Vintage Soul Part 12

She closed her eyes. Something her skin s.h.i.+mmered 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, s.p.a.ce, and dimensions a 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 p.i.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+ver 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 ma.s.s 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 wis.h.i.+ng the ancient G.o.d could grant him its wings.

EIGHTEEN.

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 s.p.a.ce had been created. The elevator appeared not to stop on this floor, and the only other access was by certain pa.s.sages 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 compa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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.

In the center of the altar, the ancient journal rested on a wooden stand. It was open to the first page of the ritual. Ezzel didn't need it. In fact, if he'd still needed to read the instructions or the words of the ritual from that book, he would not have been ready to complete the process at all. The timing of each segment was critical. He just felt it was proper that some portion of Le Duc join him at this penultimate moment a the culmination of something begun centuries earlier. Le Duc had met his untimely end trying to secure the vampire's blood necessary to complete the ritual. Ezzel had been more careful, and more patient.

The urn with Father Vargas' remains stood off to one side, beyond the circle. He had extracted the ashes he needed the moment it was in his possession. At the bottom of a chute he used to dispose of garbage, the corpse of the collector, Jasper Windham, had begun its long courts.h.i.+p with rot and maggots. Loose ends were not acceptable, and even though Ezzel knew he was no longer operating in secret, he saw no reason to change the rules of the game now. Windham couldn't be trusted a it was obvious in the way he'd betrayed DeChance, and with a very long lifetime ahead of him, Ezzel intended to surround himself only with those he could trust. The rest would be eliminated, or brought in line.

The room he'd prepared for his ritual was awash in color. Tapestries hung from the walls, depicting astrological signs, chemical formulas, arcane symbols and images from the Tarot. It was mostly an affectation a but it was one that he enjoyed. The entire room a the building surrounding it a the melodrama of the kidnapping and thefts a none of it had been specifically necessary. He could have spent the time and money to range further and find the ingredients he needed. He could have taken a different vampire, one with fewer connections and less beauty. He might even have found one whose people wouldn't have been sad to lose them. In some ways he wasn't so unlike the pretender he'd slain, Cornwell. He liked the idea of who, and what he was and saw no reason not to surround himself with the symbolic trappings.

Ezzel didn't want his triumph to be a secret. He didn't want anonymity, or silence. He was about to complete something that had never been completed. When the ritual was finished, he would be immortal. He would have lifetimes without end to enjoy every pleasure the world had to offer, and he didn't want that feat to go unnoticed. If he could have performed the ceremony on top of the most prominent building in town with an audience of his peers watching him become more than their peer, he would have done so.

For the moment, all of that was incidental. He concentrated carefully and made his way around to the final compa.s.s point. He lit the brazier, watched the white, scented smoke rise in curling tendrils to join that from the other braziers. With a quick flick of his wrist, he completed the inner circle and stepped back. He took a deep breath, and inventoried his equipment for the thousandth time. Everything was in place, and had been in place for a week, but there was no turning back once he lit the powder. He had cast the wards, but the circle remained open. He could step across that line, never speak the words, and walk away. He even thought he could get out without being caught, and disappear from San Valencez.

He glanced down at the ring. Between two of the carved characters the Timeline Crystals winked back at him with reflected brilliance. They were set into the stone of the floor, ready to form the portal. It would be the last point through which he would pa.s.s as a mortal. He thought of Amethyst, imagined the shocked, angry expression she must be wearing, and almost laughed. Yes, he could go now, take the crystals, and leave it all behind.

For a moment, he pretended to give the notion serious consideration. He remembered the desert near Cairo, and the years he'd spent studying scrolls and crawling the tunnels of pyramids. He thought of Jerusalem, the temples and the mosques, and the secrets still buried in caves from the Dead Sea to the holy city itself. He thought of Asia and Europe, even the hills and mountains of California and Tennessee. Each held memories, and each held bits and pieces of the trail that led to this moment. None of those he'd met on the road had believed in the formula a not the way Ezzel believed in it. They knew legends. Some of them knew Le Duc's name. One even had a single page transcribed from the journal, enough to state the purpose of the ritual, and to name it, but not to reveal any of the necessary elements.

