“I think he’s doing it on purpose,” Derek growled under his breath.
“He is. He hates horses,” I told him. “Allergies.”
The purple vampire loped along on the right side of the street and launched itself at the telephone pole. The undead climbed with a gecko’s agility to about twelve feet, took its bearings, and casually jumped down to resume its bizarre gallop. Normally it would snow in mid-June before the People let a bloodsucker out in full daylight. The sunlight blistered their skin within minutes of exposure. Unless, of course, they were smothered in a quarter-inch-thick layer of purple sunblock. I wondered what possessed him to take the risk anyway.
“Ghastek? What happens to the Casino during a flare?”
He took a few seconds before he answered. “Lockdown. The Casino grounds all vampires. All personnel are pulled in and put on high alert. The Casino is shuttered and locked. All nonemergency communication with the outside world is restricted.”
If the flare made all magic stronger, than the vampires, in turn, experienced a surge in power. How many necromancers would it take to keep them put? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Nor would I want to be there when the steel chains holding the bloodsuckers within their stables started snapping.
Ghastek drew parallel to my horse, and she tossed her head back.
“How much farther?” Derek asked.
“Patience is a virtue,” Ghastek advised.
“Lecturing a wolf about patience is unwise.” That was the first time Derek condescended to addressing Ghastek directly, and his face plainly showed he felt quite soiled by having to stoop so low.
“Should I find myself speaking to an animal for some bewildering reason, I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Are the two of you finished?”
“Quite,” Ghastek said.
“Nothing to finish.” Derek shrugged.
I sighed.
“Does our bickering displease you?” The vamp leaped straight up long enough to look me in the face.
“No. My ability to get myself into these situations displeases me. It’s a special talent of mine.” I turned to Derek. “The expert lives at Champion Heights. We’re almost there.”
“The old Lenox Pointe?”
“Yes.”
“He does alright for himself,” Derek said.
“Indeed.” And I would have to empty my bank account to pay for the information he would provide.
Magic didn’t like skyscrapers. It didn’t like anything new and technologically complicated, period, but it especially hated tall buildings. Ever since the Shift, Atlanta’s skyscrapers had rocked, crumbled, and fallen, like exhausted titans on sand legs.
Against this new jagged skyline, Champion Heights stood out like a sore thumb. Seventeen stories tall, it towered above Buckhead thanks to the deep pockets of its owners and a complicated spell nobody had thought would work. The spell worked just fine: the high-rise still loomed above decrepit buildings, clouded with haze, shifting back and forth between the brick and glass building and a tall granite spire, as the complex web of spells worked tirelessly to support the illusion which permitted its existence. The cost of maintaining an apartment in Champion Heights approached astronomical.
The magic hit, so thick my heart skipped a beat. Derek clenched his teeth. His face strained, muscles on his forearms bulged, and his eyes flooded with yellow.
The hair on the back of my arms rose. The intense cold fire of those eyes chilled me. He was on the verge of going furry.
“You okay?”
His lips quivered. The fire in his eyes died to its usual soft brown. “Yeah,” he said. “Took me by surprise.”
The vampire kept galloping as if nothing had happened.
“Ghastek, you okay?”
He offered Derek a smile. “Never better. Unlike Pack members, the People don’t tolerate losses of control.”
Derek’s eyes flashed gold. “If I lose control, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I’m quite perturbed by the idea.”
We turned the corner. A granite crag greeted us, nestled within artfully landscaped shrubs. The crag rose, completely sheer, until it brushed the sky, where snowdrifts edged its scarred weather-worn top. A flock of birds launched themselves into flight from its top, the setting sun gleaming on their backs and wings. They circled the building once and took off for places unknown.
“Whoa,” Derek said. “I thought it was supposed to look like a rock, not be a rock.”
“Our furry companion once again forgets the advance of a flare,” Ghastek said.
“If the two of you don’t stop, I’ll send you home.”
The flare had turned Champion Heights into a granite spire. And it wasn’t even going full force yet. We were just getting the preview of what was to come.