When the Lights Went Out #12

Chapter Twelve

Cosset [cahs-set]: The term used for vampires’ human pets. They can only see blue, yellow, green, and shades of gray. Must be registered and abide by leash laws.

Coyote had never been the best judge of passing time. Five hours could have passed while they waited for London, but that was impossible. Rochester had to be the kind of guy who would be incredibly punctual about their two-hour deadline. Coyote considered skimming through the Fictionary but settled for people-watching instead. Long haired men and women dressed in a Victorian flare filtered by on the street next to them. The ones whose faces Coyote glimpsed had heterochromia, like London. They all stopped at the troll booth and answered some insane riddle before proceeding through the portal.

One of these passersby stopped in front of Rochester. “Don’t tell me this rubbish is London’s latest exploit.” The stranger had one yellow eye, and the other was green with a scar cut through the skin around it.

“Move along, Boston,” Rochester said.

“But, my dear brother, you will be waiting forever if you rely on London to procure a dame for you. Why don’t you let me grab a girl for you instead?”

Before Rochester could respond, Coyote slammed his palm into Boston’s chest.

The vampire stumbled back a step.

“Take that back,” Coyote growled. “London is coming. He’s going to send me home and return with the most beautiful babe you’ll ever see! Which is far better than this asshole deserves.”

“And the only thing I’ll ask for in return is this scamp,” Boston said, chuckling. “I like ’em feisty.”

Rochester shook his head. “London owes me a debt,” he said. “And if he doesn’t come in…oh, ten more minutes…I’m taking this rubbish to slaughter. London’s going to register him as a cosset. So that’ll teach him.”

“Eh, let the leprechauns deal with him,” Boston said.

“I will not serve you,” Coyote spat. “London will be here.”

The brothers shared a laugh. Boston patted Rochester’s shoulder before beginning toward the troll booth again. “My offer will always stand,” he said over his shoulder.

Coyote ignored Boston, instead staring defiantly at the street opposite the gate, searching for the first signs of London. Two hours was more than enough time for the vampire to get there. Rochester had done so in roughly two minutes.

Rochester withdrew the watch from his pocket and made a show of checking its face. “Five…four…three…two—”

“Stop this rubbish, Rochester,” London’s voice rang out.

“London!” Coyote rushed toward the vampire and embraced him.

London squeezed his biceps, looking him over. “Did he hurt you?”

“So good of you to join us, London,” Rochester purred. “And not a moment too soon. Bravo, bravo.”

Growling, London thrust himself between Coyote and Rochester. “You had no right to send the leprechauns after me.”

“On the contrary,” Rochester said. “I was informed you’d transpired back to our realm with that whelp instead of the glorious maiden I was assured would come. Seeing as how you failed the last opportunity that I so generously gave you…”

London ushered Coyote toward the troll booth. “Is it the Transpeyere you want, Rochester?” He shuffled closer to Coyote.

Rochester followed them, spreading his arms wide. “You know, I’d want nothing more than to have a Transpeyere of my own.” He clenched one hand into a fist. “My accursed brother had to take our family’s.”

“Absolve my debt and leave us alone,” London said, banging a fist on the glass in front of the troll. “I will give you mine in exchange.”

“What an interesting opportunity you present,” the troll cut in. “I do wonder if dearest Rochester will relent.”

“What about your family, London?” Rochester asked.

“Give me the riddle.” London glowered at the troll. “They will employ others to do their bidding like the rest of this realm.”

Rochester grinned, fangs glinting in the bright silver light. “Deal.” To the troll, he said, “Let us pass. I shall return with payment post hence.”

The troll nodded and raised the arm.

London shoved Coyote up to the portal with Rochester trailing behind.

“What’s happening?” Coyote demanded.

“You truly are a cosset,” London murmured. “I want to keep you in my life. There’s a lot I desire to learn from you, and…well, I hoped you felt the same. You’ve been—”

Coyote nodded vigorously. “I could go home with a weight lifted if you came back with me. But what about you? Your family? It sounds like you’ll never be able to come back.”

“That’s true.” London withdrew a dagger from the folds of his cloak. “You’ve heard how they treat me here. And you…I honestly don’t know why you care so much about me.”

Coyote didn’t have an easy answer. “I’ve enjoyed my time with you and this grand adventure. You’ve shown me your world, so now I’ll show you mine.”

London kissed Coyote briefly on the lips. Surprise quickly melted into desire, and Coyote’s breath caught. Heat burned through his veins, surging magnetically with the chill emanating from London’s body.

Rochester pulled him off. “I don’t have all night,” he sneered. “You can take your sappy love story to the human realm and leave me the Transpeyere now, if you please.”

London’s face twisted into a familiar scowl. The light from his green eye intensified, becoming too bright to gaze into. He threw out his left hand, rippling the surface of the portal. The ripples grew choppier by the second.

“Now, London,” Rochester cried. “Before it is too late!”

London grabbed Coyote’s free hand with his own and leveled the dagger at his green eye. “Jump, Tramp—Coyote!”

Clutching the Fictionary in one hand and London’s cold palm in the other, Coyote leapt at the sloshing portal like he was jumping into a pool. Instead of water, though, the portal felt like a whirlwind. Intense, warm wind whipped around Coyote’s body, threatening to pull his hand free from London’s, who now appeared as though he were on the other side of a television screen. Instead of cutting the eye out as had been done countless times before, the vampire gouged the dagger into his green eye, abruptly cutting the bright light off. He screeched in pain and bunched his muscles to leap.

“Bastard! Traitor!” Rochester screamed. He tackled London to the ground before he could jump into the portal.

“Coyote!” London’s fingers slipped through Coyote’s hand as he flailed on the ground with Rochester. Bright gray blood gushed from his left eye socket.

“London!”

The image faded to black as the wind stilled. Coyote’s feet hit the ground like a ton of bricks, the Fictionary tugging at his hand.

London was gone.