Frost Moon s-1

by Anthony Francis

  Alex stared down at his wrist, at the magical tattoo that I'd just transferred to him by purely magical means. Then, wordlessly, he proffered it to Valentine, who stared at it, eyes bugged as wide as the lens of the camera recording his reaction.

  I leaned back in my chair, folded my arms, ostentatiously displaying my tattooing gun in my right hand. "Let's see you do that, Valentine."31. Time Is Running Out

  I swaggered (well, limped) out into Reception, my spirits on top of the world, to find Annesthesia looking straight at the door I'd exited, worried, talking to Kring/L in hushed tones.

  "I know, but they're filming,," she said. "I'm afraid if he calls again-"

  "Who called?" I asked.

  "Excuse me," Alex said, stepping past me to hold the door for Valentine's wheelchair. He sounded worried.

  "Is the old man all right? He's not taking this well?" I asked. Valentine slipped past me on the wheelchair, sound asleep, his breathing labored. As she passed, his nurse glared at me.

  "If you knew you were going to crush him," she said under her breath, "you could have waited until he was healthy."

  I stared after her wordlessly as she and Alex wheeled Valentine out. When he was gone I said quietly, to no one in particular, "If he was that sick someone should have said-"

  "Damn fool," the director said. "It's my fault, pushing him to get a few shots in the can in time for the early promos. If I'd known he was so weak-still, an excellent show, Miss Frost. Assuming Doctor Valentine recovers, if he can top what you did here today, I'll eat my camera."

  "They're my cameras," the lead cameraman said, dragging out a bag of equipment.

  "It's the principle of the thing," the director said, giving him a hand. Then, turning back to me, he added, "We'll be in touch about the followup interview, Miss Frost."

  And I was left there, feeling like the world's biggest heel. Somehow the thing that bothered me most was that Alex hadn't even bothered to say goodbye-not even a curt 'Thank you for your time, Miss Frost.' He must be really worried about Valentine, pissed at me for winning so arrogantly-or both.

  "Dakota," Kring/L said quietly.

  "What?" I said, refocusing on him and Anesthesia. "Who?"

  "Someone called Wulf," she said. Her face was terrified. "He was talking about a tattoo, but Dakota, I don't know, this guy sounds pretty fucking angry-"

  "Did he leave a number?" I said, pulling out my phone and texting Jinx. I felt a sting of embarrassment that I'd done a tattoo for prize money while Wulf was waiting out in the cold, and the excuse of waiting on the Marquis's approval was growing thin.

  "No," she said.

  "Well, star-sixty-nine the Marquis," I said, thumbing rapidly: «Good news on Wulfs flash?»

  "We can't do star-sixty-nine on this system," Annesthesia said.

  "Wait a minute, I think you can get the call log," Kring/L said, picking up the phone and jabbing at it. "You want the number-"

  "No, call him and put him on speaker," I said.

  Jinx responded: «still waiting 4 marquis»

  Damnit, how hard could this be? «Well, ping him,» I texted back. «Wulf is antsy.»

  The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Finally Kring/L picked up the receiver and dropped it to disconnect the call. "Nothing," he said.

  "Try again. He may be using a pay phone," I said, thumbing rapidly. «Tell him it's urgent – Wulf has the shakes.»

  «marquis!= speedy gonzalez» Jinx responded.

  "For the love," I said. What did '!=' even mean? «Speak English!»

  The phone began ringing, and ringing, and ringing. Nothing. Just as Kring/L was reaching for the receiver, the line picked up and a haggard voice said cautiously: "Yes?"

  "Rogue Unicorn Tattooing Studio," Annesthesia said cheerily. "Please hold for-"

  "Dakota Frost," I said, picking up the receiver. "Wulf? Is this Wulf?"

  There was only static on the end of the line. Then, a guarded: "Yes."

  "You called? Sorry, I was doing a tat-"

  "And what of mine?" he snarled.

  I swallowed. He was on edge, his voice shaking. "I'm still getting it researched-"

  "I am running out of time," he snapped. "I tire of these games, Dakota-"

  "Wulf," I said passionately, and it halted him. "I haven't known you for a long time… but do you think I would game you?"

  There was a long pause. "No, Dakota."

