He also played a lot of games with the gangs and other parts of the everyday city, and Donovan liked to remain as clear of that world as possible. Donovan didn’t have the sight, though he knew several others who did, but he could occasionally sense something in another’s aura, a taint of odd coloration, or a hint of impending doom. Martinez gave him that sensation, and since he had no way to express what he could not quite bring to the surface of his mind, Donovan preferred avoidance. There were others as well, some respected, some feared, and a few to be avoided at all costs. The Latin wings of the arts were varied, and tended toward darkness. Santeria, various forms of voodoo, and gris-gris flourished on the vermin infested streets. Their symbols lurked in the colorful graffiti and the tiny altars sprouting around street corners. It didn’t surprise him to find that Cornwell had chosen this area of the city to call home. There was less chance of someone stumbling in on him and interrupting his experiments. There were ways to find ingredients and objects of power in the lower east side that existed nowhere else, and that were less likely to draw unwanted attention.
