THE HEAT WASN'T new to me.

It was the kind of sweltering heat that you would expect in Cancún, Quintana Roo. Having grown up in Phoenix, Arizona, I was no stranger to imminent heatstroke.

Even so, my three-quarter shorts were beginning to chafe. The airport was supposed to have air conditioning, but a makeshift sign by every exit indicated that it was broken and they were trying their very best to fix it. The other passengers around me fanned themselves with pieces of paper and fans in an effort to keep cool. I had no such thing, but I wasn't bothered.

I adjusted the collar of my cotton shirt and chewed on my lip, my head turning this way and that as I scanned for a sign with my name on it.

Maya García.

Most people could pick me out of a line-up —which was why I was wearing my sunglasses and floppy hat. I was somewhat of a celebrity; I was on the news as regularly as anything could be discovered, and people marvelled at my admittedly occult gift.

I reasoned it with my Spanish and Mexican ancestry; sprinkled with witches and occultists a-plenty. I did not think much of it, but I would much sooner call my ability a curse than a talent.

"Miss García?" a tall man in a casual suit with his brown hair tied back then said, coming to a standstill in front of me. His accent was thick, distinct.

I blinked, squinting as I then removed my sunglasses. "Mr. Lors," I quipped, securing the glasses in the buttoned top of my shirt. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Valdez, please," he insisted. "Yes, well, I wanted you to receive only the best service," he chuckled as he slipped his hands into his pants pockets. "It appears the conditioning has broken. I thought I would come and pick you up personally."

"Oh," I smiled. "You didn't have to do that."

"My pleasure, I promise," he returned, adding a wink.

I blinked rapidly. I wanted to die.

Mr. Valdez Lors, a chief director of archaeology —who just happened to land the excavation that I had been asked to accompany —was a notorious flirt and believed that all women adored him —especially women who were well known, with great influence. I wondered what the male equivalent of a gold digger was.

"Come, come," he then beckoned, reaching for my duffle bag and worn leather briefcase. "Let's go to the hotel before the traffic picks up, eh?"

The car ride in Valdez's Range Rover was filled with inane chatter about the heat wave and my flight. It only became interesting when he decided to brief me a little bit more about the project.

On one of the islands in the peninsula, ruins had been examined and found to be dating back further than any other they had previously found. There were rumours of secret tunnels, ominous drips of water, and more importantly: gold and jewels.

"Mayan?" I repeated.

"Yes," Valdez nodded enthusiastically, his gaze wandering from being on the road and then to my suddenly not covered enough legs, "You've mentioned many times that you are of Mayan descent. So I thought that would be perfect for you."

"How thoughtful," I clipped, my eyelids lowering.

"I knew you'd love it," he obliviously exclaimed, turning down the street.

I sighed and glanced out of the window at the buildings and people moving past. I liked to observe the world; life, as it went on lived. Ironic, because I stayed shut away in my apartment most days and made a living helping find things lost and dead from long ago.

Watching life gave me a sense of time in motion.

My eyes narrowed as, in the blur of grey and brown and dust, a bright green-blue gained my attention. I almost leapt out of the seat. A snake, thick and lengthly, curling itself on the branch of a dead tree looked directly back at me with its bright yellow and red eyes.

A snake I had seen before. A month ago, only in my dreams. Then it started appearing when I was awake.

A sudden chill travelled up my spine. Then I saw it —jade coloured smoke and fog curled along the car floor, and shrouded the world outside of it.

No. Shit. Not now.

The smell of rotting corpses and ash hit my nostrils, making me reel.

I gasped, turning back to Valdez —only a skeleton sat in his place, clothes replaced with a red and green grass skirt, gold medallions, feathers and war paint. I shrieked, scrambling back at the window. The skeleton's head snapped towards me, and its jaw dropped open. As though it were about to speak.

'...You're home,' a voice, deep and raspy, came from the tall form of bones.

My brows furrowed. "Wha...what?"

It wouldn't give anything more. The skeleton's empty sockets stayed on me, as it then disintegrated into dust on a phantom wind.

I thought that might be the last of it —until I felt a breath on the back of my neck. I jolted and screamed, as the smoke and fog then engulfed me.

A moment later I opened my eyes, gasping, to a concerned Valdez Lors. We had stopped driving —there was no wisps of green-blue, and no darkness. That might have written it off as a hallucination, but I could still smell the faint stench of death and decay.

Valdez frowned, staring at me as though I had just threatened to kill his family.

I blinked, and then chuckled nervously. "Uh...what?"

If he had heard me scream, that would explain his sudden worried expression. But I knew that he hadn't seen what I had seen. All he could have seen, were my eyes —once brown, turn to a glowing turquoise.

He didn't say a word about it.

"...We're here," he did say.

author's note |
hello, welcome to 'ear to the serpent'. i hope that you liked the first chapter! i'm aiming to keep them relatively shorter than I usually make them, just so I don't end up with a ten chapter story, lol.