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“Iwantto destroy it,” she declared.

The ghost across from her smiled, tired and relieved, as she squeezed Ellie’s hands.

“Thank you,” Ixb’ahjun said—and then vanished, guttering like a candle flame going out.

Knowledge slammed into Ellie’s brain.

The blade in Jacobs’ hand. Charlie and Lessard hovering a few steps away by the crate.

Dawson reaching into the pocket of his jacket.

A rifle rising to point at Padre Kuyoc as Adam’s eyes narrowed with fear and determination.

The breastplate of hollow reeds lying on the ground by a hole into bone-filled darkness, discarded like a piece of trash.

No, Ellie realized with a sharp, clear fear. That wasn’t right.

The reeds were not hollow at all.

The mirror told her what she must do—and spilled out the inconceivable chaos that would follow.

Really, it all came down to a simple matter of geology.

“Oh blast,” Ellie cursed, her eyes going wide—and then the mirror spat her out.

She slammed back into her slumped, bloodstained body as Jacobs’ hand twisted into the back of her shirt.

?

Forty-Four

Staines had been braveenough when he had scampered over to give Adam a swift kick to the ribs as he wrestled with Jacobs.

When the chaos that followed left Adam wrestling Staines for the Winchester, the rat-faced bastard must’ve figured he stood a better chance against Adam’s fists than the wrong end of a rifle.

And so he’d chucked it into the stones.

The guard wasn’t wrong, though Adam could also do a lot of damage with his fists. Still, that gun would’ve been very damned handy right about now.

Especially as a wild, familiar light threw the whole of the cavern into stark illumination, and Jacobs grabbed hold of Ellie.

The rest of the cave went out of focus.

Dawson had taken that damned bone out and was waving it over his head. The crazy priest was over by the water, rattling importantly in holy-sounding Yucatec about whatever popped into his head. Jacobs’ goons prepared to either shoot or tackle the old man. Charlie and the other guys were conspiring grimly by the crate.

Even Staines, who was gaping up at Adam with well-justified terror as Adam straddled him on the floor—all of it snapped out of Adam’s awareness like someone had snuffed out a light.

In its place, there was only Ellie.

Blood dripped slowly down her arm where she’d sliced herself. Her eyes were woozy as Jacobs hauled her off the mirror and the knife in his hand headed for her throat.

Adam was too far away. He wasn’t going to get there in time.

The thought filled him with a blind, furious fear—and then a squat, grizzled figure rose from beside the crate.

“Câlice de tabarnak,” Martin Lessard cursed resignedly—then drove a practiced fist into Jacobs’ kidney.

Jacobs flinched as his teeth snapped together. He twisted instinctively into the injury and let out a grunt—even though he ought to be screaming with pain from the hit.