The Jaguar’s Ghost: The Sacrificed Ones Series Book 1

Prologue

Winston Terry was a sitting member of Congress, on vacation with his family in San Aztlan at the AztBlanca Resort. He just wanted to relax and forget the world waiting for him back home.

The quickest way back to their room from where he’d left his family was through an open courtyard.

Winston entered the courtyard and was surprised no one was there.

No one was there this time, not even the parrots he had grown accustomed to seeing in the branches. The air was colder than it should have been, and he wondered if someone had been playing with the environmental controls. The fact that it was outside was confusing as well. Did the courtyard have air conditioning? It didn't make sense.

Winston pushed the thought from his mind and followed the cobblestone path to the door on the far side of the courtyard that led to the building where his room was located. As he passed a cluster of birds of paradise, he noticed that a shape on the other side of the garden was pacing him.

At first, he thought it was a man. It was the size of a person, but when he looked a second time, he only caught a glimpse of a shadow that quickly vanished. Now there was nothing, though he was certain he had seen something just a moment ago.

“Hello?” he called.

“If you need something, come out and say it,” he said loudly.

There was no reply. No movement. Still, he was certain he had seen something.

Winston shook his head and kept on the path to the door.

He reached for the door handle and grunted as it resisted him. He did not expect it to be locked, and the sudden jerk strained his arm.

He put his hands up to the glass to avoid glare and peered into the hallway beyond. No one was around. He knocked on the glass, and the sound echoed in the courtyard, but no one came.

Something rustled the leaves in the birds of paradise behind him. Winston turned to look back, and the shadow he had seen before was there. It was as tall as a man, but feathers protruded from his back, shoulders, and head. Everything was cast in a darkness that shouldn't have existed given the source of the light.

The man wore something like a thick hood and cloak covering his head and body. In his hand, he held what looked like a homemade baseball bat set with chunks of black, glossy stone.

The shadow moved toward him, and Winston had nowhere to go. He extended his hand.

“Hey, hold on,” he said. “Whatever… you're…”

The words died on his lips. The shadow entered the light, and became visible to him, and Winston could not think of what he even planned to say. The feathers were impossibly large and impossibly bright. And the teeth were so large. Like knives.

The bat raised high, and Winston’s stomach knotted. Panic gripped him, and he bolted, running to the right even as the bat smashed into the glass door, shattering it.

The rushing, gurgling sound of the little waterfall filled his ears as he ran toward it. The shadow was there, in the water. It moved on him swiftly.