Beautiful Salvation by Jennifer Blackstream Page B

the life they meant for their people. So the Black God and the White God joined forces. Together they defeated Cipactli and distorted her body. It was from her flesh that the world, the Kingdom of Mu , was created.”
     
    “Our kingdom is standing on a dead crocodile?” Aiyana let her doubt show in her voice as she blinked disbelievingly at Saamal.
     
    “Not dead. Cipactli was an immortal monster. She lives, as the land. After the gods defeated her and created the human race, Cipactli realized that she had the potential to serve life instead of end it, and she became content to be the land upon which her people thrived. However, her hunger did not vanish completely. She is still alive, and she still craves the nourishment she once sought as the sea monster she was born as.”
     
    Memories of a deep, inhuman voice whispering through her mind came floating back to Aiyana. “I’m hungry. Feed me, Aiyana. Flesh and blood.” Cipactli? Had that voice been the sea monster—the land? Aiyana swayed on her feet. She wanted to sit, to curl up into a ball and think of the macabre history of her people, but she didn’t. A royal did not have the luxury of wallowing in horror. The kingdom must endure. She closed her eyes and evened out her breathing, focusing on slowing her rapid heartbeat. She thought back on what history she did know of her people, the few stories she’d heard of the sacrifices and her own experience with the grisly custom through her nightmares. “You’re telling me that once a year one of my subjects must be sacrificed…to feed the giant crocodile whose body makes up the land of my kingdom?” The words sounded ridiculous, but they resonated deep inside her, ringing with an awful truth. She opened her eyes to find Saamal watching her, sympathy in his eyes.
     
    “Cipactli gave her body to her people.” He tilted his head. “Is one life so much to pay for her sacrifice?”
     
    Putting a hand to her rolling stomach, Aiyana tried to hold back the scream she wanted to unleash on him, breathing through the hysteria until she could speak with a calm, clear voice. “To you? No. To me? Maybe not. But to that one subject that is chosen, that one life is everything. Cipactli lives. The sacrifice does not. Who is to say one life of…servitude, deserves one life in its entirety?”
     
    Aiyana pressed her finger to her temples, a pit of cold opening up inside her. The man before her was handsome, even cloaked as he was in the features of a jaguar. There was an aura about him that spoke of confidence and power, and she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt tugging at her insides when she looked at him. Part of her wanted to agree with him, wanted to give in to the connection she sensed, the easy peace of not having to fight against the power inside her anymore. An hour ago she never would have dreamed of finding a man who knew what she was and wanted her anyway, and there was an allure to the idea that tempted her.
     
    But his easy acceptance of death, his nonchalance about the ending of a life as some sort of twisted tribute… It disgusted her. It didn’t matter if he accepted the darkness within her, was comfortable with it—she wasn’t. And as long as she had hope of becoming something better, of getting a better life for her people, she would continue to fight.
     
    She squared her shoulders, more determined than ever to seek out the fairy. “If what you say is true, and the Black God himself has granted me some of his powers, then obviously he means for me to be an instrument of death, the weapon that will spill blood, end life, to feed this…Cipactli.” She squared her shoulders. “I…have heard the land. I know that part of what you say is true, that something in the land does thirst for blood. But the fact is, this land is not dying.” She held her hands out, gesturing at the greenery around her. “Cipactli, if she is real, obviously does not need flesh and blood so much as she wants it. I