Vintage Soul

Vintage Soul by David Niall Wilson Page A

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Authors: David Niall Wilson
Tags: Horror
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Johndrow’s end of the line.   “The blood drained from a vampire,” he whispered.   “From a very old vampire.”
    â€œVanessa fits that description,” Donovan said, softening his tone.   “She’s in more danger than you realized.”
    â€œBut surely,” Johndrow said, “There are other difficult items on that list.   Could he have gathered them all without drawing attention to himself?”
    â€œIt might have been a problem to find that out,” Donovan replied, “if technology hadn’t become so advanced.    I scan all of the books I acquire into my computer before putting them on the shelves.   It allows me to preserve very old and fragile texts, and to protect against an emergency.   I have a copy of the formula, and I don’t believe he’s quite got everything he needs.   We have some time, though not a great deal of it.   The blood must be extracted immediately preceding the mixing process, so we can expect he is keeping Vanessa – alive -- until he’s ready.”
    â€œWhat does he need?” Johndrow asked.   “If I knew…”
    â€œLet me handle that,” Donovan cut in.   There was silence on Johndrow’s end.
    â€œThis is what you are hiring me to do,” Donovan continued.   “I will have a better chance of tracing this without others blundering around muddying the waters, and despite what just happened here, I have the better chance of saving her once I’ve found her.   Even if you managed to track him, what would you do?   I have your letter – I know what happened with Kline.”
    â€œWhat happened with Kline is the reason I don’t feel comfortable trusting this to only one man,” Johndrow replied.   “Kline’s people have resources, and I can call in my own people…”
    â€œKline’s people are not trained to work in the field,” Donovan replied calmly, “and your own people aren’t trained for this type of work at all.   Let’s be honest, Preston , it’s been a long time since any of your kind has needed to march into real battle.   Even the elders, yourself included, are decades from the last serious conflict.   This is what I do, let me handle it.”
    â€œI will give you two days,” Johndrow replied.   “I won’t lose her through foolish trust.”
    â€œI understand,” Donovan replied.   “I don’t want this guy succeeding any more than you do, though admittedly for selfish reasons.”
    â€œKeep me informed, Mr. DeChance,” Johndrow said softly.   “Don’t leave me sitting at home and wondering.   Idle hands, you know…”
    â€œI’ll be in touch,” Donovan replied.   He hung up the phone and stared at the wall.
    He slid the computer’s keyboard and mouse back into place and tapped the keyboard.   When prompted, he logged in and watched as the machine loaded.   He smiled as mechanical drives whirred, lights flashed, and complex patterns of logical numbers whirled through machine.   Men could say what they wanted about magic not existing, but they understood the concepts of ritual and reaction quite well. Their methods were slow and relatively crude, but the outcome was solid and workable.   The Personal Computer was one of the finest magical achievements of the age.
    Once the logon sequence ended he opened the encryption software he used to scramble the more esoteric texts he’d scanned.   The computer had more than standard firewall protections, and a number of enhancements that had nothing to do with microchips or wires.   A series of symbols rotated into place on the screen, and in the center a large gold colored disk spun lazily.    At each point corresponding with the correct pattern, Donovan tapped the button on his mouse, and the disk slowed, stopped, and then spun the opposite

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