Altar of Bones [antikvár]

PROLOGUE----^San Francisco, Califofyiia The presentRosie knew the stranger had come to kill her as soon as he walked into the circle of light cast by their fire.They were deep in the woods of Golden Gate Park where the cops wouldn't harass thema small colony of homeless that panhandled on Haight Street during the day and camped out in the park at night. Rosie was new to the group, but it had been her idea to arrange their shopping carts in a circle like a wagon train, then cover them with cardboard and blankets to create a makeshift shelter. Still, she shivered in the bitter February wind as she looked up into the stranger's eyes. His killer eyes.She'd caught a duck earlier, down by Stow Lake, and was cooking it over the flames using a coat hanger for a spit. The stranger pretended the roasting meat had drawn him, but Rosie knew better."Hey, there," he said. His English was good, but the burr of Mother Russia still lay thick on his tongue. "I dove a Dumpster tonight and foimd this." He held up a pint of Wild!i' II ,