It had been a long, hard, intriguing journey. Even the gathering of the final elements had been entertaining. DeChance was not to be taken lightly, and walking into the den of one of the vampire council members, stealing his lover from under his nose, and draining her slowly had been Ezzel's gift to Le Duc. In his way, it was a tribute. Le Duc discovered the formula, but failed in the collection. He'd been a great alchemist, but not particularly powerful in other elements of the craft, and the vampire he'd chosen had bested him easily. Nothing more had ever been heard of him, but the journal survived.

Now it rested on the altar behind him, and the circle was complete. Ezzel closed his eyes, whispered a quick and meaningless charm for luck, and lit a large, sulfur match. He dropped it into the white powder, and the flames shot around the circle. They flashed to blue flame, leaped and danced, and then settled. Smoke rose in an even curtain that closed him from the rest of the room. At first it was thin and translucent. The colored tapestries and metaphysical paraphernalia he'd gathered were visible through the haze as vague lumps and dangling shadows.

Then the smoke thickened and he stood within a cylindrical white wall. He watched it for a moment, turning in a slow circle and examining the protective ring carefully, but he knew he'd find no weakness in it. It was perfect. He turned to the altar, stepped closer, and began.

It took Amethyst longer to find the maintenance pa.s.sage that reached the two private elevators than it had taken Vein, but she was more careful. Once she was in the first floor pa.s.sage she stopped and established a tight web of protection around herself before moving on. She reached the elevator shaft, and began to climb. She didn't have the advantage of a Thunderbird bag, but she did have an amulet consecrated by rites sacred to air and wind, and she made good time.

Under other circ.u.mstances she might have worried that the elevator would descend, catch her between floors, and crush her, but she'd seen what Ezell planned. The one elevator would not leave the top floor by his hand, it was meant as a death chamber for the vampires, and it needed to remain in place to keep them trapped. Ezzel wouldn't be leaving until he'd finished what he started, and that meant he needed the second elevator for his escape. She saw the bottom of the car far above. She climbed as quickly as she could, and as she did, she thought about what to do when she reached the top.

Ezzel had posed as her apprentice, and during the time he'd spent with her, she'd shared a lot of her knowledge with him. There might be other things he'd taken, and there was no way to know what he might have stolen from her books and papers when her guard was down. It was infuriating, but she couldn't afford to take any chances with him. Whatever she used he might be ready to counter. She'd have to dig deep and be resourceful. Thankfully, everything she knew had not been shared, and not everything she owned that was powerful was stored in the single vault he'd stolen the timeline crystals from.

She stopped a floor below where the bottom of the elevator car hung over her head. Clinging to the maintenance ladder, she leaned out and breathed a handful of dust on to the crack in the center of the door in the side of the shaft. As that dust settled, she spoke a short charm. The doors slid open. She swung out on the ladder, away from the door, and then used the momentum of the return swing to flip in through the opening. She landed heavily, but without injury, and rolled to her feet. She pressed to the wall, slipped to the first corner, and then stood very still.

She didn't really expect to meet anyone in the hall, but she was in no mood for further mistakes. If Ezzel completed this ritual, part of the blame was hers, and if she couldn't stop him, she intended to let him know she was there. It wasn't so much the ritual, or his thievery, or even the deaths he took so lightly. It was the fact that he'd lied to her, fooled her, worked with her and gained her trust.

She rounded the corner and began checking doors. All were locked until she reached the last. It hung open, and she saw dim, flickering light in the dark opening. She moved very slowly up to the edge of the door frame and stopped. Then she took a deep breath and glanced inside.

At first she saw only shadows. The walls were stone, and the only light was from a couple of guttering candles that had nearly burned themselves out. There was very little furniture. She saw a cot along one wall. There was a small table. She saw and sensed no one.

Once inside, she moved along the wall carefully, searching the barren room for shadows and finding none. Then she reached the cot, and when she did, she noticed something dangling from the wall just beyond it. It wasn't very large, and at first she thought it might be empty chains, or a torn tapestry. She stepped closer, looked, and reeled away, gagging. What hung from the manacles on the wall and leaned precariously over the lip of the metal collar was barely recognizable as human. The skin was like leather worn so thin and brittle it could have been paper. The eye sockets were empty pits. Bones jutted and threatened to release their tenuous hold on one another.

