The Queen of the Tigers, he thought, looking at her with mixed admiration and some emotion very like apprehension. My G.o.d, poor Sherry! How can a lovely spirit compete with a body and face like that? She looks absolutely washed out next to this girl.

"Sherry, senora, is Robert home?" the girl asked innocently. Her voice was low, and seemed to throb. Mark found his attraction to her increasing when he heard her speak, and he fought against it.

He managed to break the spell, at least in part so he actually saw the split -second glance of hate she cast at him before turning a blandly sweet face towards Sherry.

He spared a second to catch a glance at Sherry himself. To his surprise, she was looking bemused, was the only way he could put it. A little dazed. She showed not a hint of the resentment and anger she had expressed earlier. Instead she almost looked ensorcelled by the lovely model.

"He's in the darkroom," Sherry said slowly. "He asked me not to bother him."

"Ah well, in that case, we will wait for him at the studio, si?" She again cast a split-second glance of barely-curbed aggression at Mark. "Buenos dias, senora."

And with that, she turned and glided back the way she had come.

"Now that was odd," Di said thoughtfully when they had left the apartment complex.

"What was odd?"

"First, I didn't see Lupe, but unless she made a really strange detour she'd have had to come right by me."

"Huh-uh, no mystery," Mark replied absently. "Sherry told me they live in the same complex; it's convenient for Robert."

"I bet it is," Di said flatly. "Still I'm surprised I didn't at least see her at the front door. Well, the other odd thing was pretty minor Robert is even more of a negative personality than you are."

"Gee thanks "

"Sorry, that doesn't mean what it sounds like. A negative personality is one that attracts discarnate personalities and moves aside for them very easily. In other words, a medium. It has nothing to do with your strength of will, which is fine, thank you. It really doesn't have much to do with what makes you 'Mark Valdez'; it has everything to do with how strongly you and your physical body are linked in. In your case, not very. In Robert's case, even less so. That was why I put the shields on you in the first place right after we cleaned up the mess in Quasi's apartment; they prevent other personalities from forcing you out."

"Yeah I remember," he said, waiting for a light to change. "You told me I was about as defenseless as a baby. That if you hadn't come along, that thing we called up would have moved right in and set up housekeeping."

"It would have, too. Although I will admit to deliberately trying to scare you so you'd give me consent to shield you." She grinned thinly.

"Well I'm d.a.m.ned glad you did," he replied, returning the grin, and accelerating into traffic. "There's been a couple times since I've felt something tapping on the door that I was pretty sure I didn't want to let in."

"Then I'm doubly glad. I like you, Mark. I'd rather not find somebody else in your body. Well, the third odd thing is that Robert seems to have shields on him that are just as good as the ones I put on you. They feel like they were set up internally so either he's been learning something other than photography these last few years, or he's a natural."

"He must be a natural," Mark replied, thinking that she was right in saying that was odd. Robert was about the least mystical person he knew. "In all the years I've known him, he's never been interested in the occult."

"It's not impossible," Di said thoughtfully. "I've run into people shielded even tighter than he is that were doing the shielding unconsciously. Including a healer which is really odd. So he isn't the weirdest natural I've run into, by a long shot. I just wish I could have gotten past those shields; it would have been useful to know how he really feels about Sherry. If he doesn't give a d.a.m.n, we maybe could do something about the situation among the three of you "

That cut a little too close to the quick. "Speaking of Sherry," Mark said hastily, "I've got a bit of a lead. She said she thinks she remembers that Lupe and the others were wearing brocades like that when they first met in Mexico City. So I'm going to take the pic to the Archeology and Anthropology Departments over at the university this afternoon."

"Sounds like we're splitting up, then," Di replied.

"Why?" he asked, surprised. "I thought you'd come with me "

"If you can wait until tomorrow, fine. But this afternoon I have to get Aunt Nita talked into plugging me into the brujiera net. And like I told you, so far as the brujas are concerned, it's 'no men allowed.'"

"Oh." Mark thought about that for a while. "Okay, then I'll get hold of Charlie Mountainhawk and see if he's had a chance to get with his brother. We'll split up this afternoon, and get together tomorrow morning."

"If something doesn't happen first," Di replied, pessimistically. "This was just the first night; if the pattern holds, we've got two more to go."ELEVEN As it happened, Mark didn't have to go looking for Charlie Mountainhawk; Charlie was already looking for him.

There was a message in his locker: If you can come by between noon and six, give me a buzz.

Johnnie wants to talk.

He checked his watch: it was only four. He stopped by the pay phone in the hall, plugged in a quarter, and punched Charlie's number.

"h.e.l.lo?" said a familiar, female voice with more than a hint of wariness.

"Doreen?" Mark replied, holding his hand over his free ear to cut out the noise from the people in the hall behind him. "It's Mark Valdez. Charlie left a note "

"Oh, Mark!" The tone warmed about twenty degrees. "Hi, sorry to sound unfriendly, but we've been getting crank calls. Charlie said you might be calling if you got a chance. He and Johnnie are down in the garage, so why don't you come on over?"

