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changing the subject.  “How smart you thought you were, using your ability to bamboozle all those poor tourists.”
    Javier chuckled.  “I made more money with that stupid ball and cup gag as a kid than some people make in a lifetime,” he boasted.
    “It helps when you can move the ball from under the cup with your mind,” Patrick teased.
    In response, Javier raised his glass as if to toast, without the use of his hands.  “That it does,” he replied, before taking a sip.  “I couldn’t figure out for the life of me how you were able to guess where it was every time.”
    “It helps when you can sense where the ball is, even when the bozo running the show keeps moving it.”  Patrick laughed, and then regarded his associate more seriously.  “I’m glad you trusted me enough in those early days to share your secret with me.  Look at everything we’ve built together since then.  And now this… finding Number Six.  It’s like a dream come true.  We’re so close to the end.”
    “So close,” he repeated.  “But first we need to figure out what to do with Akantha.  She could be tough, especially since she seems intent on burning things up.  Worse still, we don’t have a good way to communicate with her.  It’ll be hard to explain who we are and who she is with regard to the prophecy.”
    Patrick considered their options.  It seemed as if there was only one solution.  “I think it’s time to bring in Lillian.”

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER
    3
     
    JOSE

     
    Thursday, August 25
    Phoenix
     
    The hospital was as quiet as hospitals ever can be, which is to say there was still a modicum of chatter from the nurses’ station and muted clicks and beeps could still be heard coming from patients’ rooms if you listened carefully.  Beyond that, the halls were silent, as no visitors were allowed in the ICU overnight.
    Jose passed through the ward on his way to the ER and gave a nod to Selma, one of the nurses who also worked the graveyard shift.  The two had been out together several times but no relationship ever developed.  This bothered Jose if for no other reason than he had always been drawn to the warmth of her smile.  She waved to him, barely making eye contact, and quickly returned to her conversation with the others.
    He slowed his pace once he was past their line of sight and scanned the patients’ names on the doors as he strolled down the hallway.  He was familiar with all but two, who he assumed had been brought in since his shift the night before.  Their files hung on wall hooks just outside their rooms, and after glancing back down the corridor to be sure he wouldn’t be seen, he snatched Chloe Hall’s clipboard from the wall and stepped inside her room.
    The lights were off and except for a faint overhead light in the doorway and the eerie glow of the machinery monitors, the room was dark.  He peered into the dimness and could barely make out the shape of a figure asleep under the sheet.  Chloe appeared tiny and her chart confirmed that she was only 17 years old, hospitalized as the result of a traumatic head injury – a horseback riding accident was listed as the cause.  Jose crept slightly further into the room until he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest and the green halo of the ventilation machine.  Wisps of hair peeked out from beneath the gauze around her head and he imagined what she’d looked like the day before, atop her horse soaring across the Sonoran Desert, the wind chasing her down.
    Without a word, he reentered the hallway, cautiously replaced Chloe’s chart, and entered the room of the other newcomer to the ward, Matt Mulhaney.  A quick scan of his chart revealed the reason for his admission – a front end collision with a dump truck early that morning.  He’d spent all day in surgery having his arms and legs bolted back together, and while there was only a slight threat of internal bleeding, the doctor’s notes indicated he remained in