Vintage Soul Part 13

Something dark shot across in front of him, but he didn't feel the familiar lurch a it was not the raven. He continued to mix the ingredients, fighting the urge to watch, to look and see what it was. There was so little left to do. Then the shadow returned, closer, and with lightning precision, Asmodeus plucked the vial from its stand.

Ezzel cried out. As he did so, he reached for the speeding bird, missed it, and his hand collided with the raven, diving in pursuit. The bird's beak slashed Ezzel's wrist, and he drew back. Blood poured from the wound in his wrist, and he held it up instinctively. The blood splashed down into the bowl, and the mixture sizzled. Ezzel clutched his wounded wrist and stared at the bubbling formula in horror. He backed away from the table, but it was too late.

His bird, stunned, wobbled to its feet. It recovered fast and made a lunge for the portal, where Asmodeus had disappeared from the ring. Ezzel turned, watching in horror. He was afraid the bird would break the ring a then as he realized what had just happened, he hoped it would break a mercifully a and blast them all to oblivion.

The raven shot into the opening, and it seemed it would burst through to the other side, but something stopped it. Ezzel stumbled toward the circle, watching the rear end of his familiar twitch in the grip of something and feeling the dark tendrils of that something reaching into his mind through the bird's thoughts. It felt like ice.

On the altar, the bowl cracked, and he whirled, crying out a charm to prevent the mixture from spilling. It was only partially effective, and he saw the thick, viscous fluid leaking into jelly-like puddles on the altar. He started toward it, stopped, and dropped to his knees as pain shot through his limbs and stopped his heart.

Asmodeus shot back through the portal, past Donovan, and out of sight, clutching the vial of blood tightly. Donovan maintained the portal, shaking with the effort. If he released it suddenly, it would snap. The crystals would shatter, and all of them would cease to exist. He fought the hammering of his heart, watched the portal, and allowed it to close of its own accord. The crystals remained in resonance, but without the catalyst of his will, the portal was unfinished and incomplete.

As it closed, a dark head snapped through and Donovan gasped. He dropped his hold on the crystals too suddenly, but something prevented the portal from snapping. Something dark and sleek. Its head protruded from the mist and it glared at him in wild-eyed anger and hatred, unable to move. Donovan watched in dark fascination as the portal, unable to remain open, slowly forced its way through the creature's flesh. The raven let out a pained squawk, but the sound died almost the second it was born. The bird hung loosely from the smoke, as Amethyst had dangled from the shadow tentacle moments before, and then it let go.

The bird's body, severed cleanly, slid down to the floor against a surface that Donovan could not see, but only sense. There was no blood. It appeared that whatever force had dropped half the animal on the outside of the circle had separated it completely a turned the one animal into two separate, lifeless lumps of flesh, bone, and feathers.

Donovan spared it no more attention. The portal was closed. He whirled and saw that Amethyst had managed to roll over and push herself groggily up on her knees. He ran to her side and lifted her carefully.

"Nothing broken," she said. Her breathing was pained, and she clutched her ribs tightly. "Might have cracked some ribs, but I'll live."

"We have to get out of here," Donovan said. He glanced toward the door. Asmodeus had landed on a small table just inside the door and stood beside a large, clear crystal globe, watching them intently.

"Ezzel?" Amethyst asked, glancing back at the circle.

"He's in there," Donovan replied, "But the ritual will never be complete. He's going to have to offer something to whatever he summoned, and I'm guess that nothing short of everything is going to do the trick. He won't break the circle unless he's certain there's no other way out. I'm guessing that buys us time to get the h.e.l.l out of the way."

She nodded, shuddered, and he led her toward the door. When they reached Asmodeus, Donovan reached out and took the vial carefully from the old bird's claw.

"Good work," he said solemnly.

The bird ruffled its feathers, preened one wing, and stared back at him. There was no emotion to read in those dark, predatory eyes, but Donovan had no need to see. He felt the bond, and he smiled.

"Looks like your new friend is here to stay," Amethyst said.

Donovan shrugged. Asmodeus hopped to his shoulder, and the three of them hobbled out of the room. The elevator still stood where Donovan had left it, and they stepped inside. It operated with a set of only four b.u.t.tons, and he punched the lowest of these. The doors closed silently, and they began to descend.

Amethyst leaned heavily against him, and he knew that she was hurt more badly than she was letting on.

"Just a little more," he said. "We'll get out of here and to my place. I can help you with those ribs once we're safe."

