Pomegranates full and fine (46 page)

Tango’s heart sank. It was hopeless. She tried to look at Miranda again, but she couldn’t even see the vampire. David stood between them. She spat mentally. Jubilee picked up her distress. Tenderly, he relayed his view of Miranda.

The vampire was crying. Tears of blood ran from her eyes down an otherwise impassive face.

Send a message to her?
Tango pleaded.

Jubilee actually physically shook his head.
I can’t. David has control of her mind. If I try anything, he’d notice. Shiv, if you do anything, I’ll try my best to help you, but I can’t do any more.

Thank you.
She hesitated then thought,
Call me Tango.

Jubilee’s touch left her mind. Solomon was speaking, something about the High Circle standing guard and defending the Bandog as the Great Hound guarded the gate between worlds. Shaftiel was pleased with the Bandog. The conditions for the summoning of his voice had been met. Tango noticed that Solomon didn’t mention the Kithain court’s attempts to curb the riots. She wondered if Riley and Tolly had been successful. Not that it would matter, of course. All of their plans had assumed that the summoning rite was real, that there really was a demon — and not just two inhuman mages.

Solomon swept his arms wide. “Send forward the traitor, Miranda Delara!”

Miranda walked forward, her body controlled by David’s will. The outer ranks of the Bandog, then the thin line of the High Circle, parted to permit her passage. The cultists murmured as they saw the blood on her face. When she stood within the High Circle, Miranda dropped down to her knees before Solomon, her head bowed. The Nephandus pointed at her dramatically. “Miranda Delara, you stand before the Bandog stripped of mask and chain. The servants of Shaftiel are one to his gaze, but he sees each one who fails in her duty. The servants of Shaftiel are bound to him, but betrayal breaks that bond.” Solomon’s voice thundered in the great hall. “Miranda Delara, you have failed in your duty. You have aided an enemy of the Bandog. You have refused to serve as you pledged. Miranda Delara, in the sight of the Great Hound, you are a traitor, and so I name you!” He spat on the ground.

David spat as well. Following their lead, so did the rest of the Bandog.

Solomon produced a piece of parchment — Tango wasn’t sure from where — and raised it over his head. “The pact that you committed yourself to when you became one of the Bandog names the price of treason. Your life is forfeit.” He hurled the parchment at her. “You are the first Bandog to make that contemptible forfeiture. Let others learn from your treacherous example. Your life will be the final stone in the bridge across which the Great Hound shall speak to his

faithful servants.”

Plucking a lash, the same one he had used in the ceremony of initiation, from his belt, David strode forward on cue. The Bandog scrambled to get out of his way. The blond mage stood over Miranda like some dog-faced avenging angel. He raised the lash. Solomon spread his arms and turned his handsome face to the shadows of the ceiling. “O Shaftiel! Your servants call out to you! Answer us! Send your voice into our world to speak to us!” He kissed his tattooed bracelet again. David’s lash fell hard. Miranda bore the stroke silently. As if she had a choice.

The Bandog began to chant the full obedience. David’s lash fell again and again. Tango fought the magickal bonds that held her body motionless, fought desperately. Nothing helped. She reached for the thin Glamour that clung to the cold stone of Union Station, drawing it into her like icy light and throwing it against David’s magick. Nothing. The Bandog began the full obedience again.

Someone gasped. Tango looked up.

Red light was seething around Solomon’s body. The light was hot, smoky and hellish. It writhed, almost as if it were alive, embracing the Nephandus. Solomon’s arms were still outstretched, his head still thrown back. An expression of rapture covered his face. The chanting of the Bandog grew louder, more enthusiastic. David kept lashing Miranda. Sweat gleamed on his bare torso and working muscles, reflecting the infernal light around Solomon.

Solomon began to rise up into the air. Hanging as though the light were the grasp of some otherworldly entity, Solomon flung his eyes open and screamed out,

“The Great Hound comes!”

Everything, even David’s lash, froze. Miranda raised her head. Her eyes glowed the same red as the light around Solomon. Still kneeling, she bayed like a dog, long and quavering. Her fangs were extended, as were her talons. “The Great Hound,” she howled in an unnatural voice, “is here!” She stood and turned to David.

