The mirror was smaller than Morgan had expected, but very beautiful. The frame was too pale to be gold, but it didn't look like silver either. Morgan guessed it might be platinum, a metal more precious than almost anything else on earth. It was engraved with designs that reminded him unpleasantly of the runic alphabet in his father's diary and there were rubies embedded in its back.
He wondered how much it was worth, then realised that no monetary sum could equal its value, if it really contained what Coby claimed. He looked at the other man, and saw that his face was pale, sweat coating it. His eyes looked feverish as they bored into Morgan's.
"What do I do?" Morgan asked. "How do I use it?"
"Just look into it." Coby's voice was husky and he coughed to clear it. "It's like any other mirror, but the gateway should be broader. Dee's waiting in there. He wants to be contacted. Just look through the glass, Morgan, and tell me what you see."
The handle was bone and felt slick and warm in Morgan's hand. It was soothing against the still bleeding cut on his palm. The mirror wasn't glass, he realised, but crystal. It shimmered, facets scattering the daylight, and he wondered how he was expected to see anything in its broken surface. And then he wasn't looking at the crystal but through it and Dee was right there.
Morgan almost smiled at the image, exactly like something out of one of those BBC costume dramas he'd seen advertised but never watched. Dee's neck was ringed with a wide ruffle of lace that made the head above it look like it was detachable from the body below. His beard was long, grey and pointed and his gaunt face was lined with pain. Coby had said that Dee looked into the mirror in the moment of death. Morgan didn't find it hard to believe this was a dying man.
"A blackamoor," Dee said. "A
savage
has possession of my mirror."
His voice was hard to understand, the words rounded in an accent Morgan didn't recognise. It took their actual meaning a moment to register and then Morgan scowled at the man in the mirror.
"What?" Coby said. "What did he say?" His voice was shaking and his cheeks were tense with strain.
"Nothing yet," Morgan told him.
Coby's breath left him in a rush. "Ask him where it is."
Morgan turned back to the crystal mirror.
Dee was still there, mouth pinched tight. "Well, savage?" he said. "Speak."
Morgan kept his voice calm as he said, "Where's the shofar? Where did you put it?"
The ancient alchemist's head tilted, as if he found Morgan as hard to understand as Morgan found him. "You seek the shofar?" he said. "So it remains hidden, in whatever future is your dwelling place. But perhaps you will find what I could not. The shofar is lost in the forests of the New World."
"Lost in the forests of the New World," Morgan repeated for Coby's benefit and also because he wasn't sure he understood.
Dee took in a harsh breath and flinched as if it hurt him. It occurred to Morgan that a man's spirit trapped in the moment of death would be dying forever.
"They stole it from me," Dee said. "The hordes of the ignorant took my treasures. They took them to our Queen's colony across the great ocean. Yet when I sent my agents in pursuit, they too disappeared."
Coby shook Morgan when he didn't speak, but he was too intent on the mirror to respond.
"So you don't know?" Morgan said. "You've lost it."
"Only one message remained," Dee said. "Croatoan."
"Croatoan?" Morgan repeated.
Coby's hand clawed suddenly into his arm. The other man's wide brown eyes were bright and Morgan knew that whatever Dee's message was, Coby at least had understood it.
He turned back to the mirror to ask more. He didn't want to have to rely on Coby to explain. But when he looked at Dee, the old man's eyes were focused over his shoulder. His pale skin paled still further until he looked exactly like the corpse he was.
"He is here," Dee hissed. "You have brought my death to me!"
And then Coby too was shouting in inarticulate alarm and Morgan lowered the mirror and spun.
Lahav stood on the river bank, dripping water. The Israeli's face was less handsome with the bloody bruise which had almost closed his left eye. His other glared with fury. The same red light shone within it that glowed from the knife in his hand.
Lahav moved his arm back then forward, and the knife spun end over end through the air towards Coby. A wave of heat preceded it and Morgan felt a moment's pity for the other man. And then Coby reached for Morgan, swinging his body into the path of the knife.