She glanced up at the roof of the elevator, as if looking through the walls and floors to the room far above, and the circle. She knew as well as he did that if Ezzel chose to try and break the circle and escape, they were not far enough away to escape the damage. If he did that, the building would collapse around them and bury them in a mountain of steel and dust, and there was no spell, charm, or wards that either could call on to prevent such a thing.

The elevator reached the ground floor, and they stepped into a dark room. Donovan whispered a word, and the b.u.t.tons on his jacket illuminated. They saw the outline of a door directly ahead, and made for it as quickly as they could.

"Neat trick" Amethyst whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "You'll have to show me how you made that work one day."

"It's a promise," he answered. When they slipped out the door and closed it behind them, it disappeared into a perfectly white stone wall. They stood in the outer lobby of the Tefft complex. The five regular elevator doors were lined up down that wall. They walked to the front of the building, exited quickly, and with Asmodeus flying high over head, started down the street as quickly as Amethyst's injured ribs would allow.

A few blocks away, Donovan led her into an alley, and after seven quick turns, they descended a short, dingy stair that opened onto the street across from Donovan's home.

In the circle, Ezzel worked frantically at the altar. He tried charm after charm, but he was frightened, and the fear caused him to slip words in where they didn't belong. He didn't have much with him, because he hadn't expected to need it. The bowl threatened to explode and plaster him with the imperfect formula, but he held it in check, barely, with a continually more complex web of containment spells.

At some point, his wrist began to throb where the raven had cut it. He ignored the pain and concentrated. He wished that Le Duc had been a better magician. There might have been more in the journal on controlling this ritual, or an escape if things went badly. There was nothing.

The throbbing grew more intense, and he glanced down impatiently. When he saw his wrist, he screamed. He clamped his other hand over the wound, but it was too late. The cut had opened wider, and blood seeped down his arm to soak his robes. He turned and lurched toward the portal, determined to try and break through at that one weak spot. He took a step, then another, and then was lifted from his feet violently. The wound in his wrist erupted in a geyser of blood. The blood gathered in the air, whirled, and drained down to the bowl through an invisible tube of energy. He struggled. He tried to speak, but something gripped his throat and prevented it, and eventually the struggles weakened.

When the last of his blood drained away, he dropped headlong, breaking the bowl and shattering the stands and vials. The wand he'd stolen from Alistair Cornwell cracked as it struck the stone floor, and the murky, sticky fluid in the bowl dripped slowly to the floor, forming a puddle that clotted, and then grew still.

The mist snapped from the circle as though inhaled by a G.o.d. It was there, and then it was not. There was no breeze, and no flame burned in candle or brazier. Cold and dead as its owner, the room stilled. Broken on the altar, the desiccated carca.s.s that had been Lance Ezzel crumbled to dust.

TWENTY.

It took several days before Donovan was satisfied that the hidden rooms in the gut of the Tefft Complex were cleansed. When he'd entered the central chamber with Amethyst, Johndrow, and a select group of others, they'd found very little evidence of what had taken place within those walls so recently. Most of the Council was there, or had sent representatives. Vein was there escorting Johndrow, and Kali had come as well. The rest of their group had bowed out, having seen more than enough of the Tefft Complex to last them several long afterlifetimes.

Joel arranged for the contents of all the rooms they found to be inventoried. It had not taken long for the old banker to pull the proper strings and a.s.sume ownership. It was agreed up front that the money earned would be split between Joel, Donovan and Amethyst. Johndrow wanted only one thing from the place. Vanessa's remains were carried out carefully, wrapped in silk. The vial containing her blood was locked away in a safe.

Donovan did not recover the journal. Everything that had been within the interior magic circle was gone. The room was as colorful and filled with paraphernalia as ever, but that one bare patch, with its scorched braziers and inner and outer carved rings stood barren. Even the altar was gone.

There was no question of escape. Some part of what had been Lance Ezzel might not be dead, but he wouldn't be bothering anyone in San Valencez again, and though he might now survive the eternities he'd sought, they would not be pleasant.

The remains of the raven were a different matter. Half of the familiar had been trapped within the circle when the portal snapped closed, and these were gone. The other half of the bird, sliced cleanly and sealed as if it had been born that way, lay dead and cold on the stone floor. There was something eerie in that bisected corpse that sent a shiver down Donovan's spine. He needed no reminders of the power of the forces he worked with.

Amethyst still walked with a slight limp, but her eyes flashed bright with anger as she took in that s.p.a.ce and her mind drifted back to the man who'd created it.

