Heart of a Dragon

Chapter Thirty

As the circle closed around them, the world beyond it became a murky haze of blurred images. The sky was clearly visible if Donovan stared straight up. It was like standing in a cylinder of smoke stretching toward the stars.

Amethyst struggled fiercely against her bonds, but she was tied tightly. They had gagged her to be certain she couldn't disrupt the ritual, and at least one of the tall, bald servants remained close by her side at all times. Anya Cabrera sat in her makeshift throne, overseeing the ritual. Donovan kept an eye on her, but she seemed not to have noticed him. He wasn't worried about the Escorpiones who were still possessed; he had the pendant Amethyst had given him tucked in beneath his shirt. His spell was holding, as well, though he had no way to know how long it would be effective. So far none had noticed him.

He moved slowly toward the outer edge of the circle. To release Amethyst he knew he'd have to get around behind her; no easy feat with so many of Anya's followers milling about. A drumbeat rumbled to life, and what had been a somewhat disorganized mob coalesced into a sinuous, moving line of bodies. They spread out and formed a third concentric ring. Amethyst fell just outside that ring, and Donovan managed to slip beyond the dancers just as they closed the gaps. They danced in odd, disjointed steps that somehow fit the pounding on the drums. As they passed by Anya Cabrera, she handed each a bottle. They were identical this time, dark glass that seemed black in the firelight. Each man tipped his bottle up, took a long swig of the contents, and then continued around the circle.

Donovan watched his steps carefully as he moved toward the rear of the stake. Everyone else within the boundaries of the circle was involved in the dance except for Anya and Amethyst. The guardian who'd stood at Amethyst's side had been drawn into the dance with the others. All Donovan had to do was stay as close as possible to the outer ring without touching it.

Then the first of the dancers, one of the bald servants, drew forth a wickedly curved blade. He flicked it around his fingers and hands deftly, almost like Japanese Hibachi chef getting ready to dice chicken. The silvery metal glittered in the firelight. Donovan held his breath. The big man was very close to Amethyst. The dancer drew back his arm and spun. The motion was sudden and graceful, and Donovan only bit back his scream with a desperate clench of his jaw. The blade spun down past Amethyst's chin and barely missed cutting her breast as it sliced cleanly through her jacket. The cut was clean, and as they passed, the others reached out, some flicking at her with fingernails, others gripping and tugging. The jacket was shredded in a matter of moments, and the man with the knife approached for a second time.

Amethyst wore a form fitting top and tight jeans. Her eyes glittered with anger, but she was tied securely, and there was nothing she could do as the drums pounded out their rhythm, and the dancers pranced and whirled past her in an ever faster, ever more violent circle of motion and color.

Donovan sped his pace, but there were only a scant few feet between himself, the outer circle, and the dancers. If one of them bumped into him, either the spell would break, or they'd find him. Then he'd end up tied on the far side of the pole if he couldn't fight his way out.

The key was getting Amethyst free. When Los Escorpiones had rushed the circle from the inside at the junk yard, it had broken like so much smoke. Donovan thought the same would be true here. The circle was meant to keep things out, not to keep them in. The ritual was essentially identical. He just had to make sure they were ready to make their break before that circle was broken. He had no intention of allowing the ritual to reach its conclusion, but given the choice between that and Amethyst, he was ready to move quickly.

The dancers finished their circuit, and the big man with the knife drew closer. Donovan tensed. He had only seconds to make his decision. Move and try to get Amethyst free, or trust that the knife would not cut her throat, or worse. He had no illusions about her intended fate. Anya Cabrera intended to sacrifice Amethyst before she was done; the only question was — when?

Donovan held his breath The big man spun again. The blade slashed out with eerie precision. A tear appeared in Amethyst's blouse. Donovan heard her try to scream through her gag, but he hadn't cut her. The others followed along behind as before. Donovan slipped up close behind the stake, but didn't make a sound. He didn't breathe. The dancers passed, one after another, reaching out and tearing the shredded fabric of Amethyst's closing until it fell away to the sides.

Very carefully, Donovan slipped a thin blade from his pocket and began to saw on the ropes binding Amethyst's wrists to the stake. He leaned closer, took a deep breath, and spoke as softly as he could almost directly into her ear.

"If you scream or speak they will kill us both. I'm cutting your wrists free. Don't move them."

He continued to saw at the rope. He felt Anya stiffen, just for a second, and then, as if nothing had happened, she continued to struggle and fight to speak through the gag. He breathed a bit easier and worked harder at her binding. It was taking too long. He slipped the blade back into his pocket and fished out a small vial of white powder. He uncorked it and sprinkled a little onto the ropes, letting it sift into the knots. He squatted quickly and did the same for the rope binding her ankles. When he was satisfied, he corked the vial, slipped it back into his pocket, and waited.

