Free Heart of a Dragon by David Niall Wilson Page A

spat, realizing he was not on the street.   He sipped his drink in an effort to cover the motion.
    "You have information?" Donovan asked?
    "I … believe that I can handle it," Martinez said.   It didn't sound as though he believed the words himself.
    "This is too big," Donovan said.   "The stakes are too high.   It won't be just the Barrio in danger if she goes too far, and my information says that is exactly what she intends.   I need to know that I can trust you this time, Martinez.   I'm going to look into this…it would be a great help to me If I knew that I didn't have to worry about you blocking my efforts."
    Martinez studied his drink.   He took another, longer sip, and then, very slowly, he nodded.
    "There are things that I must do," he said.   "I have protected those in the Barrio for a very long time.   They have come to me already – and they are frightened.   I must do what I can."
    "And I will help you, if I can," Donovan replied.   "I have my own methods, though, and I believe we'll work better apart than together.   A truce, then?"
    Martinez glanced up and smiled.   It was a crooked expression, and difficult to read, but Donovan had seen it before, and he returned it.
    "What is it you have come for?" he asked.
    "There is a boy, Salvatore Domingo Sanchez.   He lives in a shack near my home, and he is an artist.   The boy is truly brilliant – what he can do with chalk, or pencils, or paint … it is powerful.   He has formed connections in the Barrio, but he is not ready for the challenge.   He needs an edge.   I need to make paints for him – special paints – born of the prime colors.   There is only one thing I need.   In all my years, I've never been able to find the formula for Rojo Fuego."
    Donovan stared at the old man.   He hadn't heard those words in decades.   Fire Red.   The color of dragon's fire.   The formula in question was very old.   There couldn't have been more than four or five copies of it in existence.   One of them resided in an encrypted file in a folder on Donovan's hard drive. He'd destroyed the original.
    "That is a very powerful formula," he said.
    Martinez eyed him, taking a drink, but not dropping his gaze.
    "I know what it is…young man."
    They stood like that in silence for several breaths, and then, very suddenly, Donovan laughed.
    "I cannot tell you how long it has been since someone called me that – and it was true.   Okay, you have a deal.   I will trust you with this formula, and you will trust me within your Barrio."
    Martinez smiled again.   "That is fair."
    Donovan stepped around his desk and started tapping keys on the computer terminal.   A moment later the printer in the corner beeped, and a single sheet of paper rolled slowly out.   Martinez waited respectfully until Donovan walked to the machine and retrieved the paper.
    "You mentioned a gift…" Donovan said.
    Martinez grinned.   He reached into his pocket and pulled out a very old, tightly folded sheet of parchment.
    "It is brittle," he said.   "Have a care with it."
    "What is it?" Donovan asked.
    "It is the instructions for creating the collar," Martinez said softly.   "The cure for lycanthrope, such as it is.   I didn't know for certain that you would ask about Louis.   I did not know, for sure, that I would tell you the story if you did.   I knew you would find this of value."
    Donovan reached out and took the ancient paper carefully from Martinez's grip.   In its place, he handed off the freshly printed formula.
    "Be careful," he said.   "You know what you hold, and I will not ask you why you need it, but there are a great number of others depending on the two of us.   We must tread carefully."
    Martinez tucked the paper into his pocket and held out his hand.   Donovan took it, and they shook warmly.
    "When this is over," Martinez said, "You must come to