Anthony Francis - Frost Moon

"Did he leave a number?" I said, pulling out my phone and texting Jinx. I felt a sting of embarrassment that I'd done a tattoo for prize money while Wulf was waiting out in the cold, and the excuse of waiting on the Marquis's approval was growing thin.

"No," she said.

"Well, star-sixty-nine the Marquis," I said, thumbing rapidly: «Good news on Wulfs flash?»

"We can't do star-sixty-nine on this system," Annesthesia said.

"Wait a minute, I think you can get the call log," Kring/L said, picking up the phone and jabbing at it. "You want the number-"

"No, call him and put him on speaker," I said.

Jinx responded: «still waiting 4 marquis»

Damnit, how hard could this be? «Well, ping him,» I texted back. «Wulf is antsy.»

The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Finally Kring/L picked up the receiver and dropped it to disconnect the call. "Nothing," he said.

"Try again. He may be using a pay phone," I said, thumbing rapidly. «Tell him it's urgent – Wulf has the shakes.»

«marquis!= speedy gonzalez» Jinx responded.

"For the love," I said. What did '!=' even mean? «Speak English!»

The phone began ringing, and ringing, and ringing. Nothing. Just as Kring/L was reaching for the receiver, the line picked up and a haggard voice said cautiously: "Yes?"

"Rogue Unicorn Tattooing Studio," Annesthesia said cheerily. "Please hold for-"

"Dakota Frost," I said, picking up the receiver. "Wulf? Is this Wulf?"

There was only static on the end of the line. Then, a guarded: "Yes."

"You called? Sorry, I was doing a tat-"

"And what of mine?" he snarled.

I swallowed. He was on edge, his voice shaking. "I'm still getting it researched-"

"I am running out of time," he snapped. "I tire of these games, Dakota-"

"Wulf," I said passionately, and it halted him. "I haven't known you for a long time… but do you think I would game you?"

There was a long pause. "No, Dakota."

"I am checking with the graphomancers literally as we speak," I said, texting «Hurry!» into my phone. "But I would never do anything to hurt you."

"Then why won't you-"

"You know the tattoo is Nazi, Wulf," I said-and Kring/L's eyes widened.

"I know," he said, voice quiet.

"So I have to know it's safe. I won't risk hurting you." Now both Annesthesia and Kring/L raised their eyebrows. "I can't just take it on faith. I have to know that it won't cause you harm."

"Thank you, Dakota," he said. "I'd never hurt you either-but it's so hard to control myself, so close to the moon. The beast wants out. It wants me to change. It's so old now. So strong. So strong. I would never want to release that savage animal on you-"

"Spleen is dead," I said. "Savaged, by an animal."

There was even longer pause. "It wasn't me," he said. "It wasn't me-"

"I didn't say it was," I said. I heard the panic in his voice and wished I couldn't empathize. But I'd felt that panic of everything closing in on me, of helplessness, of realizing I wasn't in control of anything. Still, I pushed him. I had to. "But if not you-"

"My enemies," he snarled over the phone. "Damn them. Damn them!"

"Wulf…" I said. "Who? Who are your enemies?"

"The Hunters," he said. Even now, even with me believing he didn't kill Spleen, even knowing Philip believed that someone really had made trouble for him at the hospital, Wulf still came off like a conspiracy nut, with his assumed name and vaguely ascribed 'enemies.' "They've been looking so long, so long. They're afraid of me. They never attack me directly. They just make it… difficult. Or attack my friends. Always my friends. All my friends. So I won't let myself have any friends."

My phone buzzed: «marquis sez: "safe, u impatient bitch"»

I sighed in relief. Finally. «Thanks Jinx, and tell him thanks!»

"I'm your friend, Wulf," I said, as convincingly as I could muster. "I just got word from my graphomancers, right now, that the tattoo is safe. And I'm going to do it for you-"

"I can't let you do that," Wulf said. "Not if you're a friend." "But you said this was important. You need-" "That was before I knew Spleen had been murdered," Wulf said, and I could hear him pacing. Well, I wasn't sure I could actually hear someone pace, but his agitation came through loud and clear. "I won't let you become a target."

"I'm not an easy target, Wulf," I said, reddening even as I said it. That was an obvious lie, the old bravado talking. "The evidence says otherwise," Wulf said.

I had nothing to say to that, so after a moment I plowed ahead: "It will take me most of the afternoon to mix the pigments and make the needles. I can do the tattoo late tonight-"

"Not at night," Wulf said. "Not after moon rise. It isn't safe for you then."

"Tomorrow, then," I said. "Come to the Rogue-" "I can't be seen in public-"

"I need a magic circle, Wulf," I said. "I cannot do it in the open. Anything could get in to the marks and you could end up ten times worse off than you are now."

There was a long pause. "I will find you a circle, then, somewhere in the Underground," Wulf said. "And if I cannot find it before nightfall-"

"The full moon is what, two nights away?" I said. "Not 'til Sunday. You have time-"

Wulf laughed. "The moon hits zenith at two minutes to midnight tomorrow, Dakota, and it will be ninety-nine-point-six- percent full," he said bitterly. Then his words began to speed up, tumbling over one another. "Believe me, I know. That sliver of difference between full and not won't make a difference. I know the moon. The first moon of November. It's called a 'Frost Moon', did you know that, Dakota Frost? The frost moon of November. The Frost Moon is always so strong. So strong. If I cannot find somewhere safe… somewhere safe… perhaps it is best I wait it out… wait out the Frost Moon… and hope." "Wulf-"

His voice tightened up again, and he regained control of himself. "I will contact you tomorrow if I find a circle. Don't try to contact me-I can't use this pay phone again, it may be tapped. Be safe, Dakota."

Click. And with that, he was gone.

With me having no way to reach him, no way to find him. And time rapidly running out.

I felt safe. But for him… I felt it was not safe at all.

"The airport Houlihan's serves the best Bloody Marys," Savannah said, pushing her glass towards me. Reluctantly, I took a sip of the blood-red pulp and raised an eyebrow: the drink was strong and refreshingly tangy.

"You're right," I said, passing the glass back to her. "Who knew?"

Houlihan's was in the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport's atrium, a vast, round, indoor space filled with shops and restaurants. The atrium served as overflow for the staggering mess of the Atlanta security checkpoint, which fed all the passengers of the world's busiest airport through one measly row of metal detectors. The rest of Darkrose and Savannah's crew kept looking at the mammoth knot of passengers nervously, but Savannah was not perturbed; she just took another sip of her drink and leaned back in her chair thoughtfully.

"Surely," she said, "we could leave her one guard."

"No," Vickman said, scratching his beard. Darkrose's chief bodyguard always seemed to be scowling-and it was worse than normal today. "We can't. We're going into the lion's den here. We need everyone."

"I don't think you're even trying to find a way to protect Dakota," Savannah said, eyes narrowing at him as they might at Darkrose, or Doug. Vickman wasn't fazed.

"I'm not," he said sharply, meeting her eye to eye. "I don't answer to you, Saffron. I answer to Darkrose, and even then only as long as it doesn't interfere with keeping her alive. You may be modern and progressive, but South Africa is very definitely populated with Old World vampires. I need every hand I have to keep you safe, so everyone is going."