How had Saffron defused that cross, with something like a breathing exercise? What had Darren and Rory said about breathing? The bridge between your conscious and unconscious? I drew in a breath, let it out. Let it go. The Stone began to calm. I felt for the thread of anger, released it. The throbbing glow faded; the sound receded, as did my headache.
“That’s better, now,” I said, stepping forward to stand before the throne.
“Holy living fuck,” the bearded guard said. “Did she just turn off our early warning system by breathing?”
“Something like that,” I said, smiling. I was forcing the smile, but I held onto it, forced myself to try to believe it. They still looked wary, so to head them off before they decided to club me or something, I said, “Relax. It only works if I mean you no harm.”
Now that I could think, I glanced around: rich curtains, muted lighting, and comfortable chaise lounges, each with a view of the pit where I stood. The chamber shifted in my eyes from the throne room of a citadel of vampires to a performance space in a well-appointed private dungeon. Of course, I knew that in Saffron’s case, those were one and the same.
All this wasn’t the work of Transomnia. It couldn’t have been; it was being built while he was ostensibly the thrall of Mirabilus, and playing flunky of Calaphase. That meant that, like the maître d’ had implied, technically, this was Nyissa’s pad.
Transomnia wasn’t setting up a criminal empire in the backwoods of Georgia. He was laying low from the police at Nyissa’s bondage-and-discipline bed-and-breakfast.
“Weren’t you just here?” a female voice purred. “Didn’t you pledge not to come back?”
I turned, and as expected, saw Nyissa, the deliciously pale, green-eyed, purple haired vampire who had threatened me before, leaning against the throne, twirling the metal poker she carried as if it was a riding crop. Can you say DOM-in-a-trix? “I had no-one else to turn to.”
“You need our help?” came a male voice. The goateed vampire I had seen last time now stepped out from behind the other side of the throne. He didn’t quite fit the B&D B&B theme, but then he might be one of Transomnia’s imports rather than Nyissa’s co-dom. “Really?”
“Not precisely,” I said. “I need to speak to Arcturus, my old master. So I’m here to beg permission to return to Blood Rock.”
“Here to beg? Wonderful,” Transomnia said just behind me. I flinched as he stepped around me and climbed the steps to the throne, where the Stone was glowing again. “Absolutely wonderful. Please, have a seat in the chair. But where’s your suit, Dakota Frost?”
“She did look good in it,” Nyissa purred, glancing curiously at the Stone.
“My … suit?” I said, calming my breath. Then I remembered the awful getup they’d stuck me in when they’d first brought me here. I started to hit back with a smart remark, then realized the truth was even better. “Probably burned to a crisp when my car exploded.”
And then I pulled off my helmet. The vampires and thralls immediately snarled, and one of the guards reached for me. “Oh, relax, everybody,” I said, setting the helmet on the floor beside me. “I can’t hear in that thing. You don’t like it, shoot me. I’m not here to fight.”
“Such insolence,” the goateed vamp said. “We do not permit that here—”
“And yet she speaks the truth,” Nyissa said, surprised, seemingly at herself. “I don’t think she could even stand before the Stone if she meant us harm.”
“Whether she means us harm or not, she cannot speak to us this way.”
“Enough,” Transomnia said firmly. “Everyone, shut up, unless I owe you my life.”
All the other vamps and thralls froze, uncertain, and Transomnia said, even more firmly, “That means, everyone except Dakota Frost. Please, sit down. How did you find us?”
“Google Maps,” I said, sitting. There were choked laughs, and I shook my head. “You were threatened by my visit—and you had the Stone. That meant you were close to the center of Blood Rock. This room, on the other hand, is large, and underground, and perhaps new. Most of Blood Rock is small, single-storied, and falling apart. Really, it wasn’t that hard.”
“Do the police know?” he said.
“I didn’t tell them where you are,” I said, raising my hand. “But you made me late for a court appointment, and the judge made me make a statement to the police.”
