when I’d been forced to take Savannah’s protection, but now the thought of her and her coterie being gone for a week was… unsettling. Then a horrible thought hit me. “Wait a minute,” I said. “If you’re gone next week, how will you vote?”
Darkrose looked confused; Vickman’s mouth opened. Vote in the ordinary November elections, as if that aspect of the greater world mattered to their kind? But Savannah just shook her head. “Oh, Dakota,” she said, eerily like Jinx. “What am I going to do with you?”
Vickman’s watch beeped. “It’s time,” he said, standing. He carried no suitcase, just a small shoulder bag. Then Darkrose’s tall-dark-and-handsome human servant stood, managing the carry-ons. Finally the vampires rose: Savannah, in her simple red leather dress, goggles hanging about her throat, and Darkrose, in a heavy layered coat and cloak that was practically a burqua when she pulled the hood up.
“Sorry to see you go,” I said, standing awkwardly. I still wasn’t used to how eerily coordinated the two of them were. Had Savannah and I been that way, once, or was it a vampire thing? “Surprised you don’t have Doug pulling a pack.”
“Doug’s a human grad student,” Savannah said, “not my enthralled servant. He doesn’t have time for all this gallivanting.”
“And you do?” I asked. “Are you ever going to get your Ph.D in vampirology?”
“Some day,” she said. “But not today.”
We stood there, staring at each other.
“Oh, quit being a pain in my ass and give me a hug,” Savannah said, stepping in and squeezing me about the waist so that all my air left with a whoosh. “Take care, Dakota.”
I waved awkwardly and watched them walk off. I expected to see Savannah look back and wave to me, but she was lost, chatting with Darkrose, who gave her a warm hug.
I sighed, stared down at the table, at my rapidly cooling coffee. I swept it up and finished it in one forced gulp, then considered finishing the dregs of Savannah’s Bloody Mary. What the hell. I wouldn’t be driving for at least half an hour. I picked it up, finished it, staring at the grainy tomato juice draining off the bottom of the glass, then slammed it down and tossed a few more coins on top of the tip we’d left on the table. Then I picked up my cane and started limping back towards the MARTA station at the end of the airport terminal.
On the way, I took stock. Rand was already working the angle on the shooter, but he was only good against mortal threats. If Transomnia attacked again, I was toast, but if I had some warning, I could go to Calaphase for help—that little shit was now a big embarrassment to him. If, at the werehouse, one of the Bear King’s kindred got rowdy, I could count on Buck. I might even be able to ask for Buck’s help if Wulf turned out to be behind the killings. If not… the full moon hit zenith in less than twenty-seven hours, and took to the sky in even less. Even if I could get the tattoo prepared, I had no way of finding him.
The train slid into the station, a long, smooth, well-lit machine, a pinnacle of modern technology. Then my eyes lit up.
There was someone who knew where Wulf lived.
“Philip,” I said into my cell when he picked up. I sat down in one of the back-to-back seats near the middle of the car, and other passengers filed in, one taking the seat just behind me. “It’s Dakota. What’s that noise? Sounds like a Starbucks. Can I meet you?”
“Not unless you’re willing to ride that Vespa all the way to North Carolina,” he said, voice raised slightly to overcome the sound of a blender in the background. “And ‘that noise’ is a helicopter I couldn’t even admit existed until nine months ago.”
My skin grew cold. “What’s happened?”
“We got a lead, Dakota,” he said, sounding not at all happy. “A pizza parlor employee was abducted a few hours ago in Charlotte— heavily tattooed, snatched just after moonrise, so… we’re riding to the rescue.”
“You go, Philip,” I said softly. “Did the pizza guy have magical tattoos?”
“Oh yeah, and get this—he had one done by Sumner,” he said. “Similar to the one you saw. This is exactly what we’ve seen before, from the distance between attacks to the victim type down to the lead time to full moon. It fits the profile perfectly.”