the table. 'You seem to have added them to your collection.'
'I had a similar reaction to his,' Amethyst said. 'When I'd seen these, and held them, I worried about who might take them if I didn't. I don't know who all in San Valencez Chance does business with, but I was able to think of a few right off the bat that don't need items this powerful to get into trouble with. Anyway…they are also compelling. I have been considering getting rid of them, just because they fascinate me. I don't like things that distract me unless I've chosen to let that happen.'
'So are you going to tell me what they are, or wait until I snap from the curiosity and open them myself.'
'For someone as old as you are, you are very impatient.'
'Ouch.'
'They're pendants. It's hard for me to admit this, but I'm not absolutely certain what they are made of. It's not any known stone or gem. It's not wood, or bone, either. They are very black and a little oily to the touch. He claimed to have gotten them straight from a Bocor — carved by hand. He didn't know what the material was either, and didn't seem at all interested in finding out.'
'But he told you what they are used for?'
Amethyst nodded. She reached out and grabbed the leather bag. She untied the cords that held it closed and reached inside. What she drew out made Donovan sit up quickly with interest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up before he'd even brought the things into focus. Each dangled from a rough metal chain, and Amethyst held them by these, avoiding contact with the small figurines.
'They are spirit stones,' she said. 'They have many purposes, but there are a couple in particular that I believe may prove useful. When worn, they serve the dual purpose of obscuring your identity and presence from the living — making people overlook you, thickening shadows and encouraging others to look somewhere else, though they don't know why, and more importantly, they render the wearer absolutely undetectable to spirits.'
Donovan reached out and took one in his hand. He rubbed his thumb over the surface. It was waxy, like soap, and where he touched it, it felt as if it left a sheen of… something… on his skin. He wanted to drop it like a snake that was about to strike, but when he went to do so his fingers tightened around it.
'You feel it too,' Amethyst said. 'It's calling to you.'
Donovan pulled his hand back, and Amethyst dropped the two pendants back into the leather bag. There was an immediate release of tension as she did so.
'There is something trapped in those stones,' Donovan said softly. 'Whatever it is might have the ability to do the things you've said, but what it seeks is escape. It wants to be released, and I wonder — is that spirit less dangerous than those we may face?'
'I can't answer that,' Amethyst said. 'Without knowing who did the trapping, or how it was accomplished, it's impossible to be certain, I think. Perhaps, when this is done, and we have the time, we can look into it? If someone, or something, has been trapped against its will, we should release it.'
Donovan nodded. 'I am sure we can find something about these in my library…when there is time. For now, we have to concentrate on figuring out what Anya Cabrera is up to, and just what kind of danger we're facing in the Barrio. I have the feeling Martinez could tell us more, but I don't think he trusts us to handle it. He let me know things were wrong, so he has to know I'll go there, but he didn't tell me everything, and that makes me believe he's planning something on his own. I wish I had time to find out what it is, because I'd hate to get trapped between the two of them.'
'Anya holds a lot of local rituals,' Amethyst said. 'She summons the Loa, makes sacrifices, and does minor conjuring for locals. She's been growing slowly more influential, but she has never seemed powerful enough to be any kind of real threat. What changed?'
'If Martinez and Cord are right, she's playing with very dangerous toys,' Donovan said. 'The Loa inhabit those who honor them by excessive behavior — crazed dancing, drinking the right things, sometimes drugs — Peyote or Mushrooms. Sometimes it's no more than hallucination on the part of the believer, but there are also times when the spirits they seek take over their bodies. I've seen very young children drink entire bottles of rum while smoking a cigar and cursing. That should kill them, but when it's over they fall into a deep sleep, and they are fine. The Loa have a great sense of humor, and they love to visit. What Anya is doing is taking advantage. She's not letting them leave.'
'How is that possible?' Amethyst asked. 'I thought they came and went as they pleased, within the bounds of the ritual.'
'They do, but only when the ritual is completed properly. There are patterns in everything, as you know. There is a beginning, and an end to ritual, and Any has found — somewhere — a way to twist or prolong the ending of the summoning ritual. The Loa are trapped in their host's body, unable to take over and enjoy their moments of freedom in this world, as they intended, and unable to escape back to their own. What is left is worse than a zombie. It's a shadow creature, half human, half spirit. They are apparently incredibly strong and fast, and from the descriptions of how they were cut down by bullets and knives, and then rose to fight as if nothing had happened, they share the ability to heal that allows hosts to drink and cut themselves without dying.'
'Surely she can't keep them here indefinitely?'
'I don't know,' Donovan said. 'No one in my memory has been foolish enough to try. My best guess is that it's like a steam boiler. If she tries to keep them in a vulnerable human host for too long, something will burst. If the spirits are freed on this plane, I doubt anything she can do will control them. She's playing with fire.'
'We'll have to get in there and see if we can't put it out then,' Amethyst laughed. 'But that's tomorrow. For now, this is good wine, and we will both need some…rest.'
She raised one eyebrow and smiled at him, and Donovan laughed, taking a deep drink of his wine.
'A woman after my own heart.'
He glanced down at the table.
'Let's put those away first, though. If we have to use them, let's put it off as long as possible. They make my skin crawl.'
Amethyst did as he asked, and as she tucked them back into the hidden drawer, Donovan felt as if they still called to him. He shivered and took another drink. He wondered if they were playing with their own fire…and he wondered if they would be too late.
Chapter Fourteen
Salvatore stared at the back of Jake's jacket. The leather was black and supple, worn from decades of use. It felt like years of wind and weather, and the scent of it permeated the small shack, leather, beer, cigarette smoke, cologne. Like the dragon in his dreams the scent was uniquely Jake, and just for a moment Salvatore stood, his hand flat on the back of the jacket and his eyes closed, making the connection.
The big man had dropped it off shortly after Salvatore returned to his home. Martinez had stayed long enough to be certain that the paints were stored properly and that Salvatore knew how to mix and blend them properly. There were other materials, as well. Martinez had bought a small wooden palette, several brushes much nicer than any Salvatore had ever seen, and a bottle of spirits for cleaning them.
The jacket was draped over the back of a straight-backed wooden chair. Salvatore had fastened the snaps in front, and found that if he stuffed the chest with his pillow, the leather stretched smooth in back. Jake had a broad back, and the surface he had to work on was both tall and wide.
There wasn't a lot of time. Jake had said he would return the next morning, and Salvatore intended to be finished by then. It was inconceivable that he might leave the work unfinished. He laid out the paints on his table, arranged the brushes and poured a small amount of the spirits into an old glass. When he turned to the jacket, he had a bit of white chalk in his hand.
Salvatore closed his eyes and drifted back into the land of his dreams. He reached out to the skyline of that dark, distant city. He sought the scent of the beach, the wet sand and the salt spray. He heard — very faintly — the cries of the dragons as they soared, far above the waves. A flash of green and gold passed before his eyes, and he smiled. Opening his eyes, he began to sketch.
He worked quickly. Salvatore sometimes spent hours thinking about what he would draw, but once his hand began to move it was always the same. It felt as if the images were trying to claw their way out of him. The chalk
