Biting Bad: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (24 page)

“Have you heard anything about Juliet?”

“She’s awake and resting,” Ethan said. “She wanted to be up and outside this evening, but Luc declined her offer.”

A weight lifted from my chest. “That’s wonderful news.”

“This is one of those nights—one of those weeks—in which I think I could very much enjoy a mundane human life.”

The admission, so close to what I’d been thinking, struck me in its honesty.

“I know,” I said. “I’ve had nights like that, too. When a cubicle and a desk job and mind-numbing boredom seem preferable.”

“I don’t think a cubicle is our only other option. We could buy an estate in Scotland on the moors or in the wilds of Alaska where no one would ever find us.”

“The grass is always greener,” said a voice at the door. Looking up, we found Catcher and Mallory in the doorway.

Mallory’s hair was in two long braids, a knit cap pulled over her brow. She wore a puffy down jacket and calf-high winter boots over jeans. Catcher, on the other hand, wore a thin barn coat over jeans, no gloves, hat, or scarf in sight. He was, however, wearing one of those expressions that said, quite clearly, “The world is an idiot.” I guess his anger was keeping him warm.

“Looks like we missed some excitement?” he said.

“Too many vampires and too much testosterone in the House,” I explained, earning an eye roll from Ethan. He could object to the phrasing as much as he wanted, but facts were facts.

“What brings you by?” Ethan asked them.

“We heard about what happened last night,” Mallory said. “We wanted to check in on you.” She gave me a head-to-toe look. “You look whole.”

“I am,” I said. “Just a little sore.”

Catcher and Mallory stepped inside, and Catcher closed the door behind them. “I hear the GP didn’t fare so well?”

At Ethan’s gesture, we all walked to the office’s sitting area. It had been a long time since we’d shared a casual chat at the House with the two of them.

Mallory and Catcher sat down. Catcher practically commanded the seat, arms on the armrests, one leg crossed, ankle over knee.

Mallory sat beside him, but she looked vaguely uncomfortable, perhaps because she hadn’t actually been inside Cadogan House since Ethan’s death. And that visit hadn’t exactly turned out for the best.

“Harold Monmonth is no longer with us,” Ethan confirmed. “And my blade is the reason for that.”

“Can’t say I envy your position,” Catcher said, “although the guy attacks your House, he has to know the risks.”

“One would assume,” Ethan said. “But logic has often eluded the GP.”

“How has the GP responded?” Catcher asked.

“They haven’t,” Ethan said. “We’re awaiting their move.”

“So the atmosphere around here is cool, calm, and collected as usual?” Mallory asked lightly.

“Pretty much,” I said. “What about you? How are things with the Apex?”

“About the same.”

I thought of my conversation with Catcher and the work Mallory and the shifters were doing together. I considered not asking her about it since she hadn’t mentioned it herself, but playing subtle with Mallory had only ended in despair the first time around.

“I understand you’ve been working with the shifters on your magic?”

“I’ve been working on control,” she said, meeting my gaze without blinking, which showed more confidence than I’d expected. Maybe she was ready to fan out her cards after all.

“They have a relationship to magic that’s unique, and Gabe thought if I had a better connection to that magic, more sympathy for it, I might be able to balance myself a little better.”

“Is it working?”

“It’s not
not
working,” she said with a smile. “But I use so little of it, it’s hard to say.”

Ethan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. By his expression, he was clearly fascinated by the concept. “They’re letting you watch their rituals?”

“Some,” she said carefully. “For some of the Keene wolves. I understand each type of animal has its own way to commune with the world.”

“And that’s what it is?” I asked. “Communing with the world?”

She tilted her head to the side and scrunched up her face, trying to gather the right words. “Magic isn’t binary. It’s not on or off.” She glanced at Catcher. “Some folks say it’s divided into keys, into segments.” That was the way I’d learned about magic, the theory Catcher had espoused.

“But for me,” she said, “it’s more like a radio tuner. You can adjust the dial up or down until you get the station you want.”

“And they’re helping you get the station you want?” Ethan asked.

“They’re helping me identify the stations,” she said. “Feel them out. Figure out which stations are good for me, and which aren’t.”

