Midnight Marked (Chicagoland Vampires, #12)(61)

“Possibly,” Catcher said. “But that would mean there are more sites out there. Potentially many more.”

“Yeah,” I said. “My point exactly.”

Ethan looked at Catcher. “Maybe Chuck could ask the city’s sups to keep an eye out, report in if they see anything?”

Catcher nodded. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

“So we know our sorcerer wore a suit,” I said.

Ethan gestured to the tuxedo pants he still wore, the button-down shirt. “Many supernaturals wear suits.”

I thought of the sup at La Douleur in the suit and fedora, the one who I thought had ratted us out to Cyrius. We didn’t know if he was a sorcerer, but he’d known enough to want us out of the club. And he’d been a snazzy dresser.

“I know,” I said. “I’m grasping at straws. Because other than his connection to Adrien Reed, we don’t have anything.”

“Dusk,” Ethan said. “We’ll work through the steps, and we’ll figure this out. He won’t be able to hide much longer.”

Good. Because he’d been hidden long enough.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN




NEWSIES 2.0


Ethan and I returned to the House, stopped at the basement stairs.

“You’re going to the Ops Room?” he asked.

I nodded. “You’re going to meet with supplicants?”

“It’s only fair.”

We stood in silence for a moment. We were both afraid—afraid of losing something dear, afraid of what Adrien Reed wanted to take from us. That fear had blossomed into anger and frustration, and those emotions roiled between us, a barrier we hadn’t yet crossed.

“I’m not sure what else I can say.”

I looked up at Ethan. “Me, neither.”

He looked down, nodded. “Then let’s go about our work until we do know. I’ll see you later.” Without waiting for my response, he began to trot up the stairs.

When he’d disappeared, I pressed a hand against my stomach, which had tightened with nerves and fear.

Yet another reason to detest Adrien Reed.

? ? ?

I walked down the hall, but when I opened the Ops Room door, Lindsey shook her head.

“Nope, nope,” she said, moving to bar the door with arms outstretched. “You have company upstairs.”

I frowned at her. “Company? Who?”

“A very pissed-off sorceress.”

Damn. “Paige? Because of the alchemy?”

“Paige is in the library. It’s Mallory.”

“Mallory?” I checked my watch. It was late, and I didn’t have any idea why Mallory might be pissed off.

“And before you ask,” Lindsey said, “no, I don’t know what she wants, even with my wicked psychic powers.” She released one of her arms, used it to shoo me. “Go upstairs, talk to her, and get her to knock off the bad juju. She’s magically funking up the joint.”

I wanted to argue but decided the fastest way to figure out what was up with Mallory was to actually go upstairs and ask her. Still, I felt a low sense of dread. I didn’t know anything I’d done to piss her off, which raised other issues—did it have something to do with the shifters? My grandfather? Dark magic?

I hustled up the stairs, glanced around the foyer, saw no one but the supplicants in the foyer and a vampire at the desk.

The assault came from behind me. She popped out of the woodwork like a pixie, began slapping at me with fluttering, butterfly hands.

“Ow! What the hell, Mallory?” For a petite woman with plenty of magic at her disposal, she slapped pretty hard.

“Biggest thing to happen in either of our damn lives and you didn’t even tell me!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Gabriel’s prophecy,” she said in a fierce, growling whisper.

I stopped, stared at her.

There weren’t many who knew about it, and I hadn’t told anyone other than Ethan, for obvious reasons, and Lindsey, and because she’d mostly guessed it.

“How did you—”

She crossed her arms. “Gabriel’s angry at Ethan. I guess he let it slip to Jeff, and Jeff told me.”

Supernaturals could not keep secrets to save their lives. “Does my grandfather know?”

“No. Jeff didn’t even mean to tell me, and he swore me to secrecy.”

I rubbed my temples, which were beginning to ache from the weight of too much drama. Or Mallory’s psychic funk.

“Let’s go for a walk outside,” I said.

But Mallory just kept staring at me, and her eyes began to fill. “You didn’t tell me.”

Crap, I thought, and took her arm much more gently than she’d have taken mine.

“Let’s go outside,” I said, heading off another round of bruises, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

? ? ?

I walked her through the House and the cafeteria, which was filled with chattering vampires and the scents of meat and chilies. It was Tex-Mex night, a House favorite. Thankfully, the food kept their attention as we walked past.

I led Mallory outside to the House’s enormous pool, a beautiful rectangle of sparkling water. I sat down on the concrete that surrounded it. Mallory sat in front of me, cross-legged.