I leaned back against the bridge and took stock. I expected to feel sorry for myself, but I didn’t. Sleeping in a box had been cold and uncomfortable, but it had ended in a new day. Even the dingy, trash-strewn underbelly of the bridge was brightened by sun flickering off the burbling water. I saw a little scribble, near the abutment, stared at it curiously, and pegged it as a hobo sign-a graffiti precursor-that marked this place as a good rest stop. And it was indeed.
This too would pass, like the water slipping by in the stream.
“I can sleep in a box under a bridge,” I murmured to myself. “I can do anything.”
So my next step: get real help, and with all of my other contacts dry, that meant Arcturus. Of course, he didn’t answer, not after any number of rings, not after three calls. I don’t know why he even had a phone. And I certainly couldn’t call Zinaga.
I considered trying to slip in uninvited, but if my ‘banishment’ was real, the last thing I needed to do was show up at Arcturus’ door with a horde of vampires and vampire thugs on my heels. Heck, even if I did make it, the first thing Zinaga would do would be to sell me out.
Come to think of it, there was no guarantee Arcturus would receive me. Zinaga had tried to poison the well. What I really needed was something to get in his good graces. And for the man who eschews material goods… the best currency I could think of was a favor.
So I needed to get into Blood Rock… and to get on Arcturus’ good side.
There might be a way to do both at the same time. Two birds, one stone.
I thumbed backwards through my text messaging log. January, December, November-and then I found it. I swallowed. I was going to do this. My thumb hovered over the call button; but I wasn’t that brave. Instead, I texted… the vampire Transomnia: ‹‹Need to talk. Coming to Blood Rock. Be cool.››
There was no response. I wasn’t certain I’d get one. It had been months since he’d texted me after kidnapping Cinnamon, and he could have ditched that phone. Even then, he was an old-school vampire, probably asleep. I stared off into the distance, thinking.
Then the phone rang, and I nearly dropped it. I answered immediately. “Transomnia?”
“I don’t want to know why you’d think he’d be calling you,” Philip said coldly.
“Philip!” I said, brightening. After all the static he, McGough and Rand had given me, I hadn’t even thought of actually calling him. “Look, I didn’t know who else to turn to. I-”
“Dakota,” he said firmly. “I understand why you ran. I might even have done the same thing. But I can’t help you, except to tell youturn off your phone. We can track you by it.”
I hung on the phone, stunned. “Philip, you know I didn’t do it.”
“I know, and I know you’re probably working the problem right now, but you’re wanted for murder and arson. So hang up, and turn off your personal tracking and recording device,” Philip said. “You spent a hell of a long time on the phone last night-I’m surprised they didn’t pick you up already. If I could find you, it’s only a matter of time before someone else will.”
“But Philip-”
“Between Stockbridge and McDonough,” Philip said. “Under a bridge, it looks like.”
“Damnit!” I said, killing the call, then powering off the phone. Damnit, damnit, damnit! I knew cell phones were insecure, and had gone and been a fucking amateur anyway. Quickly I gathered my things and pushed the Vespa out into the street, started her up, and hit the road.
I puttered up State Road 20 until I got close to Conyers, then pulled off and got some food, again at a Waffle House, tucked just off the highway. I got directions to the nearest library from the waitress, and headed down there to try to get some Internet.
The library was larger than I’d expected, a two-story affair with large triangular roofs and a little gazebo-like structure near the entrance. I got an out-of-state visitor’s pass so I didn’t have to use my library card, fired up a computer, and started to figure out how to find Transomnia.
That’s right. That was the first stage of my brilliant plan: go straight up to the door of the bad guys and knock. The green-haired vampire, Transomnia’s apparent second in command-what was her name, Nyissa?-had snarked that I didn’t know where I was, but I hadn’t lied: there were only so many roads in Blood Rock.
And as for what house on what road? They’d held me in a big room, but not a warehouse: more like a furnished basement. That meant a multi-level house, possibly new, which in turn ruled out most of Blood Rock, which was primarily single-storied and falling apart.
They’d been threatened by my presence, which mean they were near Old Town. They also had the Sanctuary Stone, which means they had to be close to the Rock itself-if not right on top of it, nearby, on a ley line intersecting the Rock.
That left a lot to look for, but I had satellite and aerial imagery from MapQuest, Yahoo, Microsoft and even Google to help me out. So, feeling like a detective from space, I zoomed in on Blood Rock and started looking for Transomnia.
My real goal was ultimately Arcturus, but MapQuest showed there was no “back door” to Arcturus’ pad: just steep hills and deep creeks. I was no woodsman, nor did I want to get shot cutting through backwoods Georgia, much less find myself stumbling around in a ravine while vampires tracked me down.
At the front door, I was pretty sure that I’d be spotted by Steyn or his peons. In the short time I’d been in town last, I’d seen Steyn twice. And now, Steyn could do more than turn a blind eye to the vamps or run me out of town: he could turn me over to the APD.
So I had to approach the vampires directly, hands up. I looked for what felt like hours, and was about to give up when, absently closing a window I was done with, I saw it.
Inadvertently I’d created two windows with two different views of the same area, side by side. It was the top of Blood Rock hill proper, zoomed in on the new complex of houses that I’d seen on the map. The complex was half built in one set of pictures dating from a year ago, nearly complete in the other, six months later-with something that looked like a mansion or clubhouse off a narrow access road, not visible on any street map, but clear as day from the air, especially in the shots taken during construction.
I tilted my head, looking at the complex of roofs, barely visible in the trees. It felt right: new, multistoried, on the Rock itself. And then I pulled up the map of ley lines: the building was smack dab at the crossing of three of them, with the most powerful line going through the Rock itself.
“Gotcha,” I murmured.
I wrote down the address (and two or three other likely candidates) and closed up shop, much to the relief of a young college student waiting on the machine. I found a nearby Chic-Fil-A, gratefully chowed down, then hopped back on the Vespa and headed to Blood Rock.
It was nearly dark by the time I found my way through the winding roads to Blood Rock. Once again I felt a tingle as I passed the boundary… and then, a slowly growing headache, just like when Nyissa had banished me. I’d looked into the magic: it wasn’t enough to hurt me, but, like Nyissa had said, if the vamps still had the Sanctuary Stone, they’d know I was here.
But I didn’t let that stop me. I just drove to the new subdivision atop the Rock, where I found my path barred by a simple, unmarked gate with an equally simple buzzer and camera. I stopped a few feet short, nerving myself to drive up and press that buzzer.
Before I did, a car passed me on its way to the gate. A hand reached out and pressed the button. Moments later, the gate slowly slid back. I debated tailgating. Transomnia’s guards might take that as a threat, but the point of driving all the way to their door was to force an audience. On the other hand, I might have guessed wrong and could be tailgating a man into his home.
And then the man in the car looked back at me: not a vampire, not a thug, just a pleasant good-old-boy Georgia businessman in a black suit. He didn’t have the hard look people get when strange women on motorcycles are sitting outside their driveway waiting for them to come home. In fact, he actually smiled, staring at me, curious, then started to turn forward.
“Hey, bud,” I called. “I’m a bit lost, and I’m wondering if I’m at the right place.”
“All right, let’s see if we can straighten you out,” the man said, in such a classic Georgia accent I imagined ‘Bud’ was probably his real name. “Looking for Stone Rose Sanctuary?”
My eyes widened. Good Lord, the vampires were brazen: the seals on the Sanctuary Stone were roses. They certainly weren’t trying to hide. “That… sounds like it.”
“Applying for a job?” Bud said, looking me up and down. “Or are you a client?”
