After a quick stop at Donovan's place, where he restocked the many pockets of his jacket and fed Cleo, they hurried back to Amethyst's place. She hadn't said what it was that she wanted to get, but she'd made it clear that in the face of what they were up against, it was going to be important. Donovan settled onto a heavy leather chair in her den, and she brought in a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"This is going to take a quick explanation," she said. "It's not the sort of thing I usually deal with, but when I heard it was available, I couldn't resist. If I was one of those people that believed nothing happens without a reason, I'd have to think it was some odd twist of fate."
"I've always believed we make our own fate," Donovan said. "Of course, it's about the time I say something like that when I get a strange sign, or find just the right old manuscript. Sometimes you can almost feel something — or someone — watching over you."
"It's exactly like that."
Amethyst filled their glasses and sat the bottle on the table. Before she took her seat she crossed the room to a bookshelf. Where Donovan's shelves were cluttered and overflowing, hers were ordered and neat. She pulled out a dark book with gold gilt lettering on the spine, reached around behind it, and tugged on a latch. The base of the shelves appeared to be a solid wooden cabinet, but as the latch released, the front dropped gently down to reveal a wide drawer.
She opened the drawer, removed a dark leather bag, and then slid the drawer shut. She closed the cabinet and returned the book to its place. Donovan smiled as he watched her. He knew she must cringe every time she entered his den, and he was always afraid she'd snap and start arranging and organizing things. If she did he might lose the tenuous hold he still had on his chaos.
When she'd returned to her seat, she laid the bag on the coffee table between them. Donovan reached for it, but she laid her hand on his to stop him.
"Let me tell you about it first," she said.
Donovan leaned back and reached for his wine.
"It's not a long story," she said. "It is strange though. Do you remember a guy named Chance?"
"Of course," Donovan said. "I've bought a lot of things from him. He's not always around — seems to travel a lot. It's always worth talking to him. I didn't know he was around."
"I think he only lets you know if he has something that might interest you. This time he called me, and even he didn't seem certain I'd want what he had. Like I said, it's not my usual thing. My collection is among the most complete in the world — I have minerals, matched sets of crystals, gemstones, elements, and just about every alchemical text still in existence. Those I don't have, I can access."
She smiled at him then, and he laughed. "That you can," he said.
"What Chance brought in is dark. I'd heard of these things, but never actually seen one, and really never had the desire. He had an order for several, but when the deal was done he had two left over. He said he could probably have sold them to the first buyer if he'd mentioned it, but he was already a little leery of that deal, and just wanted to get away as quickly as possible and in one piece. He also didn't like the idea of them falling into the wrong hands, or just disappearing into the streets.
"That left him with two, and he thought of me. He's been traveling again — Haiti this time. You might recall that he isn't really the talkative type. He told me very little of where he acquired these items; he told me their use, and he told me his price. I've never doubted the quality of his stock. Still, at first I wasn't sure I'd take them. I told him to bring them around, and we'd see."
"Apparently they were more interesting than you initially thought?" Donovan asked. He nodded at the bag on the table. "You seem to have added them to your collection."
"I had a similar reaction to his," Amethyst said. "When I'd seen these, and held them, I worried about who might take them if I didn't. I don't know who all in San Valencez Chance does business with, but I was able to think of a few right off the bat that don't need items this powerful to get into trouble with. Anyway…they are also compelling. I have been considering getting rid of them, just because they fascinate me. I don't like things that distract me unless I've chosen to let that happen."
"So are you going to tell me what they are, or wait until I snap from the curiosity and open them myself."
"For someone as old as you are, you are very impatient."
"Ouch."
"They're pendants. It's hard for me to admit this, but I'm not absolutely certain what they are made of. It's not any known stone or gem. It's not wood, or bone, either. They are very black and a little oily to the touch. He claimed to have gotten them straight from a Bocor — carved by hand. He didn't know what the material was either, and didn't seem at all interested in finding out."
"But he told you what they are used for?"
Amethyst nodded. She reached out and grabbed the leather bag. She untied the cords that held it closed and reached inside. What she drew out made Donovan sit up quickly with interest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up before he'd even brought the things into focus. Each dangled from a rough metal chain, and Amethyst held them by these, avoiding contact with the small figurines.
