Words of Love

chapter SEVEN



Jesse looked up to the temple in front of them, at the far end of the plaza.

“The Caracol,” Brett said, beside her.

“Like Chichén Itzá,” she said, nodding.

Caracol was Spanish for snail, which meant that inside there would be a spiral staircase, like the shell of a snail. Unlike Chichén Itzá, though, this couldn’t be an observatory, not inside a mountain.

The ornate facade of the building was stone, like everything else, but the carving was incredible. It looked like latticework, deeply recessed in black shadows, with the floodlights at the opposite end of the plaza barely reaching it. The round building sat on a large rectangular platform, with steps that led down to the plaza.

As she and Brett climbed them, they held their lanterns high. At the dark doorway, she could just make out the beginning of the interior staircase.

There were glyphs on it.

Her mind raced as the colored images of other glyphs swam through her vision, mixing and matching. They quickly slotted into place.

“Bin in t’zuutz’ a chi,” she said, scanning across the first riser. “I will kiss your mouth.”

The beginning of a love poem, she thought. The Itzá, the mythic founding race of the Maya kings, were known for their erotic imagery and love poems.

“Between the plants of the fields,” she said, reading the second riser.

“Shimmering beauty, you have to hurry,” read the third, as she took a step up.

“Put on your beautiful clothes.”

She took another step.

“The day of happiness has arrived. Comb the tangles from your hair.”



• • • • •



Brett watched as Jessica touched her own hair.

She was gone again, in her own world. Colored glyphs with certain feelings attached, she’d said.

As he climbed up after her, he watched her fingers running quickly over the glyphs in front of her as her head swiveled left and right to read the entire line. The glyphs here were dense and he’d never even attempted their translation. He was looking for the Red King and he already suspected where his burial had to be.

“String garlands around your shapely throat,” she said quietly, as she took another step up and she ran her fingers down the front of her throat. He stared at the strangely seductive movement, not quite believing what he was seeing.

What is she doing? Acting out the poem? Mimicking the glyph?

Clearly, it was a love poem and, though it probably wouldn’t lead to the Red King, Brett couldn’t help but follow, entranced by the words and her. Occasionally, she’d slip into K’iche and rarely Spanish but most of the time it was English.

“Glorious you will be seen, for none is more beautiful here, in the seat of Dzitbalché.”

Brett nearly tripped.

The Songs of Dzitbalché. Again, the connection with the Itzá.

They had nearly reached the top of the stairs and she was reading at a faster pace now.

“Cah in yacumaech. I love you, beautiful lady. That is why I want you to look glorious and beautiful,” she panted as they entered the sanctuary.

The glyphs continued on the nearby altar. She left her lantern at the top of the stairs and rushed over to it, breathing hard. Brett set his down as well and had to run to keep up. It was darker inside but the lantern light was enough to cast some light on the small interior.

“You will appear like the smoking star,” she breathed, leaning over the top of the altar. She pivoted at the hips and still her fingers danced over the glyphs on its surface. “So that you will be loved even as existence, the moon, and the wildflowers.”

She paused to drag in a deep breath.

Brett stood next to her, though she had no idea. Her right hand was drifting down her throat toward the dip in her collarbones.

Why did she do that?

He stared at her, riveted by the movement.

Her hand moved lower, down to the dip between her breasts. He was hardly hearing her as a pounding in his ears took over.

“Pure and white are your clothes, maiden,” she breathed. “Go give happiness with your laugh. Put goodness…”

He found himself standing directly behind her.

“… in your heart,” she said, as she touched her own breast.

He gently placed one hand on her hip and slipped his other hand under the front of her tank top. He felt the touch of her back against his chest and his own labored breathing started to match hers.

“Because today…” she said.

He gently cupped her breast and she shuddered.

“…is the moment of happiness,” she whispered.

He kissed the nape of her neck and she gasped.