Rippling tongues of flame coiled up the wall that had held the tag, starting about ten feet off the ground. Above was all concrete, all concrete and yet it still burned; below, where the tag had been, was a huge expanse of cracked, sooty darkness that had once been white.
“Where would Cinnamon be?” I said, holding my side.
“Damnedest thing,” Gettyson said, staring up at the flames creeping up the cinder blocks. The fire reflected eerily off his odd eyes, like two slits of flame. “The damnedest thing.”
“Gettyson! Where would-what the hell,” I said, staring at the remaining wall. They’d gone back over it since the night of the assault on Tully. “You whitewashed it? All of it?”
“Of course,” Gettyson said, glaring. “It damn near killed Tully-”
“You fool! ” I shouted. “ This is a magic fire! How are we gonna fight it now, if we can’t see or even touch the magic mark that’s generating the flames?”
Gettyson stared at the wall, and then he saw it too. “Oh, shit-”
“Get anyone not needed to fight the fire and comb the woods,” I said, glaring across the parking lot at the dark green Oakdale forest. “Somewhere out there, the prick that killed Revy is fanning these flames, and we gotta stop him. Short skater dude, white or maybe Latino, baggy clothes, big-ass hat-and if he’s wearing the same shit-ass grin, kick his teeth in for me.”
Gettyson grabbed a half-changed wolfling that passed. “You heard her,” he said. “Go!”
“And if he’s got any spray cans don’t touch them! ” I screamed after him. “They’re filled with magic pigment, and can blow up in your face, literally!”
“What does we do about the fire?” Gettyson said. “What does we do?”
“We get everyone out,” I said, holding up my burned arm. “We get everyone out, and then let it take the damn building. And we start with Cinnamon. Where is she? ”
He pointed at a low side building jutting out of the back of the werehouse. Its roof was in flames, and as we watched the whole front awning collapsed so that there was no way inside.
“Oh, hell no,” I said, staring, looking at a small barred window that was the only remaining exit. I half expected Cinnamon’s hand to reach out, to slap the glass-but more of the roof collapsed around it, barring even that entrance. “Tell me there’s another way in there.”
“Through the living quarters,” Calaphase said.
“Fischer already tried that,” Gettyson said. “The smoke will kill you-”
“Then we go this way,” Saffron said, stalking past us towards the flame.
My eyes followed her, but I could barely overcome my shock. “Saffron!”
“Where the hell did she pop up from?” Calaphase said.
“We were right there when you said there was a fire, and right behind you most of the drive in,” Saffron said, staring up at the building. “With all my power, did you really think I’d just sit by and let innocent people die, much less a child under a vampire queen’s protection?”
“Well,” Calaphase began-and then shut his mouth at her quick sidelong glance.
“My Lady Saffron,” Darkrose said, running up after her, white-lined cloak flying open, gleaming black catsuit reflecting flickering red as she flinched back from a sudden surge of flame. “ Saffry! Please, it is fire! Not even you-”
“Then stay back!” Saffron said, red dress whipping past her in the sudden wind. She looked around, scowled, then said, “Dakota, we’re getting weather effects like you reported at the Revenance kill-send the werekin out looking for the rogue magician.”
“I already have,” I said.
“Good. Calaphase, Darkrose, go make sure the other entrance is clear,” Saffron said, turning her back on us. “I don’t like the looks of this roof.”
Then with one hand she lifted the huge iron beam that had been part of the awning, tore it aside in a groaning shower of sparks, stepped forward with a savage blow that burst the metal door inward off its cinderblock frame. Then she disappeared inside.
“Oh, hell, she’s as powerful as they say she is,” Calaphase said.
“Why is she so strong?” I said, bewildered.
“She’s almost completely vegetarian,” Darkrose said. “Her vampire and human flesh exist in near perfect symbiosis. But it doesn’t make her fireproof.”
Then the flames picked up, started punching through the roof of the low outbuilding. Moments later, the whole structure collapsed, leaving half of one wall holding up smoking embers and the glowing bones of the roof.
I stared at the others. “You heard her,” I said. “Let’s go clear the path.”