“That sounds promising,” Ethan said. I had to agree. It sounded better, at any rate, than her tuning into the magical “station” that was apparently intent on destroying Chicago.

“It is, I think,” she said. “There’s a way to go, but it’s promising.”

“What does the Order plan to do with you?” Ethan asked her.

“Pretend I don’t exist?”

“They aren’t good with punishment,” Catcher said. “Yeah, they can kick someone out and theoretically ban someone from practicing in a particular area, but we’ve seen how well that worked.”

Catcher wasn’t supposed to be in Chicago; he’d been kicked out of the Order for coming here against Order mandate.

“They have methods,” he said. “You might remember we can be stripped of our magic, but it’s an . . .
unpleasant
process. Like the magical version of a lobotomy.”

“Nullification, right?” Ethan asked.

Catcher nodded.

“And when Mallory’s time with the shifters is up?” Ethan asked.

Mallory and Catcher looked at each other, and Catcher nodded a little.

“We’ve actually been talking about that,” Mallory said. She linked her fingers in her lap and looked at Ethan.

She looked nervous and eager—like a job applicant at an interview—and it wasn’t hard to guess what she was about to say.

“Catcher and I have been talking,” she said. “And I’ve talked to Gabriel and Berna. With Berna until I’m blue in the face,” she added. “And sooner rather than later I’m going to need to branch out on my own. They don’t think it’s wise that I don’t use my magic at all—it builds up, and we saw how unpleasant that can become.”

She paused, waiting for some commentary from Ethan, but he offered none. He stared back at her from his chair, his emotions completely unreadable. She might have been a stranger, not a woman with whom he’d felt a psychic connection.

“I have to prepare for my life,” she said. “A life with my magic. A life in which I use it for something that makes me feel better about myself, instead of worse.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away.

But whether they were tears of embarrassment or guilt, she made herself look directly at Ethan, and the tightness in my chest eased a little bit.

For a long, quiet moment, they looked at each other. Magic rose and circled in the room, spilled by him and intentionally cast off, or so I thought, by her. I couldn’t see the magic itself, but I could feel it. It swirled around us like the current of water in a stream. Their magic interacted, spun and danced and battled for superiority. Not because they were fighting each other now, but because they’d been so intimately connected. Because Mallory had been in Ethan’s head, and he’d been a conduit for her emotions, her fears, her anger.

All the while, they watched each other. They looked oblivious to the magic, but it would have been impossible to ignore. Even Catcher eyed them as he sipped slowly at his cherry red drink, goose bumps plainly visible on his arms. Being a sorcerer, he was even more sensitive to the magic than I was. It must have been odd to stand in the midst of a vampire-sorceress battle of wills.

“Stop,” Ethan finally said, and the magic swept across the room like a sudden peppery breeze, ruffling our hair and leaving a metallic tinge in the air.

“Magic doesn’t lie,” Mallory said. Had she been able to prove her motivations to him by using her magic?

“No,” Ethan said, adjusting in his chair. “But people do, vampires or otherwise. How can I know you won’t use this House for your own ends? That even if you earnestly believe you’d never go back to black magic, you won’t succumb?”

“I don’t believe that,” Mallory said. “I’m an addict. I know that, and I live with it—and the consequences of what I did—every day. I can’t promise I won’t succumb, but I really, really don’t want to. I hurt too many people that I loved, destroyed their trust, destroyed what little reputation I had. I don’t want to go back to that place, but I can only try my best, one night at a time.” She shrugged. “If you can’t accept that, I understand. I don’t deserve your trust.”

She looked around at us. “I don’t deserve the trust of anyone in this room. It’s a miracle I didn’t kill someone when I was high, and I realize that. I realize how close I came to really and truly destroying everything. All I can do is offer to make amends in the best way I know how. To use the gift I’ve been given for something more than parlor tricks and Order foolery. But the decision’s yours.”

Ethan’s jaw was tight, his brow furrowed. He was concentrating hard about his options, and I honestly had no idea what he was going to do. I didn’t envy him—not the burden of the choice. But at least he had a chance to consider it directly with her, to confront her about his fears.

And now, more than ever, it would pay to have a sorceress on our side. The fairies had defected, and the GP’s recent intrusion proved again our vulnerability.

