Blood Rock (42 page)

The reactions of the guards seemed to confirm my perception of their reluctance. In a side room, three surrounded me while the first man searched me thoroughly, but not a one of them drew a gun. That was encouraging. That they were all packing, not so much.

“Damn, she’s taller than she looked in the video,” one of the new guards said.

“And throws a hell of a punch, too,” said another, bearded guard, glaring at me—and I recognized him as the tough bruiser who’d attacked me first on my last trip to Blood Rock. He looked considerably different cleaned up and in a suit. “For a girl, that is.”

The new guard chuckled, and I glared. “Would you like a demonstration?”

“Settle down,” the first guard said, as he finished patting me down.

“I told you, I’m not armed,” I said. “Not so much as a toothpick.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, pulling out an airport-style scanning wand. It made a
wzzowing
noise as he ran it over my jacket, and he pulled my cell phone out of my pocket.

“Do
not
turn that on,” I said. “I’m on the run. The police can track you with that.”

His mouth quirked up. “You really think they’re tracking you?”

“Certain,” I said. “My source in the DEI called to warn me.”

“
You
have a
source
in the DEI?” he said, laughing.

“Ex-boyfriend,” I said.

His face hardened. “Ah,” he said. “Good contact to have.”

The bearded guard cleared his throat. “This is nuts,” he said. “We should just—”

“We should just what?” the first guard said sharply.

“Eat right, and practice clean living,” I said.

“Unbelievable,” the first guard said, motioning with his hand.

I kept the same smile plastered on my face that I’d had since walking in the door. They had kicked the shit out of me earlier. But I was here to ask for help, so I sat on my anger.

They led me down a winding stairway, then down a well-appointed corridor with many doors on each side. And then I was back in the throne room I’d seen before: dark curtains, elegant couches, the same metal chair in a lowered area of flagstones, and the same steps rising to a medieval style throne … and behind it, the Sanctuary Stone—wailing.

This
was magic I understood: a single resonator inscribed with graphomantic runes, charged up by the intersection of three ley lines, and activated by blood magic. The great disc of stone was humming, glowing red, brightening visibly as I approached. The guards clearly could see it—the first one actually looked shocked—but clearly only
I
had trouble looking at it. I wondered if this is what vampires felt looking at crosses.

And then I realized the Stone
did
work on the same principle as crosses and vampires: it was feeding my own hostility back to me. But I didn’t need to be hostile to Transomnia, didn’t
want
to be hostile to him. I was coming to him for a favor, but after all he and his had done, it was hard to let go of the anger.

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
child.
”

“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.”

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.”