Page 140 of The Lost Guardian

He flew backward out of the tunnel, landing in front of them. His body was covered in pointed spikes, protruding like a cactus. He tried to say something, but only a wet, gurgling sound came out. Santiago thought he might be sick. Then Rodriguez collapsed and lay completely still.

Garcia approached him slowly, taking care not to get close to the tunnels. Her fingers trembled as she placed them on the man’s neck. After a moment, she shook her head.

Dead.

One of the other Huáscaros grabbed Rodriguez’s hand and began to cry. His nearest comrade rubbed circles on his back.

“Quiet, Rodriquez,” Torres snapped.

Santiago wondered if the name was a coincidence or if the billionaire really was shushing a man who’d just witnessed the death of his kin. Either way…

Slowly, Santiago forced himself to inch farther into the room. Enough, at least, to examine each of the tunnels from afar. They seemed identical, narrow enough that if Santiago stood in the middle of one and reached out his arms, he would likely be able to touch both sides of it at the same time.

They all stretched far enough that Santiago could not properly make out where each one led. Their walls, floors, and ceilings were also built from the same patchwork of small stones that fashioned the rest of the room.

Then he noticed the carvings.

Above each domed path was a picture of an animal. The one farthest to the left was a condor. On its right, a puma. Then a llama in the center tunnel. A horse. And finally, a snake at the end.

The first Rodriguez—the dead one—had stepped through the llama tunnel. Slowly, Santiago reached toward the man, gently plucking one of the spikes from his body.

Just as I suspected.

It was a dart, wooden and sleek, tapered to a sharp point. Santiago brought it toward his face and sniffed, then shrugged.

“What?” Garcia watched him, eyes brimming with distrust. As if he had ordered any of them to be there.

“I would venture to guess they’re dipped in poison,” Santiago said. “Given how quickly he died. I have no idea how long the effect of toxins can last over the centuries, but clearly these are active and potent.”

He looked above each tunnel once more, examining the drawings more closely.

“We need to follow the correct animal,” Santiago said. “We just need to figure out which.”

“We entered through the mouth of a snake.” Torres rolled his eyes. “Surely that’s the right path?”

“Please,” Santiago said, motioning the man forward. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Oh, no,” Torres replied, with the look of a man insisting that his dinner guest have another glass of wine. “After you.”

Santiago was no fool. Following the snake again was too easy. And none of the other clues had repeated thus far.

There had to be a catch. On a whim, he searched his pockets. This was a mistake. Everyone in the room trained their guns on him. Slowly, he raised his hands in the air.

“I was just looking for this,” Santiago soothed, pinching the button from his broken flannel between two fingers.

When the huaqueros relaxed, he turned back to the snake tunnel and tossed the button inside.

Instantly, the sound of rushing air and bouncing projectiles filled the room. Darts flew from both sides of the shaft, ricocheting off each other and the walls for several long seconds.

Torres no longer looked so smug. His jaw ticked as if he was grinding his teeth.

“Check the others,” the man demanded.

Leo, Mario, Garcia, and the other Rodriquez fished through their own pockets in search of random items to toss. Another of Torres’s guards in black—Santiago had not caught his name yet—stuck close to their leader, hand on his weapon. He did not join the search.

When the others were done, there was a coin, a stray rock from a shoe, and a small knife. One by one, they threw the items in the remaining paths, and one by one each tunnel released a volley of possibly poisoned darts. All five of the tunnel walls seemed rigged to release them.

Curious… Santiago stroked his chin, which was scratchy with stubble by this point in the week.