't see them, somewhere out there was a species that shouldn't exist, something capable of hunting this section of the rainforest to near extinction.

A flutter of movement drew his eye to where a large butterfly opened and closed its wings. It clung to a liana, its body the color of the bark. Folded together, its wings were nearly invisible. When it opened them, Galen recognized it as the same variety Jay had recorded in the jungle the day before: pale olive-colored background, veined to imitate scales, with twin turquoise circles on each forewing, and a design on the hindwings that simulated a sharp-toothed snarl.

Galen shuddered.

He thought of the way the walking stick insect had evolved to mimic a twig, the way the atlas moth had altered the shape and design of its wings to mimic the striking face of a snake.

The butterfly closed its wings again, breaking his trance.

They were in serious danger here.

When he turned back to the path, the others were already gone.

His heart pounded and his legs trembled.

"Wait up!" he called in a shrill voice, and sprinted up the trail after them.