Danger! The quetzal in Dek’s blood sent that jolt of adrenaline squirting into his arteries and veins. His heart rate increased, air charging his lungs. Around him, the dim forest floor pulsed with the chime, the sound of it filling the warm morning with a symphonic harmony. Invertebrates buzzed as a column of them swarmed past a blooming tooth flower. The vibrant colors attracted the little creatures, many of which landed, only to be trapped and ingested when the colorful bloom snapped shut, the teeth interlocking to preclude any escape by the surprised prey.

Dek calmed himself, stalking quietly forward over the root mat with his rifle at the ready. He could just detect the faint odor, a sort of balsamic scent mixing with the tang of vinegar. He had the ornate Holland & Holland set for a muzzle velocity of seven hundred meters per second with a one-hundred-eighty grain bullet.

“This thing will kill you,” Rocket’s voice seemed to sound from above.

“Die,” Demon chided. “Stupid human.” The knowledge that it was good riddance and fitting settled in Dek’s mind like a misty net.

“Quetzals don’t know everything,” Dek whispered under his breath, trying to balance quetzal knowledge with his own. Damn it, he had to try this. See if he could integrate the two. He’d been working on this for two days now. Seesawing back and forth, battling to come to terms, to find that measure of control and fine balance.

He had Talina’s image to rely on, memory of how she’d reassembled the Mayan pot. It helped, but that was Talina’s solution. He could only use it as a sort of model, not a step-by-step guide. Maya mythology and tradition weren’t in his worldview. Knowing that it was possible to integrate—if not how—was enough. He had to deal with this in a Taglioni fashion. That meant risk, cunning, and profiting from success.

“So you see,” he told Demon, “we can die just as surely as drowning. I die, you die. Your TriNA never makes it back to your lineage. It dead-ends here.”

“Go back to Talina,” Rocket pleaded.

“Can’t,” Dek muttered under his breath. “Understand, we’re doing this. We’re going to kill this thing. Together. Demon, you, me, we’re all intelligent. So I’m gambling that Demon—hate humans as he does—is going to work with us when it comes that final moment.”

“Insane! Die.”

“Sorry. I’m calling your bluff.”

“Why?”

“It’s a Taglioni thing. I won’t live being half of what I could be. It’s all or nothing.”

“You die, you lose Talina.”