Midnight Marked (Chicagoland Vampires, #12)(43)

Luc nodded. “We’ll have to let that be for the time being. Let’s get back to Franklin, Reed, the Circle, the alchemy.” He gestured toward the conference table, and we took seats.

“We don’t know who killed Caleb Franklin,” I said. “We know it was one of Reed’s vampires.” I slid the key from the envelope, placed it on the table. “We need to figure out, if we can, which bank this came from.”

“And that would normally be a job for Jeff,” Luc said, tracing a finger around the key’s square teeth. “Checking bank records for deposit box rentals in Caleb’s name.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Bad enough that it’s hacking, much less that our bosses are on the outs. But that can’t be helped. He’s the best guy for the job. Maybe go through Catcher?”

Luc nodded. “I can try that. You give him the details about what went on tonight?”

“Not all of them,” I said. “Just what went on in Hellriver. Ethan sent my grandfather a message. You want to fill him in?”

“I can do that.”

“What about Reed?” Juliet asked. “Any sense of what his plan might be?”

“None.” I crossed my arms. “Cyrius Lore said something about Reed bringing order to Chicago. ‘Fixing’ things. He’s been living two lives for a long time—the businessman and the criminal. Maybe he wants to consolidate his kingdoms.”

“How?” Luc asked. “He can’t just declare himself king. People would think he’s a lunatic. And running for office wouldn’t work, either. People may not connect him to the criminal when he’s running his business, but if he puts himself up for election, it’s gonna come out. His opponents will look for it, and they’ll capitalize on it.”

“Maybe that’s our best-case scenario,” Juliet said. “They can do the work for us.”

Luc snorted. “No kidding. The public won’t believe vampires, because, what, we’re biased? But they’ll believe politicians and negative ads. Humans,” he spat, not a compliment, even though we’d all been humans once upon a time.

“If Cyrius was telling the truth, and Reed really does have a big plan, I can’t imagine bigger than trying to get Chicago. I just don’t know how he thinks he could do it.”

“Alchemically,” Lindsey said, and we all looked at her, the room silent but for the humming of equipment. “I mean, it’s out there for a reason, right? And Reed’s connected to it.”

Luc frowned, leaned back in this chair, and crossed his hands behind his head. “How could a few square feet of symbols help him win Chicago?”

When none of us had an answer, Luc looked at us. “Seriously? Nothing?”

“Not until we know more about the equation,” I said. “And I don’t suppose Paige has had a brainstorm in the last few hours?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” He glanced at his watch. “I know it’s getting late, but can you go up and give her a hand? I think Lindsey’s right. That’s where we have to focus.”

“Sure,” I said, rising.

The Ops Room door opened, and we all looked back. I’d half expected Ethan to walk in. But instead it was Kelley, with an armful of paper bags from SuperDawg.

“Hey, Mer.” She looked at me cautiously, turning slightly so her body was an obstacle between me and the bags. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“I’m not going to grab those right out of your hands,” I promised, although she looked dubious about the promise.

“I’m not sure I believe you.” And to prove it, she walked around the table, put the bags down on the other side. The other guards hopped up, began distributing the grub until the only thing left was a single, floppy fry abandoned in the bottom of a greasy bag.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

I popped the fry and enjoyed the hell out of it.

? ? ?

I didn’t need dogs or fries. Not really. I was a vampire. And after a night of fighting Leona, Warrior Princess, and Ethan, Master of Vampires, I needed blood.

I went to the cafeteria at the back of the House, passing Ethan’s closed office door along the way.

Dawn wasn’t far off, and the cafeteria was dark but for the glow of a glass-doored refrigerator that held Blood4You products. The enterprising company had been expanding its menu lately, offering more types of flavored and carbonated blood. From the variety in the case, it looked like I’d missed a few recent announcements. “Taco Fiesta,” “Cajun Heat,” and “Farmer’s Market” were now on the shelves.

“Oh, hey, Mer.”

I glanced back, found Margot in the doorway. She was beautiful and curvy, with a gleaming bowl of dark hair and bangs that fell to a perfect point in the middle of her forehead. She wore a black dress over black leggings and sandals, a white Cadogan House apron over the dress. She cradled half a dozen bottles of blood against her chest.

“You look like you’re in deep thought,” she said, walking toward me. “Keep that door open, will you?”

“Sure.” I held the door, took an armful of the bottles so she’d have a free hand to load Cajun Heat and Beach Bum.

“These flavors are crazy,” she said, “but the House seems to be enjoying them.” When that was done, she wiped her hands on her apron and glanced at me. “You all right? You look a little peaked.”