Mayan Afterglow Read online

  Mayan Afterglow

  A.S. Fenichel

  They called it The End of Days after humanity met with near annihilation. Ten months later, the real end is coming.

  Aileen Grant’s powerful psychic gifts have been nothing but a curse since the day she was born. She’d given up all hope of escaping the demonic grasp of Mictlan, The Lord of the Dead, until an enigmatic thief snatches her out of Hell. With something to live for, she convinces Ian to join her on a treacherous journey to save the world.

  Ian Scott is stealing from long-deserted homes when he pulls Aileen’s unconscious body from a strange bolt of lightning. Aileen is the last thing that Ian wants or needs, but her quiet beauty and courageous heart bind him to her in ways he never imagined, and ignite passions he’s never known.

  Mayan Afterglow

  A.S. Fenichel

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my mom, for being my biggest fan and toughest critic, and to my husband, Dave, my best friend, my lover and the hero of my life.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my dear friends Debbie, Kathleen and Llonda for dropping everything to read the first draft just because I asked them to, and to Nancy Quatrano and Shelley Freydont for sharing their time and knowledge with me. Special thanks to my wonderful critique partner, Karen Bostrom. I could never have done this without you.

  Chapter One

  He’d already taken what he could find in the bedroom. A small safe tucked into the master closet had been a challenge but well worth his time. The tumblers had been no match for his explosives, and the trading power of the diamonds and rubies he’d found would keep him eating and moving for months. Even the costume stuff could be traded to the less-discerning customer.

  Messenger bag slung across his shoulder and flashlight trained in front of him, he headed for the kitchen. Even though the house had been abandoned for ten months since the infamous events of December 21, 2012, the canned goods should still be safe to eat. He pulled the scarf around his neck up over his mouth and nose as he entered the enormous kitchen. The smell of rotting food penetrated the wool, but he was used to it. He made his way past granite countertops and across the marble floor to a door on the far left. In the walk-in pantry, he tucked beans, tuna and beef stew into his bag just as a sharp pain at the back of his head snapped him to attention. He turned sharply but no one was behind him. The pain dug into the base of his skull.

  An instant later he heard static popping from the next room. He knew he should take his bounty and leave the house. His instincts told him to run as fast and as far away from Lake George, New York as he could. He passed through the arched doorway. In his mind he was screaming, “Ian, run!” but his legs pushed forward toward the sound in the next room.

  Completely dark except for the shaft created by his flashlight, the ornate room had two crystal chandeliers hanging over a long table that must have seated twenty people at one time. Ian had a fleeting thought about those people and their fate before pointing his light toward the far wall. A fireplace covered in white marble took up most of the wall. Above the mantle a portrait depicted a very happy family. A middle-aged, blonde woman sat in a wingback chair with a dark-haired man behind her. Three blonde girls in their teens surrounded her, all blue-eyed and all smiling like they lived in a perfect world. Maybe they had, Ian thought.

  The pain returned and Ian grabbed the back of his head in response. Instinctively he turned off the flashlight. But even as he did so, a light streaked and popped like electricity at the other end of the room. Ian advanced toward the fireplace. Could the house have an open circuit of electricity? Was that even possible? No, he told himself. The only electricity was what he generated himself with wind, water or fuel. All of these homes were as dead as the people who had once dwelled in them.

  The crackle of electricity filled the air with the smell of smoke and burning hair.

  He tucked his scarf back up over his nose.

  The light grew brighter and in the center he could make out two figures embracing. Then they were gone.

  He was in darkness.

  Several minutes elapsed. He didn’t move or turn his flashlight back on. He knew he was alone, but he couldn’t deny that he had seen two people in the burst of lightning that had flooded the room. A man and a woman, he was sure of it.

  His first thought was that they appeared so clean. The few people left alive on his journey had been struggling to survive. They had been worn and dirty just like him, some much worse.

  As well as being clean, the people in the burst of light wore bright and new clothing. The man had been in dark trousers and a beige shirt that flowed around him. His hair was dark but his pale skin was stretched tight around his bones. Ian had noticed this in an instant but it was the woman who had captured his attention. She was magnificent. Loose blonde curls flowed down her back and across her shoulders, and her blue eyes were the color the sky should be on a clear spring day. She had creamy skin that begged to be touched, and a body lithely wrapped in a long tunic of dove gray. He recognized her from the portrait. She was one of the teenagers though she was several years older now.

  He laughed. “You’ve lost your mind, Ian. That’s what this is. You’ve been without a woman for so long that you’re conjuring them out of the ether.”

  The pain returned. He ignored it and waited.

  The pop and crackle of electricity lit the room. His skin tingled and the hair on his arms stood up in response.

  The pair flashed into view again. Ian was closer this time. What at first had appeared to be an embrace now seemed more like an assault. The man was stealing her breath. Those heavenly blue eyes were round with fear. She stared out of the light and looked right through him.

  Ian didn’t think. He reached forward and thrust his arm into the lightning. Searing pain coursed through his hand and arm. Madness, he thought. This is pure madness.

