“I trusts you, Mom,” Cinnamon said.
We said goodbyes, I closed the phone-and then my jaw opened in shock. Saffron had walked out of the vampire’s suite in her bathrobe, closed the door-and then dropped the robe and stalked towards the window, buck naked but for her bomber goggles.
“I can’t thank you enough, Dakota,” she said, passing me, flaming red hair over ghostly curves, stepping straight up to the window-and throwing the curtains wide. The bright morning sun streamed in, and she hissed and flinched. There was a searing sound, smoke rose from her skin-and then it began to dissipate, and she slowly turned her head towards the sunrise.
“Oh thank you, God,” she said. “I’d just die if they had taken my daylight.”
Something smart alecky, like clearly not, popped into my lips-but didn’t pass them. I stood there watching her for a while, watching the sun gleam off that skin, reddening, first like a rash, then more like real color was returning. Part of me wondered how that worked, made me want to give the papers of the world’s only vampire vampirologist more than a token read. The rest of me was just so glad she was alive.
“Dakota, my behavior’s been unconscionable, ” she said, stepping up to me, then giving me a huge hug in her birthday suit. “Tell you what. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”
“Uh… deal,” I said, uneasily embracing her naked body. Can you say… awkward! But I knew her well enough to know that while part of her was deliberately tweaking me, the rest of her really did think nothing of it. Oh, Savannah. “Friends?”
“Always,” she said. We hugged again, longer this time. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I said. “I wish I’d realized sooner you never left.”
There was a knock at the door, and Saffron cocked her head. “Room service,” she said, mouth quirking up in a smile. “Oh, Dakota. I did miss you. I want you collared again, if you really are going to do this ridiculous Daniel-in-the-lion’s-den thing-”
“Saffron,” I began, but room service knocked again, and I gave up. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fair enough,” she said, putting her hand on her hip, still standing there nude before me, the window, God and everybody. “Now.. . I need to sun and feed, I mean, get real human food in me, before the fungal symbiote destroys any more of the outer layers of my skin.”
On the way down in the elevator, my phone rang, and I whipped it out. The number was PHILIP DAVIDSON. I clenched my jaw, found my wits
… and put the phone to my ear.
“Oh, hi, Philip,” I said.
“She said nonchalantly,” Philip replied. “So, Dakota… vampires who haven’t been seen in days or weeks are back on the radar. Savannah Winters charged a suite at the Four Seasons, and Lord Delancaster’s office has called a press conference. And the DEI’s remote viewers woke up screaming that something mammoth went down somewhere in Atlanta around four a.m. I can’t see the whole picture, but I can tell this is all part of the same elephant. Fill an old friend in?”
“Oy,” I said. “All right, Philip. Here goes.” And I told him. Not in half measures, either. I talked, the elevator landed, I kept talking, I crashed in a comfy chair in the lobby and kept telling him as much as I could without giving away any confidences that would get me killed.
“Oy,” Philip said. “You’ve cleaned up a mess, and created a bigger one.”
“Not likely,” I said. “You didn’t see it. You have no idea what we were up against.”
“Then you have to give me an idea,” Philip said firmly. “You have to come in.”
“Philip,” I said. “I can’t just drop by the DEI office. I’ll be arrested on the spot.”
“Right now, we all just want to talk to you,” Philip said. “I can get them to hold off on any new charges at least until we debrief you-I play golf with the U.S. Attorney’s husband. But I can’t do that if you’re on the run. You need to turn yourself in. Now’s the time.”
My eyes widened as a short, rumpled figure wandered in to the lobby of the Four Seasons-Detective McGough. “You aren’t kidding,” I said. “You sell me out?”
“Of course not!” Philip said. As if on cue, Detective McGough noted the phone on my ear, waved politely, and hung back as Philip denied having led him to me. “I wasn’t responsible for the raid on the werehouse, and I’m not going to turn you in now. You can’t do my job if you stab everyone you meet in the back… and besides, Dakota, you’re a friend.”
“Whatever you say, Philip,” I said distantly. “See you soon.”
I hung up, pocketed the phone slowly, and stood.
“All right,” I said, proffering my wrists. “I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” McGough asked, jamming his hands in his rumpled coat.
“To turn myself in,” I said, lowering my hands. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“No,” McGough said, with a rough shake of his head. “That’s something you need to work out with Rand. I heard through the grapevine you’d be here… and we need to talk.”
“Heard through the grapevine? How? ” I said.
“What, you don’t think your guardian angel knows where you are?”
I stared at him blankly. For a moment I thought he was being completely literal; then I got it. “My mysterious benefactor in the APD, revealed at last.” My mouth curled up in a smile. “What did you do, feed the texts through a friend in the National Security Agency?”
McGough’s eyes bugged. “No, but damn close,” he said. “How’d you figure-”
“Well,” I said, “Mystery texts are all spooky, and it was a Fort Meade area code.”
“Headquarters of the NSA,” he said. “Not bad. Actually, it was an old college roommate, now in a CIA field office also in Maryland. Very good contact to have, like your Special Agent Davidson. I’m impressed you looked up the area code. Not many people would have done that.”
“Not many people used to date Special Agent Philip Davidson,” I said.
“That’s not what I hear,” McGough laughed. Then his face grew serious. “You did good with what I gave you, Frost, but I’m not here about the case-I’m here about the aftermath. Especially about that stunt you pulled this morning with the vamps.”
“Well,” I said, “once I-wait a minute. How did you know I did good with what you gave me, much less what went on last night? I haven’t spoken to the police yet… ”
“I’m not here on police business,” McGough said. “This is strictly Wizarding Guild.”
The Gift That Keeps On Giving
“ You’re working for the Wizarding Guild?” I asked. “While working on the APD? Isn’t it a huge no-no to have a practicing magician on the Black Hats?”
“Yes, yes, and no-and I’m not a practicing magician,” McGough said. “I have only the barest hint of a magical bloodline, and hardly do any magic at all.”
My brow furrowed. “Then… why are you in the Wizarding Guild?”
“I,” McGough said firmly, “am a magical forensic investigator. I know as much magic as ten average wizards, but every week I find some perp abusing magic in a new way. I don’t have time to learn how to do card tricks with pixie dust-I have a job to do.”
“You go, Detective McGough,” I said. “So… what’s up with this?”
“The Guild has ‘requested,’” McGough said, “that you accept a representative onto your magical oversight committee until a body with legitimate authority is established.”
“Huh,” I said. “Have they. Well, tell the Guild that I will consider their request.”
“It’s not really a request,” McGough said.
“It wasn’t really a request when they put it to you,” I said, “but it is a request when they put it to me. Right now I determine the makeup of the Council, and even then every appointment also has to be approved by the vampires and the werewolves.”
McGough put his hand to his brow. “Damnit. Damn those stupid, touchy, violent fangs and claws. All right, I think you’ll like who they’ve chosen, but I’ll tell the Guild we need to be sensitive about our request. The last thing we want is a vamp-werekin war.”