The blond mage dropped his lash and seized her left wrist, desperately beginning the motions of full obedience, as if he were terrified of her. Miranda touched his head gently and moved him away. “I am pleased with your service.” The glow faded from her eyes. To the Bandog, however, her fangs and talons would have been enough. She looked around at the circles of cultists, turning so that all could see her. For a moment, even Tango was stunned by the magnificent effect that Solomon and David had created. Then Miranda pointed at her.

“I speak through the body of the traitor so that none of my loyal servants need perish! But I hunger for another life. I must feed before I speak my message. Let that one, who would attack the Bandog, come and feed me.”

Tango felt David’s magick lift her legs again, moving her forward. The Bandog shifted aside in awe. David stepped away from Miranda. His magick pushed Tango down to her knees. For a moment she could see Miranda’s face, and, up behind her, Solomon. Solomon was smiling cruelly. Miranda was weeping still, red blood dripping from her eyes. One drop fell on Tango’s upturned face. Miranda’s eyes flickered toward that drop even as her hand reached out and took David’s lash from him. Her tongue flickered from her mouth briefly, hungry for the blood in spite of David’s control. The expression made her entire face look utterly ridiculous. David touched the knife in his belt, re exerting his magick. Miranda’s tongue slipped back into her mouth, though her eyes stayed on the drop of blood.

Miranda’s instincts were strong, Tango realized, far stronger than her conscious mind. She was still a vampire beneath the mage’s control of her will. She still had a vampire’s craving for blood.

David couldn’t control Tango’s mind because Kithain were already “half-mad.” Miranda had been unable to control Atlanta Hunter’s mind for a similar reason.

Kithain blood could drive a vampire mad.

Suddenly, Tango had a way to fight back against Solomon and David. It was desperate, and it would be dangerous — both for her and for Miranda. Kithain blood could kill a vampire as easily as it could drive her mad. There was no way to predict the effects. But what other chance was there? Tango still had control of her face and mouth, even if she dared not speak. She bit down savagely on her own lip, just as Miranda stepped in front of her and raised the lash. The vampire eclipsed Solomon, his ruddy aura flaring around her like a demonic halo.

Tango’s blood spilled from her lip. The nocker bit deeper, bit at the inside of her mouth, anything to make blood flow. Red warmth trickled down her chin and over her cheeks.

Miranda’s arm froze. The lash quivered at the apex of its swing. Tango couldn’t see David or Solomon, but Miranda’s eyes were alight with a hunger that no mage had placed there. Her upraised arm trembled for a moment as her mind fought her nature, as David’s magick fought her nature.... Vampire nature won. Miranda’s body darted forward, kissing and licking at the bright blood on Tango’s face. Her tongue darted across the changeling’s Ups. Her fangs brushed her cheek. Tango felt a thrill of fear — had she gone too far? Was this what humans felt before a vampire fed from them? Tango’s eyes met Miranda’s. She could see struggle in them as Miranda fought David for control of her own will. The vampire’s lips touched hers once more and then moved down to her neck, an act of defiance against the mage.

“The Great Hound seizes the throat of his enemy!” shouted Solomon triumphantly. Tango could see him over Miranda’s shoulder, though, and his angry eyes were anything but triumphant. She grinned at him as fangs penetrated her skin.

Ecstasy raced through her body, as sweet as any epiphany she had ever experienced. Tango wanted to hug Miranda against her, to push the vampire’s working mouth against her throat.

Suddenly, though, it was over. Miranda was pushing her away, Solomon's red light glowing in her eyes once more. Tango felt weak, but at the same time energized. Glamour tingled in her limbs, flushing away her exhaustion. She grinned wildly as Miranda raised the lash once more. “My enemy’s blood,” the vampire howled, “is sweet. But her life will be sweeter still!”'

The lash fell across the top of her shoulder, wrapping around to snarl against her back and upper arm. Tango kept smiling, buoyed by the ecstasy of Miranda’s feeding. Miranda growled. She lifted the lash again.

Then screamed, dropping the whip to grab desperately at her head. The scream started in Shaftiel’s horrible voice, but ended in Miranda’s own, and it was echoed by David. The blond mage was on his knees clutching at his head as though it were about to explode. Tango had only wanted to end his magickal control of Miranda’s mind, but something of the vampire’s sudden madness must have echoed back through the magick to affect him as well. Abruptly, Tango’s limbs were her own again.

