jumbled encounters with black vans and boots flying in my face that I didn’t trust my memory. But when we stepped up to the porch, the front lock was busted.
“Now, that’s blatant,” I said. “I expected Vladimir would have more subtlety.”
“Maybe he was in a hurry,” Nyissa said. “Or maybe this home is being burgled.”
“Then the two of us get to play superhero,” I said. “Either way, I think you’re up.”
Nyissa glanced at me from beneath her hood. Then she rang the bell.
A spinsterly old black woman came to the door-but not half-asleep in her bathrobe, or irritated. Instead she was alert, in haute couture, and wary. She looked almost perfectly made up, but her hair was a touch disheveled, and she had a bruise on her forehead. “Yes?”
“I apologize for waking you,” Nyissa said carefully. “I am the Lady Nyissa of the House Beyond Sleep, and this is my client, Dakota Frost.”
“I know who she is,” she said, glaring at me. “And you know you did not wake me.”
“Ah,” Nyissa said. “Then you know we would like passage to see Sir Leopold.”
“Go to hell,” the woman said. “After what your wolf did to my poor boys.”
“My apologies, ma’am,” I said, spreading my hands, “but it’s almost dawn, and it’s like an armed camp down there. I’d like to deliver my report while he’s still awake, and I don’t have time to negotiate my way in through the front. We would like to use the tunnel, please.”
“You bitch,” she said, staring between the two of us. Then she opened the door. “You know I can’t stop you. I can’t even call to warn him, with what your wolf did to my phone.”
We entered into a picture book from the Atlanta History Tour. Victorian furniture was decorated with art deco lights. Yellowed pictures climbed horsehair plaster walls. An ancient violin leaned against a Victrola phonograph. And a corridor jetted forward into the house, right through its center, towards a parlor in the back where I could see stairs up-and down.
But we didn’t get that far. A dark-suited security guard was standing by one of the corridor doors, openly holding a crossbow. He saw us-he had clearly been watching the door the whole time the woman had been speaking-and he touched his finger to his ear and murmured.
“Oh, hell,” I said, glaring at the older black woman, who was smiling viciously. “Figures that the unguarded back door was a trap.”
The low voices speaking in the room behind him stopped-and then the door burst open, and the Lady Scara stomped out towards us, two guards on her heels. “Well, well,” Scara said, baring her fangs in an equally vicious smile. “Look who we’ve caught sneaking in, trying to mount a rescue. Dakota Frost-”
“My client is not here to mount a rescue,” Nyissa said clearly.
Scara scowled and stomped up to Nyissa. “And who the hell are you?”
“I am the Lady Nyissa, Second of the House Beyond Sleep,” Nyissa said imperiously, twirling her poker. I have to admit, when she was on, she was good. There wasn’t the slightest crack in her act. “My client, Dakota Frost, is here on behalf of Lord Transomnia to-”
Scara moved with a blur, seizing Nyissa behind the neck and forcing her to her knees. Nyissa jerked and twisted and swung the poker, but Scara effortlessly batted it away, gouging a chunk out of the horsehair plaster walls.
Both the guards behind her moved forward instinctively, but Scara snarled at them-then reached out, seized one of their crossbows, and jammed it against Nyissa’s chin. She angled the crossbow downward, shoving Nyissa’s mouth open, breaking one of her fangs.
“You talk too much,” Scara said-and fired the crossbow into Nyissa’s mouth.
The Center Cannot Hold
Blood splattered everywhere. Nyissa fell to the carpet, jaw forced wide open by the end of the silver crossbow bolt protruding from her mouth. She flailed, and I had a horrific image of the bolt jutting out of the bottom of her mouth and into her voicebox.
“Oh my God,” cried the woman, running back into the house. “She shot an ambassador!”
Scara looked at me, then threw the crossbow down and smiled. “Looks like you are going to need a new protector,” she hissed. “What toll shall I make you pay?”
She stepped towards me, eyes glowing, sending a prickling sensation rippling through my skin. I flinched in fear, drawing up my energies, but I could tell that I’d lost too much ink. My shield would be useless. Her hand reached out And then Lord Iadimus was standing between us, straightening his suit. It was like a magic trick. One moment she was advancing on me, the next he was standing there, Scara flinching back. The prickling sensation disappeared, replaced by icy cold emptiness.
“What is going on here?” Iadimus demanded. No one answered, and after a moment he knelt and examined Nyissa, on her back on the floor, choking to death on her own blood. He tilted her head up, then hissed. He gently rolled her over onto her side.
“Who is this vampire?” Iadimus asked.
“She called herself Nyissa,” Scara said contemptuously. “Frost’s protector-”
“Don’t task me, Lady Scara,” Iadimus said sharply, examining the bolt. “Miss Frost, does the Lady Nyissa have guards?”
“A driver, waiting in the limo,” I said.
“Guards, request the presence of her driver,” Iadimus said, withdrawing a white handkerchief from his suit pocket. “I want her attended by her own people.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the guards said.
“Lady Nyissa,” Iadimus said gently. “I am going to remove the quarrel.”
“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Call a doctor-”
“No time. The quarrel is silver,” Iadimus said quietly. “It is killing her. Removing it will hurt, and perhaps damage her, but she will have a chance to heal. Lady, are you ready?”
Nyissa’s head moved slightly. Perhaps it was a nod. Then Iadimus wrapped the end of the bolt in his handkerchief, got a good grip, and pulled it out in one swift motion. A new spray of blood splashed out along the floor, followed by a horrible sucking sound as Nyissa fought for air. But even as she flailed, I could see the blood flow stopping, see her begin to recover.
“Get her to a bed,” Iadimus said, standing, letting the guards move in. “Get her blood, as soon as she’s able. Find her fang, put it in warm milk, and call my dentist.”
Then he turned on Scara.
“How dare you, Lady Scara,” Iadimus said, oh so mildly-and a terrible coldness began to spread through the room. I swallowed, and backed up against the wall.
“She was impudent,” Scara said defiantly. “Thinking she could offer protection-”
“You staked a fellow vampire, ” Iadimus roared. I, the guards, even Nyissa flinched from that ice cold rage, and Scara’s face sagged in fear as the larger, taller vampire towered over her. “You assaulted her under truce! You staked her without trial!”
Scara twitched. “I-I-”
“Go back to the Council Chamber or die where you stand.”
Scara hesitated only a moment, then turned and quickly retreated down the corridor.
Iadimus stood there, perfectly still-then abruptly was standing right before me, elbow extended. “ Lady Frost,” he said stiffly. “My apologies for my colleague’s boorish behavior. I should like the honor of escorting you to court under my protection.”
“Thank you, Lord Iadimus,” I said cautiously. “Do-do I have to pay another toll?”
Iadimus glared down at the patch of blood on the carpet. “Enough blood has been shed,” he said curtly. “Consider me… the Lady Nyissa’s stand-in, while she is indisposed.”
I took his arm, swallowing. “Thank you.”
“We shall take the tunnel,” he said stiffly.
I followed him in through the long narrow passage cutting straight through the center of the house. It was
