Transomnia said. His eyes were burning on me, not hate exactly, but… rage? “But this time, it was supposed to be different. This time, I was going to find someone to protect me, a vampire whose aura was strong enough to bind myself to, someone whose power could shield me from Mirabilus’ control. I found Calaphase of the Oakdale Clan—and then you went and fucked it up. They kicked me out because of you—”
“—and drove you right back into his arms,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”
“You couldn’t have,” Transomnia said, still glaring at me. “How could you know all this would happen, just from one little punch? But remember: you picked that fight. I was doing my duty, trying to scare you off—but I never touched you that first night..”
My eyes widened. His stayed on me, burning with anger and expectation. Surely the vampire who nearly took two of my fingers wasn’t waiting for… an apology?
“I’m sorry,” I said at last. “Sorry… that I hit you.”
“Finally,” Transomnia said, leaning back. “And I’m sorry that led to all this—but it is over, and as far as I am concerned, we are even— and done. I’m not going to come after you, you’re not going to come after me—we leave each other the hell alone.”
I nodded, blinked, and when my eyes opened, he had disappeared.
I stood there, swaying, drinking it all in. Then I stepped up Valentine’s corpse. It was still steaming with wisps of color and fire, but fading fast. I stood there, watching him go, my skin tingling with magic as the last streamers from his tattoos faded into darkness.
“Guess what,” I said. “It turns out I can do a trick you can’t do, after all.”
44. BLACK MAYDAY
Grimacing in pain, I used the clippers to cut Jinx and Cinnamon down and then tried to free them from the silver barbed wire. Jinx was easy, but Cinnamon was damn near hopeless—and the wires on her wrists cut so deep into the flesh I couldn’t get the clippers in there without hurting her more, so I just cut the wires between them, leaving her with two bloody silver bracelets. My hands were tingling with pain, but I tried to carefully clip the wires out of her mouth; when I was done her mouth hung slack and I could barely hear her breathing.
I stared at the others. Wulf looked dead, but Jinx was still whole; Alex and Lord Buckhead were pretty trashed, but they were all breathing, if not stirring; they’d hold. I untied them, prayed to God that they’d hold, and carried Cinnamon up out of Hell. At first I was relieved when I saw that the guards I’d incapacitated were gone, but then I realized that meant they were alive and conscious. I didn’t wait to find out whether they were running or plotting: I just ran straight out into the street.
Knee and hands throbbing with pain, I hobbled out across North Avenue, leaving the Masquerade behind, alternately heedless of and wincing at the gravel and glass scattered across the pavement. I headed straight for City Hall East, for the police entrance, where cop cars left after refueling in the night. One black-and-white was pulling out of the gate just as I stumbled up, and I ran straight for it. They came to a screeching halt just as I ran out of gas, gasping, depositing Cinnamon on their hood.
“Holy Mary,” the driving officer said, only half stepping out of his car, holding a flashlight with one hand and with his other reaching for… his sidearm?
“Help, help, we’ve been attacked,” I said, bending involuntarily as my knee began throbbing like mad. “I and my friends have just been attacked in the Masquerade. I need you to call for backup and ambulances—”
“What the hell you think this one’s been on?” the second officer said, crawling out of the car. “And look at the state of the other one—”
I realized how I must look—bruised, naked, with a flapping black coat, carrying a bloody young girl outfitted in the most realistic tiger costume they’d ever seen. They thought we were drugged-out prostitutes, and were tuning out everything I was saying, assuming I was babbling. Fuck them.
“My name is Dakota Frost,” I barked. “I’m an expert witness working with Special Agent Philip Davidson of the DEI and Detective Andre Rand of Atlanta Homicide—”
The first officer was frozen, but the second was holding up her hands and saying, “Now, far out, little lady—”