Scara lowered her hand, ever so slightly.
“If you are really convinced of that,” she said, “you must have some proof.”
“I have proof, a copy of the tagger’s blackbook,” I said, counting on Tully to find me one. “A dossier of all the tags, my notes, and how I deduced there were three taggers but only one master. Even proof that I took out the Streetscribe. I can take your men to the cavern.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Once I have seen proof with my own eyes, I will consider the matter closed, and order my soldiers to dynamite the cavern to eliminate any remaining-”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I said firmly. “You will have to send trusted human witnesses, and if I catch a single stick of dynamite on a one of them I’m going to shove it up their asses.”
“But,” Iadimus said, “if we cannot see-”
“This is for your protection,” I said tightly. “No vampire, vampire wannabe, or anyone who even smells of vampire is to approach the inner sanctum of vampire-draining magic.”
“Agreed,” the lich said. He seemed amused, even muttering asides to Vladimir as I spoke. “But what about the suggestion to dynamite it? Even you seem to think it is still a threat.”
“Before we make any irrevocable decisions about the cavern,” I said, relaxing the Dragon slightly, “we’re going to collect enough evidence to tell us what we’re left with. If you can’t find an Edgeworld crew with skills to photograph it properly, we use my contacts with the DEI.”
“We will not allow you to bring in outsiders,” the lich said slowly.
“I’m not done,” I said, flexing the Dragon’s wings, “and I do not want to have to do this again next week having destroyed our best evidence. The tags were part of a genocide engine. Designed to exterminate vampires, using human and werekin blood to balance the magic.”
“Is that even possible?” Iadimus asked, looking at his magicians.
“Oh, yes,” the man said. He had gone pale. “Obvious, really, now that she said it.”
Both Iadimus and Scara seemed to draw back, and I continued, “Bad enough, but the magic was corrupted, a misreading of forbidden Incan magic. The collected intentions of the victims were slowly incarnating a demon.”
“A… demon?” Vladimir said.
“Demon, alien, small-g god, what have you,” I said. “My scientists from Georgia Tech assure me this magic uses advanced concepts not likely to be hidden lore or backwoods graphomancy-it’s more likely to come from another world or dimension.”
“Your… scientists,” the lich said.
“When I said I’ve been studying it for weeks, I meant I’d been studying it for weeks,” I said hotly. “So we don’t throw away our best chance to figure out what the hell it was and what it was trying to do before my scientists and your magicians have a chance to look at it.”
“Agreed,” the lich said, and Scara hissed, but reluctantly. Iadimus nodded.
“Agreed, then,” I said. “And if we do decide that the cave is still a threat and that dynamiting it will help, we find out where the fuck it is before we blow it up-I have no desire to topple the IBM tower and kill fifty thousand people in Midtown.”
“I do not care how many humans have to die to protect vampires,” Scara said.
“You do care, because this is the twenty-first fucking century and the DEI will find you,” I said. “And when they do, they’ll find that I’ve found you first and pulled your fucking heart out. I did not save your life just so you could go on a killing spree.”
Scara’s lips parted in a vicious snarl. “You did not save my life-”
“Be silent,” Iadimus said. He looked over at the lich. “We were more stable at five-”
“Now now, not in front of our guests,” the lich said, staring at me, wrinkled dead face smiling and amused. “You make a good point, Lady Frost,” he said, voice velvety smooth, “but why, if you have destroyed the tag and the tagger, do you not think this is over?”
“Because only tags connected to the network will have been destroyed,” I said, pointing at Demophage’s body, which had spilled out of its coffin and yet still smoldered with glowing rainbow wisps. “Any other tags may still be active, and some of them have components of the spell. Worse, the tagger’s designs are self-replicating, and self-elaborating.”
