Heart of a Dragon (24 page)

There was a wet splat.
 
He started to turn away, but the creature peeled itself from that wall of broken metal and turned like a cat.
 
It clung there, actually hanging off of the wall for a moment, and then, with a scream of its own, it scrambled up and onto the wall of the small courtyard, looked back once, and disappeared.

Jake spun.
 
Shadows flashed all around him.
 
All of those who'd danced moments before in the circle were fighting to reach the exit.
 
Anya Cabrera stood behind them, waving her arms and trying to be heard.
 
Jake thought she might be chanting, but it was hard to tell.
 
He ducked as another Escorpione took a swing at him in passing.
 
They didn't seem bent on fighting, they were trying to get out of the circle – out of the junkyard.
 
Apparently, though Enrique had not been able to break in, his scream had broken some spell, or disrupted the rhythm of the music, just long enough for one of those inside to break out.

Enrique held one of the
Escorpiones
by the throat, and they wrestled together, falling back.
 
Jake saw his friend slam a fist hard into his attacker's head.
 
The thing – that's all he could call them now – reared back, but it did not topple.
 
Instead it fished a blade from beneath a heavy black belt and slashed out and down.
 
Enrique saw it coming. He turned and released his hold, throwing the writhing bundle of hate he fought away, but it was too late. The thing was fast – far too fast to be human.

The blade slashed through the front of Enrique's jacket and buried itself in his flesh.
 
He rolled, and the motion wrenched the blade form his attacker's grip, but it was buried deep in his chest, driven between ribs.
 
Blood gushed out from the wound, and Jake cursed.

He went after the Escorpione, but it was too late.
 
The thing followed the others up and over the wall, out into the yard and the streets beyond.
 
Jake turned briefly to see that the circle where Anya Cabrera had stood was empty.
 
There was no sign of the woman, or her followers.

There was more motion in the back of the circle, and Jake moved swiftly.
 
He gripped the knife, pulled it from his fallen comrade's chest, and flung it in the direction of the sound he'd heard,
 
Then, gripping Enrique under his arms, he pulled him aside into the shadows.
 
The smoke was still thick enough to obscure sight, but still, he knew something was wrong.

He heard someone moving, and voices, but he saw nothing.
 
He had the vague impression of something or someone passing through the exit, and then – as quickly as the sound and frantic motion had begun, it ended.
 
He knelt alone by Enrique's side, pulled the jacket apart to get to the wound, and began to wonder how there could still be life when there was already so much blood. It coated his hands and soaked the ground beneath him.
 
He knew he was going to have to do something, and quickly – but he couldn't think.
 
He had never in his life felt more alone.

Donovan was running the second his feet touched the ground.
 
Amethyst dropped down behind him and followed.
 
There was no time to think about who or what they might encounter.
 
There was a thin crack between two ruined vehicles that led into the main entrance tunnel. It opened into one of the small
cul
de sacs where Anya's guards had waited.
 
The space was empty, and Donovan pulled up short as he slipped into it.
 
Footsteps pounded by.

As Amethyst stepped in beside him something passed directly overhead.
 
The metal wall thrummed with heavy footsteps.
 
Whatever it was moved so quickly that it was impossible to see who, or what, had passed.

Donovan peered around the corner of the small alcove.
 
The passage wasn't empty, but there were none of
Los Escorpiones
in site.
 
One of Anya's followers stumbled past, and there were voices ahead, toward the center.

"We have to go," Donovan said.
 
"The amulets should protect us; we just have to be careful not to actually run into anyone.
 
They won't see us, but they'll know we are there."

Amethyst nodded.
 
They stepped into the narrow trail and turned right, toward the interior of the yard.
 
Ahead, lamps flickered. Voices whispered through the shadows and more footsteps approached.
 
They pressed up against the right hand side of the tunnel and continued to move inward.
 
In the light of the next group of lanterns they saw two
Escorpiones
stumbling along.
 
The men looked as if they'd been through a fight, but there was nothing special about their speed, or the way they moved.
 
Guards, then, just extra bodies.
  
Donovan held Amethyst close to him and pressed back to the wall, and the two passed without a sideways glance.

It had grown quieter, and they moved more quickly.
 
There was no way to know what awaited them in the center court, but if they intended to be of any help to the two Dragons who'd run in like crazy men, they needed to get there as quickly as possible.

There was another bend in the tunnel ahead, and just before they reached it they found another of the small alcoves.
 
Donovan ducked inside, and they were barely out of site before three more
Escorpiones
rounded the corner.
 
These moved slowly and carefully.
 
They didn't appear to be injured, but their eyes were wide, and they spoke to one another in hushed tones.

"What the hell was that, Hector?" one said.
 
"Jesus, what happened?
 
Where did they go?
 
Raoul is my cousin man, what am I gonna tell his wife?"

"Shut the hell up," a second voice, obviously Hector, hissed.
 
"You'd better worry about getting your own sorry ass out of here before you spend too much time planning speeches for someone else's widow.
 
We have to get back to the others – we have to find out how bad this is, and what we're up against.
 
We have to find Anya."

"Christ, Hector," the last chimed in.
 
"That crazy old woman is the reason everything is messed up.
 
