Ritual Magic

imprinted on the gold,” Lily said.
    “What exactly are these patterns?”
    Lily gestured at Cullen. “You try. I don’t understand it myself.”
    “You might think of patterns as words. Both are representations of something, not the thing itself. The analogy isn’t precise, of course. A word is like a basket that lets you carry the idea of the thing around. Patterns actually partake of the nature of the thing, which is why they’re so effective for all types of sympathetic magic.”
    Fielding looked at Lily. “Do you understand what he just said?”
    “Not really.”
    Cullen sighed. “It’s magic.”
    Fielding nodded, satisfied.
    Cynna made another gesture and then just sat there with her eyes closed.
    “Whatever patterns are,” Lily said quietly, “she’s doing the heavy lifting now. First she copied the patterns that relate to those two fillings. Now she has to get rid of everything that isn’t part of the pattern for the victim.”
    “Huh.” Fielding thought about that a moment. “How does she know what to take out?”
    Cullen took over again. “Part of it is plain old hard work and experience. Part is art. She’ll recognize some of the elements she wants to keep, like ‘human’ and ‘male,’ because she knows them pretty well. She’ll spot some that she wants to remove that way, too. But the art . . . that’s what makes her such a helluva Finder. She’s got a sense for how a pattern flows, what belongs, what doesn’t. She’ll know when she’s got something she can work with.”
    Fielding smiled. “She’s your wife, right? I can tell you’re proud of her.”
    “Pride would suggest I played some part in what she can do. I didn’t. In other areas, maybe—I’ve beaten a little theory into her thick skull—but not this. She’s just damn good with patterns.”
    Lily smiled. Yeah, he was proud of her.
    Now and then Cynna gestured or spoke in Swahili. Fielding began to fidget. He dug into one pocket and pulled out a crinkly cellophane bag. It rustled as he dug into it and popped something in his mouth. “Want some?” He held it out.
    It was some kind of virulently green candy shaped like . . .
    Cynna’s eyes opened. She dropped the fillings back in the bag, sealed it, stood, and stretched. “Well, I’ve got something, anyway.”
    Lily grabbed the bag out of Fielding’s hand and held it up. It was full of frog-shaped gummies. Or maybe they were toads. Candy toads.
The candy man can. There’s a killer on the road—
    “Lily!” José called sharply. “Ten o’clock and twenty feet up! What the hell is that?”

TWENTY-THREE

    “S O that’s going to be your secret tunnel.” Julia crouched next to the earthen trench, impressed. Big metal bars were rammed into the dirt along the walls every few feet and the floor was outlined by boards called forms because they’d form the way the concrete would go when they poured it. That was what Rocky had told her. He was the foreman or crew boss or something like that, and she ought to call him Mister Something, but Toby hadn’t told her the man’s last name. Toby called everyone by their first names no matter how old they were.
    The trench ran about twenty feet from the house’s basement to what was going to be a big garage, but right now was a big mess. They’d knocked down the original garage, because it had been in sorry shape, plus it hadn’t been big enough. Two men and a woman were working to clear away the mess. The woman was operating a backhoe—a machine with a big scoop on one end that Julia really, really wanted to drive, but they wouldn’t let her. The woman used it to scrape up chunks of cement and broken-up boards from the old garage. Then the men used their shovels to toss smaller pieces of broken stuff into the scoop, and then the machine would pivot and bump along several feet to empty its load into a dump truck.
    They wouldn’t let Julia drive the dump truck, either.
    “Want to see the other one?” Toby asked.
    “Other one what?”
    “Other secret tunnel.”
    Julia sat back on her heels, indignant. “You get
two
secret tunnels?” One secret tunnel was cool. Two was like having two swimming pools or two maids picking up after you or—or doubles on anything that was just too much.
    “Yes, because maybe our enemies will explode the garage, or maybe that won’t be a good way to go ’cause there’s too many of them in that direction, or maybe they’ll find this one. So there’s one the other