She leaped for David as the Bandog around them started to shout. She didn’t think, just acted on instinct, moving quickly. The light that flickered around Solomon suddenly went out. Tango could feel his magick sucking at her like quicksand, desperately trying to control her again before she could destroy his plans completely. She wasn’t going to let him have that chance. She grabbed for the little knife that David had tucked into his belt. The blond mage tried to stop her, but couldn’t. Tango got her hand on the knife and twisted around. Solomon’s magick finally took hold of her, freezing her legs like thin pillars of stone even as she drew back her arm. But she still had control of the rest of her body. She snapped her arm forward and released the knife.

Solomon was fast. The infernal light blazed again suddenly, this time smooth and condensed, a shield over his head and chest. The magickal shield would have deflected a killing shot — if killing had been Tango’s intention. All she’d really wanted to do was distract the mage and prevent him from using his magick against her. The knife sank into flesh. Solomon screamed horribly and tumbled hard to the ground.

Never
go for the balls
seemed to be one of the unspoken laws that connected men around the world. Maybe that was why they always seemed so surprised when a woman did it.    .

Silence fell over the Bandog, then they shouted and jumped forward. For all that they knew, their dark master and their leader had just been attacked by a woman declared the enemy. Tango swung around, Solomon’s grasp on her broken along with his concentration.

“No!” One of the High Circle leaped in front of them, jubilee. “Run! Get away!”

The mercenary’s powers of command weren’t nearly as powerful as Miranda’s, but they worked. The front ranks of the Bandog turned back, snarling the advance of those behind. The mob of cultists boiled in confusion, jubilee kept shouting. Bandog began to flee, running for the doors that would lead out to the streets. Tango grabbed for Miranda, wrapping her arms around the vampire. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Tango?” Miranda tried to focus on her.

“What’s happening?’’

“The shadows are coming for me, Tango. The shadows are coming!” She started to shake. Tango held her, rocking her gently. David continued to scream. Solomon rolled over and over on the ground, clutching at himself. Blood soaked his clothes.

Bandog began to scramble back away from the doors out of Union Station, some fleeing out other exits, some diving down the stairs to the subway tunnels, some just cowering in corners. Tango heard singing, a rollicking pooka drinking song. Through the open doors, ducking low to pass under the frame, rode the Kithain court. Most of the torches were gone and the censers cold, but the smoke of the magickal drugs still clung to the descendants of the ancient faeries. Many of the Kithain wore souvenir T-shirts, ball caps, peaked police hats, or simple wreaths of leaves in addition to their finery. Most had silly,_ half-drunk looks on their faces. There were a few humans mixed in with them as well, laughing and singing as though the Kithain were old friends. Only Duke Michael still looked as sternly cold as he had when the Ride began. Riley waved at Tango from Tolly’s back. “Are we too late?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Laura awoke as from a dream,

Laughed in the innocent old way,

Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice

Toronto was quiet again. The sun rose in the morning, clear, bright and cooler. The heat of the previous day had passed. The downtown streets were littered with the debris of the riots, to be sure, but they were also empty. The city felt as though it had been reborn. The sunlight falling across the streets was like wonder, the breeze that stirred the air was fresh with possibility. It was a feeling that would probably only last for the day. On Monday morning, people would return to work in the offices and stores, dragging the dull monotony of the suburbs with them.

The riots hadn’t vanished from memory, though. The city’s anger existed independently of Solomon’s control, and it didn’t disappear with his defeat. There was still a certain tension in Toronto. There were still people in the hospital and in jail. There was still damage to be repaired. There was still the fear of the penny murders; still outrage, loathing and suspicion. Toronto was cool now, but it would become cold again very quickly. And Tango suspected that it would stay cold for a long time.

The Ride had, by all reports, been an outstanding success, both in terms of breaking up the riots and of entertaining the Kithain. The humans, befuddled by the chaos, the magickal smoke and their own disbelief, were busy trying to explain it all away. Vague reports were being made on the news the next day describing the court’s appearances throughout the night as, variously, reinforcements of mounted police, helpful passersby (conveniently ignoring the court’s horses), or simply hallucinations. A few people claimed to have seen angels. The most popular explanation for the sudden end to the riots ignored the Kithain altogether, and attributed the relative lack of violence to Toronto’s own peaceful character and the exaggeration of events by an over-zealous media.