“Well, well, well, Dakota Frost,” he said, voice careful and controlled. “I did not recognize you with that hood wrapping your head. What did you want to say?”
“I said, what the fuck, Trans? We had a deal!”
“ Did we?” Transomnia said-and seized my right hand. My eyes bugged, but I stayed frozen: he could kill me in an instant with that sword, or, hell, just with one backhand. “Ah yes, I remember. Our first deal, more of a covenant, really: never cross me again, or I’ll leave you with bloody stumps. Do you remember that, Dakota Frost?”
My knees began trembling, and I nodded.
“To think,” he said, raising my hand to inspect it, “one little squeeze a few months ago could have destroyed this fine, precision instrument, and you would never have tattooed again.” My rubber-gloved fingers now began trembling in his grip, and I felt my teeth grinding against each other, with a sharp cracking pain on the right side where Transomnia had kicked out two of my molars. “That would have been a loss to the world, don’t you think?”
“Y-yes,” I said, absolutely terrified.
He raised my hand to his lips and kissed my two fingers. “Once again,” he said, raising his voice to address the hall, “see forbearance brings more than small favors. I spared Dakota Frost’s hand, and she, in turn, helped me free myself from my master.”
He released my hand and turned away, ascending the steps to his throne, behind which the Sanctuary Stone that was supposed to be protecting me was hanging like a useless gong.
“Following that, I recall, we made a new deal,” he said, throwing himself down abruptly on the throne, one leg over the side, hand resting on the sword like a cane. I appreciated the increased distance between us, but somehow that deliberately casual pose made me feel even less safe. “That we would leave each other the hell alone. Why are you here, Dakota Frost?”
“Why am I here?” I said, stunned. “ You kidnapped me and brought me here.”
“Do not dissemble,” Transomnia hissed, shifting forward abruptly, steepling both hands over the hilt of his sword, hair rising up above him like a frozen bonfire. “Why have you pursued me to Blood Rock, Dakota Frost?”
“Why have I pursued you? ” I said-then laughed. He actually thought I had tracked him here for some reason? “Not everything is about you, Trans.”
Something immensely strong struck my cheek with a loud slap, and I staggered sideways. Transomnia had not moved, and I looked to my left, straight into the blazing green eyes of the cruelly delicious female vampire. Eyes watering, I flinched away, coming face to face with the other, goateed vamp. But I didn’t have time to think through the horror of standing defenseless between two hostile vampires, because the female vamp reached out and seized my neck.
“Do not speak to my master with such familiarity,” she hissed. She jerked me close, and I could hear the strands of her hair brush against the suit, could feel her breath against my ear, echoing hollowly against the slick, icky rubber. “His name is Lord Transomnia-”
“Nyissa,” Transomnia said. “Don’t. And do not make me say it a third time.”
Both the vampire at my throat and I jerked at the voice. It was quiet, even, and filled with deadly menace. Nyissa let me go, and I straightened, looking up at Transomnia, calm face tilted towards me, eyes following Nyissa away. Gone was the pasty wannabe spouting threats, gone was the sick whiny serial-killer taunts. All the masks were gone: this was a vampire lord.
“How old are you?” I whispered.
Transomnia’s glowing red eyes settled on me again, and I looked away. “Not as old as you think,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “But that is the advantage of turning early. I can look as young as I want.” Then the humor vanished. “Why are you here, Dakota?”
“To see Arcturus, my skindancing master,” I said. “To ask how to fight magic graffiti.”
“Magic graffiti?” he laughed, leaning back onto his throne before the Stone in that oh-so comfortable, almost mocking slouch. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Dakota.”
“It’s incredibly strong. It killed Revenance and tried to kill Tully.”
“Revenance was a vampire,” Transomnia said, smiling down at me. “And you hate vampires. Why would you come all the way out here to avenge one of us?”
“He was nice to me and Cinnamon,” I said defensively. “Besides, Calaphase-”
Transomnia raised a hand. “Do not say that name.”
Calaphase had kicked Transomnia out of the Oakdale Clan-and forced him back into the arms of the serial killer who had controlled him. I swallowed. “Well… he… and Sav-the Lady Saffron… wanted me to investigate Revenance’s death.”
