tires gently touched the Earth.
“Always the showman,” I said quietly, letting my own wings and vines fade.
“Good Lord, Frost, what are you doing riding with the vampires?” he said, rubbing his hands together. Little glowing sparks erupted where flesh met flesh-the mana-capacitor yin-yangs on my palms were based on his example. “And why are they riding straight into the heart of Old Town? I told both you and them to stay away until you learned better manners.”
I stared at Arcturus, taking him all in: Hispanic features, English accent, that slightly aristocratic air which always made me want to kick his teeth in. I reflected on what Nyissa said. I thought about how to best handle the situation. Then I opened my damn mouth.
“Damnit, Arturo, you didn’t tell me anything because you don’t answer your phone.”
“The telephone,” Arcturus said archly, “is not a universal feature of the human condition. For the bulk of history, people have spoken without electrical intermediaries-”
“I’m not finished,” I said. “Any message you had for me was not passed on by Zinaga, who just as clearly hasn’t passed on to you half of what I told her. She’s probably holding out on both of us for the same reason she sold me out to the vampires: she’s jealous.”
Arcturus’ eyes bugged out and he whirled on Zinaga. “You betrayed my star pupil to the vampires?” he said. Zinaga flinched at ‘star pupil’-meaning she and her years of service were, what, chopped liver? No wonder she was jealous. “A serious accusation. Defend yourself!”
“Of course I didn’t sell her out,” she said, shrugging her shoulders with a cocky ‘I can get away with it’ air. “And if I had, would she be here?”
“Actually, I get on famously with vampires, after their fashion,” I said. “Which answers Arcturus’ first question. I had grovel to them before I could come grovel to you.”
The limo door opened, and Nyissa’s booted foot planted itself in the road. She followed it out, twisting her poker in her fingers, features composed, assured, hostile. The layered, nuanced woman was gone, replaced by the scary psycho bitch I’d seen in the court of Transomnia. Her game face was on, and she strolled straight up to Arcturus as if she was not terrified.
“Oh, it’s you, ” Arcturus said dismissively-but beyond that, was he a tiny bit… embarrassed? “Sorry about the light show. I thought you were your boss.”
“Think nothing of it,” she said, staring straight at Arcturus. “The Lady Frost is correct. We intercepted her earlier based on a tip from Zinaga, with whom I have maintained a… private relationship
… to keep the line of communication between skindancers and vampires open.”
“She’s lying!” Zinaga said. “I never called her!”
“I never said you called, ” Nyissa said, withdrawing a cell phone from the folds of her dress-coat, “but… you did.”
Nyissa thumbed through listings on the phone, then held it to Arcturus. He stared at it, cursed, then glared over at Zinaga, daring her to contradict. She just slumped back against the tree, looking away. “Return to the shop,” he said. “I’ll decide your fate later.”
“She should stay,” I said. “I want her to hear this.”
Arcturus glared at me sharply. “See now, Frost, you’re in Coventry already-”
“Because we forbade the Lady Frost to return to Blood Rock,” Nyissa said.
Arcturus squinted at Nyissa. “Well, if she didn’t have the fortitude to defy you,” he said, glancing at me sidelong, “she should have just stayed away.”
“ No one has the guts to buck them,” I said. “Not even Zinaga, and she’s their ally. You don’t know that because you spend all your time holed up in your studio, but everyone in town is running scared. Go downtown tomorrow night and you won’t see one exposed tattoo.”
Arcturus winced… then snorted. “Who cares,” he said, though he was grimacing. “Anybody with my ink could take them, if they had chests-”
“But, as she said, no one has any guts,” Nyissa said. “Everyone in Blood Rock fears the House Beyond Sleep… which brings us to the Lady Frost’s proposal.”
“Proposal?” he said. “What proposal?”
“The Lady Frost has convinced us,” Nyissa said, “that our fear of skindancers has created the very conditions we wanted to avoid: open hostility. She has suggested that we should lift the ban on skindancing in Blood Rock… and we have agreed.”
Zinaga stood up straight, leaning away from the tree with her mouth hanging open. Arcturus stood there in the road for a moment, swaying, then said, “Again, why should I care? Anyone who doesn’t have the guts to stand up to you-”
“Stop being an ass, Arturo,” I snapped.
“No, you stop being an ass,” Nyissa said. “You are not helping.”
“Look, you-”
“Are you not my client?” Nyissa asked. “Do you not want my protection?”
“Technically no,” I said, “and not really, no.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So you want all vampires to consider you free game?”
I stared up into the night sky, then let out my breath. “No.”
“Then as my client,” she said, “you will learn to hold your tongue.”
“I’d pay good money to see that trick,” Arcturus said.
“I only need a minute of silence to make my case,” Nyissa said. “This town was a haven for skindancers first, before the vampires came. You and I had our disagreements, but we were civil. It was my master who feared skindancers, and my master who imposed the ban. Frost was one of the skindancers he feared, and she convinced him that fear was not warranted.”
“Oh really?” Arcturus said. “You don’t think we could put the hurt on you?”
“So could a posse of pissed off townspeople with shotguns,” Nyissa said. “Frost’s suggestion is to stop pissing you off, starting with rescinding the ban on displayed ink.”
Arcturus cocked his head. “And what do you get out of it?”
“My Lord Transomnia would like you to extend his apologies to the people of Blood Rock,” she said, “and my client, Dakota Frost, would like you to accept my apology for interfering with the legitimate business she had with you.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “Oh, you’re just loving this.”
“Zip it,” she said. “And don’t forget, you still owe me a drop of blood and a quarter.”
Arcturus looked at her, then me. “This vamp your new girlfriend, Dakota?”
I rankled-and so did Zinaga; how interesting. “Now, look-”
Nyissa licked her lips and looked at me. “Why, that’s-” she began-and then her face fell. “That’s a flattering suggestion, but poorly timed. Miss Frost’s romantic companion was just murdered, by magic. I believe that’s what she’s here to talk to you about.”
Arcturus stiffened. “Murdered? By magic? Not skindancing-”
“No,” Nyissa said softly, so I didn’t have to. “Magic graffiti. And her friend is not the only victim. This plague has claimed dozens of vampires, werewolves, and normal humans.”
“Damnation. And I’m sorry to hear about your friend,” Arcturus said. Clearly Zinaga had told him nothing. His eyes scanned me, then narrowed. “But the vamps have picked the wrong horse to back-you’ll be useless in a fight, now that you’ve stripped your masterwork.”
“I’m inking a new Dragon,” I said.
His eyes narrowed further. “Those wings you used? Show me.” I turned so Arcturus could look down the back of my shirt, which left me facing Nyissa. She smiled sweetly, and I shuddered. “Hard to get a whole picture,” Arcturus said. “Could I pull this up a moment?”
“Not with Miss Predator figuring out where to sink her teeth,” I said.
“Or plant her tongue,” she said sweetly.
“Ew,” I said, folding my arms in front of me. “Look, you can see the wings over my shoulders, and between them the head of the Dragon, or the start of it, anyway. Those aren’t isolated marks, I’m redoing the whole masterwork to a new design-”
“So you are,” Arcturus said, and despite my warning, lifted the back of my shirt to inspect my inking more