  "I am checking with the graphomancers literally as we speak," I said, texting «Hurry!» into my phone. "But I would never do anything to hurt you."

  "Then why won't you-"

  "You know the tattoo is Nazi, Wulf," I said-and Kring/L's eyes widened.

  "I know," he said, voice quiet.

  "So I have to know it's safe. I won't risk hurting you." Now both Annesthesia and Kring/L raised their eyebrows. "I can't just take it on faith. I have to know that it won't cause you harm."

  "Thank you, Dakota," he said. "I'd never hurt you either-but it's so hard to control myself, so close to the moon. The beast wants out. It wants me to change. It's so old now. So strong. So strong. I would never want to release that savage animal on you-"

  "Spleen is dead," I said. "Savaged, by an animal."

  There was even longer pause. "It wasn't me," he said. "It wasn't me-"

  "I didn't say it was," I said. I heard the panic in his voice and wished I couldn't empathize. But I'd felt that panic of everything closing in on me, of helplessness, of realizing I wasn't in control of anything. Still, I pushed him. I had to. "But if not you-"

  "My enemies," he snarled over the phone. "Damn them. Damn them!"

  "Wulf…" I said. "Who? Who are your enemies?"

  "The Hunters," he said. Even now, even with me believing he didn't kill Spleen, even knowing Philip believed that someone really had made trouble for him at the hospital, Wulf still came off like a conspiracy nut, with his assumed name and vaguely ascribed 'enemies.' "They've been looking so long, so long. They're afraid of me. They never attack me directly. They just make it… difficult. Or attack my friends. Always my friends. All my friends. So I won't let myself have any friends."

  My phone buzzed: «marquis sez: "safe, u impatient bitch"»

  I sighed in relief. Finally. «Thanks Jinx, and tell him thanks!»

  "I'm your friend, Wulf," I said, as convincingly as I could muster. "I just got word from my graphomancers, right now, that the tattoo is safe. And I'm going to do it for you-"

  "I can't let you do that," Wulf said. "Not if you're a friend." "But you said this was important. You need-" "That was before I knew Spleen had been murdered," Wulf said, and I could hear him pacing. Well, I wasn't sure I could actually hear someone pace, but his agitation came through loud and clear. "I won't let you become a target."

  "I'm not an easy target, Wulf," I said, reddening even as I said it. That was an obvious lie, the old bravado talking. "The evidence says otherwise," Wulf said.

  I had nothing to say to that, so after a moment I plowed ahead: "It will take me most of the afternoon to mix the pigments and make the needles. I can do the tattoo late tonight-"

  "Not at night," Wulf said. "Not after moon rise. It isn't safe for you then."

  "Tomorrow, then," I said. "Come to the Rogue-" "I can't be seen in public-"

  "I need a magic circle, Wulf," I said. "I cannot do it in the open. Anything could get in to the marks and you could end up ten times worse off than you are now."

  There was a long pause. "I will find you a circle, then, somewhere in the Underground," Wulf said. "And if I cannot find it before nightfall-"

  "The full moon is what, two nights away?" I said. "Not 'til Sunday. You have time-"

  Wulf laughed. "The moon hits zenith at two minutes to midnight tomorrow, Dakota, and it will be ninety-nine-point-six- percent full," he said bitterly. Then his words began to speed up, tumbling over one another. "Believe me, I know. That sliver of difference between full and not won't make a difference. I know the moon. The first moon of November. It's call
ed a 'Frost Moon', did you know that, Dakota Frost? The frost moon of November. The Frost Moon is always so strong. So strong. If I cannot find somewhere safe… somewhere safe… perhaps it is best I wait it out… wait out the Frost Moon… and hope." "Wulf-"

  His voice tightened up again, and he regained control of himself. "I will contact you tomorrow if I find a circle. Don't try to contact me-I can't use this pay phone again, it may be tapped. Be safe, Dakota."

  Click. And with that, he was gone.

  With me having no way to reach him, no way to find him. And time rapidly running out.

  I felt safe. But for him… I felt it was not safe at all.

  32. Back to Africa

  "The airport Houlihan's serves the best Bloody Marys," Savannah said, pushing her glass towards me. Reluctantly, I took a sip of the blood-red pulp and raised an eyebrow: the drink was strong and refreshingly tangy.

