Sister followed the gang at a distance as they led her down a side street, through an alleyway, and into the boulevard on the main street, where a street light that was miraculously still functioning illuminated the dark shadow of a loudly singing man.
"Bring it down! Bring it down!" the man chanted.
"You hear this Siren?
Bring it down! Bring it down!
Trouble's on the way!"
"Is that him?" Sister asked apprehensively.
"Yep," Marco confirmed, handing him a cold, glass bottle.
"What's this?" she asked him.
"Wine."
"What for?"
Marco shrugged.
"You gotta give him something if you want him to tell your fortune."
"Are you for real?" she exclaimed in frustration, "I thought you were taking me to someone who had real information, not some old drunken street guy telling fortunes in the park!"
"Well drunken fortune tellers in the park happen to be what is in the budget right now," Vernita informed her with a pretentious scowl. Sister sighed.
"Look, just trust us," Nico insisted, "He's gonna know the answer. Just take the bottle over and set it down by his bucket. Then ask him where the gargoyles are."
"I can't just walk up to a strange man in a dark park in the middle of the night! He'll pull a gun on me, if he doesn't die of a heart attack as soon as he sees me."
"He won't see you. He blind as a bat," Vernita replied.
Sister glanced back at the dancing shadow in the lamp light. The wide rim of his hat covered his eyes, but the white cane in his hand suggested that Vernita was right about his lack of sight.
"You're sure he won't see me?" Sister asked anxiously.
"Sure, we're sure!" Nico insisted, "Go on and ask him."
Sister gave the gang one last skeptical glance, then climbed over the iron fence and headed toward the strange-looking man, who was dancing energetically around the pathway, despite his supposed blindness. As she crept closer, she noted Siren's head jerk slightly toward her, and she suspected he'd heard her.
"Bring it down, Bring it down!
Trouble's on the way!," he hummed in a softer, more pensive tone, and Sister approached him.
"Excuse me sir," she said softly, "I brought you some wine."
The man ignored her and continued to hum, bobbing his head to a rhythm in his mind. Sister glanced back at the gang who gestured for her to continue. Spying the plastic tub with a handful of change in it on the path, she set the wine bottle beside it.
"Where'd you get that, girl?" Siren demanded.
"From the Draconi's," she admitted.
"Those punks?" the old man snorted indignantly, "What do they want?"
"No, it's me that was hoping you could help."
"Help with what, little Sister?" he asked and Sister's head rose suddenly. His white, sightless eyes seemed to shine slightly from under the wide brimmed hat. He couldn't have known her, Sister reasoned, it was just a coincidence that he called her that.
"The Draconi kids said they saw gargoyles tonight," she explained, "I need to find them. Can you tell me where they are?"
The old man chuckled and began to sing again.
"Is that what you searchin' for?
If you wanna know the way,
You gotta find yourself first,
But there is a price to pay!"
"I thought that's what the wine was for," Sister muttered.
"I don't drink, Sister," Siren told her in a cold voice, his head still bopping to the silent music, "And besides, that ain't the way the magic works. If you want your own future read, you gotta give something that belongs to you."
Sister looked down at herself anxiously. Coldsteel hadn't given her any time to pack. All she had was the tunic she normally wore, the belt that fastened it, and a small nylon pouch that contained her phone, her security card to get around the castle, and the piece of cardboard on which she scribbled Alexander's information. None of those things seemed like a useful offering.
"That's the only way to find her!
That great warrior you wanna see
Gotta sacrifice and grow,
And lose a piece of who she used to be."
Sister sighed in desperation. The only loose article she had on her person was a charm she had hanging from the zipper on her pouch. It was made of cheap metal, and molded to look like a star and the moon joining in the sky. It was nothing special. Orion had gone on a playdate with Liam once and won two of them in an arcade game. But she loved it because Orion had brought it to her and kept the other for himself. She'd clipped it there on her pouch and had nearly forgotten it was there. Now she gently worked the clasp through the hole in the zipper and placed it in Siren's white plastic bucket. She looked up at him expectantly, but Siren didn't reach for the bucket or retrieve the bauble. Instead, he stopped singing and began to speak in a strange, unearthly voice.