“No,” the lich hissed, recoiling from the magic flowing off Demophage’s corpse. “No, we cannot have this again. We must destroy them-”
“ If you can,” I said. “But each and every one of them is like a Venus’ Flytrap for vampires. You’re going to need help: knowledge of the tagger’s designs, and even photocopies of the tagger’s blackbook, are now spreading through Atlanta’s graffiti community.”
Scara snarled. “We will not permit it! We’ll track them down and destroy them.”
“What? What did I just say about killing sprees, and now you’re talking about sending vampires out against magicians who can use them as a power source? No,” I said… and my idea took full shape. Very firmly, I said, “ I forbid it.”
“You… forbid? ” the lich said incredulously.
“I forbid it,” I snapped, flapping the Dragon’s wings. “If you could have dealt with this you would have done so. You had to call me . You may rule the vamps, the Bear King the weres, and Buckhead the forest, but where the use of magic is concerned I’m in charge of Atlanta.”
The lich just smiled and nodded. “A bold claim,” he said. “I am prepared to accept it. But you do not know what a mess you are stepping into.”
One of Iadimus’ magicians cleared his throat. “My Lord… the Wizarding Guild will have something to say about that.”
“Then let them step up and deal with the problem,” I said, glaring at him. I’d never even heard of the Wizarding Guild before this. “Dozens of people died. My friends died. Thousands of people were put at risk by this, including any of the members of the Guild who live inside the Perimeter. If they don’t like how I’m handling it, let them come to me.”
The lich laughed, a delicious, vicious sound.
“And how will you handle it?” Iadimus said. “Kill all the taggers?”
“Sounds like a great idea,” I said. “We should also stake all the vamps, and put a silver bullet in all the weres. And why don’t we burn all the witches while we’re at it?”
Iadimus sighed. “A puerile analogy,” he said, “but you’ve made your point.”
“Not yet,” I said. “The police have been trying to stamp out graffiti for years, and short of putting cameras on every street corner like in London, they’ve not been able to do it, even though they weren’t fighting people who can turn into animals and disappear.”
“The police failed only because nothing was at stake when it was mere spray painting,” Scara said dismissively. “We will succeed if we have the will to do what needs to be done.”
“Aren’t you listening? Half the taggers are weres. Their werekin friends will turn on you, just because you’re vamps. You’ll start a war-and I won’t have that.”
“ You won’t have-” Scara began, then froze when Vladimir stepped up to my side, turned around and growled at her, oh so softly. Saffron abruptly left Darkrose’s side and stepped to the other side of me, folding her arms.
“Lords and Ladies of the Gentry, let me be clear,” I said. “A lot of good people died recently-vamps, weres, your human servants, my good friends. But not all of them died at the hands of the tagger-many died as a direct result of your actions, Lady Scara.”
She tensed. “I will not be held to account for defending my people.”
“Nor do I intend to,” I said. “That’s over now. This was a terrible, dangerous situation in which many people acted out of fear-including you, Lady Scara. You murdered many good men and women at the Consulate, but I am prepared to forgive and forget-this one time.”
“What are you doing, Dakota?” Saffron muttered.
“This is not the Wild West,” I said. “This is not th
e Stone Age. This is the twenty-first fucking century, and tribal warfare stops, now. From now on, if you have a grievance, you bring it to the Consulate-open warfare between factions in the Edgeworld of Atlanta is forbidden.”
Scara snorted. “And if I do not play along?”
“If anyone breaks the truce,” I said, “then I will take them down.”
“And I’ll help,” Saffron said.
“As will I,” Vladimir said.
“As will I, ” the lich said, smiling.
Scara and Iadimus both turned on him, stunned. Then Iadimus snarled.
“Oh, you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” he said. “Damn you.”
“If you have a grievance, take it up with the Consulate,” the lich cackled. “If the Lady Frost agrees, of course. Unless… she wants to be judge and jury, in addition to executioner?”
“What? No, of course we should have a, a grievance procedure,” I said, thinking fast. The vampires already had courts, didn’t they? “We, ah, could begin with the Consulates-”
“No!” Scara said, her voice tinged with despair.
