“See Mr. DeChance to the garage,” Johndrow said. “Have the driver take him wherever he’d like to go.”
“Just outside will be fine,” Donovan said, suddenly very weary, and ready to be home. “I can get where I am going more quickly on my own.”
They watched as he turned away and followed the short, gnarled woman into the hall. When they were out of site, his guide turned.
“I thought you might like the last piece of the puzzle,” she said softly.
Donovan frowned, wondering what she meant. She took three steps down the hall and stopped, and then turned seven times. A shimmering pattern emerged on the wall and Donovan gasped in surprise.
“We didn’t know it was there,” she explained. It was apparently built in without Mr. Johndrow’s knowledge — and whoever did it sold that information to Ezzel. He was out of here and gone before Johndrow even reached the hall. It leads to the garage below, among other places. We’ve sealed it properly, and now we control access.”
Donovan shook his head in disbelief. He’d thought Ezzel must have used some amazingly powerful enchantment to invade this place, and the answer was now as obvious as it was simple. Someone had been planning to rob Johndrow all along. The penthouse had never been fully secure.
The small woman stepped aside, and Donovan entered the opening, which shimmered closed behind him. He stepped out of the familiar alley across from his brownstone, and smiled wearily. The portal closed silently behind him and he crossed to his door, the flask rolling gently over his hip, the promise of it burning like fire.
EPILOGUE
When Donovan entered his apartment, he noticed several things. There was a fire burning. Cleo was curled up on his desk, eying the old crow, Asmodeus, who was perched on one of the upper bookshelves and glaring back down at the cat, and Amethyst sat in his armchair waiting for him. She was reading a book, which she put aside with a smile.
He stepped closer to her, and she stood. As she did so, she let her arms drop, and the silk robe she wore slid over her shoulders and dropped to the chair. She approached him, long red hair tumbling free over her soft skin and her eyes sparkling. There were crystals glittering in her hair and as he stared at them he somehow lost track of seconds, and she was in his arms, pressing her warm lips to his. He blinked and drew her close.
“Wait…” he said softly.
She pulled back, pouting, and he turned to the bar along the wall. He drew out the small flask and placed it reverently on the bar, and then he chose two clear crystal snifters from the rack. He unwound the gold wire carefully and pulled it free of the wax seal, which he sliced evenly with the tip of one fingernail. Then, very slowly and carefully, he slid the cork from the top of the flask.
Amethyst watched him in silence. He poured the liquid equally into the two large snifters. He laid the empty flask aside, turned, and offered her one glass. She smiled at him almost quizzically, then accepted it and sniffed.
“My god,” she whispered. “What is this?”
“Cognac,” he replied, taking a sip and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. He turned her slowly until she was pointed at the door to his bedroom. “Cognac and vintage soul.”
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Document creation date: 20.03.2012
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Vintage soul dc-2 Page 22