“My my my, so many vampires in your life, and you’re doing so much for them,” Transomnia said. “Surely you’re not developing a taste for vampires? I’m sure any of the vampires here would love to get a taste of you and that hot skindancer blood.”
“Yes, indeed,” Nyissa purred.
“My leads had run dry,” I said, swallowing. “My master is the next logical person I could turn to. I didn’t know you’d moved into town!”
“ I was here first,” Nyissa said, oddly petulant. “Before that Chilean jerk took over.”
“But all of the House Beyond Sleep stand with you now, and Blood Rock is yours again,” Transomnia said. Strange that he’d said the city was hers, not his. “Odd that Arcturus didn’t warn you the balance of power had changed, Dakota.”
My brow furrowed. That was odd. I could see Zinaga not warning me; she hated my guts. But why had Arcturus not bothered to tell me a new crop of vampires had rolled into Blood Rock-or that Nyissa was here all along? Why hadn’t I seen her? Was I that oblivious?
Then I remembered what Arcturus was really like, and grimaced.
“You’re giving him a wide berth, aren’t you?” I asked. Transomnia scowled, and I smiled grimly. “He can be a scary piece of work, but as long as you leave him be, he leaves you be. You could throw my bleeding body onto his doorstep and he’d just yell at me for being late.”
“Why, that sounds like a capital idea,” Nyissa purred.
I glanced at her: goth pale, painfully pretty, green eyes blazing beneath a mop of violet hair, a flaring coat/dress that exposed what looked like riding pants and incongruous suede boots, and a long, narrow stick in her hands, which at first I took to be a riding crop-and then realized was a metal poker used to stir a fire. Something about that last accessory made me swallow.
“D-don’t you think it might be a bit obvious to off me the day I roll into town?”
“Off you?” Nyissa said, strutting around me, a cold runway model twirling her poker. “Why, there is no need to be so… indiscriminate. Bleeding and drained, yes, but not dead: a suitable warning. And what danger would you be? You don’t even know where you are.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You picked me up as soon as I rolled into town. Blood Rock is pretty damn small-and you’ve got the Stone. You can’t hide your location by driving me around for a few hours. I assure you I’ll be able to find it later on Google Maps.”
“Maybe we should blind her,” the goateed vamp guard said.
Oh, Jesus, oh, Jesus! I thought losing my fingers was the worst that could happen to me. “I-I know a blind witch,” I said, blood rising in fear even as I said it. On the surface Jinx had adapted to losing her sight, but a part of her was still crushed. “We’ll still find you-”
“Are you sure?” Nyissa said, staring at the end of her poker. She looked past it at me, eyes glowing like emeralds beneath that mop of violet hair. “Why don’t we see-”
“Enough of that talk,” Transomnia said. “ No-one is going to hurt the Lady Frost.”
“You give her a title? ” Nyissa said. “Even the Maid of Little Five Points rescinded-”
“Silence,” Transomnia said firmly. “Lady Frost, this city is now my domain. We tolerate Arcturus and his current apprentices, but new skindancers are not welcome without my leave and t
heir ink may not be shown. You, in particular, are not welcome anywhere I choose to walk.”
His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Nyissa… banish her.”
Nyissa perked up suddenly, flashing me a vicious grin. Then she ascended the steps to the throne, then stepped behind it, leaning against the Sanctuary Stone lasciviously. She waved a hand over it, eyes closed-then found what she was looking for, and touched the Stone.
At first, there was nothing, as she drew her fingers in a circle around one of the stained roses etched into the Stone. Somehow, I knew, that was the rose where my blood was pressed into the rock. As she moved her hand, slowly, a high-pitched tone began to build, the annoying hum of a finger playing a wineglass. It built up until my ears were ringing-but no one else seemed to notice. The noise didn’t stop even when Nyissa took her hand away.
“So, Dakota Frost, I repeat the question,” Transomnia said, swimming in my vision as my head began to ache, “Will you come back to Blood Rock?”
