Dark Alchemy Read Free Page B

directions, with seven rays emanating like the spokes of a wheel from the center, and there were Latin words she didn’t recognize surrounding the lion. The rays corresponded to none of the cardinal directions, seeming to fan out randomly to the edge. She scraped the edge of it against the glass of the bathroom window. The metal didn’t scratch the glass, though the window left a small mark on the rim of the artifact.
    Gold. The corner of Petra’s mouth turned upward. Though the old prospectors in this town had failed, she seemed to have struck it lucky in less than a day. She shook her head. No such thing as luck. If she believed in it, she’d have to believe that the only luck she’d ever attracted had been bad. And then she’d have to believe that there was a reason the men on the rig had called her “Jinx,” and it wasn’t just because of old superstitions about women at sea.
    She tucked the artifact into the trailer wall with her money, then turned her attention to the tiny bathtub. It was barely two-­thirds the size of a standard tub, with a handheld shower set. But a hot bath was a luxury. She’d made do with lukewarm four-­minute showers at sea, knowing that a dozen men were waiting in line for her to get the hell out so that they could take their turns.
    She unscrewed the tap, which spat brown water for a ­couple of seconds before grudgingly emitting a thin stream of hot water. Petra nodded in satisfaction. The Internet ad for the rental said that the unit had running water and electric heat. She didn’t need much else.
    Petra worked her hair free of the rubber band that held it out of her face and poked around the cabinets. She had a toothbrush and toothpaste, but she needed to buy soap. She found the dried-­up remains of lemon dish detergent and ran the water into the plastic bottle, letting the it float and spin in the bath as bubbles foamed. She peeled off her clothes. Freckles dotted the milky-­pale skin on her chest and legs that wasn’t sunburned. She scrunched into the bathtub, hissing as the hot water touched her skin. She fiddled with the shower sprayer, succeeding in blasting herself in the face before she managed to get a steady stream that she could use to rinse her hair.
    As she stood to allow the water to sluice down the drain, she imagined the last particles of salt being rinsed away. The last residue of the sea.
    Leaving wet footprints behind, she dug in her bag for her toothbrush and toothpaste. She let the water evaporate from her body as she brushed her teeth, adding towels to her list of things to buy when she made it to town. She stared out the window across the field. Town was about two miles away, a manageable trek on foot.
    Her hair still hanging wet over her shoulder, Petra dressed in a tank top, cargo pants, and her work boots. She didn’t carry a purse, and was at odds what to do with Hollander’s gun. She settled on jamming it into the hip pocket of her cargo pants. She had no idea if concealed carry was permitted here, but she was beginning to get the impression that there wasn’t much law enforcement around. Except for Hollander. And so far, she was on his good side.
    She pulled a white long-­sleeved linen shirt over her shoulders to hide her scars and a hat and sunglasses to keep from being further crisped by the sun. Keys in hand, she left the Airstream and struck off across the field to find the road.
    There was no sign of the coyote or the hole he’d dug. Petra squinted at the flat landscape. She knew that the hole was here, somewhere. She wondered what it was he’d found—­part of a house? What had been here before, this far from town?
    Her fingers brushed the amulet at her throat. She would find out.
    She headed south and west, toward the gravel road that Hollander had driven down the night before. In daylight, the Rockies were cool shadows in the distance, green pines and yellow aspen