We can't go to her."

"Maybe you're forgetting a couple of things," Hector said.
 
His voice grew menacing.
 
Donovan and Amethyst pressed deeper into their small alcove, listening carefully.

"Like what, man?" the third voice whined.

There was a sudden shuffle of feet, and then the sound of something slamming hard into metal.
 
A man cried out in pain, and Hector's voice, now hard and brittle cut through the shadows.

"You're forgetting who you're talking to for one thing, motherfucker," he said.
 
"You're forgetting that the only reason you aren't one of those crazy-assed dudes running over the top of cars isn't you is because that crazy old woman gave you something.
 
That thing you're wearing, man – it protected you.
 
She
protected you.
 
You might want to remember that before I yank that chain off your neck and give it to someone else.
 
Maybe I break your leg and leave you here – see what comes back to get you."

"No man, Hector, no!"

There was a moment of silence, and then, apparently, Hector relented.
 
The footsteps moved closer again, and then past.
 
Donovan counted to three, and then stepped out, hurrying to the right.
 
Amethyst followed.

"Hey!" a voice called out from behind them.
 
"Who's there?"

They didn't turn, the hurried on toward the central court.

"They saw us," Amethyst pointed out.

"I know," Donovan said.
 
"Did you hear what the one they called Hector said?
 
They were wearing something for protection. What do you want to bet you just found out who the buyer was for the other figurines?"

"I should have thought of that," Amethyst said.
 
"I can see you just fine, after all.
 
It never occurred to me that others with the same charm could see us as well."

"I thought I saw something in the circle, but couldn't quite make it out," Donovan said.
 
"I think now it must have been our three friends.
 
I'm guessing that Hector is the Presidente of that group.
 
With the binoculars, and with your crystal, they were shielded from us – but here?
 
I have to say, they don't sound as if they are all on the same page about Anya.
 
We might be able to use that to our advantage at some point."

Ahead the entrance opened onto the courtyard, and they hurried through.
 
The smoke had pretty much cleared, and there was some light from the moon, as well as from scattered torches, now guttering in the night breeze.
 
The fire pit glowed with coals, but wasn't much of a light source.

A man knelt to their left, and another lay back on the ground.
 
The first spun like a cornered snake, rising to a crouch.
 
Donovan held up his hand.
 
Then, realizing the man couldn't see him, he reached up and pulled the talisman up and off over his head.
 
Amethyst did the same.

"Who the fuck are you?"the man snarled.

"My name is Donovan DeChance.
 
We saw what happened.
 
Martinez told us there might be trouble.
 
We're here to help.
 
How is he?"

The man glared at them for a moment, sizing them up, and then turned to his fallen comrade.

"It's bad," he said.
 
"I'm Jake, by the way – this is Enrique.
 
They got him good.
 
There's something – wrong about them. Too fast.
 
The way he was moving…"

"That's something we can talk about once we're safely out of here," Donovan said.
 
"I think it isn't going to take Anya Cabrera and her followers long to regroup and come back to see what happened.
 
You two ruined something she's been planning for a very long time.
 
I don't think she's in a very good mood."

"I don't care about that old witch," Jake growled.
 
"Enrique, I think he's dying," Jake said.
 
"I don't think he's going to be able to move."

"Can you carry him?" Donovan asked.
 
"I
 
can help if
 
I need to, but we have a better chance of getting out of here if my hands are free."

Jake nodded.
 
"We have to stop this bleeding, then I can carry him."

Amethyst dropped down beside Enrique and gently pushed Jake aside.
 
She pulled out a scarf from somewhere and ran her hand in under Enrique's jacket. She pulled back his jacket and started to remove it.
 
Donovan stepped up and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Leave it.
 
Somehow I have the feeling that jacket might be the only reason he's still breathing."

Amethyst glanced up, then over at Jake.
 
Jake nodded.

"He's right."

She worked the scarf in under the jacket and pulled it around his back gently.
  
When it was in place, she tor e a strip from the bottom of her skirt and packed it into the wound.
 
A moment later it was tied in place snugly by the scarf, all of it soaking slowly in the man's blood.

"He doesn't have much time," she said.
 
"We have to get him to somewhere he can get real care.
 
I need light, and water.
 
Even then…"

Jake nodded.
 
As she rose, he stepped forward and lifted Enrique in his arms as if the man were a child.
 
Donovan stared, just for a moment, and then let it go.
 
This wasn't the time to ask about the jackets, or Martinez.

"Let's go," he said.

They followed the trail back out of the junkyard toward the street.
 
They met no one along the way.
 
There were no voices or footsteps.
 
It was as if the entire ritual had never happened – as if no one had been there at all.
 
They stepped out into the street cautiously, but there were no guards.

Then, to their right, they heard voices and tramping feet.
 
Donovan reached into the folds of his jacket and braced himself, standing between Jake, Enrique, and whatever came next.
 
A moment later, a group of maybe a dozen men appeared.
 
They wore black leather, and they moved quickly and quietly.
 
Donovan relaxed.
 
They were Dragons, and moments later they were helping Jake carry Enrique's prone form back out of the darker half of the Barrio toward their clubhouse, Martinez, light, and answers.