CHAPTER NINETEEN
The large convention center loomed against the clearing skies. The rain hesitated now above Chicago's skyline, hidden in a few dark clouds, and Dakota hastened towards the large, gray building which resembled something of a warehouse in an industrial district. Figures were moving through the doors. Many of them had already reached parked cars in the lot, but remained by their vehicles, or sitting within, eyes on the building.
She could hear the faint hiss of whispered conversation and murmurings from the onlookers in the parking lot.
Through the open front doors, she spotted a strange array of tables, laden with ceramics and clay sculptures. Police officers stationed outside the doors were holding people at bay, gesturing for them to return to the parking lot. She could
