"Can't we take one?" Amethyst panted.
"Not unless you don't care where, or when, we arrive," Donovan said. "They aren't safe, and they aren't stable. I haven't had time to explore them."
He turned. Behind them, two very dark figures scurried down the passage after them. The figures didn't seem to hurry, but they moved with incredible speed, appearing in one place, and then another in quick succession. He saw that they were both members of Los Escorpiones, their dark vests covered in patches and glittering ornaments.
"We have to stop them from following," he said. "If we don't, we have to turn and fight."
"I'm not opposed to that," Amethyst said through gritted teeth. "I wouldn't mind a crack at the bastards."
"We don't have time," Donovan said. "We don't know how far she's gone, and we don't know if we broke the ritual."
"I can slow them," Amethyst said.
"Do it," Donovan said. "We're almost out."
Amethyst stumbled a little as she fished in the pockets of her jeans. Donovan noticed for the second time that she was topless. He tried not to smile, and failed. She caught his expression and glared at him as she spun.
Amethyst threw a handful of crystal dust into the center of the passage. As it filled the air, she cried out a command that Donovan didn't recognize. Whatever she'd said, it solidified the crystals into a thick, glassy wall.
"It won't hold," she said.
Donovan grabbed her, darted to the right, yanked open one of the ancient doorways, and dragged her through. He slammed it behind them, even as they heard the glass wall shatter in an explosion that sent bits and pieces crashing into the far side of the now closed portal.
"Can they get out?" Amethyst asked?
"They can't open this door, because we just used it. They can get out, but there's no way to tell where they will end up — whether the spirits are permanently embedded in their souls, or if they are dark things that will never return to the light. It doesn't matter. We don't have much time.
They turned. Amethyst took a step, faltered, and nearly fell.
Without a word, Donovan scooped her back into his arms, pressing her nakedness into his chest to hide it from prying eyes, and hurried to the maintenance entrance of his building. He needed to find out what had happened, and he needed to check in on Martinez, but first he needed to get Amethyst to safety. There was a second crash against the inside of the ancient portal, but he ignored it. It was time to pull out all the stops and put an end to the craziness in the Barrio once and for all. He only hoped they weren't already too late.
Chapter Thirty-One
Donovan laid Amethyst back across the couch in his den and propped her head with a soft pillow. When he had her situated, he stepped to his bar and grabbed a wine glass. Behind the counter on the bar there was a wooden cabinet with a number of drawers. He opened the drawer on the upper right and pulled out a small leaf. With a quick pinch of thumb and forefinger, he crushed the leaf and dropped it into the wine glass. He closed the door, unstoppered a flask, and poured bright amber liquid over the leaf. After only a moment, he fished the remnant out with a spoon and carried the drink to the couch.
He sat on the edge and slipped an arm under Amethyst's shoulder, helping her to sit up straight.
"Drink this," he said. "It will get you back on your feet."
"You aren't drugging me, I hope?" she said.
Donovan laughed. "Hardly. It's brandy with Indian Pennywort leaf. There have long been rumors that the leaves bring energy and rejuvenation. Of course, as is almost always the case, there is more to it than that. Mine have been blessed by a Sri Lankan priest."
"Of course," she said.
She took the glass and sipped. Then she took a longer drink, closed her eyes, and frowned.
"Not good?"
"It's wonderful," she said. "I'm thinking that I'm an idiot. We shouldn't be here; we should be on the street."
"We should, but first you need to tell me what happened," Donovan said. "You're going to have to finish that, and you're going to need a little rest. We have to go to Martinez, but I'm going to need you healthy. We have time."
"There isn't that much to tell. I called some of my informants, trying to get a line on that ritual. I thought I'd gotten lucky; the second call got me through to a guy I've worked with off and on for about ten years. He said he had what I needed. I told him we didn't have much time, so we set up a meet, and he named his price. Now that I think about it, he settled pretty low.
