“You want to what?”
“I want to go see Nicu,” I said. “Monsters with fangs, monsters with pointy little teeth. I mean, I know it’s kind of a long shot, but my gut tells me something’s going on there. Besides, Sebastian said we needed to talk to Nicu.” I shrugged. “Maybe this is why.”
Her look wasn’t exactly friendly. “So now you’re following Sebastian’s advice?”
“I’m following the only lead we’ve got.”
She was quiet for a moment. “The vampires weren’t exactly friendly the last time we saw them.”
“And they may not be friendly this time, either. But what other choice do we have? I say we visit the coven and skip the turf war bit altogether.”
“Oh, you just want to traipse into a coven of blood-sucking fiends and beg them for help?”
I shook my head. “Not beg, but definitely ask. Do you remember what Marlena said about Nicu’s coven being weak? What if that wasn’t just talk? Sebastian said something about the ‘missing.’ What if the Reapers aren’t just targeting Adepts?”
Her expression softened. “You think they’re taking vampires, too?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But if we find the vampires, and if we offer to help them
. . .”
“They might not make breakfast out of us.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
She whistled. “That’s risky. And even if it doesn’t get us eaten, we don’t know where the coven actually is.”
“No,” I said. “We don’t. But we know who probably does.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were in the back of a dark green cab with GYPSY printed on the door in white cursive letters. We were heading for Buckman’s, one of those old-fashioned multilevel department stores a few blocks from St. Sophia’s. I wasn’t entirely sure why we were meeting at a department store, but when the girl with the map tells you to jump, you ask how high.
The cab ride was short, probably not even a mile. But I stared out the windows the entire time, taking in a view of Chicago I hadn’t seen before—I hadn’t yet been aboveground in the dark. We drove past soaring sky-scrapers, including two that looked like a pair of concrete corncobs, cars stuck into parking spaces right against the edge like tiny steel kernels. We crossed an iron bridge over what I assumed was the Chicago River, and then we passed the marquee of the Chicago Theater—
“Oh, my God,” I said, turning to stare as we passed it by. “Did you see that?”
“What?” Scout asked.
“In the theater sign—in the marquee. There’s a circle inside a Y behind the word
‘Chicago.’ ”
“Folks say that Y is supposed to stand for the branches of the river,” said the cabdriver, glancing up at his rearview mirror to look at me. “You see ’em all over the city, including over by the theater. Kind of a weird deal, I guess, that they’re on buildings and such, but there you are. Probably somethin’ to do with politics. It’s Chicago, after all.”
Scout and I exchanged a glance. I wondered if she wanted to speak up—to tell the driver that the symbol wasn’t just on the buildings for decoration, that it represented the places where Adepts had fought for the soul of Chicago. But if she wanted to, she didn’t say anything.
We pulled up outside a tall, squarish building, a clock extending out over the sidewalk.
“The shops are closed, ya know,” the cabbie said as Scout pulled money from her messenger bag.
“We’re just meeting our parents,” she said, passing the money over and opening the car door. “They went to see a show.”
That seemed to work for the driver, who took the money with a nod and watched in the rearview mirror as we scooted across the bench and out of the car.
We found Detroit outside beneath the clock. She was wearing a brown vest over a long-sleeved shirt, brown suspenders connecting the vest to a pair of wide-
legged pants with lots of pockets. The map-making locket was around her neck,
and she had an old-fashioned, silver-tipped walking stick in her hand.
“Thanks for meeting us,” I said when we reached her.
“No problem. It’s in everyone’s interest to deal with the monsters, and if vampires are the way to do it, that’s the way we do it.” She shrugged. “What exactly is the plan?”
“We’re going to talk to Nicu,” I said, offering up the explanation I’d come up with in the cab (the one that didn’t involve a Sebastian-related confession). “There’s no way the rats could move around the city without intersecting with the Pedway at some point. And if they’ve been on the Pedway, the vamps know about them.”
“So you want to talk to Nicu,” she said. “But why Nicu instead of Marlena?”
“He seemed a little friendlier,” Scout put in, after giving me a silencing glance.
“So we’re trying him first.”
Apparently buying the explanation, Detroit nodded, then walked toward the building and peered inside one of the glass doors. She knocked on the glass.
“I am now officially confused,” Scout said.
“Me too. What are we doing here?”
“The Pedway runs through the basement,” Detroit explained, as a guard in a tidy blue suit and cap walked toward the door.
“Closed,” the guard mouthed, pointing at his watch.
Detroit, apparently undeterred, flashed the guard a peace sign. It took a second,
but the guard nodded, then began the process of unlocking the door with a key from a giant loop.
“He supports peace?” Scout wondered.
“I made a Y,” Detroit explained, showing Scout the sign again. “It’s recognized by the community. And Mr. Howard here is very much a member of the community. So be nice to Mr. Howard.”
But Scout was too busy with her new trick to be mean—she’d made a peace sign and was staring down at her fingers. “Genius,” she said, eyes wide with excitement.
“You’ll have to teach that to Derek and Mrs. M,” I pointed out, and she nodded back.
Mr. Howard held open the door while we moved inside. Once in, he locked it tight again. “You on the hunt for Reapers tonight?” he asked politely.
“Not quite,” Detroit said. “But we appreciate the help, sir.”
Mr. Howard nodded, then gestured toward a set of elevators. “Basement level, if you’re headed into the Pedway.”
“Thank you,” Detroit said, and we were off again.
“Seriously, I want to go see Derek right now just to show him this. I know it’s not a big deal, but it’s like having a secret handshake. Haven’t you always wanted to have a secret handshake?”
“Not that I can recall right at this minute,” I said, as we followed Detroit through displays of makeup and perfume. “But I’m excited you’re excited.”
The main lights were off, but it was clearly a department store—floors of merchandise around an atrium in the middle. Although the stuff in the store was modern, the rest of it was old-school fancy. I stared up at the atrium. Fancy gold balconies ringed the floors above us like architectural bracelets, and the entire thing was capped by a pillow of frosted glass. The floor looked like marble. This place must have been really interesting in its heyday.
We followed the marble path to the elevators. There were two of them; both had brass doors engraved with flowers.
“They really spared no expense back in the day, did they?” Scout asked.
“I was just thinking that.”
When the elevator arrived, we stepped inside. Detroit mashed the button for the basement. The one-floor trip was short but jarring. The elevators were definitely old-school, and the jumpy ride felt like it.
We emerged into an area with lower ceilings and signs for restrooms and customer service areas. A giant sign reading PEDWAY hung on a corridor in front of us.