According to the Elders of the Mayan Tribal Council, the cessation of the Mayan Long Calendar signaled the end of a cycle or an era, like the odometer of a car turning over. The Maya call it “the great change of Suns’. The coming out of a dark period of their current fourth world, into a new world. Calling forth a transformation of world cultures, both by humane and spiritual means.
Interestingly enough while writing my 3rd novel, The Jaguar Sun, I discovered another sacred date in the Mayan calendar ~ December 23rd. In The Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel (Chilam Balam: Spokesman of the Jaguar), Cheen or December 23rd is listed as a sacred day, so what with the end of the Mayan Long Calendar which occurred in December 2012, it was only natural to align the climatic ending of The Jaguar Sun, around this day of all days.
Here is another excerpt from The Jaguar Sun ~
*Wise of Sonja Walker to call the formidable attorney before coming to this interview, he thought. Turned out the woman ran a goddamn escort service, and not just any escort service, Gary had explained. Walker didn’t have websites full of girls posing nearly naked in hotel rooms, or just text me for outcalls, advertised in the yellow pages. According to Gary’s vast knowledge of Seattle’s elite social life, Sonja Walker catered to the more wealthy and powerful men of the state. Apparently, John Fogel had been one of her clients.
Hell, looking at the woman, he couldn’t blame John. She was a stunner. He’d acknowledged that very fact himself last summer when he spent an evening with her in Astoria. The introduction had been a calculated diversion on Calen Meer’s part in order to spend some private time with Aiden’s sister, Dana.
Yes, the woman now being questioned by a homicide detective inside one of King County PD’s interrogation rooms certainly had the art of conversation down. She proved as much that night in Astoria, turning the discussion to Aiden himself, carefully stroking his ego like a maestro.
Even wearing a white turtleneck under her tailored jacket, which DeAndres had undoubtedly instructed her to wear, didn’t hide the woman’s shapely curves. And her face…well the words classic beauty came to Aiden’s mind. He remembered being a little thrown off at first by those sable-colored eyes and whisky voice when they’d chatted over drinks at The Elliot Hotel months ago. True to his discipline, however, he’d kept the evening just to drinks and nothing else. Not that she’d offered; it was just he had a feeling if he’d pursued it, she might have met him again.
Aiden loosened his tie. It seemed to be getting hot in the small obs room. He watched and listened to Ms. Walker answer Ellen’s first question.
“What was your relationship with John Fogel, Miss Walker?”
“He and I were good friends,” she said simply, not elaborating.
“Did you know Patricia Fogel, John’s wife, was out of town last evening?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me how you came to be at Mr. Fogel’s residence last night?”
Aiden watched Sonja Walker’s expression and body language with the trained eye of a prosecutor and with that other part of him, the uncanny supernatural instinct, which seemed to be more and more a part of him of late.
“He called and asked me to come over to his home.”
“What time did you arrive at Mr. Fogel’s, and what did you do while you were there?” Ellen continued.
DeAndres didn’t preempt any response from his client, which told Aiden her counsel was comfortable with the anticipated answer.
“At ten p.m.” Sonja twisted the ring on her middle finger. The only sign of hesitation, Aiden thought.
“We talked. John had a scotch on the rocks, and I had a glass of white wine.”
Aiden was impressed, DeAndres had obviously briefed Walker on how to respond; short answers only. The next question took even Aiden by surprise.
“Miss Walker, did you have sex with John Fogel last evening?” DeAndres merely cleared his throat. Ellen ignored him. Aiden suddenly felt like a voyeur, and for the first time in a long time, uncomfortable with the question.
Sonja Walker maintained a level voice when she answered. “No, we only talked, and then I left just after midnight.” She paused, tucking her upper lip into her mouth briefly.
Aiden suddenly felt that insidious heat rising again from his groin into his chest, the same heat he’d experienced earlier when sitting on the side of his bed. He glanced over at Tom Reid, who was smirking at the question his partner just laid out in the room. “I know it was five after twelve because I looked at the living room mantle clock and told John it was late, and I needed to get home.”
“One last question, Miss Walker.” Ellen said.
“Of course, Detective?”
“Do you own a gun Miss Walker?”
Aiden noted just one telling movement from Sonja Walker; it was small, and he doubted anyone else in the room caught it. Just a tiny rub of her palm against her thigh under the table. “No, I don’t. Guns scare the hell out me.”
Aiden winced as heat flashed up his spine, and the vision hit him like a Mac truck…*
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