"I'll be there in about fifteen minutes, is that all right?"

"Silly man." Doreen Mountainhawk chuckled. "You know good and well you're welcome any time you choose to show your face. Bring your appet.i.te and stay for dinner. I'll put some more water in the stew."

It was Mark's turn to chuckle. "Sure, okay but only because I know you'll make me feel guilty if I don't. When are you going to stop trying to fatten me up?"

"About the same time I stop trying to find you a wife. Now hang up the phone and get your tail over here!"

"Yes'm," he said obediently, and replaced the receiver.

He stopped at Dispatch to leave his whereabouts with Lydia, the little girl from Baton Rouge. As he'd more than half expected she gave him a sobering stare, fixing him with eyes the color of the darkest brown velvet imaginable, but said only "You-all be careful, Valdez. There's some folk out there got a serious anger wit' you."

He figured she would know. It was amazing how many sensitives were coming out of the headquarters woodwork since he began this case. "I am being careful," he replied. "But I've got a job to do, too and d.a.m.ned if I'm going to let them keep me from doing it. Hear?"

She nodded, slowly. "I hear. Just be watchin' behind."

"And to all sides, and overhead," he responded. "I won't forget. I like my hide the way it is."

Charlie's apartment wasn't far, either as the crow flies or by road. It took him just about the fifteen minutes he'd told Doreen that it would and then only because he'd checked his finances and stopped on the way for a baby gift.

"Hey, Cisco!" Charlie hailed him from the garage.

"Hey, Cochise!" he hailed back, pulling the Ghia in behind Charlie's orange VW bug.

"Better watch out," said a second voice from somewhere under the Beetle. "Don't park these two kraut cars too close together; it's springtime, and they might decide to mate. Then Charlie'll be stuck with a garageful of little orange safety cones."

As Mark got out, the owner of the second voice emerged from under the front end of the Bug; though he had grease smudges reminiscent of war paint on both cheekbones, there was no mistaking the family resemblance to Charlie. This young man, a bit thinner and a bit less muscular than Charlie, had to be Johnnie Mountainhawk.

Johnnie came around the car, wiping his hands on a rag. "Hi," he said, holding out his right, his expression cool and appraising. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Same here," Mark replied, taking the offered hand after shifting his package to his left.

Johnnie grinned. "If it was good, it was all the truth; if it was bad, it's all lies. Charlie, I think you're set for another year or so."

"My future offspring blesses you," Charlie laughed. "Because if I hadn't gotten those brake shoes replaced, Doreen was gonna kill me!"

"Speaking of Doreen here," Mark said, handing Charlie his package. "Happy baby. It's an answering machine; best way I know of to discourage crank callers. For some reason they don't seem to take to the notion that they only have sixty seconds to make their point."

"Either that, or they don't like the idea that they're being recorded," Johnnie pointed out, visibly thawing a bit.

"Either, or. Doesn't much matter, so long as they quit," Charlie responded, obviously pleased. "Man, thanks. I hadn't even thought of using an answering machine, and those sickos are making Doreen real upset."

"Well I bet this discourages that," Mark answered. "I made the recording, my best 'I'm uh linebacker an' I like ta hear bones break' imitation. Anybody who gets past that really wants to talk to you."

Right after they hooked it up to the kitchen extension, the phone rang. Charlie checked his watch.

"That just might be our spooks," he said. "They call about now "

All four of them hovered over the machine expectantly. "This is the Mountainhawk residence,"

Mark's voice snarled after the third ring, pitched a good half an octave lower than he normally spoke, and sounding more as if he wanted to kill something than be answering the phone, even via recording.

"They can't come to the phone right now, but if you'll leave your name, number, and brief message, they'll get back to you."

The machine emitted a tone; there was silence for a moment, then a high voice either female, or young male cursed briefly and softly, and the phone was hung up.

"That was them," Charlie said with satisfaction, as the machine rewound. "By d.a.m.n, Cisco, it worked!"

Doreen threw her arms around Mark's neck and kissed his ear. He blushed.

"Aw, gosh, sheriff, 'tweren't nuthin'," he drawled.

"Well, that makes two we owe you," Johnnie replied. "So let's see if what I can tell you makes a down payment, all right?"

"Sounds good to me," Mark nodded, as Doreen shooed them all into the living room.

"Okay, let me tell you where I am in the scheme of things," Johnnie said as they all arranged themselves on the brown tweed couch. "I tend to be a moderate, but I'm also fairly well known to be a peacemaker, good at building compromises. The G.o.ds themselves know that if you get two different families together you're likely to have fights, much less tribes. So I hear a lot that most moderates don't. I hope you don't mind, but I'd rather not help you infiltrate, okay? If anyone figured out you were a ringer, we'd both lose."

Mark shrugged. "I can live with that, so long as you're willing to keep talking to me."

It was hard to tell, but he thought Johnnie looked relieved. "I'm in a pretty good position of trust, and I don't want to blow it. Especially since, because Granddad is a Medicine Man, I sometimes hear more from the mystics than your average moderate would."

"I take it that you have heard something disturbing?" Mark said, with one eyebrow raised.