"It might happen to any of us," Donovan said, laying a hand gently on her shoulder. "I met him, remember? I didn't suspect a thing."

"I should have, though," Amethyst insisted. "I should have been able to detect something in his aura. He handled my crystals, pawed through my secrets, and I stood back and smiled and patted him on the back telling him what a good job he was doing."

"We all make mistakes," Donovan replied, turning away and leaving the room behind. "It's what we do with the lessons learned that defines us."

They departed the room together and rode the elevator to the ground floor. They stepped into the late night emptiness of the lobby and stood for a moment.

"I have one thing left to finish," he said. "I've promised it. When I'm done?"

"I'll be waiting," she said. "I think Cleo will let me in, and you still have to show me that trick with your b.u.t.tons. Besides, you have a much better bar than I do."

Donovan chuckled. "It's true. I can show you a few more tricks with the b.u.t.tons, if you like."

Amethyst grinned, leaned in, and kissed him deeply. "I can't wait," she said.

Donovan grinned in return, then added, "And don't forget to feed that d.a.m.ned bird."

Amethyst stepped out into the night. Donovan stood in the lobby, alone, and a few moments later he was joined by Johndrow and Vein.

"It's time," Johndrow said softly.

Donovan nodded. The three stepped out of the building and climbed into a long, sleek limousine waiting at the curb. When they were seated, Donovan noted that Kali was driving, and that Vein sat beside her in front. He smiled. He'd known Johndrow and Vanessa for a very long time, and the old banker, Joel, had been with his Ligaya for centuries. It was almost as if Vein had heard his words to Amethyst and determined to make use of his own recent lessons. Somehow, Donovan thought he was witnessing the beginning of a very long union.

They drove in silence, winding through spa.r.s.e traffic and taking back roads whenever possible. It wasn't really necessary to maintain a low profile, but this night, of all nights, none of them wanted to be detained for any reason. Kali drove slowly and carefully, and before long they pulled into the private garage far below Johndrow's penthouse suite. There were few other vehicles present, and only a single guard watched from the shack near the elevator entrance.

You couldn't see it with the naked eye, but Donovan sensed the level of security that cloaked the building. Stine might not be around to supervise it, but his people had been working overtime. Every possible contingency was blanketed in wards and charms. The air crackled with the energy of it, and Donovan carefully avoided touching anything, lest he inadvertently set off some safeguard.

It was a somber group that piled into the private elevator. Though Ezzel was destroyed, or banished, there were still clouds hanging over the city that would be hard to erase. Johndrow and Vein had been through more in the past week than they'd seen in the past hundred years. Kali bounced her mood off of Vein's, and held her peace. She glanced at Donovan once or twice, her gaze calculating, but she said nothing. All of the younger vampires realized what he'd done for them. He could have fulfilled his obligation by entering the building and trying to save Vanessa, but instead he'd chosen to help them first. They hadn't said anything too him a not even an apology for their earlier attacks and accusations, but they owed him, and all of them were aware of it.

The elevator stopped and they stepped into Johndrow's hall, where it had all begun. There was no trace of Stine's death remaining. The penthouse was as opulent and decadent in both decor and ambiance as ever. Donovan had never been inside the home, and he stared about appreciatively. It had taken a lot of years, and a lot of money to make a haven so comfortable, and so secure. He hoped that the invasion and kidnapping would drive home the value of it all and keep Johndrow and his people attentive. It was never wise to acc.u.mulate wealth you weren't willing and able to spend the time to protect.

It wasn't his concern. Donovan had his own security considerations to look into once he'd completed the service asked of him. He followed Johndrow down a long hall, through the main room, where he knew the party had taken place.

They stepped through another doorway and filed down a long, narrow hall. There were doors to either side, but none was open. There was no sign that light had ever penetrated here, and Donovan suspected that few who still breathed and still possessed their own blood had ever been admitted there. The air was chilly, and he shivered.

At the far end they paused as Johndrow produced a key ring and opened a set of double doors. He entered; Donovan and the others followed. The doors were closed behind them. The room was absolutely dark. Donovan heard a rustle. It might have been the material of a jacket, or pants legs rubbing together. It might have been shuffling footsteps. He waited, and though he did not believe he was in any danger, his heart pounded. That pounding reminded him of whom he stood among, which increased his nervousness until it seemed like the blood was crashing through his veins, too hot and too loud to be ignored by those with the hunger.