  He reached farther into the bolt and felt flesh beneath his fingers. Closing his hand around her arm he yanked hard and fell backward onto the floor, the woman falling on top of him.

  She rolled to one side.

  Ian saw the other figure in the light screaming with rage.

  She held up her hand toward the enraged specter. Ian heard her mutter something. Blindingly bright light filled the room for an instant before it all went dark.

  There was silence save for his own breathing.

  She was dead or gone. Or had he imagined her?

  He flipped the switch back on the flashlight he still gripped in his right hand and pointed it toward the floor on his left.

  She was there, crumpled next to him. Her touchable skin only inches from him. He reached out and pushed the hair from her face. It felt like silk on his fingers.

  Her eyes popped open and he jerked his fingers back like a child caught cheating in school.

  There were several seconds before her eyes focused on him. It was like she was in a trance and for the first time she was waking up.

  When she spoke her voice was soft and low, barely a whisper. “He’ll find another way through. You must run from this place.” Her head rolled to one side and her eyes closed.

  Fear spread through him. “Shit. Don’t be dead! Shit.”

  He felt for a pulse at her throat. There it was. He sighed.

  “Not dead. Good.”

  He picked her up, pulling her upright by both arms before hoisting her rear-end up over his shoulders like a fireman. She was small and thin and her pelvic bone pressed against his shoulder. Her weight was not much of a hindrance as he made his way back through the kitchen and foyer to the front door.

  At the bottom of the steep front steps he made a left and traveled down the horseshoe-shaped drive. He heard the growl before he saw anyt
hing. The bushes rustled. Ian lowered the woman to the ground without taking his eyes off the movement to his left. These things rarely traveled alone. Red eyes peered out of the brush. There was no moon or stars but the sky glowed the same red it had for ten months. It was light enough to see the evil that lurked in the darkness.

  He put himself between her limp body and the creature just as it crept onto the driveway. Like a wolf but bigger and mangier, it was some kind of mutation. These horrible distortions of the world before were not common. How did this one end up in a residential area?

  A second animal moved out of the bushes. They snapped at each other as if their proximity was a necessity rather than a choice. The two-inch canine teeth of the larger animal nicked the snout of the other who cowered and whimpered.

  Ian took the opportunity to reach for the pistol tucked into his waist. He fired quickly at the larger animal. It immediately rose on his back legs roaring in pain. Ian moved as far back as he could without leaving the woman exposed. The creature collapsed forward but as it landed its substantial front claw sliced open the side of Ian’s calf.

  The smaller animal wasted no time and leaped toward Ian. Ian’s leg collapsed beneath him, but he fired. The shot was off by several inches and only grazed the wolf’s neck. The animal cried out and ran for the woods.

  He stood up. She was awake.

  He reached down to help her stand. “We have to go. There could be more. They’ll come soon to scavenge that one’s body. They have no qualms about eating their own.”

  She made a face as she took his hand. “We’ll have to bind that gash or you’ll be passing out too,” she said looking at his leg.

  He agreed.

  She leaned over, took the knife he offered her and cut away the frayed denim. Then she tore a piece of cloth from the bottom of her tunic. The leg wound exposed two inches of meat in his calf. Binding it tightly stayed the bleeding. Pain shot up his leg. He gritted his teeth and groaned like a tortured animal.

  She tied the knot and cupped her hand over his injury. He could feel the heat from her hand and the pain eased.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, pulling her up off her knees.

  On wobbly legs she followed him to a cluster of overgrown bushes. Tucked between them, barely cooled, stood Old Faithful. His Harley Davidson’s gas tank was scratched, her chrome dinged and cloudy. Her fenders looked like aluminum foil that had been balled up and then flattened out again.

  He mounted the bike and started it. The motor growled into action, filling the mountains with its rumble.

  Ian stepped off and tucked his sack into the leather saddlebag. He secured the bag with a piece of rope since its buckles had long ago rotted and fallen away. A bungee cord secured a long nylon rope to the pack.

  He helped her onto the bike. Her eyes began to close again and her body listed to one side. For a moment her eyes fluttered open but then her head fell forward.

  He leaned down and took her chin in his fingers. “Listen to me,” he yelled above the cycle’s motor.

  Her eyes fluttered open again.

  “I’m going to strap you to me to keep you from falling off the bike. It’s a long drive up into the mountains where I have a safe place for us to rest. I swear you’ll be able to sleep soon, but not now. You’re going to have to hold on. Do you understand me?”

  Her eyes blinked and she sat up slightly. Ian took that as an affirmative and nodded before wrapping the rope around her twice and mounting the bike in front of her. He pulled the rope tight and tied the ends around his abdomen. The action drew her body hard against his. He reached back with both hands and took hold of her hands wrapping them around his middle. She rested her head against him.

  “Stay awake,” he yelled. In his heart he thought, Stay alive.

  He rolled the bike forward, around the bushes and into the driveway. Her hands disappeared for a moment and he glanced back to see her knotting her wild hair at her nape and tucking it into the back of her shirt. When her hands returned to his stomach, he gave the bike gas and they were on the road heading up into the mountains west of Lake George.

