The Zotovic thing took a step forward, leaning down and putting its face close to Patrick’s. It smiled again, without a trace of humanity or warmth, and Patrick could see something dark swimming behind its eyes. He thought of Pahne’i down beneath the earth, staring down the god of shadows, and knew how he must have felt.
“Now,” it said, its breath hot on Patrick’s face, “let’s begin, shall we?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The drugs were just starting to kick in as Izzie and Joyce finished marking out a wide ring of salt around Daphne’s car in the parking lot across the street from the Pinnacle Tower. Daphne had finished pulling all of the equipment out of the trunk, and was strapping into a bulletproof vest.
“You doing okay?” Joyce asked when Izzie stood up suddenly and put her hands out to either side, as if trying to regain her balance.
It took Izzie a moment before she could answer, blinking rapidly and taking deep, slow breaths. They had taken the ilbal before leaving Patrick’s house a short while before, and the visual distortion she was experiencing now was the first sign of the drug’s effect.
“Yeah,” Izzie said, nodding slowly. Traceries of light had begun to bloom around the edges of everything in her field of vision, and intensified with each passing moment. “Starting to feel it, is all.”
“I’m getting it, too,” Daphne said as she zipped a bulky hooded sweatshirt over the bulletproof vest. She picked up the other vest and brought it over to Izzie. “It’s like . . . like everything is catching on fire.”
As Izzie pulled the vest over her head, Joyce nodded in her direction. “You guys sure that those are going to do you any good?”
“Against one of the Ridden?” Izzie answered, tightening the straps on either side. “No chance. But if we run up against an armed security guard inside, I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Joyce reached into the backseat of the car and pulled out the boombox that they’d taken from Patrick’s living room.
“I loaded this up with all sorts of noisy jams,” she said, putting it on the roof of the car. They had attached the strap from a messenger bag to the handle, so that one of them could wear it across their back. “If discordant noises distract the Ridden, then hopefully this will give you some kind of edge.”
Izzie shouldered into a black hoodie, and zipped it up over the vest. It was a snug fit, but could pass for street wear, at least long enough for them to get across the street and into the building.
“At least we were able to park close by.” Daphne slammed a magazine of shells into one of the tactical shotguns, and strapped another onto its side. Then she slipped it into the duffel, and continued loading the other. “Wouldn’t want to have to explain why we were out walking with all of this hardware in a bag if we ran into any city cops.”
This part of the Financial District was pretty deserted on a Sunday night, and Daphne’s car was the only one in the pay-by-the-hour lot. Izzie had worried for a moment that there might be an attendant on duty that they would have to contend with, but thankfully there had only been a sign directing patrons to use the pay kiosk in off hours. There was only sparse traffic on the street, with only the occasional city bus or taxi cab driving by. They would have no trouble getting to the entrance of the building. It was what happened next that would be tricky.
Izzie stood looking up at the towering bulk of the Pinnacle Tower, which seemed to her at the moment to be limned with fire. But she got the inescapable impression of dark shadows squirming inside, like worms wriggling through a corpse.
“You going to be okay out here on your own?” Daphne asked Joyce as she slung the boombox across her back and hefted the duffle bag.
“I’ll be more okay waiting out here than I would be going in there with you,” Joyce answered, and gestured with her cane. “I’d just slow you down, and I’m officially the world’s worst shot with a gun. But you let me know when you’re coming back out, and I’ll be ready to play the getaway driver. The salt ring should keep me safe until then.”
Izzie turned to look in their direction. Both women seemed to be wreathed in flames that burned only brighter as she watched, but there was something more, besides. It was as though Izzie could see how they were feeling, even a sense of what they were thinking. Somehow their emotions and thoughts colored the flames that lit them, Daphne’s anxiety laced with resolve, Joyce’s concern tinged with fear. Was this the kind of second sight that her grandmother had always talked about?
“Izzie,” Daphne said as she turned to look in her direction, her voice breathless. “You look . . . amazing.”
Izzie knew that Daphne wasn’t talking about the ill-fitting hoodie and jeans. When she looked closer, she could see into Daphne, as well. Something burned bright inside of her that resonated.
“Here, I’ve got something for you.” Izzie reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a silver brooch in the shape of a blooming flower