"Anyway, I left immediately. We were set to meet in the alley behind the Buzz and Bean, that coffee shop over on Vine? I should have been more careful. I saw Benji at the end of the alley, and I went straight in. He wasn't alone. Before I'd gone three steps, that woman stepped out of the shadows — Kim? I had just enough time to see the silver caskets dangling from her braids — I heard them, like bells — and then she blew some kind of powder into my face. After that…"
"Everything went numb?" Donovan asked.
She glanced up at him and her frown deepened.
"How did you know that?"
"It's an old Voodoo trick. That powder is made in various potencies for different purposes. The most famous, when it's very strong, is the creation of 'zombies'. You're lucky they only hit you with a mild dose. It removes motor function."
"Tell me about it. I knew everything that was happening, but there was nothing I could do. Two of those big bald-headed goons came out of nowhere and caught me before I fell. They lifted me like a sack of grain and carried me to the park where you found me. We went by alleys and back roads, a few I didn't even recognize. All the while they talked about me as if I wasn't there at all, and there was nothing I could do about it."
Donovan saw her hand tighten on her glass. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, she continued.
"When we reached that clearing, they were already making preparations. There was a girl tied to the post where you found me. She was young — Mexican, I think — and she'd obviously been treated with the same chemical they used on me. I caught her gaze. She was terrified.
"Anya was there, sitting in that chair like she was some sort of weird pagan queen. When they laid me on the ground at her feet like an offering, she hopped down and walked around me in a slow circle. I swear I felt as if I was being sized up at the market, like a prize farm animal.
"She knew me. I didn't hear exactly what she said, but within a few moments they had cut that girl down and carried her off and out of sight. It was only a few moments later I was lifted back to my feet and tied to the pole."
"I was afraid that was the plan," Donovan said. "You were her sacrifice. She intended to kill you and toss you into that fire. If she'd managed to do it, she could have closed the portal the Loa used to reach this dimension. They'd be trapped in the human vessels they possessed, and they'd remain under her control."
"How do you know she didn't complete the ritual?" Amethyst asked.
Donovan glanced down at her. He opened his mouth to speak, and then it hit him, and he sat up straight so quickly he almost made her spill the drink.
"You think they might have chosen another sacrifice?" he asked.
"They already had the other girl. I don't' know where she was taken, but we know that the circle was to keep things out, and not in. Once we broke it, they could have gone for the original sacrifice and then sealed themselves in again. We don't know if we stopped them or not."
They stared at one another in silence for a moment, then Amethyst downed the brandy, and then sat up. Donovan shifted so she could swing her legs off the couch.
"She also could have taken one of those already inside the circle, the dancers, as a sacrifice. If she closed that portal," Donovan said, "Then she has the equivalent of an army of demons. If she isn't stopped, there is nothing to prevent her doing it again, and again, until she has too much power to overcome. The Barrio is a small thing. She may gain control of that — all she has to do is to defeat the Dragons
and drive Martinez into hiding. If she succeeded in her ritual, she might be able to pull it off.
"What about Martinez?" Amethyst asked. "What about the Dragons? You said he had something going on…can he pull it off?"
"We'd better make sure that he does," Donovan replied. "I don't know exactly what he's up to, but it's powerful. I can't say that it makes me feel any better if he controls dark forces than if Anya does."
"He didn't seem to be controlling them," Amethyst said. "He seemed to be unleashing them. There's a difference. Still, you have a point. I think it's about time we got back to the Barrio. There's a storm in the air — I can sense it — and after all we've seen, I don't want to miss the fireworks."
"You need to rest," Donovan said. "It's still early, and even if she continued the ritual, there's no way she can mount an attack tonight. It will be tomorrow. I think we both need to rest. A few hours, then head out for the Barrio."
Amethyst placed her empty glass on the table.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to take advantage of me," she said.
"There are worse things to be accused of."
