Midnight Marked (Chicagoland Vampires, #12)(63)

“That’s pretty deep.”

“It sounds like horseshit,” she said with a grin. “Like the nonsense I’d have spewed in my Grateful Dead and patchouli days.”

“Those were very colorful days.” Mallory had braided her hair, worn broomstick skirts, and stocked the fridge with Cherry Garcia. I hadn’t complained about the last.

“They were something,” she agreed. “But Gabriel’s the real deal. You’ve seen the Pack together. Hell, you saw Convocation. You know what they’re like.”

“Yeah. But I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“I’d say, take the middle ground. Cautiously optimistic. Or optimistically cautious.”

“My question is, how’s it actually going to happen?”

“Well, Merit, Ethan will put his—”

I held up a hand. “I didn’t mean literally. If no child of vampires has ever been carried to term, how are we going to beat those odds?”

“I don’t know,” she said, brow furrowed. “Something with magic?”

“That was my guess, but I still don’t know how the mechanics would work.”

“Tab A, slot B.”

“This conversation has taken a weird turn.”

“Yeah, but that’s kind of our thing.” She leaned forward, put a hand on my knee. “My God, do I want to see Ethan facing his first loaded diaper. And can you imagine him dealing with milk puke?”

“I think he’ll be a good dad.” A protective one, certainly. He had that gene in spades. “I mean, for a four-hundred-year-old pretentious Master vampire.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s his burden to bear, and we shouldn’t hold it against him. You know what we need?” she asked suddenly. “A beach vacation before you’re ankle-deep in poopy diapers. I mean, I know you can’t sunbathe, but we can still do manicures. Pedicures. Eat plenty of fried fish and listen to Jimmy Buffett by moonlight.”

“I’ve never listened to Jimmy Buffett in my life.”

“I haven’t, either. But I think that’s what you do on the beach. While drinking a margarita. We’ll call it a retreat! I’ll write a grimoire of good and helpful magic, or work on SWOB stuff, and you can, I don’t know, sharpen your sword.”

“Is that what you think we do in our free time? Sharpen our swords?”

She grinned. “Yes. Literally and figuratively.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“I know.” She sighed happily. “All the shit we’ve been through—all the shit I’ve been through—and I can still make lascivious jokes with the best of them. That’s impressive, Merit. That’s character. And I’m serious about the retreat idea. I might even let you bring Ethan for a night if you two make up. I bet he’d look fine in one of those tiny Speedos.”

I grimaced. As far as I was concerned, no one looked good in them. But I imagined Ethan would look good emerging from the ocean, body drenched and trunks riding low on his hips, striding across the sand like Poseidon.

I cleared my throat. “If we make up, I’ll talk to him.”

Mallory grinned. “You were thinking about him naked, weren’t you?”

“No. Maybe. Yes.”

“Good,” she said with a grin. “’Cause you got a baby to make. And I should get going. I need to run an errand. I’m going to buy a crucible, actually. I mean, technically it’s part of an old ceramics kiln. But I figure it will do the trick.”

According to the books the Librarian had provided, crucibles were a crucial part of alchemy. “Are you going to actually try a transmutation?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m thinking it would be worthwhile to try out one of the subequations—one of the shorter alchemical phrases. I was thinking that will help us fill in some of the nonsensical spots. But I don’t want to accidentally set Reed’s big plan in motion.”

“No argument from me there.”

“You gonna work on the symbols?”

I checked my watch. I’d spent part of the night on the road, part in a ball gown, part in a jail cell, and part in a cemetery. There wasn’t much darkness left. “I’ll at least stop by the library, yeah. I haven’t exactly been a very good assistant for Paige.”

“Since you’re usually the one doing the heavy lifting, I wouldn’t feel too bad about that. You’re working other angles.”

I nodded. “And speaking of, Ethan wants to meet here at dusk to talk. We told Catcher earlier.”

“Yeah, he texted me. We’ll be here.” She pushed to her feet, offered me a hand. And when she’d helped me lever myself up, she surrounded me with a hug.

“I love you, Merit. Just—maybe give me a call the next time an Apex shifter predicts you’ll have a bouncing magic vampire baby?”

I could practically see her gears working. “Don’t say vambaby. And you’ll be the first Bell I call.”

“Damn right I will.”

We walked back to the House over soft, cool grass, fell into a companionable silence.

“It’s Tex-Mex night in there, right?” she asked when we reached the patio.

“It is.”