Chapter Fifty

Back in Gateway Park clean-up was under way, two vacuums in use and clothes and effects piled as they were excavated. Joel was human, the PD Captain was watching with two suits, more PD and wolves had arrived, and hard hats were waiting with a big screen, staring. Ol' Manitou River was talking to the crowds, and Warren and Ramona headed towards us from where they'd been doing the same.

"Boss, Mercy. Just under five minutes. We're good. Feebs are here."

"Thanks, Warren. All well, Ramona?"

"Un huh, but we want to see that slow-mo footage. You all just blurred right out. Even my wolf couldn't follow." She paused. "Nice sword."

"You bet. I'll introduce you properly when we have time. Here we go." I turned. "All well, Captain?"

"By some measure, Ms Hauptman. These are SAC Fredericks and SA Price. They want to take over the scene too."

I offered a hand. "SAC, SA. You've been briefed by AED Westfield?"

"We have, Ms Hauptman." He lowered his voice. "I'm to tell you, in this order, brava many times over; that all known US seethes are secured, with waking vampires seeming to be in profound shock; and that Europeans are finding the same thing. We're to take clothes, effects, and dust into our custody, and he asks if whatever business took you Underhill is sorted, or if there's anything he should do."

"Good to know, it is, and there isn't, thank you, SAC. Clothes and effects, yes, save phones, which we can hack faster, but dust, no. There was a ghastly amount of black witchcraft in Bonarata, and while the other dust's only mould, who's sorting? I'll ask Ol' Manitou River to deep six the lot. Or whatever you do on land. File under health hazard."

He was taken aback. "Ah. I'll ask the AED, if I can get him. He's running pretty busy, as you'll guess."

"Ask away, SAC, but that dust's going as soon as maybe. Preternatural force majeure, with cause. Is anything else urgent?"

"The body of, ah, Ms Yakovlevna. PD covered it and we were going to shift it, but Mr Zao said to leave it for now."

"Yeah. Witch on the way. We need to see it human."

"Ah. Right. We did know, but this is all so odd."

"Could be a lot odder, SAC, believe me. It's in only three dimensions for a start. No magical duckponds either. So let's be about it."

The vacuuming was mostly complete — long-dead people don't make a big heap of dust — and Bonarata had been done first. There were two heavy gold rings I had no desire at all to touch, but also slugs — my two silver ones, badly flattened, and seven wooden ones from Adam and Jesse that showed no damage save the rifling. I looked at the Captain and SAC.

"He had enough density or magic to stop slugs. The rounds that hit the others could be anywhere, though most are probably in the river. They won't do anyone any harm, but you should try to find them."

"We've found some, Ms Hauptman, and the Secret Service looked for their own. SOP. Unusual rounds."

"We use what works, Captain."

Irpa gathered phones and asked Vanna to take them to the Marrok. The SAC wasn't happy, but the Captain was enjoying me overruling Feebs.

"Clothes and the rest are yours, SAC, but I'd burn Bonarata's. Taints as bad as his tend to linger."

Darryl and Auriele were still vacuuming as we collected bodyguards and Secret Service guys, and went towards Ol' Manitou River. Both crews were filming and Al's camera swung as Caroline came forward.

"Ms Hauptman, you're well? And Miss Hauptman?"

"We're good, thanks, Ms Taylor. It was a bad experience, but could have been a lot worse. I'm glad you're all safe, and Al and Dwayne did fine jobs. But more has to wait until the President's spoken to the nation, and I need to borrow Ol' Manitou River for a moment, if it's willing."

Its head turned. Surely, She Doesn't Only Fix Cars. What do you need?

"A drop into deep magma, if Medicine Wolf told you about that?"

By all means. That magic was abomination.

"Tell me. And might you do another quick read, and let Medicine Wolf know what you learn?"

I met its eyes and it absorbed the slow-mo sequence and what had happened Underhill. The Untenanted Duckpond brought a smile to the dark, sharp face, and I had that sense of distant concentration.

Medicine Wolf is amused, as I am. It says 'Attatriad'.

I laughed. "You could say. But I'm under the gun, here."

Indeed. Excuse me a moment, humans.

Penny and Caroline trailed us as we crossed to where vacuums had fallen silent. Bad smells leaked from bags and tubes, and safe was better than sorry.

"Don't try removing bags, Darryl. We'll deep six the lot and buy the NPS new ones. Note makes and models?"

SAC Fredericks looked a bit constipated, but it took Ol' Manitou River no longer than it had Medicine Wolf to open a shaft, and in the poor vacuums went, the shaft resealing itself. We were in front of the Arch, dead centre, Ol' Manitou River having assured the NPS guy it wouldn't damage the Visitor Centre, just move some of itself aside for a second, and I thought having a massive, empty, uninscribed headstone was about right for Bonarata, sharing the idea with Adam, who took my hand.