He struggled in Coby's arms, but it was already too late. The knife shot towards him and he knew it would scorch as it skewered him. In a futile, instinctive gesture he raised the mirror. The knife burned into it and through it, and the force of the blow drove him back into the muddy river waters for the last time.
CHAPTER TEN
Alex counted her heartbeats all the way to Alamo Square. PD seemed content with the silence and she was happy not to speak. She knew the tension in her voice would betray her. The bank would have her money in two hours. She needed to be ready to leave by then.
PD's contact was waiting in the small park at the centre of the square. They were to meet on the bench at the highest point of the hill which offered a view over downtown San Francisco that seemed to transform the city into a toy-town version of itself, the distant Bay just a painted backdrop.
PD walked to her left and Raven to her right as they climbed to the top of the park, but she ignored them both. When she swept her eyes over the view below she saw the same double image, a modern city basking in sunlight and an older one consumed by flame and earthquake. She was learning to ignore that too.
PD's contact turned out to be a woman not much older than Alex. She had short brown hair, narrow brown eyes and was dressed like she'd wandered over from one of the bars in the Castro. PD obviously knew her already. He smiled and hugged her, making circles in the small of her back with his palm. Alex felt a hot flare of jealousy and ruthlessly suppressed it.
"Curtis, this is Keve," PD said.
The other woman's handshake was firm to the point of pain. Alex broke it as soon as she could, looking at the view rather than her companions. She was afraid of what they might see in her eyes.
"Not smooth sailing, then," Curtis said, eyeing their bruises.
PD shrugged. "Nothing we couldn't handle. What have you got for us?"
Curtis handed him a thin manila folder. He tucked it beneath his jacket without looking at it.
"It's not much," Curtis said. "Jacob Marriott's either damn good at flying below the radar or he hasn't been involved in anything that might interest us until recently. He's stinking rich, but there's no mystery where it came from. It's family money. He's East Coast stock but his father moved out here when he married himself a failed actress and semi-successful model a third his age."
"Interesting," PD said. "Maybe he's repeating family history with Maria. Might explain where all her money comes from."
Curtis shook her head. "Unlikely. Marriott was married to the same woman for fifty-two years and by all accounts he was devoted to her - not even a whisper of a rumour of any infidelity. She died of bone cancer just two months ago. And it looks like it was the wife who actually introduced him to the cult. Her financials indicate several very sizeable payments to an off-shore shell company. We haven't confirmed yet, but we're 99 per cent sure it's a front for the Croatoans."
PD frowned. "So not every Croatoan's getting rich out of this - some are paying top dollar to get in. Maybe Maria isn't in trouble at all. Maybe she's part of the group running this shell game, taking people like Marriott for a ride. It explains what you saw in the restaurant - if she's given herself to the devil's side."
It was very possible, Alex thought. Maria had certainly seemed to be the one with the power, whose presence was like a scar on the spirit world. But she wanted PD interested in Marriott - she needed him to break into the man's house as he'd suggested.
"It's possible," she said. "But I don't think Marriott's an innocent in all this. There was definitely something odd about him too."
Curtis quirked an eyebrow. "Odd?"
"We can trust her instincts," PD said quickly. "If she says he's odd, we need to investigate."
Curtis looked at her untrustingly and Alex wondered what PD had told her. Not very much, she guessed. She was Hammond's dirty little secret - and her partner's too.
"We need to get Alex inside the house," he said. "Is that possible?"
Curtis shrugged. "Marriott's got some pretty impressive security measures in place, but I think I can override them. It's a risk, but not a huge one."
Though PD's face was impassive, Alex knew he was weighing up pros and cons. She needed to contribute to the pro side, but she knew he'd get suspicious if she seemed too keen on the mission. There was no trust left between them.
"No way," she said. "They know us now - it's much too dangerous. And I've seen all I'm going to see."
As predictable as Pavlov's dog, PD shook his head. "They're representing one hand and playing another. We need to see their hole cards, but they
are
wise to us now and infiltration's out. Marriott's house is our best bet." He turned to Curtis. "You've got a surveillance van set up, right? Can you co-ordinate from outside the perimeter?"
