The plaza was packed with people, the crowd thick and heavy like deep water, so that each person was leaned or shoved into his or her neighbors, sending the wave forward.
Cops in black gear were visible on the edges, as were a few journalists with video cameras on their shoulders, and a few vampires standing in pairs outside the main crush. RG members, I thought, trying to keep the city’s supernaturals safe.
“There are a lot of people here,” he said.
“There are. And a lot of magic.” It was rising and falling like the movement of a symphony, raising uncomfortable prickles on my arms. “Itchy magic,” I said, scratching absently at the back of one hand.
It occurred to me that I was probably within telepathic distance of Ethan, and I called out to him silently but could practically feel the words bouncing back to me. Too much magical interference, perhaps.
“Let’s walk the perimeter,” he said, and I nodded, fell into step beside him. The night was cold, but the crush of bodies in front of us worked like a furnace to push heat in our direction.
The crowd was diverse, from obviously smitten teenagers who grinned with excitement at the cause to vampires and shifters I didn’t recognize, wearing bleak expressions and repeating their pleas for Ethan’s relief over and over and over again.
“Your man has a lot of support,” Jonah said.
“The cause has support,” I corrected, stopping short when two twentysomethings in coats and scarves bounded out of a cab and into the fray with neon posters demanding supernatural rights and Ethan’s release. “I can’t believe how many of them know who Ethan is.”
“He has fan sites, Merit.”
I stopped, looked at him, and found a bemused expression on his face. “He does not.”
“Next time you’re online, look up EthanSullivanIsMyMaster-dot-net. It has fan fiction. You’re not doing a very good job of keeping up with Ethan’s many admirers.”
“There is no such place, and there is no such fan fiction.”
This time, he stopped and looked at me, his expression flat.
My mind whirled at the possibility of hordes of human women lusting over my very vampiric boyfriend. I decided I found it endearing, since I wasn’t worried about his fidelity. Although my Internet research was clearly lacking. I made a mental note to catch up when I had some free time.
Still, the reminder of Ethan dimmed my mood. “Do you think they’ll release him?”
“In his lifetime? Yes. Unfortunately, that lifetime may last an eternity.”
Not exactly the most inspiring of thoughts.
We passed a man and woman who wore Midnight High T-shirts beneath unbuttoned coats. The man was tall and gaunt, with pale skin and thick sideburns; the woman was petite, with dark skin and curls. He was Horace, a Civil War volunteer and member of the Red Guard. I hadn’t yet learned her name.
Horace exchanged the slightest of nods with Jonah as we passed. An acknowledgment of our membership, our partnership, our vampiric fence around the plaza.
We edged around the perimeter and turned to the other side of the crowd just as a woman, petite and dark haired, walked up the sidewalk in a satin coat and four-inch platform shoes, a red dress visible beneath and a cloak of magic flowing around her.
She was barely five feet tall, but with each step, another man or woman in her vicinity trained their eyes on her, awestruck. Like all nymphs, she had the big-eyed beauty of an anime character.
I glanced at Jonah, saw the same glazed expression on his face.
“River nymph approaching,” I warned, a little late. “Although I forget which part of the river she controls.”
“North Branch,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Her name’s Cassie.”
Cassie looked up, discovered us standing there, and rushed over in her platform heels, her coat swirling behind her.
“You’re Chuck’s granddaughter!” she said as she batted her lashes. But when she looked at Jonah, her smile turned pouty. “Where’s Jeff?”
I winced sympathetically for Jonah and for any other man in Chicago who was not Jeff Christopher. Geek or not, he had a way with the nymphs.
“He’s not here tonight. I’m sorry.”
Tears bloomed in her large eyes, and her lower lip quivered.
I did not have time for a nymph on a crying jag. “Jeff mentioned you,” I said. “Just last night. Said he thought you were terribly pretty.”
She clasped her hands together with obvious glee. “Did he?”
“He did,” I assured her, then glanced cautiously at the roaring crowd. I wasn’t sure that was exactly River nymph territory. “Are you here for the protest?”
“I am,” she said brightly. “There’s a party tonight. I got a gorgeous invitation!”
I wouldn’t have called it a party, but before I could protest, she launched forward and slipped into the crowd.
I glanced at Jonah. “A ‘gorgeous invitation’? To a protest?”
That sounded suspicious. And manipulative.
“Regan?” I wondered.
“I think we should keep an eye on her,” Jonah said.
I nodded. “Stay close. If we get separated, meet at the fountain.”
“Roger,” he said, and I moved into the crowd.
Cassie was small, but the crowd parted to let her move forward, as if they were the river she controlled. I kept my gaze on her spot in the crowd as she moved deeper.
“You got her?” Jonah yelled out behind me, the crowd growing thicker and tighter as we advanced, the decibels higher.
“I see her!” I yelled back, holding out my hand behind me so he might grab it and keep us connected in the crowd.
Our fingers brushed just as shoving erupted to my right side, elbows pointing into my back and hips. I pulled back my arm, keeping my gaze on the divot Cassie had made in the crowd, and pressed my feet into the asphalt, trying to gain purchase. But the shoving grew stronger.
My irritation began to rise.
I pushed in the direction I thought she’d gone, panicking when I couldn’t see the shine of her satin jacket or feel the bubble of magic around her.
“Crap,” I murmured, wincing as a foot stomped on mine. The crowd tightened, contracted like a heartbeat. I breathed out slowly through pursed lips as bodies snugged against me, magic and smells and sounds crowding me on all sides.
After a moment, the press of bodies moved in the other direction, freeing me up enough to stand on tiptoes, scan the crowd for Cassie.
I found her, ten or twelve feet away, her arm on a man’s shoulder as she smiled and strained to see over the crowd.
I had only an instant of relief.
She turned around to look, her expression pained, as if she’d been surprised. And her eyes, wide and innocent, went blank. I’d seen those eyes before. The same dead expression, the absence of will. The harpies had worn it well.
Things were about to get very, very bad.
“Cassie!” I called out over the crowd. “Cassie! Are you all right?”
She didn’t turn, but her eyes rolled back, and her head began to loll. And there, only feet away from her, was a girl in a red cape.
I swore, began pushing through the crowd. Regan had found a perfect spot to disappear another supernatural, and she was doing it right before my eyes.
“Cassie!” I screamed out, wedging my body in an effort to push through the crowd, but the people around me were wedged in tight and looked around in irritation as I used elbows and knees to shove through them.
“Get out of the way!” I pled, looking over the top of the crowd for her hair or the barker’s, trying to trace where they’d gone. “Stop! Stop those girls!”
The man beside me threw out an arm, catching me in the stomach. I sucked in breath and swore out a curse that widened his eyes and had him moving back.