"Just like that." The PD Captain shook his head. "All the way down?"

Just to the mantle. Manitous are of the crust, but in exchange with what lies beneath us. It looked round. A white witch approaches.

"That'll be Moira to deal with Lenka's corpse."

Ah. May I watch? I have not seen such magic.

"Of course."

The light was fading, but I could see Tom Yearman escorting Moira and pointed to the sheet-covered body before waving in Caroline and Penny.

"Your editors will want to blur blood and nudity, but there should be a record. No questions to the witch, unless she volunteers."

They followed us, speaking on their phones, and with a quizzical look I took the hand Tom offered.

"Congratulations, Mercy. Don't know what happened but you're standing and they're not. Hell of a takedown, however it worked. Sorry, Adam."

"Nada, Tom."

"How are you, Moira? Thanks for this."

I took her hands so she'd know where I was and let her feel the cloak and put a hand to my face. I liked Moira a lot.

"This was a particularly frustrating day to be blind, Mercy, but I am very relieved you are safe. And Adam and Jesse. We're on TV?"

"We are."

"Right. It's just the one wolf body?"

"It is." Adam pulled off the sheet, and I guided Moira. "Smallish gaunt wolf, on her right side. You're standing by her front legs. Took two silver bullets, head, and a post-mortem grizzly slam that looks to have broken ribs. There's lingering magical contamination from her … late owner, though any power should be fried."

"It is. Not a problem. Stand back."

I shifted to stand by the SAC and PD captain. "Those silver slugs will be buried left and forward of where you were standing, Captain."

"Right." He gave me a sideways look. "In the video I thought you realised I was in your line of fire, and shifted. Stood tall as well."

"Un huh. I try quite hard not to hit anything I'm not aiming at."

"There was a leaping werewolf maybe eight feet from your face."

"I had the time and no excuse for being careless."

"Careless. Damn. Thank you for your care, Ms Hauptman, and I will make sure it's known."

"You're welcome, Captain, and that would be good, thanks. Now it's all blown wide, you could talk to Clay Willis of Kennewick PD if you need. He was a little inside the loop. Watch."

Moira's pale magic had pooled around the body and Lenka started to change. Without pain or organic systems to preserve change in a dead wolf is a lot faster than in a living one, but for all the speed it was ugly, not helped by the damage. One of my slugs had blown out her spine, the other her brain, and Jill had slammed her at speed, and it was as human skin slid over rearranged bodyparts that I felt bile rise. Deep bites were everywhere, neck, arms, breasts, stomach, stringy thighs and calves, feet, ridged with the scar tissue of multiple violent feedings.

"Jesus God!"

"They weren't involved, SAC. You have it, Dwayne, Al?" They did, and I nodded. "Then you need to get those memory cards to WashU pronto, and let a local crew take over here. I'll want this and the earlier sequence. You can come with us and the Freed. There should be Benny's pies to settle stomachs." I turned. "She's all yours, Captain, SAC, though we'll see to her burial. Her name was Lenka Yakovlevna, born in Slovakia about 1600. Resident in Rome since about 1700. And as you see, an addict, kept as a pet. Any number of European PDs might be interested in her fingerprints." I looked at Al's camera. "I'm not sure what anyone watching might be seeing, but producers, show at least an arm clearly, please. What matters, everyone, is that her body shows signs of serious addictive abuse, like needle scars in junkies except they don't last four centuries and change. You might all think about what addiction means to the undying. I'm now heading to WashU so watch this space and your questions will be answered as fully as continuing security concerns allow."

I took a deep breath.

"And one more thing, which is that some of you may think I'm being strikingly callous, given that I shot and killed this poor wolf, this poor woman. It's true my emotions are locked down, because I have to deal, but I feel pity, not guilt. She sought to kill me, so killing her is not a suboptimal outcome. After her long, long life of abuse she was also profoundly mad, and though you have only my word for that I'll call her death a mercy, though it was not a mercy killing."

I closed the empty eyes, laying hands on stomach, and crossed myself, ignoring the ghost that watched with mad eyes.

"Rest in Peace, Lenka Yakovlevna. You have already been avenged."

