“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 like walking through a museum, with thousands of ancient artifacts and pictures arranged beneath high cove ceilings. In one room, the glass was shattered, bullet holes marred the hair plaster, and behind a piano was a pool of blood. Vladimir had not been subtle.
I half expected the tunnel to be artfully hidden behind a trick door, but near the back of the house, a well-lit stair curved down into to a full-sized basement, holding a parlor that was similar to, but more intimate, than the one where the vampire held court. A big-screen TV dominated one side of the room; even the ancient vampire was turning into a consumer.
Glass lamps lit either side of a columned entranceway, with a heavy door that looked not unlike the front door of the house we’d just entered. It had been splintered clear of its hinges. The light grew dim in the hallway, provided by widely-spaced bulbs that barely illuminated the yellow wallpaper. Iadimus led me forward through a century and a half of history splayed over the walls in the form of old photographs, from daguerreotypes through digital prints.
Bloodstains began appearing in the hallway, but Iadimus didn’t stop, not even when we encountered the bodies of two more guards, dead on the floor. We emerged in another parlor, this one filled with scattered bodies. I shuddered, but Iadimus kept walking, climbing the stairs into another room, all the doors but one blocked off with tossed furniture.
Iadimus cleared his throat, then led me through the door and into the vampire’s parlor.
“Thanks for the heads up,” Vladimir said dryly, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Do not mention it,” Iadimus said stiffly.
“You left a lot of bodies on the deck back there,” I said quietly.
“You can’t make an omelet,” he said, staring over my shoulder at Iadimus. “But I don’t think it will matter. Consider it payment for all of Darkrose’s men Scara killed.”
“As you offered before-a fair proposal,” Iadimus said. “I am inclined to seek agreement with you, so we may salvage something from this catastrophe.”
“I am inclined to let you all live if you behave,” Vladimir said.
“Excellent,” Iadimus said, releasing my arm and turning to face forward. “Sir Leopold, Lords and Ladies of the Gentry,” he said, with a gracious bow, “on behalf of the Lady Nyissa of the House Beyond Sleep, may I present her envoy, the Lady Dakota Frost.”
I nodded to myself. Then I turned and faced the vampire court.
Everything was more or less as I had left it: Saffron and Delancaster seated on either side of the lich’s throne, Darkrose still in her cage. Scara sulked at the edge of the dais, and everyone else looked grumpy and uncomfortable. Even the vamps’ guards were seated, except two fresh ones around Darkrose, one guarding the rope, one guarding the cage with a crossbow.
Only the lich seemed alert, bright, animated. He prowled around the chunk of masonry, brazenly walking past the now-broken magic circle, touching with an occasional cackle the blackened surface where the tagged gateway had once stood. Demophage’s coffin still flickered with slowly dying rainbow light. Interesting -though the lich seemed not to notice.
“I did what you asked,” I said. “Now release my friends, and let’s put this behind us.”
“We can clearly see you dealt with the magic marks,” the lich said, hand extended to the cracked, blackened ruin of the tag. Chuckling, the lich returned to his throne and sat down. “But what of the rest of what you promised? What became of the tagger?”
“Dead. I short-circuited his magic to kill both him and what he summoned.” I turned to give Scara the full force of my words. “Then I cut him free of the graffiti, pulled what was left of his brain through the hole the tag had made in his skull, cut it into pieces, and stomped on ’em.”
Something flickered over Scara’s face, but she did not respond. The lich, however, did. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Our little Edgeworld witch has shown herself to have a spine-”
“And then,” I continued, “since he seemed to have such an affinity for vampire magic, I rammed a wooden stake through his blackened corpse, and cut his head off with this.” I pulled Tully’s closed switchblade out and tossed it at his feet. “I couldn’t quite get off all the goo-and while I’m not a vampire, I’m pretty sure you can smell that’s burnt human, well, werekin fat.”
The lich just sat there in stunned silence. After a moment, Saffron spoke.
“Yeah,” she said. “ That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Nuke the site from orbit,” I said. “It’s the only way to be sure.”