But flames licked at the big roll-up door that had been the entrance to the werehouse, thwarting our attempts to get inside. Before we came up with another plan, Saffron strode out of the flames like the Terminator, holding Cinnamon half-changed in her arms. Saffron’s flaring red dress caught fire as she stepped through the threshold, but she ignored it and stomped straight up to me, holding Cinnamon. Gratefully, I took Cinnamon in my arms and held her tight.
Saffron patted her dress out idly, as I kissed Cinnamon’s half-feline face and tried not to wince at the embers that were burning my skin. My little girl was half-conscious, but breathing normally. She was safe. “Thank you,” I said.
“Do not mention it,” Saffron snapped. Her mouth pursed. “As for her collar-”
“Please,” I said, eyes jerking down to Cinnamon’s throat, to her silver collar. I couldn’t imagine a clearer demonstration of the value of Saffron’s protection. My eyes returned to Saffron, pleading. “She’s no part of whatever I have done to-”
“Don’t mention it,” Saffron repeated, more softly, then turned back towards the flames.
“No,” Darkrose said, seizing Saffron’s bare arm firmly in her glove. “You’ll die.”
“Please, dear Rose,” Saffron said, extracting her arm. “There are more to save.”
“Saffry, no,” Darkrose said, shaking her head. “There aren’t. It’s too late.”
And then we were all pushed back as a new surge of fire blossomed out of the werehouse. The flames grew more intense, burning white, streaming out of every orifice, screaming under the pressure like steam escaping a teakettle-or tortured creatures screaming in pain.
Then the main roof collapsed inward on itself and a huge backwash sprayed out of the door like a river of fire-then was abruptly sucked back with a rattling gasp, snuffing out all the flames at once. In its wake, a roiling black cloud erupted through the ruined roof.
“I’m no fireman,” I said, “but that wasn’t natural. ”
“Agreed,” Calaphase said. There was little left of the fire but embers. A few tongues of flame were springing up again, but intermittently, almost like the fire’s heart was no longer in it. “The rush of fresh air should have made it worse, but it’s like-”
“It’s like she said,” Gettyson said heavily. “It was a magic fire.”
We pulled back to my loaner car, an impromptu island in the parking lot for a group of survivors. According to Gettyson, there were a few still missing, but…
“We were lucky,” Gettyson said. “Damn lucky. Full moon proper was at eight this morning. Half the kin are gone, and most of the rest were out on an early hunt.”
“Not that lucky-we lost the werehouse,” I said. “Damnit, Gettyson, you knew covering it with paint didn’t work, you knew I needed to take pictures, and you went and painted it anyway! Not that I know we could have stopped it if we could have seen it-”
“I thought if the paint dried, maybe… ” Gettyson said. “He sure showed me.”
Saffron, Darkrose and Calaphase made one last sweep for survivors and returned empty handed. “Do you have any further need of me?” Saffron asked, as Gettyson and I tended to Cinnamon on the hood of my loaner car.
“No, my Lady Saffron,” Gettyson said. “On behalf of the Bear King, our thanks.”
Saffron nodded, then glanced at Cinnamon. She sighed, seemed abou
t to say something, then looked up at me and Calaphase and stomped off. Darkrose bowed slightly, eyes lingering on me in apology, then followed her mistress back to their Mercedes, which quickly squealed off.
“Mom?” Cinnamon said weakly, coughing. “Mom, why are you here?” Then her eyes widened. “Oh my God! What-what happened?”
“A fire, little Cinnamon,” Gettyson said, tousling her hair. “Don’t worry. Your little wolf cub is safe. I gots Tully out looking for the punk that set this, and when we finds him… ”
“You’ll bring that little punk back alive,” I said, patting down Cinnamon’s brow with a wet-wipe. “You’ll bring him back alive. He is not working alone, and I want to question him.”
Gettyson started to retort, then looked at my eyes. Remembered what ignoring me had already cost us. He looked away, then back at Cinnamon as I cradled her. “All right,” he said, relaxing a little. “We does it your way. You earned it. We knows where your loyalties lie.”
