Lucero stood on the open air balcony, high up the side of the San Marcos teocalli. The stone under her feet radiated warmth from the day's heat. The night air hung still and hot even this late. Atop the hill directly across from her, Lucero caught the silhouette of the old amusement park tower, stabbing up into the sky like a stiletto dipped in black blood. Directly below it was the spring-fed lake; it glowed a blue-green from the submerged floodlights. In the center of the lights was a cut stone of obsidian black, and around that were crews in scuba gear with excavating machinery.