A short while later Dai She emerged from the clothier, and a sharp squawk resembling laughter escaped Randall’s beak. The tailor had probably done the best he could, but he obviously wasn’t used to patrons of Dai She’s unusual proportions.

The Wand Master now sported a pink shirt with ruffles down the front and a tan sport coat that had been “stretched” by adding a piece of green canvas that ran down the center of the back. The shiny black pants had been similarly stretched with vertical patches of paisley running from the waistline all the way down the legs. And topping it all off was a large gold sombrero.

He looked like a drum major from a hideous marching band. If his intent was to blend in with the locals, he would have been better off going to a costume shop.

But the comedy of the moment fell away as a large black sedan pulled up to the curb. A tall Caucasian man in a tailored suit stepped from the driver’s side. He met Dai She and shook his meaty hand firmly. Neither man smiled. It was a meeting of business more than pleasure. And there was a powerful presence about the man.

Randall stretched his senses the way Coralis had taught him. This stranger was powerful, and he was hiding something—Randall could feel it.

The stranger had an air of familiarity. Randall had never laid eyes on him before, but he had seen those facial features. The shape of the mouth, the curious expression. So similar to … Henry? Could it be … ?

A sharp, sudden cry shattered his concentration. Close by. Too close!

Viktor raced into his field of vision. The two men jerked their heads toward the vulture’s war cry as Randall tried a last-second lunge to evade his powerful opponent.

The last thing he remembered was a shout from Dai She as Viktor crashed into him.

The bell rang a single ominous note when Randall’s head collided with it.

Chapter Eighteen

“She is quite good.” Coralis looked from canvas to canvas, examining the extensive collection of paintings that had occupied the majority of Henry’s mother’s time.

“Do you really think so?” Brianna probably had never given it much thought. The few times she and Henry had ventured into the basement studio, they weren’t encouraged to stay. “Do be a dear and give your mommy a few minutes” was a typical dismissal of any intrusions.

“Yes, indeed. You can tell from the extraordinary detail that she truly immersed herself into the painting.”