Blood Rock (50 page)

“I’m
not
her paramour,” I said, now offended, “much less her slayer.”

“
Someone
has assaulted the Gentry,” the vampire hissed, “and who stands to gain more than the vampire queen? And who stands at the queen’s right hand? An illicit peddler of magic meant to be hidden, a meddler in the ways of werewolves—and a slayer of wizards!”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” I muttered.

“Why would you want to? Any vampire could only dream of having such a formidable human troubleshooter. And yet … ” the lich said, turning to glance at the vampires on the dais, “Velasquez tells me you bear
other
tokens … one of a House I have never heard of, and one of clan that is destroyed. Can you not make up your mind where your loyalties lie, Dakota Frost?”

“I … ” I began. “I really
don’t
know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t you?” He stepped aside, extending his claw towards the coffin of flame. My heart spasmed—he had mocked Saffron, his men had destroyed her Consulate: maybe he’d killed her. The flames seemed to surge as I stepped forward. Cautiously, I edged towards the coffin.

A vampire lay within the black enameled casket, his body half consumed by slow swirls of wildstyle flames. His burning head was tilted away from me, and half his face was eaten by the graffiti’d flames, but I still recognized him: it was Demophage.

“Thus ends the Oakdale Clan,” the lich said. “You were also their troubleshooter, were you not? I do not think I would hire you based on
this
reference.”

I took another step forward and felt the shimmer of mana. I looked down to see the edge of a clumsily marked magic circle barring my path. It was surprising it even worked: the magicians who built that ham-handed circle could never have inked the graffiti.

I looked over at the lich, then back down at Demophage. This made no sense. Then I realized the massive misshapen shape beyond the coffin was a huge section of cinderblock wall, covered with shimmering graffiti contained by a clumsy magic circle. As the tag pulsed, I could feel surges of magic leaking through the shoddy magic barrier containing it, even stronger than the sporadic leaks dribbling out from the nearer, shoddier barrier around the coffin.

The vamps didn’t control the graffiti—they were studying it too. These were
samples
.

“Oh,
crap,
” I said, horrified as I realized how shitty the magic circles were. So much for the ancient knowledge theory—these guys were
yahoos!
In fact, the tags were within an inch of breaking free and killing us all. “This is terrible!”

“Why, yes, I think it is,” the vampire lord said, stepping around the coffin to smile at me from behind the flames; beyond him the two vampires began to approach, while, Cinnamon and Delancaster remained frozen on their thrones. “But I am curious. Why do
you
think it so?”

“I thought you controlled the graffiti,” I said, “but
you’re
more in the dark than
I
am!”

The vampire lord’s smile deepened—and then he laughed.

“I can see at first glance how you might think that, given how we have enshrined it,” the lich said, gesturing at the freestanding wall, “but you understand the situation.
Excellent.
”

My mouth quirked. I couldn’t help it.

“You watch the Simpsons?” I asked. “You’d make a great Monty Burns.”

The vampire’s smile vanished, with the slightest hint of befuddlement. “As insolent as your werekin brat,” he said. “But only human … and human insolence can be burned away.”

And then the white points of light in his eyes
flared
, expanding to eat the world.

“Jeez! Stop that!” I said, flinching. I wished I’d taken Nyissa up on her offer to learn how to fend off vampires. The religious symbols on my knuckles were tingling as the lich expanded his aura, but I didn’t feel the fire I’d felt when facing Saffron’s rage. This vampire had control and an agenda: simple crosses would not thwart him. “Velasquez, do you have any Advil?”

Velasquez made a choking sound. Then the vampire hissed, and Velasquez snapped an order. “Sir,” he said, as a minion darted off, “I think that the Lady Frost was making a joke.”

“I am aware of that,” the vampire lord said icily. “In a moment she will need it.”

I swallowed.

“Why are you humoring her?” asked a strong woman’s voice. Heels clicked closer from my right, and I glanced cautiously aside to see a black ballgown, a broad, matronly African-American face, and two blazing points of eyes beneath ponytailed salt-and-pepper black hair.
Now
the crosses on my fingers felt like they were
burning
, and I jammed my hands into my pockets and glanced away as she said, “Why have you brought this human before us as an Envoy? She is free game, fairly caught as part of pruning the branch of Delancaster—”

“Fairly caught as part of an assault on the
Consulate,
” a cultured male voice said. This new vampire stepped from the shadows behind one of the killing cages. Tall, blond, regal, in a textured grey business suit with a banded-collar shirt, he moved towards us in velvet silence, a physical chill the only sign of his power. “Never mind your vendetta against Delancaster—it was useful for us to have a public lever. Now you have destroyed that.”

“My little trap caught the paramour, did it not?” the black vampire said, and I swallowed. Had she really destroyed the Consulate, killed Saffron, just to get to me? “Stunned a
formidable
witch enough for Velasquez to scoop her up like so much cat litter, with no loss of life.”

“No loss of
our
lives,” the new vampire said, pale blue eyes flashing.

The evil Oprah hissed at the evil James Bond while the lich just cackled, a dry croak that would have done the Emperor of the Sith proud. Oh, God. This wasn’t good. My collar was gone,
Saffron
was gone, and I stood between three vamps: power, fire, and ice personified.

I swayed there in the nexus of their magic; then a tanned white hand appeared, holding two little pills. I stared at it a moment, then looked back to see Velasquez. I was glad he had taken me seriously, and the lich had proved right.

“Thank you,” I said, and cautiously slipped a hand out to reach for the Advil.

The black vampire struck Velasquez’s hand and sent the pills flying. “You mock us!”

