Pike twisted to look at him in confusion. “No. Gekho’s cave is on the other side of the mountain. They destroyed it.”

“This is Gekho’s cave,” Shan repeated, then extended a hand to help the American to his feet. “This side offers a way out.”

Emotion roiled the American’s face. His confusion lingered but took on a hint of fear, then dread. Pike took a step forward, then another, walking along the demon gods as if his feet had grown leaden. He halted, then bent to set his gun on the floor of the cave before continuing. As Shan followed a few steps behind, he could hear Pike murmuring something and quickened his pace to listen. “Hail Mary, Mother of Grace,” he heard, then with the next breath, “Om mani padme hum.” Shan realized that he should not be surprised that such a complicated man should have a complicated mantra.

Halfway down the long chamber Pike paused to look at the Tibetan nurse, now visible as she sat in the light at the far end, but he quickly looked away. He was greeting each of the demons with a respectful nod now and lingered long enough to study the flayed human skins, skull necklaces, and wrathful serpents that adorned the images. At the painting of the particularly demonic black Makhala, Pike bent to set his two ammunition magazines on the floor. His anger had burned away, replaced by despair. He stood like a devout pilgrim before the wrathful demon, who clutched tiny broken humans in his eight hands, then went on to the final image, that of Yamantaka, Lord of Death, whose image was surrounded by flaming skulls.

Finally, he gazed at the nurse, who still sat bent over her work, heedless of her onlookers. The little area where she worked was partially obscured by boulders and stacks of the rugs and blankets that were used for sleeping.

Shan stepped past Pike and turned to study him. The American looked sapped of strength, as if he had been physically fighting with the gods.

“I read that the old pilgrims came to this cave to bury their particular demons,” Shan said.

Pike’s brow furrowed, as if he had heard a troubling question in Shan’s words. Then Shan stepped backward, leading him into the little alcove. The query on Pike’s face seemed to intensify, then Shan stepped aside and the American froze. The prostrate form on the blankets against the wall was turned away from them but its long blond hair was conspicuous.

The big man’s voice cracked as he spoke. “You … you found her body.”

“We found more than that,” Shan said as Pike approached the blankets.

The woman rolled over. One eye was still bandaged but the other was bright. “Hello, Papa,” Natalie said with a smile.

The American was paralyzed. “I never…” he sputtered, “I couldn’t … how could I even hope…”