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 glass 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, wishing he’d been able to check the violence with which he’d kicked off. He needed to get back to that glass, 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 glass 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 scraping 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 glass, 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 glass 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 glass 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, pushing 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 passage, 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 glass slid aside. Beyond it the sliding metal doors opened onto an empty passageway, 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 passage, 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 shimmered 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