"Vanessa." Amethyst whispered the name, but she didn't look back. She knew what the remains hanging on the wall meant. Caution was no longer a viable option. She needed to find Ezell immediately, and probably that wouldn't be soon enough.

She pulled a small yellow crystal from her pocket and tossed it in the air. Before it could fall she snapped a command and whipped her finger in an intricate spiral between herself and the door. The crystal fell about a foot, wobbled in the air, and then hovered. It pointed toward the center of the building, and down. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the crystal and took off at a run.

She didn't bother to follow the hallway around to the end; that was where the other elevator would end, and that was where Donovan would enter. There was no way to know how he intended to get in, but since the wall was solid, and the elevator was apparently strong enough to hold adult vampires against their will, it was unlikely to be a good idea to be on this side of the wall when he decided to drop in.

As she ran, she let the yellow crystal hover just above the palm of her hand, and a moment later she was back at the first elevators shaft. There were no stairs. She leaned out through the still open doors, grabbed the maintenance ladder, and swung back into the shaft.

The crystal led her down two levels. There was a door, but it was not readily visible. She had to search, then close her mind and visualize it, before it s.h.i.+mmered into view. She wondered for just a moment why the car was all the way at the top. If she'd wondered another second, it would have been too long. She leaned out, blew the powder into the crack of the door and gripped the ladder. There was a grinding roar, and without thought she swung out and whipped herself through the air. As she moved, she screamed the opening charm and prayed it would work quickly enough. She launched herself at the doorway. Even as she slid through the opening, barely clearing the sides of the half-open door, hit the floor and rolled, the elevator ground to a halt. The inner door opened with a snick.

Amethyst glanced back, shuddered, and then turned to scan the hall. There was no one in sight, but she no longer needed the crystal to guide her. There was only one large, ornate doorway. A glow slipped out around the cracks. She stood still and closed her eyes. The s.h.i.+mmering vibration of the timeline crystals s.h.i.+vered through her pores. They were approaching resonance a the point when the radiance Ezzel had drawn from the depths of each would blend with that from the other until they formed a portal between them. At the final point of the ritual, he would step out between them, pa.s.s through that radiance, and the effects of the formula would become final and irreversible. In that small nexus of power, the past, present and future would be one single moment, and beyond that, the effects of the pa.s.sage of minutes, hours, days and centuries would have no further affect. That was the theory.

She didn't want to see it tested. She cleared her mind, drew in what energy she could from the air, from the amulets and crystals she wore, and even from the vibration of the timeline stones themselves. They were her crystals, after all, and they had been hers for many years. She'd spent time with them, studied them; a part of her was imprinted in their depths, and in the frequency of their vibration. Ezzel might have cleansed them before putting them to use, but somehow she didn't believe he'd done it. He knew a lot, and he had talent, but no one knew everything, and crystals were her specialty, not his. These were very powerful, very delicate artifacts, and he'd have to travel a long way to find another pair their equal. If he cleansed them improperly, he could disturb the balance, and the repercussions wouldn't quiet for months. If he was smart, he'd left them alone and taken his chances. She hoped it would be enough.

She crossed the hall and tried the k.n.o.b on the door. To her surprise, it wasn't locked. She turned it, peered through the crack, and gasped. The circle was immense, and it was active. The smoky cloud that obscured it was thick and dense. She couldn't' make out what was happening on the other side, and though she knew she was equally obscured, it did little to calm her nerves. This was powerful magic, and once the circle was in place, it was beyond foolish to try and cross it, or break it. The purpose of the circles of protection was to protect those inside the circle from what they summoned, and to protect those outside the circle from the energies contained within. Any sudden, unexpected break could destroy whoever stood inside the circle, or whoever stood outside. If it were powerful enough magic, it could be worse.

She took in the room at a glance. It was nothing like she'd expected. She'd known Ezzel for months, but as her apprentice, a quiet, soft-spoken man who was eager to do whatever she asked, and who might as well have been part of the wall when she wasn't working with him. This room, this explosion of wealth and power and ostentatious a nonsense a didn't equate with the man she'd thought she knew.

She approached the circle carefully. There were was nothing to see from where she stood, but she caught the scent of the incense he'd used to set the wards, and she felt the crystals, warm and s.h.i.+mmering, beneath that curtain. He hadn't placed them inside the inner circle. They had to be mounted side by side in the center of the concentric rings to form the portal.

