The Devil's Elixir

49

On the smooth timber deck of the stucco-and-terracotta-tile pool house, the monster was busy scouring the deep folds of his consciousness for some answers of his own.

The day hadn’t gone well.

He was now one man down. His target was nowhere in sight. And he couldn’t see a clear way forward that would bring him what he was after.

He needed a more enlightened view.

An epiphany.

The blind Peruvian’s brew would see to that. It always did.

He needed to find Reilly, but that wasn’t going to be easy. He couldn’t have his men tail him as he left the only location he was sure to go to, the local offices of the FBI. Not after the fiasco of the last attempt. Not after the bikers had been eliminated. The enemy was on high alert. They’d be looking out for anything suspicious. And the last thing Navarro needed right now was to lose more men.

Guerra and his techie snoops wouldn’t be useful either. Reilly’s phone, like that of any FBI agent, had sophisticated anti-hacking software installed on it. There was no way to track him through it. And his woman’s phone was also no longer an option. That door had been slammed shut at the museum.

He sat there, naked, cross-legged, and completely still, as he dived and soared through breathtaking landscapes and rapid-fire sequences of imagery, some he recognized, others he didn’t, the real blending with the surreal as his synapses burst into unexplored territory and linked up through previously unmapped connections.

And then it came to him. The simple realization that his answer was well within his grasp.

In fact, it lay within the walls of his gated villa.

A living, breathing answer that was calling out to him, beckoning for his attention.

The sorcerer’s face broadened into a peaceful smile, and he shut his eyes.

Tomorrow, he knew, would be a far better day.