No-one else was saying anything, though Jesse took my hand, and we farewelled Ol' Manitou River, pulled in the Freed, and went. The big screen was only just up, but enough people had been watching on phones that the crowds were hushed. The cleared route was narrow, so Adam, Jesse, and I were in single file, Secret Service flanking us, and I couldn't see much though I managed to smile at children perched on shoulders and peering down in the gloom. Or up, in Irpa's case, though she went human-sized as we reached the parking lot. The stone Basilica with its columned portico seemed incongruous after the steel geometries of the Arch, but we hadn't been there ten seconds when The Dagda strode out of an arch carrying a pallet piled with Benny's boxes, and my stomach growled. The Secret Service knew better than to shoot at anything exiting an arch, but had a hard time not gawping as the pallet was set down.

"Mercedes Elf-friend, the human fare Gwyn ap Lugh promised you." The Dagda straightened. "He says delivering these circular foods is a common occupation Overhill. I can smell why."

I grinned at him. "Benny's pies are exceptional, The Dagda, but Gwyn ap Lugh does not lie. You make a very superior delivery guy and us all glad."

"That is well. Your deed deserves many feasts, beyond those you have mandated. Now you go to a different fight, and we wish you renewed success. Fare you well Overhill."

"Fare you well Underhill, The Dagda. Does the pallet need returning?"

"Benny did not say so. He has several."

And he was gone. I sighed.

"Stash it, Tom, and I'll pick it up whenever? Thanks. Take a pie for your trouble, but not until I've secured mine."

Yet another good thing about food was that as soon as anyone had a box all they wanted was a seat, and as there was a tub of meat for the four-legged in the coach the exodus was rapid. The motorcade was mostly SUVs, but there was a big-ass stretch limo riding so low it had to be armoured, and Adam, Jesse, and I wound up with Dan and the Joes, Brent, Jill, Warren, and Skuffles stretched out on the floor. Everyone was hungry, and Jill seriously so. I knew how much changes took out of me, and she'd done it twice in slow time. Going big rather than small made no odds, but a big body takes more effort to move, and she got through a second pie fast, slowing on a third. Skuffles looked less than resigned to not actually needing food. Chewing more meditatively, Jill sat back.

"Mercy, Momma said I'd see some strange if I did this, but she did not mention claiming legendary swords, laying a geas on Gray Lords, or having a very large one play pizza boy."

"Well, she wouldn't have, Jill. There's a first time for everything."

"Right. Gloss, please. Did ap Lugh know what you'd do?"

"Not unless Edythe saw it prophetically. But he knew I'd call them on the debt. He'd never have admitted it otherwise, because it threw them on my mercy. Every which way. It was an act of trust, and the substance of his apology." I shrugged, taking another slice. "I could have done something more annoying but we'll need to work together."

Adam laughed. "You shocked them with mildness, love."

"Whatever works."

Marine Joe, hunger sated, was fairly vibrating in his seat. "That was the Dark Smith, Mercy? The one who made the dagger?"

"Yup."

"And is that sword what I think it is? No idea what the rest meant, but you seemed to call her Caledfwlch and I know my blade lore."

"The one and only. If it's willing, you can have a look back in Kennewick."

"Cool. She's an it?"

I grinned. "Zee calls blades she, but to me a sword is masculine, a scabbard feminine. And I'm so not going there despite having etymology on my side and what this scabbard does. Stick to she if you want."

He fell silent, chewing on it with more pizza, and I had a chance to look out of the windows. We'd been in downtown canyons, but lights died away as we moved through parkland with dense trees. A run on four legs would be nice, and I knew Adam shared the thought. I sent him visions of what we might wind up doing instead, sliding from probability to wish fulfilment, and he gave me a warm smile.

"Probably not the last, love, though it's tempting. You think he'll show?"

"Probably. Best cold brain, for my money. He'll see the point."

The driver warned us we were two minutes out, and Adam went briefing officer. He didn't think there was any real threat, but that meant squat with Jesse and me in a crowded public space. He called Darryl, behind us with David in one of the SUVs, and once we'd pulled into a WashU parking lot, clearing a security cordon, we waited until all SUVs and the coach were in, and exited the limo into a swirl of excited wolves, Secret Service, and campus cops with the Chancellor. The poor man was understandably frazzled, but keeping admirably calm, and offered a hand.

"Ms Hauptman. I'm very glad you could make it, after that, ah, unfortunate event."

"Me too, Chancellor. And I owe you an apology, because I knew being in the open here would be bait for those who attacked us. I wasn't at liberty to tell you, but I am sorry to have been less than fully honest about my motives in proposing this."

"Ah. I heard you tell the police the attack was expected, but I can't say I feel owed any apology, Ms Hauptman. And the President is waiting."

"Yup. We can be polite, though, sir."

I did principal introductions and we had a brisk discussion with Campus Police and Secret Service. Yes, we were all armed, it was staying that way, and I was keeping my sword. The beefy Campus Police Chief said he couldn't allow a long blade, and I'd have to check it. Laughter I'd have a hard time stopping beckoned.

