began walking. He scanned the skies, but after that one, brilliant flash of sound and motion, the dragon had fallen silent. In the distance, lightning struck. Salvatore shivered.
The air was damp; a light drizzle fell from the cloudy sky. Thunder rumbled several moments after the lightning strike, out over the ocean. As he walked, Salvatore brushed the tips of his fingers over the dark stone of the immense wall. He tried to sense those who could have created such a thing — to connect with that place — but he felt nothing.
He walked for what seemed a very long time, and there was no change in the wall. He knew there could not be such an immense city without gates, but considering the height of the wall — the monstrous scale of the structure — it could be miles away. Days. He kept on walking.
He heard the flap of gigantic wings before the shadow fell over him, but it was not as it had been when Jake's dragon descended. It was fast — so fast that he had no time to turn, or cry out. There was nothing, and then there was wind, and sound. He was grasped in huge talons, gripped gently, but firmly and yanked from the ground so swiftly all breath left his lungs. He rose, but even as the ground fell away and the dragon screamed, stunning him with the power of its voice, the walls of the city came into view.
They were as immense. The city glittered and glowed with light — a prismatic, multi-colored shimmer — the first illumination Salvatore had seen in that place beyond the moon and the odd glow of the froth on the waves.
Then it was gone. The dragon rose with wild abandon, cut through the clouds, and rolled. Salvatore found himself facing and endless, starless sky. He closed his eyes, and they dropped. It was the last thing that he remembered.
~* ~
When Salvatore woke he was in his bed. Martinez sat on the edge of the mattress, watching him. The old man looked concerned. Salvatore smiled, though his head pounded and his throat was dry and parched. He blinked away the fog and concentrated, trying to get his bearings.
'Take it easy,' Martinez said. 'You have lost a lot of strength. It was too soon, Salvatore. You should have waited.'
'I…I could not,' Salvatore said. 'This dragon, it came to me the moment Senor Jake's departed. Then…'
'Yes, I know,' Martinez said. 'I should have expected it. What you have done is remarkable.'
Salvatore raised himself up on his elbows, and Martinez snaked a hand around his back, supporting him as he rose to a sitting position. When Salvatore was upright, he stared in confusion. Enrique knelt on the floor across from him, facing the jacket. Salvatore could not see the dragon, but he felt it. Enrique's head was bent. After a moment's time, Salvatore realized that the man was praying.
Finally Enrique raised his head, and turned. He saw that Salvatore was awake, and he nodded. He didn't smile — every line on the man's face was taut, as though his skin had been stretched too tightly over his face. He rose, and he came to Salvatore slowly, holding out his hand. For the second time that day, Salvatore relinquished his hand to a grip he was certain could crush it. For the second time he felt a flash of electricity — a power and a bond.
'Thank you,' Enrique said. 'I…'
He shook his head. He could not speak, and he didn't try again. He turned and went to the chair. Very gently, he lifted the jacket free.
'It is okay,' Salvatore said, his voice shaky. 'The paint…it dries very quickly.'
Enrique nodded. He slipped his arm into one sleeve, and then the other. As he turned, the jacket molded itself to his back. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and then, when he turned, his face was alive with energy. His expression shifted dramatically from the intense, frowning concentration Salvatore had seen from the moment they'd met to an almost feral smile. His eyes flashed like chips of blue ice. He turned once, showing off the jacket, and then he laughed out loud.
'I feel incredible,' he said. 'I can't explain it. I…'
'It is a powerful dragon,' Martinez said, rising. 'And you wear it well. I have a message for you, though. You must go, and quickly. Snake has called for all of the Dragons to meet. There is something happening tonight, in the old junkyard. Anya Cabrera and Los Escorpiones are involved. I was asked to spread the word to any I saw.'
Enrique stood quietly and took this in. He nodded, then he turned and squatted down so that he met Salvatore's gaze.
'I will not call you Sally,' he said. 'You are Salvatore, and from this moment on, you are my brother. If you need me, you will know how to find me. Somehow — I know this. Call, and I will come. I have nothing else I can offer.'
Salvatore nodded gravely.
'Take care of the dragon, senor Enrique,' he said. 'I believe it will protect you, as well.'
Enrique held that gaze a moment longer, and then laughed again.
'You know, Salvatore, I believe you are right. I have never felt this way. Never. I have to go.'
He turned, and he was gone.
Martinez glanced at Salvatore.
'I must go too. I have offered to do what I can in this conflict, and they will be expecting me. There will be food, and drink. I will have it brought to you. You must rest. No drawing. No painting. Eat, drink, and sleep. I will see you soon. There is more work for you and I before this is finished. There are a great number of others counting on you. Do you understand.'
'No,' Salvatore said quickly, 'but I will do as you ask. This day has been… amazing. When you need me, I will be ready.'
Martinez nodded, rose, and a moment later he was gone. Salvatore sat for a moment, staring after him, and then he glanced at the empty chair. The paints had already been stored, and he knew that Martinez must have done it. After a few moments his eyelids grew heavy, and he lay back on his cot. He pulled the old sheet up around his chin, closed his eyes, and willed himself to dream. This time he found only darkness.
Chapter Seventeen
Night had fallen over the Barrio. Flickering lights dotted the junkyard, marking the trail in from the outside world, and outlining the inner courtyard where Anya Cabrera and her followers waited. It was nearly time to begin the ceremony. Everything was in place, and the only participants missing were Los Escorpiones themselves.
The inner circle was complete except for a small opening by the front entrance to the room Kim had stocked earlier. There Anya Cabrera sat, flanked by two of her tall, ebon-skinned guardians. There was an equally narrow break in the circle across from her where the passageway opened onto the labyrinthine trail leading back out to the street. Torches flickered and trailed off into that shadowy tunnel.
There was a small cage near the fire pit. It was divided in two by a screen. On either side of that screen, a rooster strutted. One was white, dappled with black spots. The other was dark red with a brown mask. They scratched at the rough earth and circled their tiny prisons, heads bobbing and darting and eyes fierce. On either side of the cage daggers were imbedded in the earth. Only the hilts showed, one white, and the other black. Both bore small symbols etched into their frames.
Then something changed. A shadowy, obscure shape slipped through into the circle, followed by two more. They stood for just a moment, and then slid around the central fire pit. It was difficult to bring them into focus and impossible to make out any features. The three shadows rounded the circle and stood, two to the left and one to the right of Anya's entrance. She stepped up and joined them. As she did, Kim, glided out behind her and carefully joined the broken halves of the circle.
More of Los Escorpiones entered. When all was said and done, there were fifteen present. There were the three wraith-like figures shimmering beside Anya, falling in and out of focus, and there were thirteen others. Kim rounded the circle and closed it at the far entrance. Two of Anya's followers stepped in front of the tunnel, facing back down its length, and crossed their arms in front of their chests.
Kim began a mincing, prancing dance around the inner clearing. As she moved, she sang out in a language native to a place and time far distant. She held a torch, lit from one of the lanterns. At each of the braziers