“Damnit,” Transomnia hissed. “Frost, we had a deal—”
“They know what happened to me,” I said, raising my hand, “but not what I deduced from it. If they haven’t found you already, they’re probably not looking. Tracking down the crazy story of a murder suspect is probably the last thing on the police’s agenda.”
“A murder suspect?” Transomnia said. “You?”
“Valentine,” I said.
“Valentine!” Nyissa hissed. “How could they accuse you of murdering that sick fuck?”
“No good deed goes unpunished,” Transomnia said, frowning. “There is no way they could know what really happened in that room. I took the security tapes.”
“Of course you did. So it’s my word against a dead man,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “A national hero—look, could you please turn that off? It’s giving me a headache.”
“Turn … off?” Transomnia said, baffled—then he looked back at the Stone, which was humming and glowing again. “But if you do not mean us harm, then why—”
“If you think I’m not pissed off at being charged for murder, you don’t know me.”
Transomnia laughed. “I don’t think I know you,” he said, “but do it.”
“My Lord,” Nyissa said, protesting.
“Oh, come on, unbanish me already. The spell takes, like, a minute. You can always rebanish me later,” I said. Nyissa glanced at Transomnia, who nodded. Then she tromped up the stairs and began waving her hand over the Stone. Almost immediately, my head felt better. “If you please,” I said, “I need to mention some names you’ve asked me not to.”
Transomnia’s eyes gleamed red. “Go on,” he said.
“Calaphase is dead,” I said, and Transomnia’s mouth quirked up into a smile, then faded into a frown. “Murdered by magic graffiti, along with Revenance and one or maybe two more vampires of the Oakdale Clan. The Gentry has reported—oh, heck, I’ve lost count … ”
Transomnia’s face grew carefully neutral as I continued. Nyissa finished her spell and the Stone faded into quiet silence, and yet still I kept going through the list of attacks. Nyissa herself pretended to scowl as she descended the steps towards me, but I could see she was spooked.
“The werehouse itself was destroyed by magic graffiti, as was the Candlestick Apartment complex,” I said, racking my brain for any other incidents. “Oh, that last one was part of an attack on me personally, the second in as many days—”
“And yet none of this has touched the House Beyond Sleep, or any of the other clans or houses outside the Perimeter,” Transomnia said thoughtfully. “Why have you brought all this to my doorstep, Dakota Frost? To spread the curse to us?”
“No,” I said. “Look, my friends are dying. I’ve got to stop this, but I have no leads. The police know nothing. Despite weeks of hunting, I’ve learned next to nothing. I need to speak to someone who has real hidden knowledge. I need to speak to Arcturus.”
“And I’ve forbidden you to come to Blood Rock,” Transomnia said slowly, “so you came to me … to ask for safe passage?”
“For permission, like a good little girl,” Nyissa laughed, sitting down on the chair arm so her thigh closed the cuff on my wrist with a sudden clank. “How delightfully obsequious.”
“Unbelievable,” Transomnia said, as Nyissa stretched her poker out and closed the cuff over my other wrist. “You could have tried to sneak past us, ran straight to Arcturus—”
“Oh, that worked so well last time,” I said, clanking my wrists experimentally. The cuffs were not locked—but then she glared, and I sat still. “Your little stunt nearly cost me my chil
d.”
“What?” Transomnia asked sharply. “You don’t mean … Stray?”
“No—yes, oh, never mind, I’ll explain later,” I said. “The point is, you’re being used. Zinaga, Arcturus’ current apprentice, wants him to herself. So she ratted me to you, you made me miss my appointment with him, and that got me on Arcturus’ shit list—”
“Back up. Ratted you out … to us?” Transomnia said, raising an eyebrow—then raising his eyes to Nyissa, who shifted on the arm of the chair. “And again, you did not think to tell me your contact with the skindancers was the master’s current apprentice?”
“When you sent me here, you ordered me to establish relationships with the locals,” Nyissa said. “And we have both survived by keeping our associates compartmentalized.”