"Chief, believe me, you do not check Excalibur at the door. All else aside, it would probably come after me on its own, and I doubt you want that. Nor am I letting it out of my sight, period. I have no authority to overrule you except force majeure, but that worked with the FBI. Then again, maybe your Chancellor can give you a waiver."

He could, everyone was staring at Excalibur, and we started in. Some presidential debates here had been in quite small spaces, token audiences selected by lot, but tonight they were using a basketball arena, hoops out and stands on three sides packed to the rafters. A monitor showed the broadcast that had already started, and I paused to get layout straight. The court was filled with benches, a block kept clear for us, and a daïs had been created with tiled rostra for the moderators, a local news anchor and PoliSci prof, my twelve rivals in a curve, and me. A big screen behind the daïs showed the WashU seal with an overlay announcing a presidential campaign debate. And Senator Stupid was throwing his weight about, berating moderators for waiting and declaring I'd chickened out after my outrageous, egregious, and criminal magical assault on his august person. Audience faces I could see were stony, though Coyote, in the front row, was watching as he would a rabbit hopping into range.

"He really doesn't learn, does he?" The Chancellor gave me a look. "One thing, sir, and we're on."

I called Al and Dwayne, and a campus cop escorted them to broadcast control clutching memory cards, a flash drive, and a question. Then everyone flooded past me, Adam with Jesse, flanked by guards, Ramona and the Freed surrounding Penny, Caroline, Don, and Vince. Senator Stupid broke off but began complaining again, loudly, when he saw four-leggers sitting neatly along the central aisle. Several growled, and he stuttered before claiming wanton intimidation until the Chancellor and I entered amid a Secret Service phalanx, Skuffles loping beside me.

"This is ridiculous! All this talk of—"

Magic wasn't necessary, but taking charge was so I let Manannán's Bane rise to point straight at the fool.

"Oh hush, Senator. All the grandstanding in the world won't undo your political suicide today. Chancellor, sir, the President is waiting, but you are host and deserve the first word. Moderators, fellow candidates and debaters, I apologise for the hijack, but needs must. Control, please put the President on as soon as the Chancellor's done."

By then we'd negotiated the wolf-lined aisle and stepped onto the daïs. I took myself off to a lectern on one side, Skuffles eyeing the opposition with disdain, and the Chancellor collected a cordless mike.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." He glanced sideways. "And Senators."

I stifled a laugh, thinking I'd need to watch the bubbling relief that was harder to hold down than shock and sorrow.

"There is much I would say and little I may, for we have been overtaken by events. I am profoundly glad Ms Hauptman survived the assassination attempt this afternoon, and ask you all now to listen to the President of the United States, who has invoked national security to override the usual protocols for this event." He turned to the screen, where an image had come up. "Mr President …"

His uncertainty was because the Man wasn't alone. The screen had the same view of a crowded Oval Office I'd seen weeks back, AED and agency Directors on one side, Joint Chiefs on the other, medals and dress uniforms gleaming.

"Thank you, Chancellor."

He nodded and retreated to a seat in the front row.

"My fellow Americans, I do not interrupt a presidential debate lightly. Today's events are matters of national security, and more than one secret has been revealed that all citizens now have the right to know, and need to understand. What happened when Ms Hauptman left the successful meeting with Ol' Manitou River was indeed an assassination attempt. The shots in Kennewick last week came from the same perpetrators, and those perpetrators were vampires."

Skuffles looked up at me in the brief silence. Pins dropping.

I didn't disagree, and scratched her skulls-and-roses ruff.

"Yes, you heard right. Vampires. The Undead." The Man sat back. "The Federal Government knew when the Fae came out there must be more kinds of preternatural out there. Careful negotiation had werewolves coming out, five years ago, and last year we learned of Great Manitous and Elder Spirits with their avatars. That led to the Medicine Wolf Accords, and to echo Miss Hauptman it is not partisan to say Ms Hauptman was their principal sponsor, the driving force that brought different kinds together to benefit each and all by finding a peaceful way forward — the strategies we have learned to call the Paths of Assertion, Mercy, and the Manitou. And the Accords changed everything, because neither humans of the US, nor the Fae, nor Werewolves, nor Elder Spirits and avatars, were alone any more. We all had some agreed mutual defence and collectively enhanced capabilities. And we all knew there was at least one eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room no-one was mentioning — another preternatural kind that wasn't out, and was a serious problem for everyone. Humans, fae, avatars, and wolves were dying, many citizens. But even if you have the best human technology, the best preternatural magic, and a new alliance that feels honest and strong, fighting together is not straightforward. From my point-of-view, and those of the agency directors and Joint Chiefs, what happened is that Ms Hauptman once again stepped forward to broker a development of the Medicine Wolf Accords, signing us all up to a very carefully designed strike against our mutual … I won't say enemy, but mutual problem, the vampires."

