Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

night, or flying. Holding on to that weak link between her blood and that almost nonexistent
     trace of Mitro was difficult and took every ounce of concentration and discipline
     she’d developed over the years.
    The scooter had turned off the street to follow a narrow alley, through a parking
     garage and then down through another series of alleys, two so narrow they were more
     like footpaths between buildings. The buildings seemed old and worn, paint peeling,
     windows broken. Garbage cluttered the ground and the elderly, mentally ill and addicts
     shuffled along the alleys or lay under cardboard tents. Prostitutes trolled the corners
     of every block, some sporting black eyes and most looking hopeless. This part of the
     city was scarred and ugly, a hidden underbelly beneath the dazzling lights.
    There was a short stop at a small store. And then the faint trail was back, the clerk
     making her way through a maze of back alleys until she came to what looked like an
     abandoned factory. The high chain-link fence was damaged in multiple areas and the
     scooter slipped through one of the many tears. The fence was held back with large
     barrels, just enough for a person or a small vehicle such as a scooter to slip through.
    Dax scanned the building. “There are several men and women here.”
    “Underground,” Riordan added. “This seems to be their residence.”
    “They’re making their way out here to the parking lot,” Dax added. “Riley, we’ll keep
     them from seeing you. Can you pick her out of a crowd?”
    “We’ll see. I think so. In any case, we have to follow them just in case she leads
     us to someone else. She might be one link in a long chain,” Riley said.
    “Maybe,” Dax said, “but given Mitro’s personality, if this woman can function in the
     world working as a clerk, she’s probably one of those closest to him. He wants worshippers.
     He needs a few priests and priestesses. He’ll want them to go out and collect others.
     If he deems them worthy, he’ll keep them as followers, otherwise, he’ll sacrifice
     them, and each time he does, he’ll make certain his flock is watching him.”
    “If you believe this woman gathering the names of pregnant jaguar women is a high-ranking
     member of his inner circle,” Riordan said, “then I’m with Riley. Let’s get as far
     on this trail as we can tonight.”
    They watched the group emerge. Three men and two girls came out of the warehouse.
     All five were dressed in black. One of the men the others referred to as Davi wore
     leather pants and a vest. His hair was grungy and long. His arms and chest were covered
     in tattoos depicting very graphic violent scenes, mainly involving naked women. He
     shoved his dark glasses on his nose and wrapped his arm around one of the women. He
     seemed to be in charge, the others agreeing with everything he said as they pushed
     their way through the chain-link fence and started down the uneven road.
    Riley studied the two women. Both were about the same height. Both were covered in
     piercings and wore the same short black skirts, net stockings, corsets and high heels.
     The woman with the bright, dyed red hair had her breasts nearly exposed by the grungy
     male groping her as they walked along the dirty road. Davi called her Ana. Riley dismissed
     her almost immediately. She was too submissive, too easily controlled and enthralled
     by her male partner. Riley couldn’t see Mitro willingly sharing loyalties. She turned
     her attention to the other woman.
    Riley’s pulse jumped when she concentrated on the one the others in the group called
     Pietra. She walked a little apart from the others, her eyes overbright as if she was
     on some drug. Her fingers continually twitched against her thigh as she walked, those
     long, painted black nails tapping out a rhythm only she heard. She carried herself
     slightly aloof from her companions. She walked a little faster than the others as
     if she was eager to reach her destination.
    Riley closed herself off from everything, trusting Dax to keep her safe. She listened
     to that tiny throbbing drumbeat in her veins. It was deep, a nagging thump nearly
     drowned out by the sound of her own racing pulse.
    Pietra. The one they call Pietra , she identified.
    Pietra suddenly began muttering, her body jerking around her, those bright eyes going
     dark, almost demonic. Her face pulled into a mask of rage. She looked around her,
     a careful, thorough sweep of