In the center of a circle of chanting tribesman blazed a fire. Around the fire, two rings of stones were divided by pairs of intersecting lines of pebbles.
  Approaching the group of four, Barry thought he beheld the darker, more brooding version of Molly Jones. But as he drew closer, the illusion evaporated. A more distinctive nose, tan eyes, and a chin like a clay cliff. She inhaled from a long painted pipe. For his confusion, Barry blamed the smoke that rose in waves from the fire.
  When her eyes lit on him, the fire flared.