Then the blinding white light of a spotlight pinned us all where we were, and we looked up to see a knot of smoke pushed away by a black helicopter, descending in silence.
“This is the D-E-I!” a loudspeaker screeched. “Everyone stay where you are!”
Attack on the Werehouse
Werekin scattered like cockroaches. Two more helicopters appeared-sleek as fish, black as night, quieter than vacuum cleaners: Shadowhawks, the stealth helicopters favored by the DEI. And then the loudspeaker blared again: “This is the D-E-I! Stay where you are!”
“Oh thank God,” I said, staring up into the light. I knew the voice. “That’s Philip!”
“Hell,” Calaphase said. “We need to get out of here.”
“Why?” I said. “We need the help, and we’ve done nothing wrong-”
“ You maybe,” Gettyson spat, tearing off his jacket. “But the werekin here just got outed!”
“But… ” I said. “But I never gave away the werehouse’s location.”
“You idiot! You let them track you! ” Gettyson shouted, throwing his jacket at me.
The moment he said it, I knew he was right. Stunned, I watched him tear off into the distance as DEI agents slid down from two of the helicopters on wires. Several followed him, and a team of four converged upon us as the Shadowhawks swung round and settled towards the ground. They had their guns out. They had their guns out. I had to stop this.
“Let me handle this,” Calaphase said, starting forward. “I-”
“No,” I said sharply. “Stay here. Cop doesn’t mix well with vamp. You too, honey, you just lie here,” I said, patting Cinnamon’s head. “Let me deal with the police.”
“Mom?” she asked, then sat up sharply. “ Mom! ”
“Hey, hey,” I cried, waving my arms at the flak-jacketed agents. “Thank God you’re here, but what’s with the ordinance? We need fire fighters, not a fire fight.”
“On the ground!” the lead agent shouted, a big, tough black man with close-trimmed hair and a no-nonsense demeanor-but his eyes were a bit wild. “On the ground now!”
I was appalled, but I didn’t let him stop me. He was a cop, and, fundamentally, we were on the same side. All I had to do was keep everyone talking until we were all calmed down.
“Whoa, gentlemen. I’m the official representative of the Little-of the Oakdale vampire clan,” I said, spreading my hands. “We provide security on this site under the umbrella of the Vampire Consulates of Atlanta, and as you can see we’ve got a situation here-”
“Shut it!” the agent shouted-enraged, buzz cut, jaaaar head. “On the ground.”
“Where the hell do you think you are, federal land?” I said. “Maybe you didn’t notice zip-lining down from Shamu the Flying Leafblower there, but it’s posted-you’re trespassing. If you ain’t here to help, I sure as hell hope you have a no-knock warrant-”
“What the hell’s this?” a second DEI agent said, training his shotgun on me. It was a Benelli, the kind Philip used. “A street lawyer?”
“More importantly, what the hell’s that? ” a third agent said, pointing behind me. “It’s like she’s half tiger or something.”
“Oh, shit,” the second one said. “We’ve got a lyke changing here.”
Oh, hell no. “What you’ve got is more than you can handle,” I said, raising my hands towards them and sliding one foot back, “unless you cough up a warrant-”
“Shut it!” the first agent said, as the others tried to flank me. “All right, street lawyer, back to law school. Myers, cuff her. Johann, Briggs, secure the lyke before she changes.”
“ Spirit of justice, shield my stand,” I said-and shot both hands out wide.
My vines unfolded, and in shock the agent fired. The blast scattered off my growing shield, stung my skin- what were they using? silver? salt? a mixture? -and knocked me back. I was shocked by the noise and impact and my face flushed in terror-but there was no way the agents could see that through the green glow of my vines shining on their astonished faces.
I settled into a solid karate stance, extending my vines out into a thicket to bar their path to my child and friends. As I settled and my vines thickened, they glowed brighter, their green overpowering the red light of the flames-and the officers backed up. Apparently skindancing was rare enough they simply weren’t prepared, and just looked dumbfounded.
