“I suppose he would, at that,” Windham said, nodding thoughtfully. “I’m not going after this one, in any case. Security is tight on that graveyard, and though there are always ways around it, most of them are too costly and difficult to make it worth my while. I’d have to cut someone else in…”
He glanced at Donovan shrewdly.
“It won’t be for sale when I’m done,” Donovan growled.
It was Windham’s turn to laugh. “Can’t blame me for thinking about it. I’ll keep checking, but last I heard, most of the collector’s felt the same as I do. It’s too risky. We figure he’ll have to go out of state, maybe out of the country to get what he needs, and that could take a long time.”
“He doesn’t strike me as very patient,” Donovan said. “My guess is that if he can’t get someone else to collect this for him, he’ll go himself. He’s certainly got the skill. I don’t suppose you’d just tell me who it is and save me the trouble?”
Windham drained his beer and stood.
“I’d love to help you,” he said, “but the call that went out is anonymous. The instructions are clear, and payment is secured through a third party — one I won’t be naming — but I doubt even he knows the face of the buyer. I guess your new friend knows you’re coming.”
“I’d be disappointed if he thought otherwise,” Donovan said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded wad of bills. He peeled two off the end and held them between his thumb and forefinger.
“If you hear anything more about this, I want to know. If someone else takes the challenge, even if they fail, or if your contacts happen to notice a particular order going through channels out of state, I want to know about it. Don’t wait, send a messenger. If the information is good, I’ll double the usual fee.”
“I told you,” Windham said softly, slipping the bills from between Donovan’s fingers and sliding them into the pocket of his trench coat. “I don’t deal in information.”
“Still,” Donovan flashed a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, and Windham nodded.
Donovan watched as the thin man turned away and scuttled to the door. It spun and he was gone. No one looked up at his passing.
Donovan turned back to the bar and paid for the two drinks. He had what he needed, now it was time to put it to use before his window of opportunity — and Vanessa’s — closed.
He turned to the door, but before he could step away from the bar, it swung open. A pale figure in a dark sports coat, mirrored glasses that mocked the shadows, and dark hair stepped from the booth. He was followed in quick succession by four others, each so much like the last that they might have been pressed from the same mold.
Donovan spared them only a glance, and then headed for the door.
“DeChance?” the thin, dark man said. It was inflected like a question, but Donovan knew better.
Donovan glanced up and, as he drew nearer to the man who’d spoken, he saw it was a vampire. More correctly, it was five of them. They all appeared to be in their early to mid twenties, but Donovan knew better than to make age assumptions in such a situation. He stopped and smiled as politely as he could manage while sizing them.
“I’m Donovan DeChance, yes,” he said at last. “You are?”
“Just call me Vein,” the slender young vampire said. “That’s what everyone calls me.”
“Vain?”
“You heard me.” The vampire stepped closer, but Donovan held his ground. None of these had the aura of age that Johndrow and the elders possessed, and he suspected most of them were not long in “the blood.”
“How can I help you…Vein?” Donovan asked.
“We know you’ve been hired to find Vanessa,” Vein replied coldly. “We don’t think much of that decision. We’ve decided to take the matter into our own hands, and we’ve come to find out what you know.”
“Does Johndrow know you’re here?”
Vein hesitated, and Donovan had his answer. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “Well, since he hired me — and you didn’t — and I don’t know who the hell you are, vanity aside, I don’t see how I can help you.”
“Oh, you’ll help me,” Vein replied. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know there are other ways I can get the information — and there are other uses for one of your…vitality.”
Donovan chuckled. “You’re kidding me, right? First off, son, even Johndrow knows better than to confront me like this. You are out of your league. In fact, what are you, a hundred? A little more? You aren’t even old enough to address me without calling me sir.”
Vein took a step forward, and the others spread out at his shoulders, glaring at Donovan from beneath their own dark shades.
“What are you guys, The Men in Black?” Donovan asked dryly. “Area 51 isn’t too far…head down Highway 5 and cut across on Interstate 10 — you can’t miss it.”
“You’re a funny man,” Vein said. “I didn’t know that about you.”
“This is a lot of fun,” Donovan said, steeling himself, “but I really do have to get going. I have a job to do, as you well know, and I doubt very seriously if the Council of Elders would appreciate you wasting their money by getting in my way. If you’ll excuse me?”
The five who had spread out closed in around him and Donovan slid his hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around the crystal pendant coiled there. He hadn’t expected such an encounter, and hadn’t really prepared for it, but he always carried basic defenses.
A shadow flickered across the wall behind the five. Donovan followed the motion with his eyes, but didn’t move his head. It happened again, and he breathed more easily. Vein and the others hadn’t noticed, but behind them, to either side of the strange entrance to The Crossroads, hulking, shadowy figures had materialized. They might have stepped from the wall their entrance was so sudden, and so silent. Donovan wanted to know how they did it, but he knew better than to inquire into it too closely. It wasn’t any of his business, and in situations like the one confronting him, it was a godsend. There would be no ‘altercation’ in the club today, or any day. It was part of the club’s appeal.
“You’ll think this is just a cliche attempt to get out of a bad situation,” Donovan said conversationally, “but I really think you should look behind you.”
Vein stared at him, unblinking, but one of the others glanced back and let out a startled sound. Vein turned, more slowly. He saw the bouncers gathered to either side, weighed their size against that of his followers, and glared.
“I wouldn’t try it.” Donovan said.
Vein turned back with a snap of his head, and his eyes blazed.
“I don’t’ need advice from you,” he said.
Donovan shrugged and took a step back toward the bar to distance himself. Vein turned back toward the shadowy bouncers, who were closing in, and he scowled.
“Come on,” he said to the others, as if it had been his purpose all along. “Let’s get out of here.”
The dark shapes stepped aside as the five vampires, one by one, stepped into the booth and spun out of sight. Donovan watched them go. Vein was the last.
“We’ll see you later, DeChance. You can’t stay here forever.”
The booth spun, and Vein was gone. Donovan glanced around at the bar. The bartender was polishing another glass and staring up into the rafters as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. No one else in the club had paid the slightest attention to the commotion at the door, or if they had, they’d managed to get their eyes directed at their tables before Donovan turned.
Donovan turned back to the phone booth, and found that he was alone. There was no sign of the bouncers. He hesitated. He thought about heading back to the bar for another drink. If he left them out there long enough, he figured they’d get bored and look for him later. He could always buy the seer a drink and spend a fun half hour avoiding her gaze.
There was only one way in or out of the club, unless you went to a lot of trouble and paid a lot of money, and even the more secretive exits could be watched. He didn’t know if Vein knew any of them, but it didn’t matter. He had no time to go looking for someone to let him out, and he wasn’t inclined to run from such a ridiculous challenge.
With a sigh of resignation, he arranged his charms, gripped a dark, green crystal pendant in his right hand, and stepped into the booth. He lifted the receiver, and then placed it back in its cradle. The booth spun, and he
