Read Online Vintage Soul by David Niall Wilson - Free Book Online

from such graves were rare, powerful and valuable.   That meant that every collector in existence would cherish them and the older graves from days when exorcism was more common, would have been sought out and violated long ago.
    In modern times, the ritual was still practiced, though rarely.   If he moved quickly enough, Donovan knew he’d be able to localize possible gravesites for a source of the powder.   Maybe, with his connections and the additional electronic resources he commanded, he could find such a grave more quickly than their unknown thief could manage it.    It was hard to believe that others would band together with anyone proposing to cast such a spell as the Perpetuum Vitae , because it benefited only he or she who cast it.   It wasn’t the kind of magic one shared, and if he was forced to work on his own, or with secretive mercenary assistance, then Donovan’s new enemy was at a disadvantage.   No one who heard what was going on would want the spell to succeed.
    There was no time to lose.   Donovan rose, gathered a few objects from the shelves that he tucked into his pocket, and double-checked the security wards.   Before he left, he picked Cleo up unceremoniously and plopped her into the center of the symbol on his desk.   The cat meowed at him, possibly in complaint, possibly just in irritation, but he paid no attention.
    â€œI need your help, Cleo,” he said softly.   “You need to find Amethyst.   Tell her I missed her, and then warn her about what happened here.   Tell her I’ll be in contact soon.”
    Cleo returned his gaze unblinkingly.   Donovan closed his eyes and raised one hand.   In an intricate and graceful scrawl, he drew symbols in the air.   These gathered substance, like silver mist, or smoke, and when he drew his finger down with a final slash and spoke aloud, reciting in ancient Egyptian, the mist whirled in a circular motion around Cleo, who sat very still, never breaking eye contact.   The mist spun faster, thickened into a milky white wall, and then, with a sudden release of energy that sounded like the popping of a huge bubble, it was gone.
    No trace of Cleo remained on the desktop.   Donovan turned, opened the door, and stepped out into the night.   The sun was just dipping beneath the horizon, and he knew Club Chaos would soon be opening their doors.

SIX
    Â 
    Vanessa swam lazily up through darkness toward consciousness.   Her thoughts were a cloudy fog of half-memories and unlikely images.   She remembered the party.   She remembered the beat of the music, flowing through the walls and the floor and shimmering through the air.   She remembered Preston ’s speech before he shared the bottle he’d been so proud of, the wine with Byron’s blood.   Had it been too strong?   Had she taken her share, admittedly larger than the others had received, walked blithely away, and passed out?  
    No.   There was more, she knew there was more, but she couldn’t bring it to the surface of her mind.   She opened her eyes and the room before her spun.   She blinked, tried again, and managed to focus weakly.   The walls were dark and gray; cold polished stone where there should have been deep, rich paneling.   The air was dank, and she was hungry – hungry like she hadn’t been in years.   She was also alone.  
    Vanessa drew on the strength of centuries and focused her mind.   When she moved, there was a clink of metal.   She glanced down and found that her wrists, and her ankles, were manacled.   The chains that were attached to these bonds disappeared into small recesses in the stone wall to the left of the cot she lay upon.   She sat up, sending the chains rippling over the side of the hard, thin mattress pool on the floor.
    The room was empty.   Other than the cot a long, empty table, and a massive wooden door on the far wall,