Anthony Francis - Blood Rock

“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.”

“Good, you do that,” I said. My mouth quirked up in a smile. “Seriously, you old toad… it will be good to work with you, officially this time.”

“Oh, it won’t be me,” McGough said. “My relationship with the Guild is strictly incognito-has to be, or I couldn’t help prosecute crimes. The Guild picked someone you already know, a friend with good relations with the Guild here and in San Francisco… ”

At first I was completely baffled. Then I slowly realized there was only one person he could have meant, although I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why they’d picked him. “Alex?” I said. “Alex Nicholson? Valentine’s former assistant? The fire magician?”

McGough smiled. “Right first time, you tattooed witch.”

“Oh, blow me, you old toad,” I said, grinning back at him. “Hey, can we go get some coffee? I’ve been up since seven yesterday, and we can fill each other in on the walk.”

We talked on the way to Starbucks, me filling him in on all that had happened and him filling me in on what stake the Wizard’s Guild wanted with the Council. After I had a full cup of coffee in me, felt a bit more energized, I steeled myself and asked the question.

“One more thing, you old toad,” I said. “Can you give me a ride?”

“Where to, you tattooed witch?” McGough asked.

“City Hall East,” I said, holding out my hands. “I need to turn myself in.”

McGough scowled, then pulled out his handcuffs. “All right,” he said. “It is time.”

At Homicide, I was questioned. Oh, was I questioned: first by McGough, then by Rand, then by Philip, and then by more detectives and agents, for hours and hours and hours. Helen Yao had to practically sit on Damien Lee whenever I mentioned anything even vaguely nefarious. But something… different… was in the air, and eventually it was Assistant District Attorney Paulina Ross who came in and spilled the beans on why I hadn’t been charged.

“I received a package in the mail,” Ross said. “New evidence in the case against you.”

“What kind of evidence are we talking about here?” Lee said. “The U.S. Postal Service is not a typical link in the chain of evidence.”

“Not for the prosecution,” Ross said, with a slight smile, “but for the defense… gold.”

Lee’s jaw dropped. “Do you have a present for me, Miss Ross?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “A box of videotapes. The security cameras from the Masquerade.”

Now my jaw dropped.

“I’m having them checked out, but I think they’re genuine,” Ross said. “And they show, from multiple angles, virtually the whole assault on you, Miss Frost. What you did was clearly self-defense. I could never in good conscience push this forward. We’re dropping all charges.”

I was stunned. “Thank you… but… how? ” I said. “The person who took the tapes… I can’t see why he would have kept them… ”

“There was a note attached,” Ross said, somewhat uncomfortable. “It said, ‘Lay off Frost. Valentine had it coming,’ and it was signed, ‘T.’”

“Transomnia,” I said, rubbing my tongue over the implants in my right jaw where he’d knocked out two of my molars. “Now isn’t he the gift that keeps on giving?”

“This has come up more than once,” Ross said, “and I hate to even raise it-but I have to. Do you have some kind of agreement with the vampire Transomnia?”

“Now, now,” Lee said smoothly. “My client isn’t admitting-”

“Hush, Damien,” I said. “Ross, you saw the tape. If Transomnia hadn’t turned on Valentine, I’d be dead, and my skin would be the new lid on his damn box-but Transomnia didn’t do it for my health. He basically used me to free himself from Valentine.”

“And?” Ross said.

“Well, there’s a reason he used me. Dumb old me screwed up his attempt to escape Valentine by getting him fired from the Oakdale clan. He was under a control charm. Outside the influence of a more powerful vampire, he had no choice but to go back to Valentine.”

“So he… convinced Valentine to make you his next victim,” she said slowly, “knowing that you had the skills to free him from bondage?”

“Or, more likely, hoping to watch me die on the table, and to then lick the scraps,” I said. She looked away. “But at some point, I think he decided I was powerful enough to free him, and took a gamble. Afterward, our agreement was to leave each other the hell alone.”

Ross looked back at me, then nodded. “I can’t blame you,” she said. “And not just for defending yourself. The security cameras were running through the whole Masquerade. They showed not just what was happening to you… but who you were doing it for.”