Daniel has constructed a story (call it a "half-novel") that is both simple and exceedingly strange. It opens with this to set the stage and tone which gains significance later):
Dave and his sister, Regina, fly with their parents to Mexico over Christmas to vacation anong the Mayan ruins. Dave runs into Anne Marie, a Guatemalan from Albany, attending SUNY but visiting Mexico like Dave. Dave is immediately smitten:"My sister’s voice eclipsed whatever it was I had been thinking of. Something about space. And the stars. An image of opal green scales faded from my memory. Regina was right. I was staring out our balcony doors at the Mayan ruin on the shore and I…I must have nodded off. I shifted my head and all I saw was glare and the reflection of our fancy hotel room in the glass."
"a tall girl in blue jean cut-offs and a tight shirt. The shirt was one of those black t-shirts with the white sleeves.... She was wearing one of those palm hats from the guy at the curb and unruly dark curls stuck out in all directions from beneath it.... I couldn’t look away even though she was looking right at me and was totally going to notice. She looked over her shoulder as if expecting someone to follow through the exit. Then she glanced around the crowd, smiled and walked in my direction. I guessed she was about my age but something about the confidence with which she carried herself made her seem so much older than everyone milling about, jostling for position in line and the crowd."
They hook up and travel with her sister and fiance to the Mayan ruins where they meet a guide whose ideas of contemporary and ancient Mayans are mystical.
This is where it gets strange. The story primes us for horror. We're given Love Story A, which slides into Horror Story A, and morphs into Horror Story B (and possibly Love Story B). This isn't to say that Horror Story B wasn't lurking in the background all along, but I, at least, was surprised where the story lead.
The flavor of the tale is very much Lucius Shepard at his best (the 80s and early 90s) when Shepard used Latin America as a dark, inexorable, supernatural thrum, edging his readers closer to the ineffable.
This tale could have been tighter with more character development although the characters are etched with deft strokes: "Regina made that exasperated look she reserved for Mom and Dad’s more embarrassing parental displays such as blatantly hoarding extra bags of peanuts on the plane ride down here."
Overall, it's a satisfying read. Horror fiends will be pleased.
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