The Man was looking straight at camera as fiercely as one of those Uncle Sam Wants You posters.

"With vampires, most clichés are true. Fangs, blood, sunlight, staking with wood, coffins — and in some cases evident malice I won't hesitate to call evil. But only some. Every preternatural kind has its own imperatives, driven by their particular magic. The Fae cannot lie or break oaths, so they're very careful indeed about what they say and promise. Werewolves give outstanding military service, but do not have a choice about changing at full moon, or obeying orders from their Alpha and the Marrok. Elder Spirits can be very helpful, but their primary concern is rightly with their own animal and human kinds, who do not see things as Second People do. And vampires are subject to magical and other ties binding them to those who Turned them into vampires, and those they feed from. That means they tend to rigid hierarchy and rapid obedience, and until today that had them subject to the meanest, strongest, most extreme and violent of their kind. His code-name was Sauron, which tells you everything, and it became clear nothing good would happen while he ruled their roost. There were vampires who wanted to be law-abiding citizens, but they were up against orders they couldn't disobey to be otherwise. And there was a vampire underground that wanted change, but couldn't force it. It was all what my late mother, bless her, would have called a sick dog's breakfast, pain and fear blocking every avenue, but Ms Hauptman found a way through, at grave personal risk, and today was the result — a very good result indeed, for every citizen."

That was a very generous version of events, and the Man was on a roll.

"Sauron died today in Gateway Park, or the Fae would say he was dismissed, as he'd already been dead for centuries. Every federal agency represented here was waiting on the event, and while I cannot say no vampire remains at large, every known US seethe is now under federal supervision, with a great deal of preternatural aid. I specifically note generous help given by the Fae, under the terms of the Medicine Wolf Accords, which makes me and all those with me very glad. Vampires exist worldwide, so other governments have been briefed, and are moving against undeclared vampires in their midst. Police and military operations continue round the globe, and we shall see what we shall see, but in this nation at least vampires who were citizens when alive still are, and those who agree to a stringent, closely supervised Code of Conduct are being protected while statements and records are checked. There will be fallout and mistakes, inevitably, but I am relieved, satisfied, and proud to be able to tell you all that today a serious preternatural problem has been very positively and productively resolved. And again, it is not partisan to say this is overwhelmingly the achievement of Ms Hauptman, with many preternaturals in support. It is simple fact, and details of what happened today are not mine to report, not least because they are magically beyond my understanding. Ms Hauptman, would you please tell your fellow Americans what went down, as you understand it?"

"Of course, Mr President."

I took a cordless mike, and stepped past the lectern, Skuffles beside me, to stand in open space.

"I abandon the lectern because I'm not campaigning or debating. And in explaining events today the starting point has to be why preternaturals who knew vampires were killing humans, which includes me, said nothing for so very long. Many answers converge."

I held up a hand, extending fingers as I enumerated points.

"When all preternatural kinds were hidden, none outed any other, and it would have been suicide to do so, all turning on the traitor. Each kind was a true threat to every other. Vampires are not numerous — there are probably four or five thousand in the US — but they are very fast, very strong, magically potent in mind-control, and ruthless. They also have witches and wizards who can be real trouble, of the massacre kind. The one the President called Sauron, Iacopo Bonarata, was an extreme case, and wielded great power. To go up against him was to risk not only one's own life but everyone dear — family, friends, and community could all be targeted. So we had good and honest reason to stay silent. But then came the Medicine Wolf Accords, and parameters shifted. The preternatural owed humans honesty, humans owed the preternatural understanding, all were oathbound, and vampires stuck in everyone's craw, but as the President said, the problem wasn't every last vampire."

I held up one hand.

"Sidenote, but heed me well. A US general once said the only good Indian he ever saw was a dead Indian. The KKK thought the same about free African Americans, and more recently, Cantrip's Xavier MacLandis pretty much said the only good preternatural was a dead preternatural. Does anyone really want to try to say the only good vampire is a dead vampire? Remembering they are all by definition dead anyway. There are good and bad vampires, as there are good and bad humans, wolves, and fae, but vampires were subject to a leadership both fiercely malign and neglectful, like a nation under violent dictatorship, so they are also a traumatised kind. We needed regime change allowing reform and recovery, and the Medicine Wolf Accords made action possible through alliance between humans, wolves, Elder Spirits, Medicine Wolf, and Fae. Preternatural kinds had knowledge of vampires, with magics to counter theirs, humans had personnel resources and authority to freeze bank accounts, seize property, and talk to other governments. And as I, in my coyote nature, stand between kinds, known to the President and senior humans, as to Elder Spirits, Marrok, Medicine Wolf, and Gray Lords, I could broker a meeting to develop strategy.

