'We heard some of those,' Amethyst said. 'There was a gang war in Santini Park the other night. Seems it was a little one sided.'
'That's what I heard,' Julio agreed. ' Los Escorpiones were there. They didn't die right, man. They fell down, got shot, got stabbed, and kept on fighting. They took out Vasquez. You know Vasquez?'
Donovan nodded. He remembered the gigantic biker, and he'd heard stories of the man's prowess in a fight.
'Did they shoot him?' he asked.
'They did, but it didn't matter,' Julio said. 'They took him down. He was breaking bones, tossing those boys around like they was dolls, and they just came back. And they were way too fast. At least, that's what my sources tell me. I didn't see it for myself. I've done business with Los Escorpiones…their Presidente — Hector? He was solid once. I do business with The Dragons, too — and Martinez. I don't get involved in what the gangs do, and I'm not much in a fight.'
'Really?' Amethyst said sweetly. 'A big strong guy like you?'
'That's all I know, man,' Julio said. He glanced at the phone again. 'Seriously, I got to go. I have something coming in tonight — from Haiti. If I miss out on it, someone else will get it. It's important.'
'Nothing illegal, I hope,' Donovan smiled. There was no humor in it.
'Are you done, man?'
Donovan waited a moment, then slipped out of the booth and stood aside.
'Nice talking with you, Julio,' he said. 'Wouldn't want to keep your friends waiting.'
'You said you'd pay.' Julio said, sliding slowly out of the booth.
Donovan started to reach for his wallet, but just at that moment, the phone across the room started to ring. Julio watched. Donovan moved very, very slowly. With a curse, the man slipped out of the booth and away, almost diving for the phone when he reached the back wall.
'I think we have everything we need,' Donovan said. 'If there are any real answers to be had, they'll be in that junkyard tomorrow night.'
'You have an invitation I don't know about?' Amethyst asked. She slid out of the booth and stood at his side. 'I don't know Anya very well, but it's my impression that she's not just going to let us wander in there…of if she did, she'd be doing her best to make sure we never get out again.'
'We'll have to have a plan,' Donovan said. 'I don't think I'm ready to bust in on her ritual just yet, but I want to get close enough to see what's going on. I also want to know what Martinez will do. If we know this, he certainly knows as well. I want to know what he's doing with that paint.'
'I can't help you with that,' Amethyst said, 'but I might have an idea how we can get close enough to find that answer. I've recently acquired some new…toys. Let's get back to my place — I'll show you whatt I mean.'
'If I didn't know better,' Donovan said with a grin, 'I'd think you were trying to seduce me. Again.'
She smacked him on the shoulder with a laugh, and they left the pool hall, and Club Chaos behind.
'We'll have to make a stop,' Donovan said. 'Cleo isn't jealous, but she does like to be fed now and then.'
They disappeared into the streets. It had rained while they were inside, just a light misting, and the neon of the club's lights flashed and glittered in off the wet walls and pavement.
Chapter Twelve
The old junkyard bordering the Barrio and the southern end of the city proper crawled with activity. The yard, owned by a used auto dealer on the edge of town, was run-down and forgotten and piled to the height of a small house with decades of automotive history. There were trucks, semi trailers, sports cars and city buses. A few had been smashed to small, efficient metal cubes, but that had happened in an earlier time, when the yard's heavy equipment still operated and the owner's men still regularly combed the fallen vehicles for useful parts and recyclable salvage.
Now it was an auto graveyard, and Anya Cabrera had claimed it for her own. Moving in slowly from the Barrio side, she'd claimed first one small area, working the old cars into new shapes and piles, creating passageways deeper into the heart of the warped metal jungle. Initially, there was resistance. There were laws, and ordinances. There were safety concerns. Inspectors had come, and gone. The police had hung around the edges of the yard, even tried to enter and serve warrants on a couple of occasions. None of those officers who entered the yard ever came back a second time.
Some said that Anya paid them off. Others said she'd frightened them so badly that the thought of being in that dark place by night was more than they could stand. By day, Anya and her people kept to her shop, and the deeper halls and chambers of her domain. The night was a different matter altogether.
This day her people were out in force. A passageway had been pushed through to the center of the yard, where over time a large circular area had been cleared. To one side there was a small building, a place unlike any other structure in the city. It was formed of the hulking, rotting frames of cars. A few had been cut and welded, joined to create windows, doors and walls. At first glance, it blended with the mountains of wasted metal around it, but if you stared at it long enough, it evoked images of fairy tale castles, or steampunk nightmares. That small, squat bungalow faced onto the inner courtyard. Before it a wooden table rested on short, stout legs.
Lanterns hung all around the makeshift courtyard. They weren't electric — they were the old kind with doors that opened to allow a wick to be lit, the light dispersed by a brightly polished reflector. A few feet from the circular inner wall, braziers jutted from the hard, oil-packed earth. The center of the clearing was prepared for a fire, ringed in stones covered in whitewashed symbols. The pit was filled with charcoal, deep enough to burn and smolder for hours.
Anya's assistant, Kim, came down the passageway with a wooden case. There were two others with her, tall and silent. They carried their bundles to the oddly formed room of car bodies and stopped. Kim carried hers inside, the silver caskets in her hair jingling brightly. She disappeared with a flash of light. The two others placed their loads on the ground. They turned toward the entrance to the inner circle, crossed their arms, and watched in silence.
Others brought powdered incense and quietly prepared the braziers. They worked quickly and carefully, measuring their amounts as exactly as possible. Inside, Kim unpacked the supplies she'd carried in. Shelves lined the walls, and she filled them slowly. She had candles, dark bottles with faded labels, vials and herbs. One of the boxes that she eventually carried in was filled with bottles of dark rum. Another held tequila. She had at least one more trip to make — there were jars of dried mushrooms and peyote buttons still to come.
Most of it would not be used. Anya Cabrera had a very particular ceremony in mind, and there was not likely to be any deviation, but there were other considerations. There were those who would be present, but would not participate directly. They had to be satisfied, entertained, and paid. Anya would service them separately. Kim would help in this — it was her duty to handle things when Anya was too busy, or too distracted, to handle them herself.
Over the years, though she was young, the others had come to accept her, and to acknowledge her authority. It was significant that she was handling the preparations for the night's ceremony. No other would have been entrusted with it; on all earlier occasions, it had been Anya herself.
When she finished, she stepped out into the courtyard. The two guarding her turned, hefted the empty crates she'd left on the front doorstep, and started back toward the street. The sun was dropping lower in the sky, and they had at least one more trip to make before they had everything they needed. As they wound their way down the trail between the old wrecks, they passed young men and women hanging more lanterns. When it grew fully dark, the lanterns would light the only way into the center court. There were small alcoves to either side, easily spotted now, but that would be dark pits of shadow later on. They would house the guards.
Los Escorpiones would provide most of the sentries. Only those chosen by Hector would be allowed into the central court — the rest, those guarding the way in, would be boys and men who either were afraid, or too young for the coming battle, or too new to the gang to be fully trusted. Some of Anya's men would guard them too. No one would be fully trusted with any single part of this evening — it was too important, and potentially too dangerous.
Back at the shop, the two guards waited by the counter in the main room as Kim disappeared inside. What