There was a point at the end of the line of dancers, just before the big man made his next circuit, where there was a gap. The two ends of the line were like the head and tail of a writhing, whirling snake. One of the men on the far side of the circle suddenly flung his head back and screamed. He twitched crazily, his arms and legs moving in ways they were never meant to, and the line slowed. They didn't stop their dance, but as the spirit took one of their own, they accommodated the motion, making it part of the music and the ritual.

In that moment, Donovan moved. He slipped around to the front of the stake, standing scant inches in front of Amethyst. She knew he was there, but could not see him. He saw the fear in her eyes. He also noticed she was now naked from the waist up, and despite their circumstances, he smiled.

Then the line moved again, and the big man was dancing in slow, mincing steps straight at them.

Donovan closed his eyes. He imagined the white powder pouring into the knotted ropes. He imagined them slipping and sliding free. In a soft whisper, he spoke a single word.

"Libre."

Several things happened in a very short span of time. The ropes went suddenly slack. Amethyst, not expecting the sudden release, toppled forward. Donovan caught her in his arms, and without a word turned toward the outer circle.

Behind him he heard a disruption in the music. He heard Anya Cabrera screeching for someone to stop him. In that instant, his spell was broken, and they saw him, but it was too late. With a scream of his own, he dove through the smoke of the outer ring and broke the circle.

The effect was instantaneous. The smoke disappeared in thin wisps, leaving the circle, the dancers, and Anya Cabrera in plain view from the street beyond. Donovan didn't hesitate. He clutched Amethyst to his chest and ran for the alley. He had the element of surprise on his side, but that advantage lasted only seconds. Before he hit the alleyway where the portal lay, he heard heavy footsteps pounding behind him.

"Put me down," Amethyst hissed. "I can walk. We'll move faster."

Donovan clumsily lowered her to the sidewalk. She lurched forward, caught her balance, and then the two of them ducked off the street and out of sight.

"Wait," Donovan said.

He hit the short staircase, and concentrated. He took a step down, and then another, then one back up and three down. The pattern was invariable, and it didn't matter if Hell itself was pouring in at their back, there was only one way he knew to open the door. It wasn't one of those he normally used, so he had to depend on the more generic key he'd first discovered. He stepped forward again, ignored all sound, and all thought but the pattern. One more down, four back up, and he reached back.

"Now!" he cried.

They dove down the stairs and into the shadowed alcove below. The doorway shimmered, then opened, and they stepped through. There was a horrible screeching sound behind them. Donovan ignored it and took Amethyst by the hand.

"Run," he said.

They rushed down the ancient passage, watching stairs and portals pass on either side, and ignoring them.

"Can't we take one?" Amethyst panted.

"Not unless you don't care where, or when, we arrive," Donovan said. "They aren't safe, and they aren't stable. I haven't had time to explore them."

He turned. Behind them, two very dark figures scurried down the passage after them. The figures didn't seem to hurry, but they moved with incredible speed, appearing in one place, and then another in quick succession. He saw that they were both members of Los Escorpiones, their dark vests covered in patches and glittering ornaments.

"We have to stop them from following," he said. "If we don't, we have to turn and fight."

"I'm not opposed to that," Amethyst said through gritted teeth. "I wouldn't mind a crack at the bastards."

"We don't have time," Donovan said. "We don't know how far she's gone, and we don't know if we broke the ritual."

"I can slow them," Amethyst said.

"Do it," Donovan said. "We're almost out."

Amethyst stumbled a little as she fished in the pockets of her jeans. Donovan noticed for the second time that she was topless. He tried not to smile, and failed. She caught his expression and glared at him as she spun.

Amethyst threw a handful of crystal dust into the center of the passage. As it filled the air, she cried out a command that Donovan didn't recognize. Whatever she'd said, it solidified the crystals into a thick, glassy wall.

"It won't hold," she said.

Donovan grabbed her, darted to the right, yanked open one of the ancient doorways, and dragged her through. He slammed it behind them, even as they heard the glass wall shatter in an explosion that sent bits and pieces crashing into the far side of the now closed portal.

"Can they get out?" Amethyst asked?

"They can't open this door, because we just used it. They can get out, but there's no way to tell where they will end up — whether the spirits are permanently embedded in their souls, or if they are dark things that will never return to the light. It doesn't matter. We don't have much time.

They turned. Amethyst took a step, faltered, and nearly fell.

Without a word, Donovan scooped her back into his arms, pressing her nakedness into his chest to hide it from prying eyes, and hurried to the maintenance entrance of his building. He needed to find out what had happened, and he needed to check in on Martinez, but first he needed to get Amethyst to safety. There was a second crash against the inside of the ancient portal, but he ignored it. It was time to pull out all the stops and put an end to the craziness in the Barrio once and for all. He only hoped they weren't already too late.