"That continues to unfold, and there are components involving federal and magical secrets, and diplomatic confidence. But I can say that two weeks ago tonight, on behalf of all, I gave the vampire dictator, Iacopo Bonarata, an ultimatum. Vampires had six weeks to out themselves or be outed and face concerted action. In the US they were required to register, with the humans they live with and feed on, and sign up to the Code of Conduct the President mentioned about feeding, Turning humans into vampires, and use of magic. And Bonarata, who styled himself Master of the Night, did not take it well, deciding the best response was to kill the messenger. The facts that he found his illegal bank accounts drained, and his hoard of bullion, stolen artworks, and papers discovered at that villa, failed to improve his thinking. But as his attempts to kill me kept failing, and humans acting on preternatural intelligence kept chewing away at his wealth and its criminal sources, he found his authority undermined, putting pressure on him to act personally, and that happened today."

The Italian villa sat everyone up, not that there'd been much slouching.

"But I need to go back, because Bonarata was code-named Sauron for good reasons, largely magical. Vampires are already dead, and the only ways to achieve a final death, Fae dismissal, are exposure to sunlight, cardiac staking with wood, decapitation, and immolation. Those four and no more. But some vampires can daywalk, enduring sunlight, and then there were three. Others translocate, which makes staking, beheading, or setting them on fire tricky. And Bonarata had all sorts of invulnerabilities. But his tale should be told traditionally."

I wished I could sit cross-legged.

"Once upon a time there was a not-so-bright faerie queen who thought she had enchanted a human wizard. But he was a black wizard, and instead he ensorcelled her, and so it remained until their daughter, half-fae, half-human, and very magically gifted on both sides, killed them both to steal their powers. I don't know her name, because no-one ever speaks it. They call her She of Livorno, as that's where she wound up, worse than ever, because she'd also become vampire. I never met her, thank God, but I understand that while she needed her fae mother's magic, which was of life, she was ruled by her father's wizardry, which like all black witchcraft was of death and works by torture and murder. Joining that to the inverted magic of vampirism made for very bad synergies, and while She of Livorno walked this earth she was among the worst things there have ever been. Call her Morgoth to Bonarata's Sauron. But eventually, meaning late Renaissance, after she was severely magically wounded in a battle with Fae a vampire coalition got her, and the conspirators included the next most powerful vampire wizard, and Bonarata, who was a null, a non-magic-user with some immunity to magic. I'm told She of Livorno died by multiple methods, staked, decapitated, and burnt, and finally crumbled into dust, but that didn't mean her black magic all went away. Those who dismissed her grabbed chunks, and despite his nullness Bonarata gained a Fae tolerance of sunlight and the magic of corporeal rejoining — like the Green Knight in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Sir Gawain chops his head off, and he picks it up and sets it back where it ought to be. So then there were two, except Bonarata also got immunity to staking, Fae liking wood just fine, so then there was one. Or maybe none, because no-one ever managed to set him on fire either. And he set about being vampire Sauron happily ever after, for a purely personal value of happy. Not so much for anyone else. But."

On impulse I gave Manannán's Bane a Charlie Chaplin twirl.

"Good minds suspected Bonarata had yet another, really sick bit of magic. Vampire feeding can, I am told and have seen, be immensely pleasurable for both feeder and donor. It can also kill the donor, because without enough blood circulating a human body stops living. And for every vampire except She of Livorno and Bonarata what happens if they drain a donor is the donor's death, creating a distressed ghost vampires neither see nor control. That's why avatars have a bad history with vampires. We do see those ghosts, and know just how unhappy they are, so we can find vampire dwellings and are inclined to do something about it. But we would not have been able to find She of Livorno or Bonarata, because they were able to drink not only blood, but ghosts. And they used them as another unlife-support system. Whatever tricks poltergeists get up to tapping ambient magic, ghosts are by definition immaterial, so sunlight, staking, decapitation, and immolation have no effect on them. As I once told AED Westfield, you can't shoot an earthquake. So incorporating braided ghosts within fae-based, witchcraft-boosted magic of rejoining was really bad news for everyone. But avatars can command ghosts, and if you can knock magic off-kilter, removing a component, the rest tends to unravel.

"There was another factor at work. Being very old makes for being very set in your ways, and being very powerful makes for being very used to getting your way, so Bonarata was predictable. And more good minds thought that if I personally drew his ire by delivering the ultimatum with scorn and needle, he would fixate on killing me and default to his known pattern of escalation, which was first, send a pet assassin, second, order a mass attack by the nearest seethe, and third, come himself, wielding fire and brimstone in extreme personal … well, he'd have said wrath, breathing pride the while, not that vampires do breathe, but it was more terminally petulant indignation. Either way, the good minds were right."

