The shot switched to a young man with dark skin, sharp gray eyes, and a very serious expression. “Thank you, Linda. I’m here with Terry Fowler, a resident of Hyde Park, with commentary.”
Haymer tipped a black microphone toward Fowler, a man with bony shoulders and a gleaming pate.
“It’s about time,” Fowler said, with a thick Chicago accent and a waggling finger, “that the mayor took some action on the hooligans that are running loose in our streets.”
“Those hooligans,” Ethan bit out, “are not vampires.”
“And what do you think about the charges the city used inappropriate force against Mr. Grey?”
“Inappropriate force? He’s a predator. They all are. Rioting, plucking victims here and there, probably grab you right off the street if they had a mind to. ’Bout damn time, if you ask me.” He smiled with gusto at the camera, clearly happy about his forty seconds of fame.
There would never be a moment’s peace, I realized. Not as long as human civilization had its own problems, not when vampires made such an easy target. Not when blaming us was easier than addressing deeply rooted social ills.
This was Celina’s doing, the result of her outing vampires, the mess she’d made by announcing their existence to the public. It had been more than a year since she’d made the decision, held a press conference, brought vampires into a light they hadn’t asked for. And now we were paying the price. This wasn’t the age of the Inquisition or the Salem witch trials, but it was proving to be different only by mechanism and degree. Technology didn’t make humans less blind; it only made it easier for hate and ignorance to spread.
“The mayor maintains the city’s supernaturals are little better than domestic terrorists. What are your thoughts?”
“They’re violent,” Fowler said. “Creating chaos. Making good people afraid to go out at night. Isn’t that terrorism? She should put ’em away or take ’em out.”
“You mean the death penalty?”
“If that’s what it takes, yeah. If it’s good enough for humans, ain’t it good enough for vampires?”
My blood chilled. His voice stayed casual, like it was nothing at all to suggest our deaths.
“Thank you, Mr. Fowler,” said the reporter, looking straight into the camera again. “I’ve spoken with a number of individuals here outside the precinct. Although not all of them support the mayor’s actions, it’s clear they are concerned about the presence of vampires in their community.”
The shot switched back to the studio, where the anchor, every strand of platinum blond hair in place, nodded. “Thank you, John, for that report. The mayor has not issued a statement respecting Mr. Grey’s release. The mayor also has not yet identified a replacement for the head of the Office of Human Liaisons, who was arrested a few days ago for his role in the riots that have racked the city this week.”
The camera shifted to the man who sat beside her, a brunette with thick eyebrows and a long, straight nose. “Thank you, Patrice. And now to sports.”
Ethan flicked off the television.
“They actually think we’re threats to the public welfare?” I asked.
“The mayor thinks I’m a threat to the public welfare,” Ethan said. “And Scott is the bait they’re using. And they’re using him, well and thoroughly, after all we’ve done for the city. The times we’ve pulled it back from the brink. Assimilation didn’t work. Living in public doesn’t work. I’m not sure what our remaining options might be.”
“Disappearing,” Catcher said. “Just like the elves.” He glanced at me. “Have you heard from Jonah?”
“I haven’t even had time to look.” I went back to the bedroom and grabbed my phone, found three missed calls from Jonah, and sent a message.
WE’RE WATCHING THE REPORTS, I sent. I’M SORRY GREY HAS GOTTEN DRAGGED INTO THIS.
He didn’t immediately respond, so I kept the phone in my hand, went back to the living room, and wished him strength.
Ethan glanced back at me, the line of worry between his eyes. “I can’t let them be punished on my behalf. Seeking shelter here to avoid a fight with the CPD was one thing. But others being targeted in my stead is something completely different. This isn’t Scott’s fault.”
“It’s not his fault,” I agreed. “But he was at the House when Monmonth was killed. They’d have seen that on video.” When rioters firebombed Grey House, we sheltered the Grey House vampires, a direct violation of the GP’s blacklist. Monmonth had come to Cadogan House to enforce it, to force Scott and the rest out of their sanctuary, when he attacked.
“He’s a witness,” Catcher said, “because you did him a favor and let him into your House. But it hardly matters. Whether or not you’re there wouldn’t matter. If she thinks she can beat a witness with impunity, there’s no act on your part that would stop her.”
“And it would be dangerous,” Mallory said, fear in her eyes. “She’s willing to do all this when you clearly acted in self-defense. She’s not operating within the bounds of the law.”
“I’m not sure that matters to her,” Ethan said, putting his hands on his hips. “The law applies to humans, which we are not. I’m sure she has advisers, lawyers on staff who are promising her that she’s doing nothing illegal, nothing that’s not sanctioned by vague and antiquated laws. Add in her argument that we’re domestic terrorists, and she has a license to abuse her powers. Goddamn her.” Furious magic buzzed around Ethan, filled the room. “Goddamn her and her narcissism.”
My phone buzzed; it was Jonah again.
WE’RE MANAGING, he said. RG HELPING. LAWYERS TALKING TO SCOTT. ALL GUARD CAPTAINS COMMO’ING.
That was something, at least. The Houses would never be as strong apart as they would be together.
But Jonah had one more message to share: BEWARE—KOWALCYZK MEANS TO MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF ETHAN.
I could face down a harpy or an elf. But the thought of Ethan in trouble curled my stomach with fear.
“Ethan,” I said, passing the phone to him when he glanced back at me.
“What am I supposed to do?” he slowly asked, handing it back. “Sit here twiddling my goddamn thumbs while they take the punishment she means to give me?”
“You’ll stay here,” Catcher said, “and keep the situation from getting worse. Scott has lawyers, and he’s immortal just like you. And frankly, it’s time the other Houses get beat up instead of Cadogan.”
When Ethan opened his mouth to argue—probably with cursing—Catcher lifted his hands. “Stop. Just wait a minute. Let me play the asshole, and you can be pissed at me if you want. We go back a long way, Ethan. You know I don’t bullshit you. Not on purpose anyway,” he said, slanting a glance at Mallory. “For once, take my advice—let the others do the heavy lifting. If you go back, she’ll crucify you. That won’t do you, Merit, Malik, or anyone else any good. So Scott got a little bruised; he’ll heal. This is not the first time or the last time authorities in Chicago have roughed up a witness or a suspect. Christ, how many times have you both been injured?”
He sucked in air, let it out again, looked between us. “What’s happening in Chicago isn’t great. But you knew when you came here that ‘not great’ was a pretty strong possibility. And in the meantime, an entirely new crisis has dropped into your life. Let’s deal with that crisis first, before we run back to the arms of the other one.”
The room went silent for a moment with the weight of Catcher’s words.
“Been saving up that monologue for a while, have you?” Ethan asked, a hint of a smile at one corner of his mouth.
Catcher humphed. “Longer than I should have. We all have improvements to make.” He looked at Mallory. “I’m trying to make mine.”