“Anne Rice–style, as it turns out.” Luc waited a beat for us to get the punch line.
“Interview with the Vampire,” Lindsey put in. Luc must have had us on speakerphone.
“That’s my girl,” Luc said. “And you win the prize. Jonah called. The mayor’s people picked up Scott Grey fifteen minutes ago for questioning.”
Scott Grey was the Master of Grey House, and Jonah’s boss.
Magic spiked as Ethan’s irritation rose. “I presume Scott’s Second arranged for a lawyer?”
“He has. Our guys say she’s sharp, but the mayor’s muscle isn’t letting her near Scott. She apparently was told he doesn’t have a right to counsel because the Houses are under suspicion as domestic terrorists.”
It took Ethan a moment to respond. And in the seconds that passed, magic rose to a furious crescendo.
“Domestic terrorists?” Each syllable was bitten off.
“Their words. The muscle’s from a task force she’s set up. All the lawyers are talking. I also called Morgan and gave him a heads-up.”
Morgan rounded out the city’s three Masters. He became Master of Navarre after the former Master, Celina Desaulniers, was accused of murder. Morgan and I had briefly dated when I’d first become a vampire, but the relationship, such as it was, hadn’t lasted long.
“I’m surprised he answered the phone considering the blacklist.”
When we left the GP, the organization had responded by forbidding Navarre and Grey from communicating with us. That hadn’t stopped Grey House, at least not in the long run, but Navarre played by the GP’s rules.
“He wasn’t thrilled. I’d call it denial with an arrogance chaser.”
“I don’t know what you saw in him,” Lindsey said.
I glanced at Ethan. “My Master demanded I date him for the benefit of the House.”
“Not one of my better decisions,” Ethan admitted. “Kowalcyzk can call us domestic terrorists if she wants, but she won’t be able to make that stick. There’s no evidence of anything but the opposite—that we help the city at every turn. What about the governor?”
“No dice so far,” Luc said. “Malik’s spoken with her, but she’s loath to get involved in an investigation. She’s calling it comity and federalism and blah-blah political mumbo jumbo I don’t care about. In any event, we’ll let you know if there’s any movement.”
Ethan nodded, and silence descended for a moment.
“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be right now,” Luc said, responding to Ethan’s unspoken complaint. “And we have a plan. It just may not come together as soon as we’d like.”
“Well, we’re here for the duration in any event,” Ethan said.
“Shifter arrest is better than human arrest?” Luc cheekily asked. “Oh, and one more thing while I’m checking off my list of craptastic news. Lakshmi’s arrived. She’s in a suite at the Peninsula.” The Peninsula was one of Chicago’s swankiest hotels, located a few blocks east of Michigan Avenue.
Nerves jangled at the edges of my consciousness, but I pushed them back. Worrying about when she’d call in her favor would have to wait; my plate was full.
“She’s made arrangements to speak to Malik?”
“Nope. She said she’d wait to talk to you.”
I looked at Ethan. “That seems like good news. If they were going to go ballistic, they wouldn’t care if you were there or not.”
“Or their price is stiff and meant just for me.”
That ominous prediction settled uncomfortably in the room.
“We have to go,” Ethan said. “The Pack is awaiting our arrival. Keep us posted.”
They said their good-byes and ended the call, and Ethan slanted a worried glance at me. He’d pulled his hair back today, framing rugged cheekbones and his emerald eyes, which were clouded with worry.
“Is this one of those times I’m supposed to be supportive and tell you everything will work out perfectly?”
Ethan made a vague grunt of amusement. “Only if you can say it honestly.”
“So I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”
Ethan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He pulled me into an embrace, his warmth and clean cologne enveloping us both. “I don’t want others to bear the burdens of my choices.”
So Scott’s situation concerned him, I thought.
“She’s just interviewing him,” I pointed out. “We’ve all been through worse than an interview. And frankly, this may not be retribution against you. If she’s got a task force, it could just be her usual brand of paranoia.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You’re a good and comforting Sentinel.”
“I’d prefer to be the Sentinel that talks some damned sense into the mayor, but that opportunity hasn’t yet arisen.”
I texted Jonah, let him know we were aware of Scott’s interrogation and were monitoring. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else we could do from Loring Park.
Vampiric business concluded, we met Catcher and Mallory in the front room.
“Took you long enough,” Catcher said, taking a final drink from a mug before putting it down on the table.
“Scott Grey is now in Kowalcyzk’s custody,” Ethan said.
Catcher looked up, surprised. “Really.”
Ethan nodded, just once. “Suspected of domestic terrorism, according to our rather creative mayor.”
“That lady is off her rocker,” Mallory said, adjusting her knit cap, from beneath which peeked two ombré braids.
“She is something,” Ethan said. “Any leads in the sorcery area?”
Catcher shook his head. “Baumgartner’s on vacation in Tucson with his wife and grandkids. And even if he’d been here, he’s not exactly a think-outside-the-box type of guy. We haven’t reached Simon yet. Paige and the librarian have been in a hotel room in the Loop for a belated Valentine’s Day. Their minds are on other things.”
“So Paige and Baumgartner are out, if they weren’t already. And once again, we have nothing.”
“For now,” I said, squeezing Ethan’s hand. “We always find something.”
The issue was finding it soon enough.
• • •
We pulled on coats and gloves, belted on our katanas, and headed outside. The shifters who awaited us didn’t even spare them a glance, so I presumed Gabriel had approved our wearing them.
The night was cold, the sky covered by a bank of clouds that glowed orange on the horizon, lit by the pollution of a million sodium lights in Chicago. But I was jumpy and couldn’t stop glancing into the darkness, waiting for a new squadron of monsters to emerge.
We walked silently back to the house, hands in pockets and collars lifted against the wind, the shifters forming a guard in front of and behind us. They were all men, all wearing NAC jackets. They didn’t bother to look at us, which I found I preferred. Disinterest, in my book, was better than barely concealed loathing.
One of the shifters in front held open a door, and we entered a spare and utilitarian hallway. This part of the house was for the staff, allowing them to serve the Brecks inconspicuously.
We were marched into the main portion of the house, and then into a formal living room, where Gabriel held court again. The same crew was here again tonight—the Keenes, the Brecks, and a dozen other shifters, including Jeff.
Once again, the room was mostly men, but tonight there were exceptions. Fallon sat on an immaculately tailored couch beside her brother, and Tanya sat on his other side, Connor in her arms. Another female shifter sat on the floor at Tanya’s feet, a petite brunette who had Tanya’s big eyes and sweet features. I guessed she was in her early twenties and probably a younger sister of Tanya’s. She was a lovely girl, with bee-stung lips and pink cheeks, her brown hair pulled up in a messy knot.
The energy in the room was different than it had been last night. Still cautious, grieving. But tonight there was something else, a new softness running through the weft and warp. I presumed Tanya and her sister had brought that to the party.