“True enough. So, Dakota Frost,” Transomnia said, eyes returning to me, “what can you offer me in exchange for permission to visit your old master?”
“I didn’t come here just to ask for permission,” I said, and confusion spread among the vampires. “I want a favor too—and I can’t offer you anything worth what I’m asking.”
Transomnia scowled, and his eyes glowed red. “What favor? Out with it.”
“Return the Sanctuary Stone,” I said, “and make peace with the tattooed in Blood Rock.”
Deal with the Devil
Transomnia sat there stunned for a moment. “You want me to what?”
“Rescind the ban on skindancers and their ink in Blood Rock,” I said, watching his eyes glow brighter and his lip curl into a snarl. “And return the Sanctuary Stone—”
“What? No. No!” Nyissa said. “The Stone is mine.”
“Return it to the Stonegrinders,” I repeated, “and let Arcturus know I’m behind it.”
I flinched back as the other vampires snarled at me and Transomnia just glared. It was easier not to look him in the eyes. He was a vampire, after all. It wasn’t safe to look in his eyes. It was easier to look away, to admit that I feared his gaze, that he had me cowed, damn it.
So I looked up and held his gaze, and immediately his eyes blazed. I started to flinch as I felt his aura expanding, challenging my shields; but that’s as far as it went: my hackles didn’t rise; my knuckles didn’t tingle. Apparently the scary vampire mojo could go off like a reflex.
“I’m sorry, Dakota, I didn’t quite catch that,” Transomnia said, fangs fully visible. “It sounded like you just asked me to roll over before a magician of the brand that enslaved me, and open my gates to his legions. Perhaps I misheard you. Care to run it by me again?”
“All right,” I said. “Arcturus is deadly serious about his shit list. I’m in Coventry or something, which basically means I’m exiled until he feels he’s pissed on me enough. Even with your permission, I need to get back into his good graces, or he’ll just turn me away.”
Transomnia stared at me, then laughed. “And so he will turn you away.”
“With our permission, of course,” Nyissa said, sweetly with an edge of venom.
“Zinaga will turn me away,” I said, uncomfortable with her so close, “and then promptly rat me out. If she finds out you’ve given your permission, she’ll just turn to Steyn, and I’ll be lucky if he just arrests me. Steyn’s more of a piece of work than you guys are. I need to bring the both of them something which will make them take me back into their good graces.”
“I will not return the Sanctuary Stone,” Nyissa growled in my ear, and I leaned away from her, best I could in the chair. “This is the Stone’s home. I built this place for it.
“I thought … the Stonegrinder’s Grove was its home,” I said, still leaning away.
“The Grove!” Nyissa said, leaning back in disgust. “It’s three miles from the Rock! It barely works there! I didn’t design it for that distance! I only gave it to them for safekeeping.”
“But clearly, Dakota didn’t know that, because the Stonegrinders did not tell her,” Transomnia said. “Remember the trouble we had retrieving it from the Grove.”
“Rescuing it, you mean,” Nyissa hissed. “Treated my work like their birthright—”
“I’m sorry!” I said, trying to raise my hands, only to have them clank against the cuffs. “I wouldn’t have asked had I known it was yours. My request for a treaty still stands, though.”
The vampires were silent for a minute, and then Gregor laughed. “Very well,” he said. “What does that sound like, my Lord? A four-pint request?”
“No,” Nyissa said. Gregor was amused, but she was still angry. “No amount of blood, no matter how sweet, is worth shifting the balance of power.”
“And yet we must consider the suggestion, once heard,” Transomnia said.
“Why?” Gregor said, followed a half second later by, “ … my Lord?”
“This is a vampire court,” Transomnia said, steepling his fingers. “There are protocols to be observed when supplicants petition us. All right, Dakota Frost. You had to know we wouldn’t take this well. I assume you had a good reason for asking. Let’s hear your argument.”
“People are dying,” I said. “Vampires are dying—”
“Yes, yes, and you’re the only one who is fighting it, or can stop it?” Nyissa said, and I looked sidelong at her. “You bring us this ridiculous story of remote attacks on other vampires by graffiti, of all things, and then ask us to turn our backs on the real threat right here.”