When a match was struck, and a candle lit, the light was bright enough in that absolute darkness that he had to blink his eyes to clear his sight of the strobing video echo of the flash. The room took on boundaries and the interior a.s.sumed shapes and shadows. He saw the others standing nearby, and in the center of the room a long, ornate bench. It was draped with cloth that he could not make out the colors or designs of, and piled with pillows.

The air was scented. There were no braziers; it wasn't incense. Bowls of herbs and spices lined shelves on the walls. Fresh flowers were strewn about a lilies, Donovan thought, though he only felt them as his feet broke the stems and trampled the blossoms. The scent was of lilies and roses a and something else.

There was a stench underlying it all, a rotten, sickening tang of decay that even the mult.i.tude of flowers couldn't overpower. Somehow the sweetness of the blossoms mixed with that horrible stench was worse than it would have been on its own. Donovan tried not to breathe too heavily. He stepped forward to stand beside the table. Vein stepped up opposite him.

Kali stood at the foot of the table, furthest from the others. Johndrow a.s.sumed a position of authority at the head. Someone further back in the shadows lit a second candle, and Donovan was able to make out more details. Vanessa's remains had been laid out carefully on the pillows. With great caution she'd been positioned with her hands across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in a death pose. The skin, scarecrow sticks that had been her legs lay limp and misshapen. The silence held for what seemed an eternity, and then Johndrow spoke.

"I have no words sufficient to thank you for what you have done," he said at last. "What was taken from me a from us," he gestured briefly at Vein, and the others who stood further from the table, "was irreplaceable. A life as long as mine is subject to many horrors, as well as joys. The horrors can last an eternity, and the joys can be extremely far between."

Donovan listened politely. He didn't require a speech; the two of them knew what had been accomplished, and somehow, with the rotting bones and flesh of the one he'd been sent to save lying in front of him it all rang hollow and empty.

"It is time," he said softly.

Johndrow nodded. Someone stepped up behind him and placed two objects in his hand, then withdrew. Johndrow held them, glancing first at one, and then at the other. Donovan thought the vampire smiled, but in the dim light it was very difficult to tell. There was a white flash of fangs.

He held out his hand, and Johndrow held out the first object that he'd been given. It was the vial Asmodeus had s.n.a.t.c.hed from the circle; the vial that contained the essence of what had once been Vanessa. Donovan took it gently from the old vampire's hand, glanced at the second object Johndrow held, and frowned. He needed nothing more than the blood for the ritual.

"I'll explain this in a few moments," Johndrow said. "Please, continue."

Donovan put his questions aside and cleared his mind. His presence wasn't strictly necessary for this ceremony. Any of Stine's people, or possibly even Johndrow himself could have met the tenets of the simple ritual. It was an honor, he knew, something that most mortals would never experience. He did not fool himself into believing this made him anything special in the eyes of the undead. They had their own ways, and their own society, and he was not a part of it a could not be a part of it without experiencing death and dark rebirth, but he was respected. It was a memory to add to his long string of adventures, a moment to share over firelight in years to come. It was also a sign of trust.

He raised the vial before him and lowered his head. He turned to where Kali stood at the foot of the table, the South, and spoke the proper invocation, calling on elemental spirits and archangels alike to guard the proceedings. He turned to Vein, repeated this action, and did so again by turning fully away from the table. At the end, he turned to the North, and to Johndrow. He spoke clearly and closed the protective circle about them. The room rippled with a something. It was a sensation slightly different from any in his experience, but he didn't dwell on it. In this place, other powers were not far removed. The circle was complete, and if such a thing was possible, they were safe within that ethereal boundary.

"I must ask you all," he said softly, "not to move. Some of you are standing within, and some of you without, the circle I have drawn. Do not move, or that circle might be broken."

There was no sound. No one spoke in a.s.sent, but neither did they move. Donovan hesitated only for a moment, and then turned back to Vanessa's remains. He slid his hand down under the pillow directly beneath her head and lifted gently. He moved very slowly and deliberately. If he jerked, or stumbled, it could be disastrous.

When he held her head at an angle above the table, he turned to Johndrow and held out the vial. Without a word, the old vampire unscrewed the top. Donovan brought the open vial to the cracked, dried remnant of Vanessa's lips. He whispered softly. What he recited was a very ancient version of the last rites, but the words were spoken in reverse. He'd memorized the incantation long years in the past, and reciting them brought a stream of images and memories to haunt his thoughts as his voice, soft yet firm, carried through the small chamber.