That was good. Amethyst wouldn't break the circle. She knew the danger, and she wasn't going to send the building and herself cras.h.i.+ng into the pits of h.e.l.l if she could help it. It was possible, though, that if she concentrated she could disrupt the vibrations in the crystal enough to prevent the formation of the portal. If she managed it, Ezzel would be trapped inside his own circle. It might not last, but it would buy them some time. It might be all that she could do.

She stalked around the outside of the circle. The more she thought about the theft of the crystals, and the quiet, handsome man who'd fooled her so completely and then taken advantage of her with such cold, unfeeling arrogance, the angrier she became. She pressed the palms of her hand as close as she dared to the whirling mist. She felt forces alive and powerful, just beyond her touch. Their aura s.h.i.+vered along the outer edge of the circle. She felt their awareness as well. Ezzel would have no concentration to spare for her, but the spirits he'd summoned were under no such constraints, and they wanted out. As long as they sensed that she might work to break the circle, they would only watch her. She knew that didn't give her much time.

On the far right of the circle she felt the direct presence of the crystals, and she stopped. She stood very still, willed her mind to seek the twin vibrations, and sought to match them. She felt the spirits within the cloud drawing near, hovering and watching. They knew she could break the circle by attacking the crystals. What they didn't yet know was her purpose, and she knew she'd have to act very quickly to succeed.

The vibrations rippled through her, and she willed one of the smaller crystals she wore around her throat to match that s.h.i.+vering warmth. She drew it in slowly and tried to keep the intrusion as inconspicuous as possible. She would have one moment to strike, and she waited for it as long as she dared.

With a lash of will she s.h.i.+fted the vibration of her smaller crystal, fighting to keep it bound to the larger, stronger timeline crystals. The spirits in the circle s.n.a.t.c.hed her intentions from her thoughts and pounced with shrieks of anger and rage. Something dark rose behind her, but she didn't see it in time. She concentrated and forced her will into the aura of the combined crystals. The darkness folded over and bent double, and then struck like a snake. It wrapped around her and dragged her from her feet, driving the breath from her lungs in a savage wrench.

She screamed and clawed at the writhing shadow, but the link with the crystals was broken, and now she fought for her life. The thing that held her was dark, and the stench it released engulfed the room, blotting out even the hint of incense. She fought to breathe, but it squeezed inexorably, driving the air from her struggling lungs.

Within the circle, Ezzel sensed a s.h.i.+ft in the rhythms of the circle. He could not react, but he was aware. If he let his concentration waver for even a moment, he would be destroyed. Still, the disturbance itched at the back of his mind. It was the crystals. Their vibration had s.h.i.+fted very slightly. If they s.h.i.+fted more, he might not be able to bring them back into alignment a he might never escape the circle with his life.

Then, as suddenly as the disturbance had intruded, it was gone. He saw nothing but the table before him, the elements of the ritual, and the inviolate white smoky ring surrounding him. As he worked, he smiled.

NINETEEN.

Donovan reached the gla.s.s outer-wall of the elevator quickly. He leaned around the corner and caught the terrified stares of Vein and his companions, but he didn't have time to worry about their state of mind. The sunrise was only moments away, and if he didn't get them out and under cover soon, fright would be the least of their troubles.

He examined the intricate silver mesh worked into the gla.s.s, which was thick, maybe three inches and very solid. Donovan had to lean out from the wall to see this, and the wind buffeted him each time he did, threatening to blow him from his perch. The Thunderbird spirit lightened him, but every blessing has its curse. Each motion threatened to send him flying away in the grip of some errant breeze, and it was difficult to move because in his lightened state, every twitch caused a seemingly disproportionate reaction.

He'd come prepared for a lot of things, and though blasting through an outer wall wasn't something he'd antic.i.p.ated, he didn't hesitate. He had several smaller pouches tucked deep in his pockets, and after only a few moments searching he pulled out a small, blue leather bag. It was filled with a white paste. He took this, being very careful not to touch the paste itself with his fingers, and spread it in a large, two foot circle by squeezing it out the top of the bag. He would have made it larger, but there wasn't much paste in the bag, and his reach was severely limited by the need to clutch a jutting brick ridge with his other hand. When he had completed the circle, he pulled back and gripped the wall with both hands. There wasn't much time left.