"I seen three constellations out tonight!" he cried out, so loud it made her jump.
Sister glanced up at the dark sky, then gave him an incredulous look.
"How can you possibly see any constellations?" she argued, and then blushed a little, realizing what she had just said.
"I mean," she quickly corrected, "There's too much light pollution in the city. All anyone can see is the moon."
Siren snorted condescendingly.
"If you the expert astrologer here," he asked snidely, "What did you come to me for?"
"I..I, um…" Sister balked awkwardly, not sure how to get out of this uncomfortable question. Fortunately, Siren continued without her.
"What about that belt?" he demanded.
Sister's eyes widened.
"Oh, Orion's belt?" she asked, "Yes, I suppose you can see it here, even in the city."
For a brief flash, Sister was reminded of Goliath standing on his cornice on the north tower, pointing out the three bright stars to two curious hatchlings. Three of only a few that could be found on a clear winter's night amid the brightly lit towers.
"That's the belt of Orion, the Hunter," she heard her leader's deep, comforting voice say in her mind, followed by the bell-like sound of her brother's childish laughter. From that point on, the clan's young son would always call out the name of the three stars, whenever they could be seen. Perhaps that was why the name was suggested for him, when he came of age.
Coming back to reality, Sister said, "You can even see Orion's belt in New York City, especially from out in the harbor."
"Orion is near the harbor tonight," Siren told her, regaining that strange tone, as if he spoke with another's voice, "But he's not in the sky. He's on the move tonight. Huntin' on the ground, near the end of the emerald necklace."
Sister stared in surprise, trying to piece together a puzzle of sense from this rambling.
"I seen him running along the shore, and Lyra, and little Ursa were with him."
"Lyra and Little Ursa?" she repeated slowly, her head spinning. She realized that Siren was no longer talking about stars. Lyra wasn't even visible in the winter, even if one could see the stars through the thick urban light smog. But what was Siren talking about then? Surely not the real Orion and Lyra? They were at home in Manhattan. Frantically, she tried to remember everything she could about those three constellations, and what they might represent, but all she could recall was that Goliath called Orion 'the Hunter'.
"What's Orion hunting for?" she asked, feeling that this was probably a reasonable question. Siren seemed to think so too, as he gave her an approving smile.
"Just like you, he's huntin the great Ursa, and the prince's star, with sixteen points," Siren told her, "They're following Polaris, looking for the red beacon that ain't no star."
"Great Ursa…sixteen points…Polaris," she chanted in her head, as if stirring these words enough would render them into a cohesive understanding. But no such epiphany emerged.
"You don't have a pen by chance?" she muttered in dismay.
"Girl, what would I do with a pen?" he asked irritably, "You done used up my patience with your silly questions!"
"Sorry," she replied quickly, "Can I ask just one more?"
"One more," he agreed.
Sister paused, wanting to make sure she didn't waste the opportunity.
"How can I get to them?" she asked finally.
"You just got to follow that emerald necklace, girl!"
"Emerald necklace?" she exclaimed urgently, "What does that mean?"
But the old man had scrunched into a seat on a nearby bench, folding his knees over the spiky, iron 'arm rest' meant to discourage such undignified behavior, and laid his hat over his face to rest.
"Hey!" she cried, "What's the emerald necklace?"
But Siren didn't answer, even when she went to his side and shook his shoulder. She would have grabbed that hat off his face and demonstrated more persistence in getting answers, but she heard a sharp, warning whistle from beyond the iron fence behind her and had the sense to find cover, just as a group of four men came barrelling down the path, looking both anxious and aggressive.
"Come on!" one of them urged the others, "My man says he saw one on a rooftop near the high school. Let's get em!"
From her place in the bushes, Sister watched the eager men hurry down the footpath, noticing the telltale shape of a rifle, half-concealed under one man's coat. Once they had passed, she quickly got up to question Siren again, but the bench was empty and all she found was the abandoned bottle of wine, still sitting where she had left it.