Vintage Soul Read Online Free PDF Page A

  He’d met DeChance only once, but it had been enough to impress him.
    He signed the letter, passed the paper and pen to Joel, who then slid it in front of Ligaya, who signed and sent it around the table.   By the time the ward lifted and the short, fierce-eyed gnomish security woman opened the door, the letter was sealed, and Ligaya laid it in her hands without a word.   The woman glanced at the name, nodded curtly, and was simply…gone.
    Johndrow watched in silence as the others filed out of the room and off down the corridor to the elevators.   He lingered, and Joel walked him to the door.
    â€œDon’t worry old friend,” Joel said.   “We’ll find her.   If it can be done, he can do it.”
    â€œI know,” Johndrow replied.   “I know.   He turned to Joel.   “Will you hunt with me tonight?   If I don’t tear the throat out of something, I’m going to be quite insane, and it has been a very long time since I spent a night on the street.”
    Joel glanced sidelong at Ligaya, who nodded with a worried smile.
    â€œCertainly,” Joel said.   “It has been too long.”
    Johndrow nodded and started down the corridor.   Joel handed his jacket to Ligaya and followed.   Moments later, as she stood watching them, the jacket clutched in her arms, the elevator door closed, and they dropped slowly to the ground floor.
    Ligaya stared at the elevator doors a moment longer, then turned abruptly and headed deeper into the bank complex.   “Be safe," she whispered.   “And be back soon.”
    In a small office on the 18 th floor, the small, gnomish woman held the letter and its envelope to the lit end of a black candle.   Smoke curled up from the dancing flame and filled the room, making breathing difficult.   She paid no attention to this, concentrating her will on the point where paper met fire.   As the envelope caught, she whispered two words.
    â€œDonovan DeChance.”
    The paper caught, burned in an instant to black, dusty ash, and before it fell, she blew on it.   The ash formed itself into a cloud, took substance and form and spread.   A dark wraith-like form stood staring back at her, then turned, and with a soft “pop” was gone.

THREE
    Â 
    Donovan DeChance sat in a comfortable chair, beside a very warm fire and stared out over the city skyline, thinking.   On his lap a sleek, silver-white cat with dark leopard-like spots purred contentedly, her feet asprawl and her tail dangling over the arm of the chair.   The cat was a large creature, an Egyptian Mau named Cleopatra, and while Donovan watched the glitter of the stars, she watched the firelight dance through the ice cubes in the whiskey tumbler he held, contemplating her chances in an attack.
    The room was an organized jumble.   Heavy wooden bookshelves lined the walls from the floor to just below the ten foot ceiling.   A rolling ladder clung to the face of the shelves, about halfway down one wall, but its progress was impeded on either side by cartons and stacks of more books waiting to be shelved.   They would wait a long time, as not an inch of empty space could be found on any of the shelves.   It was a problem, and Donovan knew he’d have to address it soon, or be pushed out the front door of his own home by the sheer volume of clutter.
    Â  A short altar stood in an alcove in one corner of the room.   This, too, was cluttered.   It held an ornate, silver goblet in the form of a robed woman with demons clutching her feet, a crystal ball on a wooden stand carved of a single branch of olive wood, a book open somewhere near the middle and marked with a heavy gold-colored ribbon, a small brazier black with ashes, and a dagger.   The dagger was long and curved.   Its handle glittered with jewels and was trimmed in four metals, gold, silver, copper and platinum.   These were woven equally into a