He glanced into the interior of the elevator. Just at that instant one of the vampires rushed the gla.s.s and crashed into it with all the force he could muster. Startled, Donovan drew back. He lost hold with one hand and cried out. If his full body weight had come down unexpectedly like that on the one hand still gripping the wall, he'd have plummeted to the ground below. Cursing, he swung out from the building, wis.h.i.+ng he'd been able to check the violence with which he'd kicked off. He needed to get back to that gla.s.s, to touch the circle he'd created and to finish what he'd started, but it was all he could do to hold on.

Inside the elevator, Bruno, who had panicked, was dragged from the gla.s.s by Vein and Kali, and held, kicking and screaming for release, as they all watched Donovan's fight for purchase. He didn't think he could drag himself back to the wall. His fingers were slipping. He felt his nails crumbling and his fingertips sc.r.a.ping painfully. His knuckles and wrist throbbed with the effort of maintaining his grip.

Everything slowed in that moment. He saw the faces of those trapped in the elevator clearly, the terror-stricken rage of the one, and the anxious attention of the others. He saw the circle he'd created on the gla.s.s, and knew he had to reach it.

A cry rose from above and behind him, and he cursed. He thought, just for a second, that it was another dragon, and his effort to whip about and verify this fear nearly dragged him from the wall. Then something heavy hit him in the back, and he spun toward the wall, gripping, clinging, finding purchase and hugging the brick. The second time the cry rose, he knew it for what it was.

"Three times, Asmodeus," he breathed. "I owe you."

He couldn't see the bird, but he knew it had risen to circle far above. Donovan didn't hesitate. It was now, or never. He reached out, pressed the tip of his nail to the outer edge of the circle of paste, turned his head from the elevator and pressed his cheek to the brick. He willed the heat down the length of his arm, commanding it to pick up speed at his elbow and flash through his fingers, where it erupted in a spark.

The paste didn't light. Instead, a reddish glow circled the ring slowly, starting at the point he'd touched the paste and working around until the entire ring turned rosy red, blue, and then white. The brilliance of it was unbearable; Donovan averted his eyes, and the vampires shrank back in fear. The sun might have dropped from the sky to pay a close, personal visit it was so hot. Donovan was bathed in sweat, and he felt the skin on the back of his neck searing. Then, with an odd, wet sound, the center dropped out of the circle and fell away. It tumbled through the air, its edges molten and dripping, and crashed into the alley below with a tinkle of shattered gla.s.s and a hiss of steam.

The vampires didn't hesitate. Though it was small, barely large enough to accommodate their shoulders, they were out that hole in seconds, ignoring the heat, paying no attention when their clothing, hair, and skin touched the molten gla.s.s and burned. They hit the wall like scurrying insects and crawled downward with incredible speed, hurrying toward the shadows, sewers, or whatever protection they could find from the rising sun. All but Vein.

The young vampire stood inside, stared out at Donovan, then reached through the hole and held out his hand. Donovan hesitated only a second then took the offered grip. He released his hold on the wall and swung out, and the moment he was directly in front of the molten hole in the elevator wall, Vein drew him through.

"You don't eat much, do you?" Vein asked.

"It will wear off. Get out. I can handle this from here. You only have a few minutes."

Vein hesitated, staring at the hole in the outer wall longingly.

"Go," Donovan said, pus.h.i.+ng lightly on Vein's shoulder. "There's nothing more you can do here. Either I can stop this, or I can't, but you need to get out. The sun is rising."

It was true. Vein nodded, dove through the hole, and was gone. Wisps of smoke marked his pa.s.sage, and Donovan wondered briefly if it was already too late. He hoped the vampire would reach the ground and safety, but there was no more time to waste on it. He stepped to the inner door, pressed his amulet to it and spoke the command sharply. He felt resistance; there were charms and wards on that door, but they weren't strong enough. There was a mechanical whir, the sound of heavy locks disengaging, and the gla.s.s slid aside. Beyond it the sliding metal doors opened onto an empty pa.s.sageway, and Donovan dove through.