  It felt strange to have a woman’s arms wrapped around his middle. His left hand moved from the handlebars to where she gripped him and touched her. She felt real, though some part of his mind still doubted her existence.

  It had been a long time since anyone had touched him. The woman that he’d traveled with just after the End of Days had died of a fever. The memory made his chest ache. His companion’s arms tightened slightly as if she could feel his pain and she wanted to give him comfort. The gesture only made his ache deepen.

  Her name was Jane and they had gotten along well for the two months she’d lived after December twenty-first. She’d had hair like midnight and dark olive skin. Even at the worst of times her eyes had smiled at him. His chest squeezed again. He missed Jane’s humor and the way she’d made any situation bearable. Even on the last day of her life she had smiled at him and told him not to look so tragic. It had only been a cold but she’d died just the same. He’d buried her in Ohio somewhere and put a marker on her grave.

  Cold tears rolled down his face just as they had the day Jane had died. He let the biting wind wipe them away. Tears do good to keep a man alive during the End of Days, he thought. They only blur his vision.

  He felt his companion’s arms go slack and reached back to shake her.

  “Don’t go out on me now,” he said, even though she couldn’t possibly hear him with the noise from the Harley and the wind.

  Still her arms tightened and he returned his hand to the handlebars.

  After hours of riding they slowed and turned down a dirt road. Ian stopped the bike in front of a wall of rock and some pine trees. He untied the rope binding her to him and got off the bike. She gazed up at him with heavy eyes but he could still see her question.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Stay here a second,” he commanded.

  He went to where the trees met the wall of rock and pushed aside the pine, which gave way easily, revealing a hole in the stone wall.

  He returned to the bike. “Can you walk?”

  “I think so,” she said.

  Slowly she dragged one leg over the bike and got to her feet. Ian rolled the motorcycle into the cave and she followed behind.

  It was pitch dark inside.

  “Stand still. I have a lantern.”

  He dug into his jacket pocket and struck a match to light the Coleman lantern on his right.

  He glanced back at her. She didn’t even look around at the cave he’d made into a house and storage building. Her sky-blue eyes never strayed from him.

  In spite of his good intentions his groin responded. “You had better stop staring at me like that,” he said.

  She seemed amused. “I need sleep.”

  He pointed to an area in the rear of the cave where there was a bed.

  She went to it and collapsed on the edge of it.

  She looked up at him in surprise. “A real mattress?” she asked. “How did you get a real mattress up here?”

  He grinned. “It’s a long story. Get some sleep,” he said.

  He knelt down before her and tugged at the laces of her leather boot. Once it gave way he touched the fur lining and felt the heat from her body. Putting it aside he worked on the other boot.

  When he looked up she was still watching him.

  He immediately averted his eyes and moved to build a fire in the pit he’d dug months before when he found the cave.

  “You can have a fire in here?” she asked.

  He nodded. “The ceiling has another cave entrance. It vents as good as any flue and the cave stays pretty warm.”

  “Amazing,” she said and gazed up into the darkness of the rock.

  “I’m Ian,” he said hoping she would respond with her name. His heart clenched, creating a painful tightness in his chest. He was desperate to know her name, to know her and who she was. When she didn’t immed
iately respond he added, “Ian Scott.”

  She smiled but he didn’t know why his name should please her.

  “Aileen Grant,” she said.

  He was smiling, too. Idiot, he thought to himself. You’re an idiot to think this woman could be interested in you. He frowned and turned away.

  She was asleep by the time he had a good fire burning. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep for a long time before he, too, crawled into bed and slept.

  Chapter Two

  The chill seeped into her feet first. It made its way up her legs and sank deep into her belly causing her entire body to shake. Something warm wrapped around her and she buried herself in it. In the back of her mind she knew the warmth was a man. Her good sense told her to wake herself and move away from his embrace. He was so easy though. His body was warm and he willingly gave of himself. Ian Scott, she thought. She felt content and remained engulfed in his arms allowing her sleep to return.

  The fire was only embers when she woke up. Still it gave off enough heat for comfort. She was alone in the bed and immediately scanned the cave for her companion.

  She found him standing at the mouth of the cave watching the morning come. There was no sun. There had not been sun since the Winter Solstice of the previous year. She could hear the wind blowing hard through the trees and down the mountain.

  “You should let me have a look at that leg,” she said.

  “It’s fine,” he said, glancing down at the offending limb.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked as her legs swung over the side of the bed.

  He turned. “Nothing.”

  She pulled her boots on. “For nothing, it sure had your attention.”

  A sad smile lifted the corners of his full mouth. He was more handsome than she had realized the night before. His hair was dark blond and full of waves, and he somehow managed to keep it short and neat. His eyes were a deep green that in another time she might have taken for colored contact lenses. Now though, people could not be bothered with that kind of vanity. Ignoring his claims she moved toward where he stood and knelt down to look at the wound.