'Mom will be thrilled.'
'Yes, Mr. Ammo,' she said, putting an orange candle on one of the points of the star. 'She will be.'
The old sorceress threw more incense into the dragon's belly. The room faded in a microcosm of L.A. smog.
Ann took a deep breath, savored it with a smile, and let it out slowly. I tried not to choke.
The lights dimmed. She probably had a switch under the altar. A dull red glow from the censer illuminated our faces.
'I must ask silence now, until you are requested to speak.'
Ann and I nodded.
She struck a long wooden match, flooding the room with a surprisingly bright light. The flame touched the purple candle to ignite the wick. She lit the two orange ones next and finally the white ones. Five bright flames flickered at the points of the star.
She mumbled phrases that sounded like the echoes of a dying race's last words-or like the whispers of a new race's first. Sweet smoke wafted and swirled around her to catch orange light and black shadow. Her age-ravaged face became a harsh, angular mask mouthing her chant.
She broke the cadence of her invocation to say, 'Join your hands.' She resumed her mumbo-jumbo. Ann reached out, and I took her hands in mine. They felt smooth and lusciously warm, like ivory left in the sun. Our fingers entwined into a kind of quadruple fist and remained tightly bound between us.
Bridget's right hand reached out to clutch our fist. Her skin felt feverishly hot where I'd expected the cool touch of old age. Fingers like talons gripped the mass of locked knuckles and held on tightly.
A cloud of smoke from the dragon blew into my face, stinging my eyes. I blinked and tried to stop the irritated tears from flowing.
Bridget took a sudden sharp breath. In a loud, trembling voice, she mispronounced Ann's name-calling her 'Anna Perrenina,' as if she were Russian or something. The old woman's face grew placid, though her hand retained its iron grasp. She spoke in English now.
'The blood you see is the blood of the Maiden. The first blood. Blood of the Virgin, the Moon's tide. The tail of the Dark One points the way out and down, running near full circle.'
She paused, her eyebrows wrinkling above sealed lids.
'The paradoxical one is the gambit. A thousand men, yet none. The obsidian blade is poised, the blood to flow greater.'
Her voice rose in pitch, sped up. 'Beneath the Earth is the realm of monsters born of fire who shun both day and night. The time of the Number is nigh! Two great forces must join, and two great forces must clash!' Her hand snapped away from ours and pointed at me.
I felt that terrible cold envelope me again.
'
'
She seemed to be staring at me right through her shut eyes. Her finger wavered, drifted away from its target. She moaned.
Without warning, the candles fell over-knocked by something unseen. In the sudden, chilling darkness, I yanked my hands away from Ann and struggled to rise, listening for intruders.
Bridget breathed wearily somewhere on the floor to my left. Ann held her breath, made no sound.
From outside the room came the sounds of shattering glass. Kasmira's screams drifted through the walls and curtains with muted intensity, like a dim, nightmarish memory.
I made it to my feet and felt my way toward the door. Even the glow from the embers of incense had died out. I heard more glass breaking.
Ann found the light switch and turned it on. The bright glare of the overhead fluorescent tubes nearly blinded me. I saw her turning to attend to the fallen crone.