“No way, no how,” I said, swaying on my feet.
“Then go home, Dakota Frost,” Transomnia said. “Go home with your tail between your legs, and do not let me catch you back in Blood Rock again.”
“I will know,” Nyissa said, smiling back at the Stone, “the moment you do.”
Transomnia smiled as well. “That suit looks good on you. You can keep it,” he said, and flicked his hand in dismissal.
Hands grabbed at me, another dark cloth was shoved in my face, then nothingness.
A Good First Impression
I awoke in the trunk of the Prius, drooling on the newly laid carpeting, still wearing that stinking rubber suit. I groaned, and then heard something whoosh by. Moments later, I heard it again, then again, followed by a hiss. I tried to sit up and klonked my head. After struggling with the vanity cover, I kicked it out of the way, forced myself up into the car, and sat up in time to see an eighteen-wheeler scream by in the first light of dawn, eighteen inches from the Prius, leaving scraps of torn clothing scattering down I-20 in its wake.
After a few seconds I realized that it was my clothing scattering down I-20. I looked at myself: I looked like a total freak in the full-body rubber suit. More cars swept by, whoosh, whoosh, hissing every time they hit a wet patch on the road, scattering my clothes further. After the third one I swallowed my pride, crawled out of the car, and retrieved what I could from the highway, mortified with embarrassment every time a car honked at me as it passed.
All of it was ruined: my jeans, my shirt, even my vest. All I could rescue was my wallet, squashed almost beyond recognition where some car had run over it; but, oddly, they hadn’t taken my money, and my driver’s license was still recognizable.
The keys were still in the blue bomb, thankfully. At least I didn’t have to go hunting all over the hillside in the freak suit hoping the vampires had thrown them there and not in the trash back in Blood Rock. I started her up, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do, and let the voice of NPR’s Renee Montagne soothe my wounded pride.
“This is Morning Edition. The time is eight fifty.”
I sat bolt upright. Eight-fifty Wednesday morning! My meeting with DFACS about Cinnamon was at ten. I couldn’t show up like this! Where the hell was I, and where was I going to get some clothes? I twisted round, scanning the highway for any sign Conyers 8. Atlanta 39.
“Oh, shit.” Forty miles-in rush hour traffic. And still with nothing to wear.
My eyes refocused down the road, where I saw a sign for a store.
“Oh, hell,” I said, starting the Prius. “At least it’s not a Laura Ashley.”
So it was almost ten thirty when I reached the massive complex downtown that held the Fulton County Courthouse, and ten fifty by the time I parked, wound through the metal detectors, found the right floor, and finally found the heavy wooden door of the hearing room-closed.
The deputy standing outside held up a hand. “They’ve already started.”
“I’m supposed to be in there,” I said. “Please.”
He sighed. “All right, but I warn you she’s in a mood… ”
Judge Maria Guiterrez was a young brunette with a long sweep of bangs that came down over one eye. She couldn’t even have been my age, but a crackling energy flashed in her face when she saw me enter. “Bailiff-” she began, then stopped. “Miss Frost, I take it.”
“Yes,” I said. One table held Margaret Burnham; the other held Helen Yao, my attorney with Ellis and Lee. Helen glanced in surprise at my outfit-cream turtleneck sweater, tailored jeans jacket, and long flowing black skirt-but quickly motioned for me to come sit down.
“I said tone it down, not turn it off, ” she hissed. “Your hair doesn’t go with-”
“Miss Frost,” Judge Guiterrez said sharply. “We were scheduled to start at ten.”
“I’m very sorry,” I said, coming to join Yao. “I was unavoidably detained-”
“That will not be good enough, Miss Frost,” the judge began. “In my courtroom-”
“I had no choice. I was kidnapped,” I said. And sat down at the table, shaking.
The judge’s mouth just hung open. “Did-did you report this, Miss Frost?”
“No,” I said. “I came straight here, because I was supposed to be here. ”
Her brow furrowed. “Did you escape?”