“Settle down, gentlemen,” I said, trying not to let my shaking show. Jesus Christ. I just got shot in the chest. But these men had been coming after my child, and if I’d learned anything from Taido, it was this: don’t initiate violence, but once your guard’s up, never let it down. “Until I see a warrant, you aren’t badges, you’re just trespassers on private property.”
“Down, Dakota,” said Special Agent Philip Davidson, striding briskly forward from the now-landed copter, shotgun over his shoulders. He wore a flak jacket over one of his thousand-dollar suits, his brown hair looked black in the dying light of the flames, and his goatee made him look like a villain-but he was smiling. Part of me was glad to see him; the rest wanted to punch him for letting his officers get this far out of hand. “And stand down, gentlemen.”
“This ain’t your op, Davidson,” the first officer cracked. “And Namura said-”
“ I’m the ranking officer,” Philip said, “and I’ll deal with the Director. Stand down.”
“Philip,” I said, easing down, furling my vines-slowly. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Dakota, you should know better than to interfere with Federal agents. I should arrest you on general principles.” But he stopped next to the agent who’d fired, radiating the calm disapproval he was so good at. “I said there would be civilians on scene. Did you just discharge your weapon point-blank onto my unarmed girlfriend while her hands were empty?”
“But there’s a lyke-and she was-” the agent began. “Uh, no, well, uh, sir-”
“Make that ‘uh, yes sir’-he did shoot little old unarmed me,” I said, not giving Philip ‘girlfriend’ after the ‘valuable resource’ crack-but folding my arms so he wouldn’t see my hands tremble. “And yes, my hands were indeed up-”
“But she was resisting,” the agent said, as Philip just stared at him.
“Standing with my hands out pleading for calm?” I said, glaring. “Look, maybe I was being hardnosed; but that’s my daughter back there. You didn’t leave me any choice.”
“Only you, Dakota, could take a shotgun blast to the chest and then apologize for being hardnosed,” Philip said, amazed, stepping right up to me, hands touching a hole in my vest.
“Holy shit,” I murmured; my vines had protected me, but not my clothes. I deflated a little. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Lucky woman is the phrase I’d use,” Philip said. “After your ‘emotional experience’ you had toned your bravado down; I take it the volume’s back up?”
“I wish you hadn’t brought that up,” I said. ‘Emotional experience’ was a bit of Fed jargon for getting the shit kicked out of you-in my case, by
the vampire Transomnia. It didn’t take much for me to see his cold red eyes, to feel my fingers in those garden clippers, to remember that I could tattoo now only because he’d let me go. “I was trying to forget.”
“I was trying to make you remember,” Philip said, finger picking at a hole in my corset. “You’ve got to think things through. No agent will take chances arresting a werekin-at the first sign of resistance they’ll shoot first and sort it out later. What if you’d been a half second slower with your shield? You’d be dead and probably would everyone else on your side.”
“What was I supposed to do?” I said. “Lie down and hope?”
“That’s the law,” Philip said firmly. “Anything else is resisting arrest-”
“The phrase I’d use is defending my daughter,” I said hotly. “Philip, I was raised on the force and I reject the idea cops can’t listen to reason. Why didn’t you prep the agents?”
“I tried, but I can’t be everywhere watching over every agent’s shoulder-and what if I hadn’t been here at all?” He reached out and briefly squeezed my shaking hand. “You can’t count on me to always ride to your rescue, no matter how much I’d like to.”
“I know,” I said. I was still steamed, but I still tingled at the brief brush of his fingers. Then Calaphase shifted behind me uncomfortably-and Philip caught it.
“That your new beau?” he asked, leaning slightly so he could stare around my shoulder. Philip was shorter than most, though it didn’t show, given how he carried himself. “The fang? ”
“If you mean the blond vampire,” I said, frowning, “we’ve had one half -date, and if you feel jealous, you should have seen the look on Saffron’s face when she ran into us.”
Philip looked up sharply, saw the missing collar. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “Though I could see how she would see it as a breach of trust.”
“Breach of trust?” I said. “ You had me tailed-”
“I’d never have you tailed,” Philip said, glancing over his shoulder, “and you have to know sending an assault unit into a werehouse filled with children was not my idea.”
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