“Finally,” Lord Delancaster said, relaxing into his throne, looking, for the first time, as if he truly belonged there. “Play acting no longer.”
I stared at him blankly, then looked at Saffron. “What… what did I just do?”
“The Consulates,” the lich said turning back to his throne, “are my project, Dakota Frost. An independent power structure to which even members of the Gentry may be held accountable. But there has not been enough… independent power to enforce this idea… until now.”
“But… aren’t you the big man on campus?” I said, confused and alarmed. “Didn’t you always have the power to make him your lieutenant?”
“No!” Scara said. “No! You can’t! I forbid it-”
“You cannot forbid anything any longer,” Iadimus said. “Your allies on the Gentry are dead, Delancaster’s protege has replaced them-and your behavior has become embarrassingly erratic.” He turned to Delancaster with an ironic smile. “I will support this plan, my Lord.”
“You-you can’t do this,” Scara snarled. “To put him in charge- you can’t trust him! ”
“He remains a puppet, but it has been a century and a half, my dear,” the lich said, sitting on the throne next to Delancaster. “And his protege is one of us now. The Lady Saffron leads the Consulates, I will support her, and together… we will support the Lady Frost. ”
Never waste a good crisis, indeed. “Uh… thank you for your support, Sir Leopold.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, staring at me. “How will you deal with the taggers?”
“Well, we have Tully, trained by the tagger,” I said, thinking as quickly as I could, “and my contacts in Atlanta’s human graffiti community are already working to defuse the tagger’s tags. My team will teach other taggers these methods, and spread the word: eliminate the bad tags when you find them, and make no new tags designed to prey on the life of another.”
“And if they do-”
“Then you catch them, you give them to me, and I give them to Philip,” I said. “And let the men-in-black deal with getting enough evidence to make it stick.”
“That’s nonsense,” Scara said. “We are vampires. The taggers are werekin. Neither of us can go to the police. We can only enforce your rules through violence, which you forbid.”
“If only you had someone with recognized authority,” I said. The lich’s piranha grin was growing. “Someone to give me an appointment, and the power to make it stick.”
“But… but I can’t do that,” Saffron said. “I can’t make appointments.”
“No you can’t,” I said. “Not at the city level.”
Saffron glanced at me. Then she followed my gaze to the throne.. . to Lord Delancaster, Vampire Master of Georgia, in his mind, on TV-and in the eyes of the State.
“If only,” I said, “Lord Delancaster really had the power you’ve pretended to give him.”
“No! You can’t!” Scara said to the lich-like a scared little child. “You, you promised -”
“Lady Frost,” Iadimus said quietly, and now I flinched back from the sudden icy cold and the unexpected hate in his pale eyes. “You have no idea what you have just done.”
“But I-” I began, then stopped. He had sounded like he supported my quickly hatching plan, but now he was angry -and Scara was terrified. I really didn’t have any idea.
“Things are not as simple as they seem,” Iadimus said, glaring at me. But his eyes didn’t blaze at me for long; he quickly turned to the lich, and the wave of frost intensified. “You know that, Sir Leopold. Do you really think you can maneuver us like little children?”
“I think I have,” the lich said.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “Think about what I’m asking. This is in your best interests. I’m offering you a chance to get my help on tap. I’m trying to get us to work together.”
“But-but-” Scara began, eyes fixed on Delancaster like a fearful cat on a challenger, afraid to look away lest the newcomer pounce. But she broke the glance, shook off her fear, and glared at me, eyes glowing cold red. “But what if we do not want to work with you?”
I stared at her, eyes tightening into slits. I felt her aura expand, felt her anger burning against my face, flooding past my skin. Then my vision began to double, as the head of the Dragon-which had never fully retracted-began to rise over my head again. I snarled as the feedback loop begin again-the pain was excruciating-and Scara backed up.
“Then I kill you where you stand,” I said through clenched teeth, and Scara nodded.