At first, nothing happened. The blood ran down the parched, ruined throat and they heard it trickling and dripping as it wound it's way in and through, escaping through torn skin and staining yellowed, ancient bone a dark, shadowy hue in the dim light. Donovan paid no attention to the affect of the liquid, but concentrated on the words. There were not many, and he spoke them clearly. When the last syllable fell away to silence, he closed his eyes and waited.

Something moved in his hands. It writhed and slid but he ignored the sensation. A series of wet popping sounds echoed through the room, and a sound very like the tearing of rotten fabric followed. The weight he held shifted and grew, but still he did not open his eyes. The motion in and around his fingers stopped, and he felt something warm and silky. The weight lessened, and then lifted away from him completely. Still he held his silence, and did not open his eyes.

When soft fingers stroked his chin, he smiled, and when they slid down and he felt sharp nails tracing the pulsing vein in his throat, he finally opened his eyes.

She sat upright on the table, cradled in the pillows. The stench had left the air, as if drawn from the room by a giant vacuum. Her lips parted, as if she was going to speak, and Donovan reached out to place a finger across them, silencing her.

Pulling back very slightly, he turned, this time facing first to the North. He caught Johndrow's fierce, triumphant smile, but did not hesitate to enjoy it. He turned away from the table, and then across to Vein, whose expression was unreadable. He turned to the foot of the table last, released the ward, and returned his gaze to Vanessa's.

"It is safe now," he said softly. "You are safe. Welcome back."

She stared at him for a moment, holding her silence, and then glanced around the room at the others. Obviously the shadows that hampered Donovan's sight held no such power over hers. She stretched then, like a beautiful, silky cat. Her clothing had fallen away when she was removed from Ezzel's chains, and she luxuriated, pale, naked, and very much alive.

"Donovan DeChance," she said. "It has been a long time since I last saw you. My memory is hazy, but since you are here, I a.s.sume it was you who freed me?"

Donovan nodded slowly. He was on new ground here. She was very old, very powerful, and after her ordeal, no doubt ravenously hungry for fresh blood. The others would do what they could, he thought, none of them wanted the type of battle that might ensue if she attacked him, but his fears were unwarranted.

A small dark woman appeared from the shadows. She stepped timidly to the table, and with delicate grace she pulled back her long, dark hair from her shoulder and offered her throat. Vanessa watched her carefully. Her eyes glinted, and her limbs tensed, but she managed to control herself. She glanced at Donovan, almost an apology, then slid closer to the woman and leaned in. There was a gasp a pain? Surprise? The woman's eyes rolled slightly and her mouth worked. Vanessa held her gently, but firmly. In a moment, with a shudder of effort, she pulled back. The woman stumbled slightly, but Donovan caught her arm. Kali stepped to her side and applied a soft cloth to the punctures in the woman's neck and led her away.

Donovan stood, riveted. The site of Vanessa feeding jolted him. There was pa.s.sion in the act, a sensual quality he'd never expected. The woman had groaned in a what? Desire? Pleasure? She had offered herself freely, and been spared.

"Don't look so shocked," Vanessa said, laughing softly. "A girl's got to keep up her strength."

Everyone but Donovan laughed at this. Johndrow, unable to control himself, stepped forward and swept Vanessa into his arms. He lifted her naked body unceremoniously from the table and held her easily, gazing at her face as if he could drink her in and hold her there. He laughed, kissed her, and lowered her to her feet. She slid down his body, pressed close, and laughed gaily. Vein stepped around the table and slipped a robe over Vanessa's shoulders. She thanked him with a nod.

Johndrow turned to Donovan and held out his hand. Donovan shook it and met the vampire's gaze.

"Thank you," Johndrow said. "You brought her back to me. I believed that she was lost forever. We could not have done this without your help."

Donovan smiled.

"It was my pleasure." He turned to Vanessa, and bowed slightly. "I had almost forgotten how lovely you are," he said. "It would have been a shame, had the world lost you a second time."

She laughed and hugged him impulsively. As she pulled back, she stumbled a little, and Johndrow caught her.

"You aren't up to your full strength, yet," he said. "We should get you some rest, and you must feed again."

She shook off the momentary weakness, but nodded. "You are right, of course. But I want to know what happened. I remember, up to a point, and then there is nothing but a great darkness."

"There will be time for stories soon enough," Johndrow replied. "For now, Mr. DeChance needs his rest, as well."

"I'll be sleeping for a week," Donovan said. "I'll be happy to tell the entire story that I know soon."

He started to turn away, but Johndrow stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

"Wait," he said. "I will arrange the payment for your services through more usual channels," he said, "But there is one thing more that I'd like to offer."