“No, I did not escape,” I said. “People don’t escape when they’re kidnapped. That only happens in the movies. They’re let go or they die . I was kidnapped, terrorized, and left to kick my way out of the trunk of my car on the side of the highway. In Conyers. ”
A glass of water was suddenly in front of me, and I took it in my shaking hands. “They tore up my clothes. My clothes! Even my vest. I had to shop at a fucking Mervyn’s-”
“Do you have a receipt, Miss Frost?” Judge Guiterrez asked coolly.
I looked up sharply at her. She was leaning her head on one hand, finger climbing to her temple. She would have been great at poker, I couldn’t tell whether her expression held sympathy or disapproval. Scowling, I dug out my wallet and started rifling through it.
“What happened to your wallet, Miss Frost?” the judge said.
“A truck ran over it when they threw my pants onto I-20,” I said, tossing a receipt on the table. “Eighty-nine fifty-seven, counting the manager discount because they took pity on me.”
Judge Guiterrez beckoned, and the bailiff took the receipt to her. “This morning. Nine-fifteen,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “In Conyers. And you came straight here-”
“Driving like a bat out of hell,” I said.
“Well,” Guiterrez said, and then a slight smile quirked her face, which she quickly tried to suppress. “Well. This isn’t a traffic court, so I’ll ignore that. Miss Frost, you’ve clearly had an, an experience, and if it’s left you shaken, we can reschedule this hearing-”
“No,” I said. “No, please, I came all the way here to get Cinnamon back. I don’t want to wait. All that matters is that I get Cinnamon back as soon as possible.”
“That won’t happen today,” the judge said. “But I will hear your case- after you have a chance to calm down and report your story to the police.”
“But-” I began.
“No buts, Miss Frost,” Guiterrez said, with quiet finality. “Bailiff, bring Miss Frost and counsel to my chambers and call an officer down here to take her statement. Next case… ”
So they dragged me off-not literally-to the judge’s chambers, where a sympathetic female APD officer took down the whole story. After she left, Helen came in and plopped her briefcase down on the table with a weary, wary look. “Damn, Dakota,” she said. “I’m so sorry, but I hope this wasn’t a stunt-”
“Helen!” I said, then stopped. Then I extended my hand. “Smell that?”
She stared at my hand like it was a snake, then cautiously leaned forward. “That smells like… rubber gloves? Baby powder? Mildew?” Her eyes furrowed. “What-”
“The sick fucks tore up
my clothes and put me in a rubber suit because they were scared of my magic tattoos,” I said. “No, I’m not making this up.”
“Well, your tattoos are pretty fearsome,” Helen laughed, a bit forced. “And I believe you, I guess, but this makes things more difficult. We missed our slot. Even with a good explanation, their first impression is that you were late and they had to reschedule. It doesn’t look good.”
“But-” I said. “But that’s not fair. ”
“Dakota, let me tell you something I’ve learned,” Helen said. “I’m a defense attorney, so I’m biased, but a child custody hearing isn’t a criminal trial or a civil suit. It has its own twisted logic, and anything and everything can be used against you. If your child is retarded, then they’ve been neglected. If they’re gifted, then they’ve been coached. If they’re acting up, then you haven’t been setting boundaries. If they’re polite, you’ve been repressing them.”
“Then how does anyone keep their child?” I said.
“Basically, the judge and the prosecution will decide who they think should have the child and twist everything to fit their prejudgment,” Helen said bitterly. “That may not be the law, but it is what I’ve observed from doing this for the last seven years. That’s why it is absolutely, positively critical that you present the best possible picture to the judge.”
“All right,” I said. “All right. What do we do?”
“First,” Helen said, “we’ve rescheduled to Monday. Try not to get kidnapped, ill, or even disheveled between now and then. Make sure you arrive on time, dressed nicely, and that you’ve gone over all the materials we went over yesterday. Hopefully, this will blow over quickly once we get a chance to present our case. If not… well, then we can talk about that then.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” I said. “What’s the worst case scenario?”
“Oh, hell, I can’t tell you what the judge is going to ask,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “Who knows what they will want you to address? It may be as simple as documenting a fixed abode, or settling with the Valentine Foundation to show you have a good source of income.”
Blood Rock s-2 Page 20
