"I saw it," he said, closing his eyes briefly, as if recalling and re- memorizing every detail. "Is there anything else you'd like to protect?"
Abruptly I flashed on Richard Sumners-he'd insured his hands for a million dollars. What the hell? It couldn't hurt. "Just my hands. I'm a tattoo artist."
"Your life, blood, and sex; your friend, scooter, and hands," he said, reciting the odd list in complete seriousness. "I think that is as extensive, and as specific, as we can make the ban; but it will have to do."
"Thanks," I said.
He took my hand, raised it, and kissed it chastely. "Remember, this protection only lasts in the inner city. Outside the Perimeter, the vampires can no longer protect you.. So please, do not forget: if you travel outside the circle of I-285, you should stick to the safe places that humans instinctively gather in-or else you will run into creatures far more dangerous than either vampires or werewolves."
My lip pursed up. "Thank you, Lord Delancaster."
I still couldn't wrap my head around the vampires being Atlanta's force of supernatural law and order.