Heart of a Dragon (34 page)

"Kind of takes it out of you, doesn't it?" Jake asked softly.
 
"I know you ate a lot after you painted my jacket.
 
Martinez told me."

Salvatore nodded.
 
Now that he was done eating, he felt out of place and nervous.
 
He glanced around the kitchen. The Dragons kept it clean and simple.
 
There were a couple of old refrigerators along one wall, a stove, and the two tables.
 
Despite its simplicity, it was almost overwhelming after the bare, drafty interior of his shack.

"Snake wants you outside in a bit," Jake said.
 
"Martinez will be there too – and the dragon."

"You've seen it?" Salvatore asked.
 
He watched the big man's face.

"No one but Snake has seen it.
 
He said he came in, found you about to pass out on the floor, caught you, and then took it.
 
He won't talk about it, but…you should have seen his eyes, Sally.
 
I'd swear, if I didn't know it sounded crazy, that they glowed.
 
They glowed red, and when he passed by me with that rolled up flag, I didn't recognize him at all."

"It is the same for you, Senor Jake," Salvatore said.
 
"When you first saw your dragon – when you wore it – you changed.
 
Do you not feel it?"

"Oh, I feel it, Sally," Jake said.
 
"I feel stronger, faster – everything is clearer than it's ever been.
 
With Snake, it was different.
 
He's stronger, yeah…but a little scary. You know what I mean?"

Salvatore stared at the table for a moment and collected his thoughts.
 
Then he raised his head and met Jake's gaze.

"His dragon is very powerful.
 
It did not want me to finish the painting.
 
There is another place – a city – I see it when I paint.
 
I think his dragon is very important there.
 
When I painted…it tried to take me.
 
The paint – the red paint that Martinez made for me – it was different.
 
I would very much like to see the dragon."

"I think we're all going to see it soon enough," Jake said.
 
He studied Salvatore's face, as if there was something he knew, or saw, that he couldn't quite bring to the surface. "Martinez will be here soon.
 
Snake is going to talk…and we're going to act.
 
Most of the others don't want to go.
 
They've heard what happened last time, in Santini Park.
 
They've heard what
Los Escorpiones
did to Vasquez.
 
They want to move on – find a new place.
 
Snake wants them to fight."

"It will not be the same," Salvatore said, " not sure why he spoke, or how he knew that his words were true. "You have changed.
 
Snake…"

"I know," Jake said.
 
"He's changed. The fight will be different.
 
We might even have a chance at winning.
 
The question is, what do we win?
 
What's really at stake here?
 
If it was just this clubhouse, and this town, I'd be with the others.
 
I'd say, let's get the hell out of here and find a new place without a war in progress.
 
It's more than that, though.
 
I feel it, Snake feels it – I think Martinez knows it too.
 
We're fighting against something that's not going to stop at taking over the Barrio, or Santini Park.
 
We might be the only thing between some weird ancient darkness and the rest of the world.
 
It's a screwed up feeling, but at the same time, it makes me want to fight.
 
It makes me want to be a hero.

"You think that's crazy, Sally?"

Salvatore held the big man's gaze.
 
What he saw took him far away, to that strange dark city on the coast of an ocean he knew did not touch any beach in California, or on Earth.
 
He thought carefully about his words, and then he spoke.

"I do not believe you are crazy," he said.
 
"I believe that you are a hero.
 
I believe that Martinez has seen what might come, and that he brought all of us together to stop it.
 
He's known me all of my life, but until now he paid very little attention.
 
He gave me some food, and he listened when I had something to say. He brought me chalk and pencils when he found them.
 
Now it is different.
 
He saw something in my pictures and I am here.
 
He saw something in you – and in Snake – and you are here.
 
On our own, none of us could stand against
Los Escorpiones
– not with Anya Cabrera at their side.
 
Together? Maybe we are all heroes."

Jake reached out and messed up Salvatore's hair.
 
The big man smiled, and Salvatore could not help but return it.
 
A knock at the door broke the silence, and Jake turned.

"That must be Martinez," he said.
 
"I guess it's show time"

He rose and left the room.
 
Salvatore carried his empty milk glass to the sink, rinsed it, and then stepped back into the main room.
 
Martinez had entered, and the old man smiled and nodded at him.
 
Without a word, Jake led the two of them out through the clubhouse and into the yard beyond, where Snake stood in the center of several rings of gathered Dragons.

As he stepped into the firelight and caught Snake's gaze, Salvatore felt a sudden heat on his cheeks.
 
He had to fight the urge to shield his eyes.

The yard behind the clubhouse danced with shadows.
 
Torches and candles flickered on poles planted in the ground and on every horizontal surface.
 
In the center there was a larger fire;
 
Snake stood alone beside it.
 
He stared at the back door of the clubhouse, and as Salvatore stepped through, the two locked gazes, just for an instant.

All around that central fire, the Dragons stood in rows.
 
There was a passage open from the back door of the clubhouse to the center, but it seemed as if every other square inch of ground was occupied.
 
Where there were no men, there were shadows and flickering light.
 
Salvatore tried to ignore them.

Jake had a hand on his shoulder, and the big man escorted him through the crowd toward the fire.
 
Salvatore was glad for Jake's presence, but he wasn't frightened.
 
