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Page 16
working it around until the bullet squirted out into his palma half-inch piece of misshapen lead covered with blood and gray matter. He held the slug up to the light, turning it this way and thatthe way one might look at a black widow in a glass jar.
Yes, he thought, the boy had been a dupe, but a willing dupe.
Then the dark giant had opened his robe and removed a World War II vintage combat knife from the sheath at his back. As he mumbled the familiar words of the blood oathcalling upon Baron Samedi and all the Guédépromising them the lives of his son's murderers in return for their supporthe drew the blade down across his body from left nipple to lower right side. The skin parted like the petals of a red hibiscus, drenching the old scars and tribal tattoos on his belly and allowing his blood to mingle with that of his dead son's. The Dark Man clenched his jaws and refused to make a soundhis pain was his gift to the dark lords. Then he repeated the ritual on the other side, skillfully carving a scarlet X into his chest.
The vow complete, all he had to do was find the fool who had the Butcher's Broom and the man would diepainfully, to be sureand his soul would suffer an eternity of agony. Stepping to the door, the Dark Man stared up into the cobalt sky. He didn't need a watch or a calendar to tell him that a clock had started ticking. All Hallows' Eve was only weeks away. And without the talisman . . .
As he examined the sky, a large bat flew low across the tops of the trees. The creature's red eyes glinted hungrily in the light from the dying sun. The Dark Man had known then, yes he had known . . . the spirits were watching.

No amount of time or icy rain would ever cool the fury that burned in the Dark Man's breast. He had followed the talisman from Roatan to the Monkey River on the mainland of Belize. From the jungle to Mexico City. From Mexico City to Nassau. And now, finally, to Miami. The Dark Man's eyeseyes one

 
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