“Enough, enough,” the lich said, raising his hand for silence. “You have made your point, Dakota Frost-and even so, you will never know how close to death you came. Your designs have played into mine. .. quite nicely, I must admit. Still, I rarely tolerate such insolence in my presence. A thousand years ago I would have had your tongue cut from your mouth at the first insult. Five hundred years ago, we would have all fallen on you at the first sign of such magic in the hands of someone we do not control.
“But the world has changed, and while your diplomacy leaves much to be desired, your conduct is honorable, your power considerable-and your logic… plausible. Magic has been practiced in secret since recorded memory for good reason, but now that Pandora’s box has been opened, we will need more than just hope to fight all the things fools like you have loosed upon the world. And since sometimes the best way to fight fire is with fire… ”
And then he looked over at Lord Delancaster. The two eyed each other warily, and then Delancaster nodded heavily in agreement. He closed his eyes and raised one finger to his forehead, lips moving. Then he put his hand down and spoke clearly, like he was on TV.
“With the unprecedented spate of accidents involving magical graffiti in the recent weeks, it has become clear to me that greater regulation of and education in the use of magic is needed. Therefore, I am convening a Magical Security Council, including representatives of vampire, werekin and other Edgeworld communities, and I plan to petition the State of Georgia for official recognition of and empowerment of this body.
“Based on her work resolving this crisis, I appoint Dakota Frost the Council’s chair.”
The Hell Outta Dodge
The Magical Security Council. Those words hung in the air. My ploy had worked: we would replace fangfights at the OK Corral with something more reasoned, more modern.
And I’d be heading up it all. Oh, shit.
“Well… is that it?” Saffron asked, voice ringing with unexpected authority. “Are we all now in agreement? Are we now done?”
“Of course, my Lady Saffron,” the lich said.
“Thank you,” she responded. “Then I am taking my people. All of them. Now. ”
With Vladimir guarding our backs, Saffron, Darkrose, Delancaster and I picked our way out of the wrecked hall. The freed captives were gathering in the foyer: Delancaster’s servants,
Darkrose’s bodyguards-and Nyissa’s driver.
Then Iadimus carried Nyissa out to us, and Saffron flinched like she’d been slapped. Her gaze quickly bounced between me and Nyissa, face mottling with rage, and I realized she’d detected the link Nyissa had forged between us. But then, just as quickly, Saffron relaxed.
“The Lady Nyissa stepped up to defend the Lady Dakota,” Saffron said, stepping forward, gently touching the cowl of Nyissa’s robe, “and this was the thanks she got.”
Iadimus stiffened, then let Nyissa down gently into Saffron’s extended arms.
“My most profuse apologies, Lady Saffron,” he said. “It will not happen again.”
We practically mummified our vamps with curtains, then rushed them out to the limo. Even Saffron, covered in a heavy coat, hissed in pain as sun glinted off parked cars; but even after having been starved and forced to drink blood, she did not catch on fire.
We retreated to the Four Seasons Hotel, where Saffron booked a linked set of suites that made my hotel look as shabby as my cardboard box under the bridge. While a servant tucked in the nearly comatose vampires and Saffron called a doctor for Nyissa, I called Cinnamon.
“Mom,” she said, voice brimming with relief. “Are you safe?”
“I am,” I said, and explained what happened. “And are you?”
“Yes,” she said. “We’re with Lord Buckhead in the Underground. “
“Good,” I said. “Cinnamon, honey… Vladimir’s coming to take you back to school. After that… you have to go back and stay with the Palmotti’s.”
Cinnamon was speechless for a moment. “But… Mom-”
“Cinnamon… right now, you can’t stay with me. I’m about to be arrested.”
“No!” she said. “Mom, fuck, you saved the whole city.”
“The police don’t know that,” I said, “and if they find you with me, they’ll take you away. Is that what you want? Or do you want to stay in the Underground, be on the run forever?”
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