Johnnie leaned forward on the couch, hands clasped between his denim-clad knees. "From both the radicals and the mystics. From the radicals I've heard about a new militant who calls himself 'Burning Water.' They claim he's got the charisma and the cash to build a new Indian army and literally take this area away from the whites by force of arms. From the mystics I have been hearing about a new man- G.o.d "

He seemed to be groping for the appropriate term, so Mark tried to supply it. "An avatar?"

"Yeah, that's it, an avatar. They say he's going to somehow reconcile all the tribes, purify their spirits, and build a new Indian stronghold right here in Dallas a spiritual and physical stronghold. And if you guessed he's called Burning Water, you guessed right."

Mark sat back, whistling. "d.a.m.n. Now how much of this is smoke-talk and how much is real?" Johnnie shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I can't prove anything one way or the other, since so far it's just talk and rumor; n.o.body I know has actually met this Burning Water or been recruited by him. Thing is, about half of the mystics are scared spitless they don't want any part of this 'savior.'

The rest of them are falling all over each other in antic.i.p.ation. The rest of the moderates other than yours truly are figuring the radicals have had a little too much peyote, if you know what I mean.

But this is the catch none of them have the connections I do because of Charlie, and n.o.body's put the whole picture together with the sacrificial murders."

"You buy Di's speculation that this and the killings are tied in?"

Johnnie nodded. "s.h.i.t, yes. If those killings don't have all the marks of sacrifices, I'll eat your Ghia.

I've always figured Medicine Magic was for real; took Charlie a while, but he came around to it too.

There's plenty of traditions that involve blood-sacrifice; it was usually animal, but there's nothing against making it the blood of your enemy. I just wish I had some proof, is all. You wouldn't find many of us shedding any tears over those fat cats getting theirs, but not even the wildest of us go in for drowning kids. That's not the way you do it you kidnap the kids and turn 'em into Indians. Anyway, if you get any proof that ties the name 'Burning Water' in to the murders, I want to know about it. If nothing else, this guy is liable to get a lot of us blamed for what he's doing, and a lot of us killed, and there aren't enough of us as it is."

"I'll do my best," Mark said. "And thanks for what you've given me. To change the subject, what were those phone calls that they got Doreen so upset? I remember the last time you got a p.o.r.n caller, 'Reenie just laughed at him until he hung up."

"Unfortunately, that isn't changing the subject," Charlie said soberly. "They just started this week, and they're part of the reason Johnnie said he'd give you a hand. It was always the same voice, and the same words. 'Tell Mountainhawk that he can't hide behind white man's magic forever. When Burning Water comes, he will have to choose or die.'"

"Aunt Nita," Di said from the kitchen doorway, "I have a real big favor to ask of you."

Juanita Valdez turned from her sink of dirty dishes and looked at her appraisingly. "From the look on your face, I would say you do," she said, "and the dishes can wait for a moment."

She walked over to Di, drying her hands on her ap.r.o.n, and pulled out two of the chairs around the kitchen table. "Sit; it's easier to talk sitting down."

Di did as she was told, trying to formulate her words in her mind. "I need to find a bruja," she said finally. "I figured that you would be the best one to get one to talk to me."

Aunt Nita pursed her lips. "I don't patronize that sort of thing," she said reluctantly. "I do believe in certain powers and so forth but brujiera it's so I don't quite know how to say it. It seems so loaded down with peasant superst.i.tions."

Di nodded. "I understand. But it's beginning to look like this case Mark and I are on could well be tied in with the darker sort of brujiera; the kind that keeps people living in fear of the sorcerers even to this day, and not always just in remote little villages."

"I don't know," Aunt Nita replied hesitantly. "I just don't know."

"Aunt Nita, we've been trying to keep this out of the papers, but do you know how many people have been killed by this bunch of lunatics just since I got here?"

She shook her head, dumbly.

"Sixteen," Di told her flatly. "Three of those were children the three little ones they found in that cattle tank last month. And there were a half-dozen deaths before that murder that we know of."

The elderly woman straightened at that, and Di could sense the indecision leaving her.

"Well," she replied, after a long pause during which she was obviously thinking hard. "I personally don't believe in brujiera, but if I did, the first person I'd consult would be Marguerita, the woman that comes in to help me clean once a week. And it so happens that she's due tomorrow. I can have a word with her then."

Di fought down a feeling of triumph. They still had a long way to go before she could feel she'd accomplished anything.

* * *Tom Beckerman usually went out running as soon as possible after dinner because he could lose himself and not have to think about the working day he'd just pa.s.sed through. Unfortunately, right now nothing was going to drive his worries away, not even the endorphin-high of running.

No two ways about it; ever since they put me on project lead, I've been in a world of hurt.

He swung around the corner and into the parking lot of Five Banners Over Dallas, the big amus.e.m.e.nt theme-park. It was closed down for the winter, except on weekends, which was why he liked to run here. He couldn't get in the park, of course, but the landscaping around the fence was nice, there was a decent path worn there by the maintenance people, and there wasn't even a hint of traffic.