“Such treatment of our guests,” the lich said, “does not become you, Lady Scara.”

“You are worse than Iadimus,” Scara snarled.
Oh, crap.
She was the enforcer Calaphase had been afraid of, and her idea of a ‘little trap’ was blowing up a whole building. “
I
caught this criminal. Why have you called a full council and paraded her before us as a guest?”

“Because those are the rules, my dear Lady Scara,” the lich said, extending a claw towards my chest. “She bears the token of the House Beyond Sleep.”

“True, but it is a House we do not recognize, headed by a Lord we have barely heard of,” said the blond ice vampire I presumed was Iadimus. “The Lady Scara has a point, Sir Leopold. Why
did
you have Velasquez bring her before us, rather than question her in private?”

“And do
not
say as an envoy,” Scara said, with a rough laugh that was little different than a snarl. “Ridiculous. Free game, caught fairly, is still free game, even with the brand of an upstart vampire unwilling to face us. She did
not
come here on a mission, she has no protector—”

“I
am
on a mission,” I said hotly, “and I
have
a protector, the Lady Nyissa—”

Then it all happened so quickly.

Scara leapt upon me, blindingly fast. My hand popped up in a block, agonizingly slow. Her teeth and blazing eyes surged upon me just as my upraised hand struck her chest. Magic flared with a clap of thunder. She screamed and batted me away, spinning me round. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Iadimus, looming close, then flinching in turn from my flailing, blazing hand—and then my eyes refocused to see Velasquez, standing before me, drawing his gun.

I had no time to think. I just gasped and thought
shield.
All the mana built up from my sudden twist and from the feedback from Scara poured into my tattoos. And then Velasquez opened fire, the bullet ricocheting off my shield, knocking me back into someone’s arms.

I sagged back as Velasquez blinked in shock. Red blood started seeping out of his expensive white banded shirt, his mouth opened—and then he toppled forward.

The teeth of a T-Rex loomed large in my peripheral vision, and I realized I had fallen into the arms of the lich, who had actually caught me and now leaned over my shoulder, snarling, as his best man bled out upon the ground. “No!” he snarled, and tossed me away.

I stumbled towards Scara, who was staggering backwards, patting a burn mark on her chest with one hand, something glittering held in the other. She looked up and snarled, and without thinking I surged forward, her swinging claws sliding off my upraised arm, my knee popping up to shield me and then stomping down on her instep as my other arm shot out and landed all my religious tats under her chin.

With a satisfying flash and clap, Scara fell backwards like a log of wood. The glittering thing tumbled out of her hand—Transomnia’s token, complete with its chain. When she’d leapt upon me, she must have ripped it off—but I didn’t have time to think about it. Two crossbow-armed guards surged off the dais, and I slid backwards, feet dancing sashaying J-steps, thinking
shield, shield, shield!
With a twang the guards loosed their bolts, one bouncing off my chest, the other skimming my temple, staggering me backwards towards the graffiti’d wall.

I stumbled, my magic-filled skin recoiled from the magic circle barrier and I caught myself leaning against thin air. The guards moved in, I slid back to my feet sinuously, building up power, re-establishing my shield—but I had to get this jacket off!

I glanced aside, making sure Iadimus wasn’t about to pounce upon me. But he was not moving: he just stood there like a pillar, staring down at the lich, who cradled Velasquez in his arms, holding him like a child. Then the lich let him fall, and turned his blazing eyes on me.

In less than a blink the lich was on me, seizing my throat, lifting me bodily, snarling. I gagged. I choked. Then my vines erupted from my skin and tore my jacket apart. I shot my hand out, and my vines whipped out across the chest of the vampire and sank into his flesh.

“You killed one of our best men,” he snarled. “I’ll tear out your throat!”

“You killed one of my oldest friends!” I said. “I’ll tear out your heart!”

The lich’s eyes burned on me, furious—then curious—then amused. “Tear out
my
heart because Scara killed … who? Your little vampire queen, perhaps?”

“But,” I said. When Iadimus said no loss of our lives, I’d thought he meant the Gentry, not vamps in general. “But … prune the house … Scara blew up her Consulate.”

“Oh, Dakota Frost, you fool,” the lich laughed. “Thinking you can fight with us like we were common street thugs. We are not pugilists; we are strategists.
Uncover the cages.
”

The guards at the winches, who had not moved an inch during the battle, now stepped forwards. The golden tassels were pulled; the red shrouds fell. And inside the killing cages I saw Darkrose … and Saffron. Darkrose looked all right behind the bars, just worn and tired; but Saffron looked like … like she had become a vampire.

Her ruddy skin had gone pale, her curvy cheeks had become drawn, and one hand gripped the cage, bony and white. Only her flaming hair had held its color, but had an odd luminous cast to it that made it seem unreal. She raised her head to look at me, eyes pinpricks of light.

“You’re starving her,” I said, choking it off as the lich tightened his grip.

“Yes,” he said, “and we will be killing her, unless you release me.”

“You’ll kill her anyway,” I said, gripping his wrist. It was like a bar of iron, and I concentrated, letting out my breath, murmuring words of strength to protect my throat.

“You don’t know that,” he said, tightening his grip, choking me again. “You do know we’ll kill her—or her companion, or perhaps your daughter—
gak!
”

My vines tightened about his chest, and I had the distinct feeling that they had penetrated that chest, that they were curling about his heart. I found the twisting knot rolling underneath the tendrils of my magic and squeezed, and he snarled and choked harder.

“You—so much as—break my daughter’s iPod and I’ll be most irate.”