There was water on the lectern so I drank. Skuffles gave me a look.

Minds, plural, is a bit of a fib, Mercy. It was us.

I gave her a look back, but no other reply.

"The ultimatum was delivered a fortnight ago, on Friday April 25th, and at the same time Bonarata's accounts were hacked and more than a hundred billion dollars siphoned out. Sunday 27th I had AED Westfield and Director Wiseman of the Farouts, the FBPA, to dinner, on vampire and other preternatural business. We were just done eating when a magical alarm went off, because one of our guardian oaks had dismissed an intruding vampire — Alessandro di Ragusa, one of Bonarata's assassins carrying a sniper rifle with silver slugs. Strike one to us. Wednesday 30th I gave my second broadcast, confirming my candidacy after your generous responses to it and SAGE, and that night shots were fired, but what they set off was not, as purported, a magical alarm. The shots were aimed at patrolling wolves and followed by massed vampire attack — fourteen of them with a weapon they believed would get them over our threshold. The light was Underhill's sunlight, which dismissed all fourteen in a heartbeat. Occlusion of photography let us clean up dust and the weapons they carried. Strike two to us. Next day Bonarata's villa and personal hoard went west, and it became known among US vampires that some of the billions taken from Bonarata would be available, through what we called the Borrowed Warchest, to help them and their donors if they signed up. European police forces were moving against drug- and people-smuggling rings Bonarata ran, so his operating capital fell hard just as his reserves were wiped out. And meantime, the main parties here put on their barking bigotry show in DC, Medicine Wolf told me about Ol' Manitou River, and I set up today and this evening … which meant Adam and I would be in the open all day, out of Medicine Wolf's territory on world TV. How potent a victory would it have been for Bonarata to kill us under the Arch St Louis calls the Gateway to the West? How satisfying a revenge for insulting his Supreme Undeadness? But there are people who say the Arch isn't the Gateway to the West but the Exit from the East."

I drank, seeing Adam's and Jesse's eyes dark on me.

"We knew Bonarata's enforcers included Lenka Yakovlevna, a widowed werewolf he'd suborned and to whose blood he was addicted, and at least seven translocating daywalkers, so we planned accordingly. The magical spread of abilities among bodyguards was part of it, and Secret Service agents on us, who have been exemplary, were briefed. There were other preparations, magical and practical, including an unannounced three-second transmission delay today so that if Bonarata translocated in based on what he saw on screen his positioning would be off — which in the event it was." My gaze found Missouri. "That's why I cut you off earlier, sir, before you could mention my insistence on no local screens, and I'm sorry for the necessary discourtesy. Anyway, when Bonarata made his move we were ready, and with a frankly colossal magical expenditure as well as a great deal of luck able to defeat it. To go further you need to see what happened. The President has already seen it. There's no soundtrack. Control room, bring up Dwayne's footage at a sensible rate, please."

As it rolled I could explain, without much explanation, slow time, IDs I knew of daywalkers, the vile sacrificial tactic they'd tried, sleeping vamps murdered in hope their dust would obscure, slugs grown Underhill for Glock 22s, the exemplary discipline everyone had shown, including Jesse, Skuffles as maxi-me, Jill as a Daughter of Bear, magmatic Joel, Coyote really disapproving of vampires, and Carnwennan's ancient bond with Excalibur and recent friendship with Manannán's Bane. I was growing weary, and my arms ached.

"In short, when I saw Bonarata's bond of rejoining and braided ghosts, I asked Excalibur to attend me, used avatar magic to blow ghosts out of the bond, and freed them while severing both bond and the magic that bound them. Neither shows on camera, but that's why two fountains of sparks. Bonarata was dismissed, and that was that, save for some really violent retching, because his dust tasted worse than anything you can begin to imagine. The salt water Ol' Manitou River kindly provided nixed residual black witchcraft, and we went Underhill to have Excalibur cleansed of stain, which needed the Dark Smith's forge. There were also preternatural repercussions that needed immediate attention from more than me, and got it. When we returned we dealt with Bonarata's contaminated dust, and the body of Lenka Yakovlevna. Control room, please put up as uncensored an image as you think lawful."

I was surprised by how graphic it was. Breasts and groin were barred, the rest was in sharp and remorseless focus.

