Vintage Soul by David Niall Wilson

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.
    â€œWe’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 stepped into the alley beyond the club and stopped.   Vein and his followers stood waiting.   The moon was rising, and there was no one else in sight.
    â€œHey fellas ,” he said, taking a step closer and smiling as he lifted the green crystal over his head, “did you miss me?”

EIGHT
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    The narrow alley afforded little room to move.   Vein stood dead center between Donovan and the streets beyond.   The others formed two small phalanxes, ranks of two, on either side of the phone booth, blocking both ends of the alley.   One end was, or at least appeared to be, a dead end, but apparently Vein was in no mood to take chances.   It was likely he knew more about Donovan than he was letting on, though he didn’t seem concerned.
    â€œAlways the funny man,” Vein said.   “We’ll see if you can keep that smile in place.   You are going to tell me what you know, or we’ll make you wish you’d seen the light.   Am I clear?”
    â€œOh, I understood you the first time,” Donovan replied.   “You know, inside the club, when the bouncers showed up and you all ran like whipped puppies?   I was hired to do a job by your elders, and I intend to finish that job as contracted.   You can get out of my way and let me proceed, or I will proceed through, across, and despite of you, and your elders will be informed of your stupidity.   It’s your call…Vein.”
    Maybe it was the thought of a living, breathing man, regardless of how old or powerful, giving him orders.    Maybe it was the calm delivery, which Donovan had perfected over many years and much worse situations.   Probably, Donovan reflected, it was the sarcastic inflection of his voice when he pronounced the affectatious name.   Whatever it was, the vampires lunged.
    Donovan raised his hand, swung the green pendant in a slow arc, and chanted softly.   Greenish light, matching the hue of the crystal, appeared in the air, trailing after the circling chain.   The light crystallized, and the first two attackers met that barrier head on.   Sparks flew, and they cried out, stumbling back.   Donovan started toward the head of the alley.   He lowered the crystal in front of him like a shield and the shimmering barrier of light preceded him as