“I’ll consider it,” he said, “if Gabriel permits it.”

Based on my conversation with Gabriel a few nights ago, he would permit it. He’d said Mallory would be ready to use her magic when she wasn’t afraid of it. And although she was clearly intimidated a little by Ethan, she wasn’t afraid of her magic right now. Not here, and not like this. Not when the lines between right and wrong were clearly delineated, and she’d be using her magic—like in the riot—against an enemy of the House. It would be a good first step for her, but only a first step. The next time, the lines might not be so clear.

“Thank you,” Mallory said. “
Thank you.
I really, really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me,” Ethan said. “Thank those who have been advocating for you. Those who know your heart, or hope they do, and those who know your power, and hope it can be used in support of the Houses. I hope, whatever happens, that you do not let them down.”

Mallory nodded, swallowing down emotion.

“While we’re here,” Catcher said, “I also wanted to talk to you about your father. He’s being a pain in the ass.”

That, of course, was not much of a mystery, although it was a bit of a downer.

“He’s pressuring Chuck to help convince you to let him invest in Cadogan House.”

Ethan slid me a knowing glance. “We’ve heard about the offer.”

“He must not have thought you’d go for it; he’s called Chuck twice tonight. Barely talked to him over the holidays, didn’t so much as wish him a Happy New Year, but is adamant it’s Chuck’s obligation to position Cadogan House to accept Joshua’s largesse.”

The disgust in Catcher’s voice wasn’t subtle, nor was he the only one who felt it. “His obligation?” I asked.

Catcher glanced at me. “Your father thinks you’re in danger. He thinks this is helping.”

“In danger from what?” Ethan asked.

“He didn’t say,” Catcher said. “Your grandfather, being your grandfather and a former cop, pushed him for details, trying to figure out if there was a specific threat. He didn’t come up with anything. Chuck thinks the riots have gotten him nervous.”

If you wanted to give my father the benefit of the doubt, that explanation was completely plausible.

I wasn’t sure I was willing to give my father the benefit of the doubt. His motives were sometimes noble, but his means rarely justified the ends.

“What has Chuck told him?” Ethan asked.

“That he loves Merit, too, but that she can take care of herself, and she wouldn’t want him to sacrifice the entire city for her safety.”

I smiled, finally. That was exactly the kind of thing my grandfather would say.

“I don’t think Joshua believed him,” Catcher said.

Ethan nodded and looked at Mallory. “You’re quiet,” he said.

She nodded. “I don’t really feel like I have much political capital to offer my opinion on stuff like this.”

Ethan was obviously taken aback by the statement. Maybe he hadn’t expected her to be so honest, or so self-aware of the damage she’d done to her relationships with others.

“That’s very . . .”

“Accurate?” she finished. “Self-aware? Yeah, I know.” She crossed one leg over the other, her booted foot swinging. “If you were to ask me, and I’m not saying you are, I’d tell Joshua Merit to take a long walk off a short pier. He can play buddy-buddy with Merit all he wants to, but he’s a self-centered prick and we all know it.”

Now that sounded like the Mallory I knew. I couldn’t help but smile, even in spite of the unfortunate accuracy of her statement.

“I don’t disagree,” Catcher said. “But he’s not taking the hint that he needs to leave Chuck alone.”

“My grandfather would kick your ass if he knew you were over here trying to get help from us.”

“He would,” Catcher agreed. “I considered this one of those ‘apologize later’ rather than ‘ask permission now’ scenarios.”

“I’ll call Joshua,” Ethan said. “Not to accept the offer, but perhaps to string him along just a little bit. Perhaps that will take the heat off your grandfather.”

Catcher nodded. “I appreciate it. He’s got enough on his plate playing secret Ombudsman without his son whining.”

“More trouble with the nymphs?” I wondered.

“The River nymphs are calmer than usual this month,” Catcher said. “The deeper the winter, the calmer they get. It’s because of their connection to the water—it slows down, and they do, too.” He shook his head. “No, in addition to the rest of the stuff he’s working on, he’s beginning to get calls from Detective Jacobs about supernatural issues.”

“What kind of issues?” I asked. I knew my grandfather was smart and capable, but that didn’t mean I wanted him in the middle of even more supernatural drama.