A gentle hand stroked her hair, like a parent would stroke a child’s head after a nightmare. Lauren sighed in relief—but she had gone to bed alone.

Her eyes widened in horror. A cold chill ran in icy ripples down her spine. Who was touching her?

She bolted up, swung around and sat up straight in bed.

At the side of the bed stood the ancient Maya shaman, his diaphanous form hovering above the tile floor. Lauren’s breath caught in her lungs and her body shook violently. Muan put his hand out to her then brought it back to rest against his chest. His head bowed and Lauren saw his shoulders shake.

He looked up, tears streaming down his face. “I am sorry, Cimi. Kayab and I could not save you.”

Lauren couldn’t gulp enough air into her lungs to speak or scream.

He frowned, his expression was grave. “You are in danger, Lauren. You must find the owl.”

The sound of her name spoken by the ghost, slammed against her like a wrecking ball. She sucked in air and released a scream that echoed against the stucco walls in her room. Muan disappeared.

Lauren wanted to get out of bed and turn on the light but she was trembling and wasn’t sure if she could stand. She let out another shout when loud knocking rattled her door. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes were wide with terror.

“Lauren, are you all right? Open the door.”

Deven? Lauren shook her head in disbelief.

“Lauren! Open up!” Deven shouted louder.

“Just a minute.” Lauren swung her legs off the bed and ran to the door. Her knees shook so badly she thought she might collapse. She pulled back the bolt and flung open the door.

Deven stood there eyes wide and bare-chested. His jean shorts were unbuttoned and partly unzipped. Bursting through the door, he searched the room, his gaze darting back and forth, apparently looking for an intruder. Another jolt of fear hit her when she noticed Deven grasping a hand gun.