"Sure. I've given you blueprints of the interior and details of the security system. If you keep a com link open once you're inside, I should be able to disable the parts of the system you're passing through while leaving the others intact. Should prevent any meta-alarms being triggered."
PD grimaced. "You
should
be able to disable the system and you
should
be able to halt the alarms?"
Curtis smiled thinly. "In this line of work, there are no guarantees."
Marriott's home was on the south-west of the square, kitty-corner to the ornate houses known as the Painted Ladies. Its design echoed theirs, light-green wooden slats finished with elaborate carvings round the windows and doors. Just a dollhouse, Alex thought, a pretty façade with nothing real inside. A fake home for make-believe people.
"We''ll have to try the front door," PD said. "Curtis can disable the surveillance, loop the last minute's input so they don't know anything's wrong."
Alex frowned. "But unless she's telekinetic, she can't unlock it, can she?"
"Then we use the basement entrance round the back. We can climb the fence - I can boost you - but if anyone sees us from the street..."
He was right. But they had to get inside. If they didn't, her two million dollars would sit unclaimed and she'd be sent somewhere else on some other godforsaken mission and her chance to escape would be gone for good.
"Honestly," Raven said. "Do I have to do everything myself? Evolution gave you a brain - try using it."
She fought not to react, keeping her gaze fixed on PD.
"What does it matter if he knows I'm here? Is he going to think you're crazy?" Raven asked. His black eyes looked guileless in his unlined face, but there was a spark of mischief buried inside them. "Mr Teepee Tom over there
wants
you to hear voices. I'm giving you some good advice - the least you could do is pass it on."
Alex sighed and turned to face him, ignoring PD's sharp glance. "You realise you haven't actually given me any advice yet, don't you?"
His eyebrows rose into his hairline in an exaggerated expression of disbelief. "I haven't? Oh no, you're right, I haven't. Well, obviously you need to look more closely at the fence. Look through your other eyes, Alex. It's hardly there."
PD's hand closed around her forearm, turning her to face him. "What is it, kid? Who are you talking to?"
She smiled sourly. "My spirit guide. I think he just told me I can walk through walls. Or fences, anyway."
PD looked like he wanted to argue, but this was the one area where she was the expert and he was forced to defer to her. It gave her a perverse sort of satisfaction.
"Fine," he said finally. He reached into his jacket and handed her the floor plan of the house. "If you get inside, go to the front door and let me in. Curtis can guide you. You don't need to speak aloud, just subvocalise and the throat mic will pick it up."
They were both wearing them, as well as pea-sized earpieces. Curtis would hear everything that happened and Alex thought she could use that to her advantage. But only if Raven was right - and she could somehow use the spirit realm to enter Marriott's house.
"Be careful, kid," PD said, not quite meeting her eye. And then he was gone, slipping back across the road to the park.
The double-vision had been tormenting her all day. Her head was pounding and she had to look at her feet as she walked to stop herself dodging obstacles that weren't really there. But as soon as she
wanted
to see the spirit realm, it faded like mist burnt away by the sun. The world was suddenly real and sharp and the fence she needed to somehow walk through was as solid as her own body.
"Shit," she said.
Raven laughed in her ear. "It's like one of those magic eye puzzles, isn't it? If you look too hard, you stop being able to see them."
She turned to face him, but he wasn't there either, faded away along with the rest of the spirit realm.
For a moment she felt a blank, grey despair. But she'd
heard
Raven. The spirit world was still there. It was always there. What had he told her earlier that day? Something about only children believing things disappeared when they could no longer see them.
She looked again, squinted, tried looking out of the corner of her eye. Nothing. The world was still the real world and the spirit realm was gone.
Except the realm of spirit wasn't any less real, she realised. In some ways it was more: a place where people's true selves were on display. How could she hope to find it by denying its reality?
As abruptly as it had disappeared, the spirit world was back. Clouds of black smoke churned in the sky and she heard the distant sound of screams. And Raven was right. The fence was barely there, just a green blur in the air. She closed her eyes and walked towards it, remembering the way it appeared in the spirit realm, not the wood and metal of the waking world.