  "You're right," I said, passing the glass back to her. "Who knew?"

  Houlihan's was in the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport's atrium, a vast, round, indoor space filled with shops and restaurants. The atrium served as overflow for the staggering mess of the Atlanta security checkpoint, which fed all the passengers of the world's busiest airport through one measly row of metal detectors. The rest of Darkrose and Savannah's crew kept looking at the mammoth knot of passengers nervously, but Savannah was not perturbed; she just took another sip of her drink and leaned back in her chair thoughtfully.

  "Surely," she said, "we could leave her one guard."

  "No," Vickman said, scratching his beard. Darkrose's chief bodyguard always seemed to be scowling-and it was worse than normal today. "We can't. We're going into the lion's den here. We need everyone."

  "I don't think you're even trying to find a way to protect Dakota," Savannah said, eyes narrowing at him as they might at Darkrose, or Doug. Vickman wasn't fazed.

  "I'm not," he said sharply, meeting her eye to eye. "I don't answer to you, Saffron. I answer to Darkrose, and even then only as long as it doesn't interfere with keeping her alive. You may be modern and progressive, but South Africa is very definitely populated with Old World vampires. I need every hand I have to keep you safe, so everyone is going."

  Savannah looked at Darkrose, who just shrugged.

  "Good bodyguards are hard to find," she said. "I would never argue with a man who would take a bullet for me, much less a human willing to guard my daytime resting place rather than put a stake in me at the first opportunity. Vickman's word stands."

  I stared into my own drink. I knew how important this trip was to them. They were going to Johannesburg, where 'Saffron' would formally petition Darkrose's former master to release Darkrose, so she could join Saffron's court. It had taken a year of delicate negotiations and a huge payout by Delancaster to make this trip happen, but the end result would be the end of animosity between vampires on either side of the Atlantic and… and the beginning of a new life of happiness for my ex-girlfriend and her lover.

  I couldn't begrudge them going. But right at that moment, I was scared shitless for Wulf, by Wulf, and by whatever other forces lurked out there around him.

  "The full moon is just tomorrow night," I pleaded. "Can't you delay the trip for at least forty-eight hours?"

  "We could move the meet to the festival," Savannah said thoughtfully. "It's not too late to charter a direct flight to Sunday-"

  "Yes, it is," Darkrose snapped. "Delancaster is already in the air."

  "We've been planning for Darkrose to go back to the South African Court for eighteen months now," Vickman said. "This is a coordinated operation. We can't stop now. We especially can't leave your master hanging around in South Africa alone, no matter how good his own bodyguards are."

  Savannah scowled, but slowly nodded. Then she looked up at me.

  "So…" she asked. "You going to be OK?"

  I stared at my coffee glumly. What was the saying? Unexpected danger on my part didn't constitute an emergency on her part? Maybe that was unfair, but until last week Savannah and I hadn't even been speaking, and now here I was asking her to shitcan her trip out of the country, inconvenience her whole entourage, piss off her boss and maybe even screw up her future… just because someone was trying to kill me.

  But in all honesty, Savannah's protection hadn't helped me much so far, not even when she'd been standing in the same room as the shooter. Even this damn collar was just a warning to whoever decided to break me that Savannah would pick up the pieces-a deterrent, not an actual shield. Even if she stayed, I was still effectively on my own.

  "No, I'll be OK," I said, pulling at my collar. The metal was surprisingly unyielding and the rubber on its inside was damp with sweat. I hadn't realized I was that nervous. "Worst comes to worst, I can always call on the Oakdale Clan-"

  "Oakdale?" Vickman said. "Wasn't it one of their fangs that took a chunk out of you? Ain't that why you took the collar?"

  "You have it backwards," I said. "They're OK. In fact they punished Transomnia for hassling me. That's why he was pissed and took out his revenge on me."

  "Calaphase is on the lookout for him," Savannah said. "You know? Calaphase turned out all right."

  "That he did," Darkrose said.

  I stewed. At first I'd been infuriated when I'd been forced to take Savannah's protection, but now the thought of her and her coterie being gone for a week was… unsettling. Then a horrible thought hit me. "Wait a minute," I said. "If you're gone next week, how will you vote?"

