Read Online Hunters of Chaos by Crystal Velasquez - Free Book Online

the lie. All I knew was that the harder I tried to picture my parents here, the blurrier their faces became. I thought coming to Temple Academy would bring me closer to them, but they felt further away than ever.

    That afternoon, when classes were done for the day, instead of walking back to the dorm with everyone else, I told Nicole I had forgotten my book and had to go back to math class. But really I just wanted to get away and take a walk on my own. I let my mind wander as I made my way around the paths and across the athletic field until I felt my black shoes sinking into soft red earth. When I looked up I realized I’d come to the site of the Anasazi temple.
    A team of archaeologists was hard at work, clearing away fallen rock and tagging objects as they pulled them from the dirt. Dr. Logan stood off to the side in a pair of jeans, the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up to the elbows. Though his boots were caked with dirt, his teeth were still so white, I probably could have seen them from space. When he noticed me, he smiled and waved me over. I ducked under the yellow cautionary tape and joined him at the base of the temple.
    â€œYou were one of the students from Ms. Benitez’s class that came yesterday, right?” When I nodded, he said, “I knew it. I never forget a face. Couldn’t stay away, huh? Well, I don’t blame you. This is fascinating stuff. Just look at what we found this morning.” He bent down and picked up a clay bowl that had black interlocking diamond designs covering the surface. “When most people think of ancient civilizations, they picture simple folk whose only concern was function. Not so!” he cried, pointing his index finger toward the sky. “They were artists, too, and cared about aesthetics as well as utility.”
    I nodded again, almost entranced by the intricate patterns. When I finally looked away, my eyes landed on a fat gray vase that was shaped like a teardrop. There were figures carved into the side, though I couldn’t make out what they were. “What about that one?” I asked, pointing to the vase.
    Dr. Logan looked at the artifact, then looked back at me with a shrewd stare. “Ah. Good eye, Miss . . .”
    â€œCetzal,” I supplied. “Ana Cetzal.”
    He studied me for a moment, then said, “You’ve picked out a very important piece, Miss Cetzal.” He stooped to pick up the vase, blowing away a bit of dust at its neck. As he brought it closer, the abstract form I’d seen began to take shape.
    â€œIt’s a cat,” I said, surprised to find a common household pet on such an old piece of art.
    â€œVery good,” said Dr. Logan. “But that should be no surprise. Many cultures have worshipped cats as gods or conduits to the spirit world. Ancient Egyptians, for example, and the Ashanti people of West Africa. Like them, the Anasazi believed that cats represented enormous power.”
    â€œEven regular house cats?”
    â€œI believe so, yes. But notice the elongated limbs here and the thick tail,” Dr. Logan said, pointing to different parts of the drawing. “This particular piece more likely is an early rendering of one of the great wildcats—a lion, perhaps, or a jaguar.”
    My hand flew to my neck, tracing the curves of the turquoise jaguar hanging right below my collarbone.
    Just then a flicker of movement off to the right of the temple caught my attention. It was a sleek black cat with blazing green eyes. As I watched, it disappeared into a nearby bush. I had to follow it. I’d always loved cats, though Uncle Mec had never let me have a real one because he was allergic. But I’d heard we were allowed to keep pets here at school, so maybe this cat could be mine—at least while I was in New Mexico.
    â€œThanks for showing me this, Dr. Logan,” I said. “I should get going.”
    He nodded. “Of course, Miss Cetzal. Come back