David Wilson - Vintage soul

Johndrow watched Vanessa move among their guests. She had a knack for coming just close enough to make the men uncomfortable, and to bring the women to the brink of anger, and then slip away, or pull back, or say something — more than likely about Johndrow himself — that set whoever she was talking to back on his heels, or at her ease. Every eye followed her when she was near.

Johndrow saw her turn into the hall that led to the kitchen, and he smiled. He wished, suddenly, that there was no party. He wished he had her to himself, that he could track her down that hall, corner her, and taste her again — thoroughly. He felt the ghost brush of her teeth on the skin of his throat and took a long gulp of the cognac, cringing at the waste. It should have been sipped — savored one small swallow at a time. A hand brushed his elbow lightly, and he turned, startled.

A short, very thin man with long moustaches, a beak-like nose, and dark eyes smiled up at him. The man held a small tumbler cupped between his palms, and Johndrow caught the scent of the bayou, Cajun blood. The drink was whiskey, warm and raw, served at room temperature. Johndrow smiled.

“It is marvelous,” the little man said. His voice was soft, but it carried easily. He surveyed the room and took a sip of his drink. “Truly marvelous.”

“Thank you, old friend,” Johndrow replied, turning and refilling his own glass. “I wanted it to be special. Vanessa and I don’t get out as much as we once did. There are some here tonight we haven’t seen in years. It isn’t good to remain cooped up too long. There is too much to forget, and once it’s gone — you never really get it back, do you?”

He glanced thoughtfully at the cognac in his glass. It held a fleeting glimpse of the past. It held the essence of a lifelong fallen to ash, but it was a pale image of the reality that had spawned it.

“You have a better reason to remain locked away than most,” the little man chuckled. “She is magnificent, as well, but you know this. Even my Ligaya watches Vanessa with hunger.”

Johndrow laughed. The little man, whose name was Joel, had traveled the world with his lover Ligaya for nearly a third of that time, and nothing born of darkness or light could part them. They were insatiable, incorrigible, and Johndrow found that he had missed their company more than he’d realized.

“It is good to see you both,” he said, taking a sip.

A scream rose from the hallway where Vanessa had disappeared, and everyone in the room froze. The sound cut through the rhythmic heartbeat flowing from the stereo and slapped conversation to silence. It echoed, rose a second time, and then fell away. Johndrow dropped his glass and was at the door the hall before it touched the polished wooden floor.

He reached the kitchen in seconds, but it was empty. There was a crashing sound in further down the hall, and Johndrow launched himself toward it. It came from the direction of the elevator. As he hit the hall, he saw the doors closing, but before he could reach them, they had sealed tightly. The small man who’d served the wine and sealed the door lay on the floor. He was broken. That was the only way to describe it. His arms and legs jutted at impossible angles. Blood soaked the floor and leaked from his pale lips. His eyes were open wide, staring up at the ceiling in abject terror.

Johndrow turned to the panel on the wall to alert the drivers. Where the panel had been there was nothing but a molten mass of circuits and wire fused into a single, shapeless lump. Nothing remained. He knew this would alert the drivers as well as he might have, but he screamed in frustrated anger. The corpse beside him told him the intruder was no ordinary threat, and he knew there was nothing the drivers could do.

“What is it?” Joel cried, joining his friend in the hall.

“Vanessa,” Johndrow growled. “Someone got in here and they’ve taken Vanessa.”

“How do we get down?” Joel asked, turning and looking for a door, or a panel that might open on a stair.

“There is no other way,” Johndrow said flatly. The elevator is the only entrance. It can be operated manually, assuming anyone is left alive below. If not, I’ll have to send someone down the shaft. It could take hours, and by then?”

Joel didn’t answer. Others poured into the hall, some clutching drinks, some half-amused, wondering if this was a new and unexpected amusement. With a snarl, Johndrow pounded his fist into the wood paneled wall. The wood cracked and buckled inward.

Several floors below, the huge garage door slid open silently, and a single dark Mercedes coupe rolled out into the darkness. The door did not close behind it, and no one followed.

It took Johndrow the entire night, and his staff working throughout the day, to arrange a meeting of the council. It had been several years since they’d last convened, and many members were reluctant — particularly those in attendance at his party the previous night. Threats had grown fewer and less likely in recent times. Electronic security, for those who could afford it, had progressed to incredible levels, and, as Joel had bemusedly put it, people just weren’t as frightened. The human race had reached a point in its evolution where they were as likely to seek and embrace the way of the blood as they were to reject or fear it. They were as likely to attract groupies and talk show hosts as any form of modern slayer.

None of this changed the face of Vanessa’s disappearance. When Johndrow’s staff managed to free up the elevator, the guests had dispersed quickly into the fading night. Johndrow had rushed from the main door of the garage, but there was no sign of forced exit, and none of the drivers remembered seeing anything out of the usual. In fact, their memories were sufficiently clouded that Johndrow was certain they’d been wiped, hurriedly and without much thought to what consequences such an act might have on their minds. Most of them vaguely remembered arriving at the party. A couple were able to tell him what hand they last remembered holding in their poker game.

None of them remembered anything out of the ordinary, nor had they seen Vanessa or anyone unexpected. In the chaos that followed the elevator repair, no one thought to check for an empty space in the lot, and by the time they did, half the guests had disappeared into the night, and there was no way to sort it all out. No one remembered opening the outer door or hearing any alarm from the penthouse above.

On top of this, there was the matter of Stine, Johndrow’s head of security. The man had been ancient and quite skilled at his duties. Whoever had taken Vanessa had brushed past the gnomish wizard with no more thought than one gave a mosquito, and the result of that encounter had been astonishingly violent — and final. Stine’s people had worked over the body for twelve hours straight, but the effort was wasted. There was no chance of resuscitation, and despite intricate charms and incantations, they’d been unable to extract any information from the corpse.

Since Johndrow’s penthouse would not be fully secured for several days, the elders had opted to meet in Joel’s office. His quarters were not as ostentatious as Johndrow’s, but the security was tight. Joel occupied the seventeenth floor of a twenty story office building in downtown San Valencez, California. Below were the vaults and offices of the bank Joel had built and held full controlling interest in. The eighteenth floor was vacant, not accessible by public elevator or stair, and housed offices for security and other dealings that required separation from the financial institution below. The upper stories were apartments Joel leased to relations and associates. Each had its own private security and access. There was a helo pad on the roof.