into focus. He saw the entrance to a park. The park was drenched in heavy mist. Figures moved in and out along the edge of that mist. Then everything faded, and another image rose.
Donovan saw Amethyst's face. Her expression was a mixture of anger and fear. Mist swirled around her, and the connection broke. He staggered, and felt Cleo's claws drive into his arms, clinging tight. He caught his balance and cursed. Something had gone wrong. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but the message was clear. Someone had taken Amethyst, and she was in that park.
'Good girl, Cleo,' he said.
He shifted her on his shoulder so that she rode more comfortably.
'There's no time to take you home,' he said. 'You're going to have to come with me. If she is already caught up in that mist we'll have to act very quickly.'
Cleo hunkered, wrapped herself around his shoulder and clung to his jacket as he broke into a run. When he started to take a passage leading off to the right, she dug her claws in again, and he hesitated.
'What?' he asked.
Cleo leaped from his shoulder and dashed into another passage leading off to the left. Donovan shrugged and followed. If Cleo had found him in these tunnels, she very likely knew them better than he did himself. That was a curiosity to be looked into at a later time. He flashed on the image of Amethyst's face, and gritted his teeth. He fought to keep up as Cleo flashed ahead into the shadows, cursing under his breath.
They exited through a doorway Donovan had never tried. It brought them into a very short alley between two buildings he didn't recognize. When they stepped onto the street, though, he saw that they were about two blocks from the park he'd seen through Cleo's memory. He stepped out onto the street, kept close to the walls of the line of shops he passed, and moved carefully forward.
As he approached, he saw that there was a fire burning near the center. This park was very close to the line that bordered the Barrio and the city 'proper.' The police still patrolled it regularly, and Donovan frowned, trying to understand how there could be what amounted to a small bonfire in the center of a city park without drawing notice.
A mist had risen, turning to thick fog at its outer limits, and as he watched, it sifted across the ground and rose into the air. Within moments the park was nothing more than a low-hanging cloud bank from the streets. There were occasional flickers of light from within, where the flames licked higher for a moment, and then died down. Anya Cabrera had effectively erased the small area from the face of the city.
After a few moments, Donovan saw a young man in dark jeans walking down the road from deeper in the Barrio. He wore the colors of Los Escorpiones, and he glanced furtively from side to side. He was obviously not convinced of the privacy of the gathering in the park, or perhaps he feared that Anya Cabrera was as much a danger as an ally. He reached the park, glanced over his shoulder a final time, and then followed the young gang member into the mist.
'She's in there, isn't she, Cleo?' Donovan whispered.
The cat glanced up at him and let out a soft growl. She rubbed against his leg once. He leaned down and patted her head.
'It's time for you to get back,' he said. 'This is no place for you. I'll get her out of there, and I'll bring her home.'
For a moment it seemed Cleo would ignore him. She glared up with feral intensity, and he feared she might dart off on her own through that dark mist. He didn't want to think about what might happen if Anya got control of Cleo. It would be bad for both of them.
Then, without warning, she turned and darted back into the alley. Donovan watched her go. He thought about going in to be sure she got through the portal, then remembered where and how she'd found him, and shook his head. He turned back to the park and concentrated on the problem at hand.
His jacket was lined with pockets and hidden pouches. He never knew where he'd be caught, or in what kind of predicament. No one knew what he carried with him, and he varied his portable 'arsenal' as often as he could, adding new secrets and trying things he discovered in his research. It kept those who knew him off balance.
He still had the amulet Amethyst had given him, but that wasn't going to be enough. It would obscure him from the sight of most, but not all, of those in that park. It would keep any of the dark Loa from discovering him, but he thought it was likely that Anya herself possessed one of the amulets, and he knew for a fact that at least two of Los Escorpiones wore them. That meant he was going to have to find a way to 'disappear' that would work on them all, and even then he was going to have to be very careful. When he'd watched the previous ritual, those wearing the amulets had been vague — like pencil sketches mostly rubbed out, but lingering as gray shadows. That meant they would notice him if he made a wrong move, and if he got in and close to Amethyst, only to be discovered, or captured, they'd end up worse off than they already were.
He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small scroll. It was made of parchment, tied with a black ribbon, the knot sealed in wax. He broke the seal, untied the binding and unfurled the small slip of paper.
The spell was powerful, but short-lived. Once he used it, he would be racing against the clock. A quick mental inventory of the other things he had with him told him it was his only chance, so he took a deep breath, and began to read.
The words were in Latin, but not the Latin taught in schools. It was the Latin of a long ago world, pronounced just differently enough to bring the power behind the words to life. He enunciated carefully, reciting each word clearly. When he was done, the parchment burst into flames, but he didn't release it. Though it burned his hands, he held on until the words had drifted to the ground at his feet as ashes. He murmured a final incantation, stepped across those ashes, and disappeared in a wisp of smoke.
As he walked toward the park, he left no shadow. He moved carefully, making as little sound as possible, but at the same time he hurried his steps. The fire in the mist had grown larger and brighter. He had to get in, get Amethyst and get out, and he knew he had to do it quickly. The instructions for creating the scroll had been vague on only one point. They had said the effects did not last long, but the small segment of text that would have explained these limits had been smudged and indecipherable. It was a gamble, and Donovan hated gambling. With a softly mumbled curse, he stepped into the mist and disappeared.
~* ~
Once in the park, Donovan noticed a lot of things at once. There was a fire blazing in the center, and a circle had been drawn around that fire. There was movement and activity everywhere, and he stood very still, taking it all in.
Central to it all was a sort of throne, a carved wooden chair with velvet cushions. It was heavily decorated, its arms carved snakes, and the legs those of some large jungle cat. It was a chair out of a nightmare, a museum quality nightmare. He'd heard of similar pieces, but never actually seen one. Anya Cabrera stood nearby, and he had no doubt that when things got into full swing, she'd be seated on that monstrosity overseeing it all.
Behind and to one side of the chair, another carved item had been added to the circle. Donovan's heart nearly stopped. A large stake, sculpted into scowling faces and strange creatures at the top, had been driven into the ground. The stake was nearly eight feet tall, and Amethyst had been bound to its base. Her arms were drawn around behind, and though she struggled, she was tied carefully and thoroughly.
There were five or six of Los Escorpiones prancing about the pole. They didn't move like men. There was something odd in their gait; their rhythm was erratic and too rapid. Apparently the previous ritual's effects were holding, at least for the moment. Donovan fingered the talisman beneath his jacket. They wouldn't be able to see him, but if he made a miss-step and bumped into one of them, or the spell failed, and someone else was able to make him out, he was in real trouble.
Then he saw something that galvanized him into motion. The younger woman, Kim, was making her way around the circle again, as she had at the junkyard. She danced as she went, and he heard her voice chanting in an odd, rhythmic cadence. Scented smoke wafted up from a series of braziers in her wake. She was recreating the powerful outer protective circle from the junkyard, and if she completed that circle, there was no way for Donovan to be of any help.
Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, he rushed to where the circle was not yet complete and slipped inside. Kim stopped, just for a second, and raised her head. She looked as if she were sniffing the air — an animal with a scent to follow. Donovan stood very still, just inside the circle, and after a moment, she shook her head and moved on.
Donovan turned and circled back the way she'd just come. The only part of the circle that was free of activity
