Vintage Soul (29 page)

Donovan rolled over out of the direct line of fire.
 
Amethyst stared upward for a second, gasped, and then reached for the amulet she'd used on the door.
 
Without pretense at careful aim, she fired a blast into the air over their heads.

Dragons peeled off in either direction with a loud screech.
 
When they'd cleared the door, they couldn't have been more than a foot tall and a couple long, but they grew with astonishing quickness until they filled the sky.
 
Amethyst's blast missed the first two, but when they split, it smashed into the pair following and drove them back into the final creature with a crunch of bone and the hot smell of burned flesh and sulfur.
 
Donovan reached to his boots, drew forth two odd, half-moon-shaped blades, and leaped to his feet.
 
He didn't look up at the dragons as they rolled majestically and plummeted back to the attack.

He drew back his left arm, let the blade fly, whispering a short charm under his breath.
 
It whipped through the air, curved to the right, straightened out, and just as one of the dragons gave a loud roaring cry and dove for his throat, the blade passed cleanly through, like a flashing guillotine.
 
Donovan didn't stop to check his handiwork.
 
He threw the other blade and dove to the side.
 
He caught the second dragon as cleanly as the first, but it was only a few feet from the ground when it died, and the impact of its collision with the concrete drive shook the foundation of the building.
 

Amethyst had taken out two with her initial blast and was sighting in on the last.

“Get in there,” she cried.
 
“I'll take care of his pets.
 
Get in and stop him.”

He didn't hesitate.
 
He slipped through the door into the passage beyond, hit the ground again and rolled in case something else waited there, but he saw nothing.
 
The corridor he stood in had several doors leading off from it.
 
At the far end of the passage, on his right was the door to an elevator.
 
He ran for it.

When he reached the sliding doors, he saw that they were closed tightly.
 
Two crystals were imbedded in the wall, one on each side of the door.
 
One was dimly lit and glowed rose red in the semi-darkness.
 
The other was clear and unlit.
 
Donovan considered the two for only a moment, then reached out and touched the unlit crystal.
 
It glowed immediately.
 
There was a grinding sound, and then it stopped.
 
The glow dimmed, and the rose-red crystal remained lit.
 

He considered breaking through the doors and climbing.
 
There were ways he could ease and speed the ascent, but it was too risky.
 
The fact that Ezzel had locked the elevator in place on the top floor seemed to indicate he either knew he had company, or had expected it.
 
If Donovan allowed himself to be found out while in that shaft, it would be a simple matter to lower the elevator and crush him.

He turned and ran back to the door to the alley.
 
Amethyst stood outside the door.
 
She leaned heavily on the wall.
 
There was no sign of the dragons…nothing moved, and the carcasses that had steamed and released their foul order moments before had dissolved into pools of a black, sticky substance Donovan didn't recognize.

“The elevator is sealed,” he said.

She glanced up, and he followed her gaze.
 
Near the top of the building something glinted, and he frowned.
 
He glanced back into the darkened doorway, then back up the wall.

“Whatever that is,” he said, “is directly above the elevator.
 
Could the car be stuck up there?”

Amethyst reached into her pocket, pulled out a green satin bag.
 
She untied it and shook a small, clear globe into her hand.
 
As Donovan watched, she breathed on the ball, closed it between her palms and closed her eyes.
 
She said something under her breath and opened her hands.

The crystal globe had gone smoky, and as they watched, it slowly cleared.
 
When the last of the mist had disappeared from its depths, an image shimmered into view.
 
At first it wasn't clear, but Amethyst whispered something, and it came into focus.

They saw the top of the Tefft complex.
 
The moon had dropped nearly off the edge of the skyline.
  
Dawn was approaching fast.
 
They looked closer, and saw that the glint they'd caught before.
 
It was a window of some kind, a single glass pane on the stone face of the building.
 
It was near the top.
 
Amethyst spoke again, and the image shifted closer.
 

“Damn them,” Donovan said.
 
He saw Vein and the others, staring out defiantly at a sky that would soon fill with sunlight and incinerate them.

“It's a trap,” Amethyst said.

“Of course it is,” he sighed.
 
“And I still can't leave them there.
 
I'm being paid by their council to save one of their own…I doubt if they'd consider it much of a service if I let that whole group of idiots die in the process.”

“There's not much time,” she said softly.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“The crystals,” she said simply.
 
“He took my crystals, but I still feel them.
 
He's set them in place.
 
The ritual is beginning now, and once he's started, he can't stop.
 
They can only be used once every cycle of the moon.
 
If he tried it again before that, the crystals would shatter.
 
It's one of the reasons they are so rare.”

He stared at her, then back up the wall of the building.

“How long?” he asked.
 
“How long before it's too late and he'd have to wait?”

She closed her eyes.
  
Something her skin shimmered for a moment, as if encased in a sheath of light.
 
Then she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

“An hour, maybe two, but it won't be any more than that.
 
If he waits longer, the ritual will fail, and the crystals will be destroyed.”

She fell silent, and Donovan turned away toward the building.
 
She reached out and gripped his arm.
  
He turned back.

“If that happens,” she said, “if he destroys the crystals?
 