They both stood, and Donovan led her down the hall and out of the study. Cleo sat on the desk and watched them go. Her eyes were inscrutable, as always, but after a moment she leaned back on her haunches and began washing her back feet contentedly. Whatever was going through her mind, she obviously approved of the rest.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Salvatore slept all through the day after painting Snake's dragon. There were no dreams, and when he woke, he found clean, fresh clothing laid out beside his bed. The dragon was gone, but he didn't need to see it. It was embedded in his mind. Salvatore sat up, dressed quickly, and rose. He was hungrier than he could ever remember being, and parched with thirst, but he stood a long time looking at the wall where the dragon had hung. He felt it. He knew it was nearby; he also knew that Snake had taken it.
He turned and left the room, stepping into the clubhouse beyond. It was evening, and there were Dragons lounging all over the place. When they saw Salvatore, the room grew eerily silent. He lowered his gaze to the floor and walked through the main room, being careful not to bump into any of them. He knew the way to the kitchen, and though he didn't know what there might be to eat, or if it was okay for him to eat it, he was too hungry to care.
He was about halfway across the room when one of the Dragons peeled off and stepped out the back door into the yard. By the time Salvatore reached the kitchen, Jake was at his heels, clapping a huge, meaty hand on his shoulder.
"Morning, Sally," he said. "Thought maybe you'd sleep all day."
Salvatore glanced up.
"I did not mean to sleep so long, Senor Jake," he said.
"I'm just kidding, " Jake said. The big man ruffled his hair. "Let's find you something to eat. You were up almost all night."
"The dragon is gone," Salvatore said. "When I woke, it was gone."
"Snake has it," Jake said. "He didn't show it to any of us. He wants to see you after you get some food and something to drink."
A few moments later, Salvatore sat at one of two old wooden kitchen tables with a sandwich, a glass of milk, and a chunk of cheese. He ate quickly and without talking. Jake slid into the chair on the far side of the table and watched him. Outside the window, night was falling. Through the windows they could see the flames of torches, candles, and the bonfire out back. Salvatore barely noticed. He could not remember ever having been so hungry. When the food was gone, he washed it down with the milk.
"Kind of takes it out of you, doesn't it?" Jake asked softly. "I know you ate a lot after you painted my jacket. Martinez told me."
Salvatore nodded. Now that he was done eating, he felt out of place and nervous. He glanced around the kitchen. The Dragons kept it clean and simple. There were a couple of old refrigerators along one wall, a stove, and the two tables. Despite its simplicity, it was almost overwhelming after the bare, drafty interior of his shack.
"Snake wants you outside in a bit," Jake said. "Martinez will be there too — and the dragon."
"You've seen it?" Salvatore asked. He watched the big man's face.
"No one but Snake has seen it. He said he came in, found you about to pass out on the floor, caught you, and then took it. He won't talk about it, but…you should have seen his eyes, Sally. I'd swear, if I didn't know it sounded crazy, that they glowed. They glowed red, and when he passed by me with that rolled up flag, I didn't recognize him at all."
"It is the same for you, Senor Jake," Salvatore said. "When you first saw your dragon — when you wore it — you changed. Do you not feel it?"
"Oh, I feel it, Sally," Jake said. "I feel stronger, faster — everything is clearer than it's ever been. With Snake, it was different. He's stronger, yeah…but a little scary. You know what I mean?"
Salvatore stared at the table for a moment and collected his thoughts. Then he raised his head and met Jake's gaze.
"His dragon is very powerful. It did not want me to finish the painting. There is another place — a city — I see it when I paint. I think his dragon is very important there. When I painted…it tried to take me. The paint — the red paint that Martinez made for me — it was different. I would very much like to see the dragon."
"I think we're all going to see it soon enough," Jake said. He studied Salvatore's face, as if there was something he knew, or saw, that he couldn't quite bring to the surface. "Martinez will be here soon. Snake is going to talk…and we're going to act. Most of the others don't want to go. They've heard what happened last time, in Santini Park. They've heard what Los Escorpiones did to Vasquez. They want to move on — find a new place. Snake wants them to fight."