Something in Snake's gaze drew him forward, and he felt a sense of purpose he'd never experienced – a sense of belonging.
  
Martinez walked at his side.
 
The old man said nothing.
 
He looked neither to the right nor the left. He held his head high. This was Snake's moment, but it also belonged to Salvatore, and to Martinez.
 
Salvatore felt a great many things converging, coming together in that clearing and binding them all.

They gathered by the fire.
 
Snake stood very still.
 
He barely acknowledged their arrival.
 
Jake took his place behind Snake, and Salvatore stood beside Jake.
 
Martinez stepped a little off to the side, but not so far as to seem separated from the group.
 
The crowd drifted and covered the trail that led back to the clubhouse.
 
Salvatore stared out into the flickering torches and candlelight.
 
He saw shadowed faces.
 
Eyes glittered, but he could not make out the features on their faces.

Snake began a slow circuit of the fire.
 
He stared out into the gathered Dragons.
 
He met their gazes, and, at last he came back to stand at Salvatore's side.
 
Snake didn't move like he had the last time Salvatore had seen him.
 
He seemed taller, quicker and stronger.
 
His eyes glittered even when there was no light to cause it.

He stepped closer and took Salvatore by the arm.
  
Salvatore detected no unity among those gathered, though they stood so closely packed it was difficult to tell where one ended, and the next began. There was fear in the air, some of it directed at Snake, and some of it beyond the yard and the clubhouse into the night.
  
There was nothing holding them together but the iron will of the man they called Presidente and the presence of the crazy old man, Martinez, at his side.

Jake stepped forward and handed a long pole to Snake, who slammed the base of it into the ground at his feet.
 
Salvatore saw that the canvas he'd painted on had been wound around the top of that pole.
 
He stared at it, mesmerized.
 
He knew what was to come, or thought he did, but he couldn't imagine the effect it might have on the gathered Dragons.

When he was certain that he had their attention, Snake reached up and untied the string at the top of the banner, letting the sheet uncurl from the pole.
 
Opening it carefully so that the design remained concealed, he stood, tall and ominous, full of
 
a strange energy that Salvatore felt rippling in the air.

"Tonight," Snake said, staring out into the darkness at some point beyond his followers, "I fight
Los Escorpiones
.
 
Alone, or with you -- I fight."
 
He swept his gaze over the gathering, catching the few that started guiltily at his words, boring through them mercilessly."They have come to the very borders of our streets and homes.
 
They have killed our brothers – they have dishonored our colors.
 
If we allow this to pass, we are nothing."

He turned to Salvatore, and Salvatore felt the grip on his arm tighten.
 
A part of him wanted very much to run, but he stood his ground.

"Here stands Salvatore Domingo Sanchez," Snake said. "In his heart live dragons!
 
There are those among you with whom he has shared their flame.
 
He is what we should be.
 
He is what we must become.
 
I don't know when or where I lost the way, but he brought me back.
 
He can bring us all back.
 
Somehow he looked inside of us – of me – and found the Dragons.
 
He found them, and he called them back."

Salvatore turned, ignoring those gathered,
 
to stare at Snake.
 
No one had ever said such things about him.
 
No one had ever made him feel such honor.

"The old one," Snake gestured at Martinez, who stood still and silent, a knowing smile on his lips, "assures me that he knows what is to come.
 
He has had a vision.
 
He has seen the coming battle, and
Los Escorpiones
die tonight.
 
They cease to exist.
 
Who, among you, do you suppose will bring this about?
 
The biggest?
 
The strongest?
 
No.
 
It won't be me, and it won't be any of you, because we don't deserve it.
 
We lost our way.
 
We lost our power.
 
It will be Sal who saves us; he bears our power.
 
In his talent, and his art beats the heart of a Dragon!"

A wave of nervous energy rippled through the clearing.
 
Salvatore picked up snippets of thought, though not clearly enough to tell which came from which man.
 
He'd never been able to read minds, but somehow he knew that this was new…something different.

They were still scared, and now they thought Snake was crazy.
 
They expected a fight, and they knew what they were up against – or thought that they did.
 
This wasn't supposed to be a weird ritual like Anya Cabrera used against them – it was supposed to be a rally, and a battle. – the last act in a war.
 
Nobody had quite the strength or the courage to voice their doubts.
 
Snake was a dangerous man.
 
If he was crazy now -- well, then he would just be more dangerous.
 
They waited for him to make sense, and for the call to leave, a call they all dreaded.

Snake reached up and whipped the flag open.
 
He almost yanked the pole from Salvatore's hands, but Salvatore clung to the pole with all his strength and dug his heels into the soft earth.
 
Snake's dragon floated into the air on its background of white.
 
The sheet rippled and whipped in the wind with a snap like thunder.

Salvatore stared up at the creature.
 
He remembered it – knew it so well he could have traced its outline in the dirt with a stick and brought it to life – but he didn't remember the painting.
 
His stomach lurched, and now he clung to the flagpole for support.
 
He saw the city, rising up to meet him.
 
He felt the air whistle past his years and saw the glowing towers below.
 
He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came.
 
He felt the dragon's claws clutch him tightly.
 
The sensation of falling became one of soaring – gliding flat just clear of the turreted towers and massive stone walls.