"They are spirit stones," she said. "They have many purposes, but there are a couple in particular that I believe may prove useful. When worn, they serve the dual purpose of obscuring your identity and presence from the living — making people overlook you, thickening shadows and encouraging others to look somewhere else, though they don't know why, and more importantly, they render the wearer absolutely undetectable to spirits."
Donovan reached out and took one in his hand. He rubbed his thumb over the surface. It was waxy, like soap, and where he touched it, it felt as if it left a sheen of… something… on his skin. He wanted to drop it like a snake that was about to strike, but when he went to do so his fingers tightened around it.
"You feel it too," Amethyst said. "It's calling to you."
Donovan pulled his hand back, and Amethyst dropped the two pendants back into the leather bag. There was an immediate release of tension as she did so.
"There is something trapped in those stones," Donovan said softly. "Whatever it is might have the ability to do the things you've said, but what it seeks is escape. It wants to be released, and I wonder — is that spirit less dangerous than those we may face?"
"I can't answer that," Amethyst said. "Without knowing who did the trapping, or how it was accomplished, it's impossible to be certain, I think. Perhaps, when this is done, and we have the time, we can look into it? If someone, or something, has been trapped against its will, we should release it."
Donovan nodded. "I am sure we can find something about these in my library…when there is time. For now, we have to concentrate on figuring out what Anya Cabrera is up to, and just what kind of danger we're facing in the Barrio. I have the feeling Martinez could tell us more, but I don't think he trusts us to handle it. He let me know things were wrong, so he has to know I'll go there, but he didn't tell me everything, and that makes me believe he's planning something on his own. I wish I had time to find out what it is, because I'd hate to get trapped between the two of them."
"Anya holds a lot of local rituals," Amethyst said. "She summons the Loa, makes sacrifices, and does minor conjuring for locals. She's been growing slowly more influential, but she has never seemed powerful enough to be any kind of real threat. What changed?"
"If Martinez and Cord are right, she's playing with very dangerous toys," Donovan said. "The Loa inhabit those who honor them by excessive behavior — crazed dancing, drinking the right things, sometimes drugs — Peyote or Mushrooms. Sometimes it's no more than hallucination on the part of the believer, but there are also times when the spirits they seek take over their bodies. I've seen very young children drink entire bottles of rum while smoking a cigar and cursing. That should kill them, but when it's over they fall into a deep sleep, and they are fine. The Loa have a great sense of humor, and they love to visit. What Anya is doing is taking advantage. She's not letting them leave."
"How is that possible?" Amethyst asked. "I thought they came and went as they pleased, within the bounds of the ritual."
"They do, but only when the ritual is completed properly. There are patterns in everything, as you know. There is a beginning, and an end to ritual, and Any has found — somewhere — a way to twist or prolong the ending of the summoning ritual. The Loa are trapped in their host's body, unable to take over and enjoy their moments of freedom in this world, as they intended, and unable to escape back to their own. What is left is worse than a zombie. It's a shadow creature, half human, half spirit. They are apparently incredibly strong and fast, and from the descriptions of how they were cut down by bullets and knives, and then rose to fight as if nothing had happened, they share the ability to heal that allows hosts to drink and cut themselves without dying."
"Surely she can't keep them here indefinitely?"
"I don't know," Donovan said. "No one in my memory has been foolish enough to try. My best guess is that it's like a steam boiler. If she tries to keep them in a vulnerable human host for too long, something will burst. If the spirits are freed on this plane, I doubt anything she can do will control them. She's playing with fire."
"We'll have to get in there and see if we can't put it out then," Amethyst laughed. "But that's tomorrow. For now, this is good wine, and we will both need some…rest."
She raised one eyebrow and smiled at him, and Donovan laughed, taking a deep drink of his wine.
"A woman after my own heart."
He glanced down at the table.
"Let's put those away first, though. If we have to use them, let's put it off as long as possible. They make my skin crawl."
Amethyst did as he asked, and as she tucked them back into the hidden drawer, Donovan felt as if they still called to him. He shivered and took another drink. He wondered if they were playing with their own fire…and he wondered if they would be too late.