"This poor werewolf was Bonarata's pet for centuries. The scars are from violent feeding, and you can see her emaciation. And that is exactly what is wrong with the worst vampires. He was addicted to her blood, but her body carried the pain and repugnant scars. Think about that, and what enslavement means when death don't have no mercy in your land. She was once a good wolf, an Alpha's mate. Then she was a widow, which happens to werewolves too often, and in her grief Bonarata took her, human and wolf at a go. She became his pet, slave, lover, bloodbank, self-indulgence, and assassin. Her human was shrivelled to nothing, her wolf in charge yet subjugated and mad. She was upright and grieving, and Bonarata made her an abomination even to herself."

I knew my eyes were golden, and drank, hauling in what I could.

"If Bonarata had not translocated into Gateway Park with every intent to kill me and mine, I could not have dismissed him. But he did and I did. And even so, as some will not hesitate to say, it is not wholly untrue that I assassinated him. I set him up to try, and slew him when he did, much to his surprise. I had an enormous amount of help, from every source I could tap, and laid my life on the line for the chance. But it was still a set-up, vamping the vamp to well-deserved dismissal, and if that's held against me come Judgement Day there are two arguments I'll make to my God in my defence. One is Lenka Yakovlevna, as you see her, though I doubt my God will need those nudity bars. And the second is the braided ghosts I freed, plus three particular vampires Bonarata ordered dismissed, and ten more. I think that faerie queen and black wizard were among the ghosts, and She of Livorno — there was very concentrated evil and malevolence amid all the suffering. Eons of it, now ended." I gave a wry smile. "I am not given to imagining myself as Christ, but today I harrowed a secondary hell. Make of it what you will."

Water was a more useful prop than I'd realised, I decided, refilling my glass amid profound silence.

"As to those three and ten vampires, the three were among Cantrip's captives in Wyoming. Preternaturals freed them that night with everyone else, and concealed them — this was before the Medicine Wolf Accords, — but it did them no good, because Bonarata ordered them dismissed — murdered — for the shameful crime of having been overpowered by a mad werewolf and humans with enough knowhow and resources to cage them." I had to haul in rising rage again. "If you've never been there you'll have to take my word for it, but having someone you've rescued murdered in the coldest blood, literally, makes it very personal. So did willingness to target Adam and Jesse, and those multiple bodyguards she has to have. I only knew about the ten sacrificed today when it happened, but it's more of the same — vamps picked out of coffins in day-deadness, to be tossed into sunlit oblivion in the hope of blinding with dust. You might as well toss sleeping babies out of a car to slow pursuit. So I say to you, and if I am ever called to do so will say to my God sitting in judgement, that some crimes warrant summary execution. End of story. But then it usually comes down to trial by combat, as it did today. And with the combined efforts of many beings, human and preternatural, Iacopo Bonarata is now fried dust inside fried vacuum cleaner, being subducted into the mantle. What went down today was good riddance to evil rubbish, and incurred no debts not already discharged, so all returns to outbalance all. Mr President, sir?"

My phrasing had warned him, and he nodded deeply.

"Thank you, Ms Hauptman, for that clear and memorable account, and for your … extreme valour covers it, I think. I told you when I first saw that footage that you deserve a medal, and you have your nation's proudest and warmest thanks. So do Mr Hauptman, Miss Hauptman, and, with the usual caution about those fae whose actions make us very glad, all who participated in today's resonant victory." He shifted to look out. "And that remarkable victory is the message to take from today, my fellow Americans. Neither humans, Fae, wolves, nor any kind alone could have defeated Bonarata. But together we could, and did, to the greatest benefit of all. And Ms Hauptman took point, walking well ahead to ensure the fire fell on her, because she believed, rightly as it turns out, that her coyote combination of unusual magics and luck gave her the best chance of surviving, of killing instead of being killed. She is not yet thirty-five, she could live for ever with her husband and mate, and still she walked into terrible harm's way, knowing full well what she did. And today, by God, she triumphed, harrowing a hell, dismissing a devil and all his works, and to do so summoned Excalibur out of legend to her hand. She also made sure she and everyone armed in her entourage had all the correct state licenses to carry openly or concealed, and liaised properly with me, every agency here represented, St Louis PD, and all the people she introduced to Ol' Manitou River. And if the main parties might call this partisan, I'd say it's purely patriotic to point out the blazing refutation of what Ms Hauptman called their barking bigotry show. Incapable is really not the word for her, and if anyone still wonders why I endorse her for election to my present post, think about that and give thanks, as I do. Any president has an absolute responsibility to the safety of all Americans, short- and longer-term, and I've barely mentioned Ol' Manitou River, whom Secretary Sawyer and I will meet tomorrow. I've made my choice for November, but as we're a democracy, you all have to make your own, and that's what presidential debates are for. Moderators, my thanks, and the floor is yours."