“And yet, we had heard of the disturbing attacks on other vampires,” Transomnia said pleasantly. “Now why is it, Nyissa, that when you argue with her I feel like taking her side—her my worst enemy, and you my most loyal servant?”
While she froze, I leapt in. “No, my master is the last best hope to stop it. He’s a real old-school magician with hidden knowledge, and we need to get him involved. So I need you to do him a favor on my behalf, something spectacular, so he’ll forget I … I blew him off.”
Nyissa looked at me with sharp amusement. “To make him forget you stripped your mastermark, you mean,” she said, eyes narrowing at me. “According to Zinaga, Arcturus considers it a personal insult. Our favor would need to be spectacular indeed.”
“Honoring her request would be spectacular … and in the apprentice’s interests as well,” Transomnia mused. “It would make it unlikely she would rat you out to the authorities.”
“Can we not order the apprentice to silence?” Gregor asked.
“Threats to the apprentice will not endear us to the master,” Nyissa said, “and are not likely to be effective. Zinaga’s powers are growing.”
“Look, this … plague affects all of us,” I said. “And, yes, I am effectively the only one fighting it. The police are tripping over themselves because they can’t involve magicians in the investigation. The Consulate can’t help because they’re vampires, and this stuff will eat them alive. Even you can’t help—directly. But you can help me try.”
Transomnia frowned. “Assuming I wanted to help you fight this plague,” he said, “why should I allow an army of my enemies to flourish in my stronghold?”
“They aren’t your enemies. You, personally, have a bad history with skindancers,” I said. “So you banned skindancing magic here. But this town is known for its tattooing, and by acting like gangsters, you’ve pissed off a townful of people, half of whom have magical powers.”
“What does that matter?” Gregor said. “We have the Sanctuary Stone—”
“It’s a burglar alarm, not a defense system,” I said. “If Nyissa built it, she knows.”
“We … we could still take them,” Nyissa said, resentful and almost … pouting?
“I know you’re vampires,” I said, trying to remain patient, trying to remain calm with her on the arm of my chair. “You’re tough, experienced and powerful. You might win the battle, but if it came to that, you’d almost certainly lose the war—you’d have to flee Blood Rock.”
“Well, aren’t you the peacemaker,” Transomnia said, still smiling pleasantly, but more mocking. “Shooting
for a secretary of state position in the new administration?” The vampires laughed at me, and I said nothing. “Do you have any suggestions, Dakota Frost?”
“Start with an olive branch to Arcturus,” I said. “I need him in this fight, and more importantly, we all need to be on the same side. Send him the message that you’re laying off the ban on exposed tattoos, that you’re willing to talk. He’s respected in Blood Rock.”
“Would you like Nyissa to deliver this olive branch for you?” Transomnia said.
“Me?” Nyissa said, standing. “My Lord, what have I done to deserve—”
“Nyissa,” Transomnia said. His voice was strangely … gentle, almost like he was dancing around a difficult subject. “You may not be powerful, but your personality is strong. No one will mistake delivering a message for weakness. I want the townspeople to start thinking of you as an authority figure, and not just the pretty madam of the brothel.”
“I was right. This is a brothel, a B&D B&B,” I said. Were all the vampires like this? Little things Calaphase had said started to add up—all the dates he went on, how cagey he was about his source of income. Even some things Saffron said now sounded suspect; did she have a stable of human clients as well? “For what it’s worth … I’m sorry you have to live this way.”
“Don’t be,” Transomnia said. “Hiding here beats being a lackey for a serial killer.”
“Or running a protection racket,” Nyissa said.
“Like the Oakdale Clan was running with the werehouse,” I said.
“No,” Transomnia said. “We served a valuable function, keeping the werekin hidden. I picked the Clan … I picked Calaphase because he was an honorable man.”
“Yes, he was,” I said, eyes tearing up a little. “You made a good choice.”
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