"It will not be the same," Salvatore said, " not sure why he spoke, or how he knew that his words were true. "You have changed. Snake…"
"I know," Jake said. "He's changed. The fight will be different. We might even have a chance at winning. The question is, what do we win? What's really at stake here? If it was just this clubhouse, and this town, I'd be with the others. I'd say, let's get the hell out of here and find a new place without a war in progress. It's more than that, though. I feel it, Snake feels it — I think Martinez knows it too. We're fighting against something that's not going to stop at taking over the Barrio, or Santini Park. We might be the only thing between some weird ancient darkness and the rest of the world. It's a screwed up feeling, but at the same time, it makes me want to fight. It makes me want to be a hero.
"You think that's crazy, Sally?"
Salvatore held the big man's gaze. What he saw took him far away, to that strange dark city on the coast of an ocean he knew did not touch any beach in California, or on Earth. He thought carefully about his words, and then he spoke.
"I do not believe you are crazy," he said. "I believe that you are a hero. I believe that Martinez has seen what might come, and that he brought all of us together to stop it. He's known me all of my life, but until now he paid very little attention. He gave me some food, and he listened when I had something to say. He brought me chalk and pencils when he found them. Now it is different. He saw something in my pictures and I am here. He saw something in you — and in Snake — and you are here. On our own, none of us could stand against Los Escorpiones — not with Anya Cabrera at their side. Together? Maybe we are all heroes."
Jake reached out and messed up Salvatore's hair. The big man smiled, and Salvatore could not help but return it. A knock at the door broke the silence, and Jake turned.
"That must be Martinez," he said. "I guess it's show time"
He rose and left the room. Salvatore carried his empty milk glass to the sink, rinsed it, and then stepped back into the main room. Martinez had entered, and the old man smiled and nodded at him. Without a word, Jake led the two of them out through the clubhouse and into the yard beyond, where Snake stood in the center of several rings of gathered Dragons.
As he stepped into the firelight and caught Snake's g
aze, Salvatore felt a sudden heat on his cheeks. He had to fight the urge to shield his eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The yard behind the clubhouse danced with shadows. Torches and candles flickered on poles planted in the ground and on every horizontal surface. In the center there was a larger fire; Snake stood alone beside it. He stared at the back door of the clubhouse, and as Salvatore stepped through, the two locked gazes, just for an instant.
All around that central fire, the Dragons stood in rows. There was a passage open from the back door of the clubhouse to the center, but it seemed as if every other square inch of ground was occupied. Where there were no men, there were shadows and flickering light. Salvatore tried to ignore them.
Jake had a hand on his shoulder, and the big man escorted him through the crowd toward the fire. Salvatore was glad for Jake's presence, but he wasn't frightened. Something in Snake's gaze drew him forward, and he felt a sense of purpose he'd never experienced — a sense of belonging. Martinez walked at his side. The old man said nothing. He looked neither to the right nor the left. He held his head high. This was Snake's moment, but it also belonged to Salvatore, and to Martinez. Salvatore felt a great many things converging, coming together in that clearing and binding them all.
They gathered by the fire. Snake stood very still. He barely acknowledged their arrival. Jake took his place behind Snake, and Salvatore stood beside Jake. Martinez stepped a little off to the side, but not so far as to seem separated from the group. The crowd drifted and covered the trail that led back to the clubhouse. Salvatore stared out into the flickering torches and candlelight. He saw shadowed faces. Eyes glittered, but he could not make out the features on their faces.
Snake began a slow circuit of the fire. He stared out into the gathered Dragons. He met their gazes, and, at last he came back to stand at Salvatore's side. Snake didn't move like he had the last time Salvatore had seen him. He seemed taller, quicker and stronger. His eyes glittered even when there was no light to cause it.
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