belly, patted it and grinned. 'And I been with her for six of them years.'
'And is she crazy?' asked Donnell. 'Or is she evil?'
'She's a little crazy, brother, but ain't we all.' Papa laughed. 'I know I am. And as for the evil, naw, she's just foolin' with evil. The way she figures it, whichever she is she can't deny her predilection, so she surrounds herself with oddballs and criminal types. Nothin' heavy duty. Pick-pockets, card sharps, dopers, hookers...'
'Tent show hucksters,' offered Donnell.
'Yeah,' said Papa, unruffled. 'And freaks. You gonna fit right in.' He worried at something between his teeth. 'I'll be up front with you, brother. Goin' to Otille's is like joinin' the circus. Three shows daily. Not everybody can deal with it. But gettin' back to her theory, she figures if she insulates herself with this mess of lowlife, she'll muffle her unnatural appetites and won't never do nothin' real bad like Valcours and Clothilde.' He fingered a card out from his side pocket and handed it to Donnell. 'You wanna learn more 'bout it, call that bottom number. She's dyin' to talk with you.' He stood, hitched up his trousers. 'One more thing and I'll be steppin'. You're bein' watched. Otille says they on you like white on rice.'
Donnell did not react to the news; he was staring at the card Papa had given him. But Jocundra was stunned. 'By who?' she asked.
'Government, most likely,' said Papa. 'Otille says you wanna check it out, you know that little shanty bar down the road?'
'The Buccaneer Club?'
'Yeah. You go down there tomorrow. 'Bout half a mile past it's a dirt road, and just off the gravel you gonna find a stake out. Two men in a nice shiny unmarked car. They ain't there today, which is why I'm here.' Papa twirled his car keys and gave them his most unctuous smile. 'Let us hear from you, now.' He sprinted out into the rain. Jocundra turned to Donnell. 'Was he telling the truth?' He was puzzled by the question for a moment, then said, 'Oh, yeah. At least he wasn't lying.' He looked down at the card. 'Wait a second.' He went into the back room and returned with a notebook; he laid it open on top of the stove. 'This,' he said, pointing to a drawing, 'is the last sketch I made of the patterns of light I've been seeing. And this' - he pointed to a design at the bottom of the card - 'this is what my sketch is a fragment of.'
Jocundra recognized the design, and if he had only showed her fragmentary sketch, she still would have recognized it. She had seen it painted in chicken blood on stucco walls, laid out in colored dust on packed-earth floors, soaped on the windows of storefront temples, printed on handbills. The sight of it made all her explanations of his abilities seem as feckless as charms against evil.
'That's what I want to build with the copper,' said Donnell. 'I'm sure of it. I've never been...' He noticed her fixation on the design. 'You've seen it before?'
'It's a veve,' said Jocundra with a sinking feeling. 'It's a ritual design used in voodoo to designate one of the gods, to act as a gateway through which he can be called. This one belongs to one of the aspects of Ogoun, but I can't remember which one.'
'A veve?' He picked up the card. 'Oh, yeah,' he said. 'Why not?' He tucked the card into his shirt pocket.
'What are you going to do?'
'I'm going to wait until morning, because I don't want to appear too eager.' He laughed. 'And then I guess I'll go down to the Buccaneer Inn and give Otille a call.'
Donnell dropped in his money and dialed. A flatbed truck passed on the road, showering the booth with spray from its tires, but even when it had cleared he could barely make out the pickup parked in front of the bar. The rain dissolved the pirate's face above the shingle roof into an eyepatch and a crafty smile, smeared the neon letters of the Lone Star Beer sign into a weepy glow.
'Yes, who is it?' The voice on the line was snippish and unaccented, but as soon as he identified himself, it softened and acquired a faint Southern flavor. 'I'm pleasantly surprised, Mr Harrison. I'd no idea you'd be calling so quickly. How can I help you?'
'I'm not sure you can,' he said. 'I'm just calling to make a