  Darkrose looked confused; Vickman's mouth opened. Vote in the ordinary November elections, as if that aspect of the greater world mattered to their kind? But Savannah just shook her head. "Oh, Dakota," she said, eerily like Jinx. "What am I going to do with you?"

  Vickman's watch beeped. "It's time," he said, standing. He carried no suitcase, just a small shoulder bag. Then Darkrose's talldark-and-handsome human servant stood, managing the carry-ons. Finally the vampires rose: Savannah, in her simple red leather dress, goggles hanging about her throat, and Darkrose, in a heavy layered coat and cloak that was practically a burqua when she pulled the hood up.

  "Sorry to see you go," I said, standing awkwardly. I still wasn't used to how eerily coordinated the two of them were. Had Savannah and I been that way, once, or was it a vampire thing? "Surprised you don't have Doug pulling a pack."

  "Doug's a human grad student," Savannah said, "not my enthralled servant. He doesn't have time for all this gallivanting."

  "And you do?" I asked. "Are you ever going to get your Ph. D in vampirology?"

  "Some day," she said. "But not today."

  We stood there, staring at each other.

  "Oh, quit being a pain in my ass and give me a hug," Savannah said, stepping in and squeezing me about the waist so that all my air left with a whoosh. "Take care, Dakota."

  I waved awkwardly and watched them walk off. I expected to see Savannah look back and wave to me, but she was lost, chatting with Darkrose, who gave her a warm hug.

  I sighed, stared down at the table, at my rapidly cooling coffee. I swept it up and finished it in one forced gulp, then considered finishing the dregs of Savannah's Bloody Mary. What the hell. I wouldn't be driving for at least half an hour. I picked it up, finished it, staring at the grainy tomato juice draining off the bottom of the glass, then slammed it down and tossed a few more coins on top of the tip we'd left on the table. Then I picked up my cane and started limping back towards the MARTA station at the end of the airport terminal.

  On the way, I took stock. Rand was already working the angle on the shooter, but he was only good against mortal threats. If Transomnia attacked again, I was toast, but if I had some warning, I could go to Calaphase for help-that little shit was now a big embarrassment to him. If, at the werehouse, one of the Bear King's kindred got rowdy, I could count on Buck. I might even be able to ask for Buck's help if Wulf turned out to be behind the killings. If not. .. the full moon hit zenith in less than twenty-seven hours, and took to the sky in even
less. Even if I could get the tattoo prepared, I had no way of finding him.

  The train slid into the station, a long, smooth, well-lit machine, a pinnacle of modern technology. Then my eyes lit up.

  There was someone who knew where Wulf lived.

  "Philip," I said into my cell when he picked up. I sat down in one of the back-to-back seats near the middle of the car, and other passengers filed in, one taking the seat just behind me. "It's Dakota. What's that noise? Sounds like a Starbucks. Can I meet you?"

  "Not unless you're willing to ride that Vespa all the way to North Carolina," he said, voice raised slightly to overcome the sound of a blender in the background. "And 'that noise' is a helicopter I couldn't even admit existed until nine months ago."

  My skin grew cold. "What's happened?"

  "We got a lead, Dakota," he said, sounding not at all happy. "A pizza parlor employee was abducted a few hours ago in Charlotteheavily tattooed, snatched just after moonrise, so… we're riding to the rescue."

  "You go, Philip," I said softly. "Did the pizza guy have magical tattoos?"

  "Oh yeah, and get this-he had one done by Sumner," he said. "Similar to the one you saw. This is exactly what we've seen before, from the distance between attacks to the victim type down to the lead time to full moon. It fits the profile perfectly."

  He didn't say the cliche, but I could hear it in his voice. "Too perfectly?" I asked. "Jeez, Philip, you don't think it's some kind of trap?"

  "I want to think it's a distraction," Philip said, sounding angry and disgusted. "Damn goose chase, in fact. But there's a life on the line. I can't let another person die because I sat on a lead."

  My eyebrows raised. Another person? "You do what you have to, Philip," I said. But his reference kept bugging at me, and finally I asked, "Another person… do you mean Spleen?"

  "What did you call for, Dakota?" Philip asked sharply.

  "I need to find Wulf," I said, and I heard him hiss. "I've lost my contact, and he's not answering the number we have on him-"