He sensed Amethyst's presence, though he didn't know where. He should have been able to locate her, but all he felt was the circle. It was huge, powerful, and no matter what the cost, he knew he had to stop it. He found the elevator shaft. The door was open, as Amethyst had left it. He glanced over the rim and saw that the car rested a ways below him. He reached out, gripped the ladder inside, and then dropped. He didn't bother to climb down because he was still light. He floated the two floors to the elevator's roof, scanned it, and found the maintenance hatch. He opened it and dropped through. Moments later he was in the pa.s.sage, facing the large, ornate doors of Ezzel's inner sanctum.

He started forward, and then froze. A blood-curdling scream rose, and he recognized it. Amethyst!

Donovan dove through the door, rolled to the side, and stared at the huge, smoke-curtained circle across the room. A cry erupted behind him, but this time he knew it instantly, and he called the bird, Asmodeus, to his shoulder. It landed heavily, nearly knocking him sprawling. The Thunderbird bag was wearing off, but he was still only about half his full weight.

Amethyst lay limp squeezed in a long, dark tentacle of shadow. She struggled feebly, but there wasn't much fight left in her. Donovan turned away with an effort and concentrated on the circle. He knew he had to stop what was happening. He pulled a flat, clear crystal from his pocket and concentrated on it. He couldn't break the protections, even for a quick glimpse of what was happening on the far side. He could drag bits and pieces of images from the recent past of the surrounding room, however, and piece some of it together.

The crystal fogged; stayed that way for what seemed forever, and was likely about two seconds, and then an image s.h.i.+mmered to life. It was a vial, the vial that held Vanessa's blood. It rested on a long table, but that was all he could make out. He dropped the crystal back into his pocket and quickly walked the perimeter of the circle, as Amethyst had done. He found the crystals, felt their near resonance, and cursed sharply. His time was nearly gone.

Drawing a long, thin wand from a leather case on his hip, he held it before him with both hands. He dropped his head between his arms and concentrated, willing his essence up through his slender frame and into his arms. He sent it in waves down toward the thin strip of yarrow wood and the even thinner crystal tip. The stone was bound to the wand with a detailed weave of copper, bronze, gold and silver wire. As he drove his will down the length of the instrument, the crystal glittered, and then glowed brightly. The light was white and very bright, like that of the heat he'd used to melt the elevator wall, but somehow different. There was no heat, and though an aura of energy stretched up and out from that center, encasing him in a sheath of energy, there was no sound.

The old crow, Asmodeus, clutched his shoulder tightly, and Donovan reached out to it. He pictured what he wanted in his mind and pressed that image into the bird's thoughts, forcing aside the few barriers remaining between them. Their bond, which had strengthened slowly since their first encounter in the old church, solidified in that moment. The bird knew his thoughts and acted.

Donovan pressed his mind to the outer circle, wove through tendrils of smoke and the whispered voices of demons to the crystals, and the portal. It was nearly complete, and instead of trying to disrupt that harmony, Donovan hastened it. In the same second that the timeline stones resonated as one, Asmodeus launched off of Donovan's shoulder. The bird shot through that portal like an arrow, bursting through outer and inner circles without leaving a ripple, and disappeared from sight.

A heavy thump to his left told Donovan that the guardians of the protective ring had ceased their attack on Amethyst. Either she was dead, or they were coming after him. He couldn't afford to think about it. If he allowed the fear to seep in and taint his thoughts, the portal would fail, and they would all die. He stood very still, concentrated, and waited, keeping that slim hole in the fabric of smoke and dreams open.

The portal hummed to life with sudden intensity, and Ezzel very nearly lost control. He sensed it before he heard the sound, and that moment's warning saved him from total disaster. Something burst through into the circle, screeched like a banshee, and dove for the table. It was too late.

He had one final step to complete, and immortality would be his. None of the rest of it would matter. He didn't even believe that he would be destroyed if the circle's protections crumbled if the ritual was completed first. The building might cease to exist, but he would go on.

He heard his raven launch from its perch, and he braced himself against the pull of its mind on his own. The bird had been with him for nearly a decade, and their minds were linked very closely. He wanted badly to glance through the bird's eyes and see what had entered the circle, but he didn't' dare turn from the ritual. He poured the ashes of the priest's bone marrow carefully into a bowl in the center of the altar. He'd already added the other ingredients, one by one, stirring, mulching, pummeling some of it to paste and straining out imperfections. When the ashes were beaten in, only blood remained. The vial that held all that remained of Vanessa rested on a silver stand beside the bowl.