You don't want to be in the building.
 
You probably don't want to be on this block, but you definitely don't want to be in there.
 
It won't exist.”

“They'll explode?” he asked, frowning.

“No,” she said.
 
“They are timeline crystals.
 
If they are destroyed, whatever they have the strongest link to will draw them along with everything and anything near them through time, space, and dimensions – whatever is between them and their source.
 
Donovan, whatever is too close to them may not be destroyed, but it won't be here, and there won't be any way to get back.”

“Then I'd better hurry,” he said.
 

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“If I can't go up the inside,” he replied, I'll have to go up the outside.
 
If I can blow the outer door off of that elevator, they'll have a chance, and they'll have to take it.
 
I'll be going in that way and going after our boy Lance.”

“I'm going in the front,” she said.
 
“I think I can trace your friends up there,” she pointed at the trapped elevator.
 
“They must have found a way in.
 
If you make enough of a disturbance blowing the side off the wall, maybe I can slip in under his guard.
 
One of us has to get through.”

Donovan nodded.
 
He stepped forward impulsively, and she almost stepped back, but he was too quick.
 
He pulled her close and slid his fingers into her hair, feeling crystals slide over his fingers.
 
She pressed against him, and they kissed.
 
He let the moment linger for a heartbeat, and then stepped back.

“Be careful,” he said.

“I'll try, she replied, grinning at him, “but I'm kind of pissed off right now.”

He stared at her, glanced up at the building, and then laughed.
 
“I bet you are at that,” he said.

She winked at him, turned, and was gone, running back around to the front of the building.
 
He watched her go until she was out of sight, and then turned back to the wall.
 
It wasn't going to be easy, but he'd come prepared to climb the inside of the elevator shaft, and the exterior wall wouldn't be that much different.
 
There would be wind to contend with, but he thought he could manage, as long as he reached them before the sun crested the horizon.

The charm was simple, but he took his time.
 
This was one tall building, and though he might find a way to survive a fall, he'd never make it up the side twice in the time allotted to him.
 
He drew a leather bag from his jacket pocket.
 
It bore a beaded design in the shape of a thunderbird, and the top was tied closed with drawstring straps.
 
The bag was old and slightly brittle, and he handled it carefully.

As his fingers brushed the old hide, images floated through his mind.
 
He saw an old man with gray hair.
 
Feathers and bones were woven into that hair, and the eyes that stared at him over a hawk-like nose were slate gray and piercing.
 
Across time and death, he felt the old shaman's presence, and he breathed a prayer of thanks.
 
The images dispersed, and he continued.

He opened the bag and drew out two feathers and a beaded necklace.
 
The necklace was a string of claws, more feathers, painted beads, and stones.
  
Donovan slipped it over his neck.
 
He quickly removed his boots and placed one feather in each, then laced them back up.

Working quickly, he shuffled in a slow circle and recited the incantation he'd learned so long ago.
 
He closed his eyes and pictured the old Lakota's face once more.
 
He felt the rhythm shiver through his bones, and felt the familiar lightening, as if the air around him had permeated his skin, soaked in and drained back out, taking his weight and his mass with it.
 
He continued until he actually felt a breeze through his heart.

“One with the wind,” he whispered.
 
He didn't hesitate.
 
He turned, and like a large insect, he scuttled up the side of the wall.
 
The cracks and niches he used for steps and grips were narrow.
 
They shouldn't have held his weight; but they did.

As the sunrise seeped closer to the horizon, he climbed, repeating a soft prayer to the thunderbird as he went and wishing the ancient god could grant him its wings.

Deep in the secret heart of the Tefft Complex, beneath the chamber where Vanessa had been held captive, but far above the ground floor lobby, a larger space had been created. The elevator appeared not to stop on this floor, and the only other access was by certain passages not obvious to the average eye.
 
There were other safeguards.
 
Ezzel knew that the wards he'd placed weren't going to stop anyone truly determined to get in, but at this point it didn't matter.
 
He didn't need them to be stopped, only slowed.
  
When he stepped from the elevator, he sent it upward, and with a short phrase, he locked it in place.
 
This elevator was a mechanical device, but it responded to other controls as well, and it was these less mundane methods he now employed.

The center of his private floor was another round chamber, and it was there that he gathered the items he'd spent such time and effort gathering.
 
They were spread over the top of a long altar table, which itself sat in the center of a wide circle that had been first carved, and then burned into the floor.
 
The braziers that would have to be placed at the compass points in a less permanent circle were imbedded in the stone floor.
  
The room was designed with a single purpose in mind.

The inner circle was also cut into the floor, but it was narrow, and shallow.
 
Ezzel stood within, pouring white powder from a vial around this smaller circle.
 
As he passed each of the braziers he lit it and spoke the invocation, then continued until he reached the final brazier.
 
A ring of symbols had been carefully drawn between the concentric circles, and when he reached the southernmost point on the circle, he would close it, seal it, and light the powder.
 
He'd run through this with meaningless elements a thousand times.
 
He'd repeated the ritual, breaking it into pieces so that he set no random power loose on the room, nor created any anomaly accidentally, and he'd committed every motion, and every word to memory.