Liquid Fire Read Online Free Page B

Fergie had a chance. If he fails, good for who hates him; if he runs us off, even better.”
    “I don’t take it we can get the name of your employer, Mr. Ferguson?” I said.
    “Fuck no,” Ferguson said, clenching his teeth. “I don’t want to get killed.”
    “How charming. May I then?” I said. I took the tickets back from him, then wrote CALL ME—DAKOTA FROST on the envelope with my number underneath. “Please tell whoever doesn’t want us here that we’ve received their warning, and I want to speak to them.”
    Ferguson took it back, incredulous. “The Guild doesn’t want to talk to you—”
    “Your master doesn’t want the Guild talking to me, ” I said. “But the Guild does. They invited me to the Northern California Practitioner’s Conclave tomorrow, to report on my work in the Magical Security Council of Atlanta. If your master is in the Guild . . . he’s probably invited.”
    Ferguson glared. “Frost, look,” he said. “He—they want you out of their territory.”
    “I don’t care what he wants,” I said, jamming my hands in the pockets of my vestcoat. “This is a free country, and I have the right to bring my daughter here and keep her safe. And as far as the wizards who are here . . . well, all I care about is keeping them safe. Tell them that.”
    Ferguson started to retort, then froze as Saffron’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Tell them one more thing,” she said softly in his ear. “See the steel collar around the Lady Frost’s neck? And around the little girl’s neck? Her name’s Cinnamon, by the way. She’s not a pet.”
    Cinnamon tugged at her collar, and I pulled at mine as well—polished stainless steel, with a soft black rubber liner and an elaborate S engraved on the front. Mine was comfortably fitted to my neck. Cinnamon’s was far wider, so she could change.
    Saffron drew back slightly, at first I thought to make her look imperious; then I realized the angle would make it easier for her to bite. Saffron waited for Ferguson to nod, then said, “That’s the sign of the House of Saffron, the Vampire Queen of Atlanta. My sign.”
    And Saffron bared her cruel vampire fangs.
    “Oh, fuck me, ” Ferguson said, flinching away from her, but Saffron held him firm.
    “If any harm befalls Dakota or Cinnamon, my wrath will be . . . awesome,” she said, oh-so-sweetly, turning up the Southern Belle accent at just the right point to convey ultimate menace. Her fangs were as long as Cinnamon’s. “Please deliver that along with Dakota’s message.”
    “Understood,” Ferguson said. He was shaking when she released him.
    “Sorry,” I said.
    “What?” Ferguson said, still flinching away from Saffron.
    “They really should have told you,” I said. “They had to have known. I’m so sorry.”
    “What?” Ferguson said, backing away, slipping the envelope back into his vest. “What? Fuck you, lady, I-I’m loyal to—to the Guild! He—they would have told me if they’d known! And I can take care of myself!”
    And then he zipped his vest up and whirled, and in a blink of magic he was gone.
    My jaw dropped. It hadn’t been teleportation, exactly—of that I was certain, as I’d become a bit of an expert in that area—but it was a damn impressive combination of accelerated movement combined with some kind of perceptual effect. I squinted, trying to see the traces, then gave up and put my hand to my brow to dispel the sudden magically-induced headache.
    “Cool!” Cinnamon said, peering after him; then she, too, put her hand to her forehead and grimaced. “Ouchies—eggbeaters to the noggins—but super cool! Mr. Wizard meets Sonic the Hedgehog. Wind gots to whip him up though—ergo, them riding leathers.”
    “ ‘Ergo?’ ” Vickman asked, smiling. Even the grizzled ex-South African Defense Forces veteran was softening after half a year hanging around Cinnamon, and he reached to tousle her hair. “Since when does a street cat start dropping