Biting Cold (30 page)

Not that I needed the incentive to nab Dominic, but I’d heard Claudia’s threats before. “Nuclear” was her first and only option.
Whatever had been between them, love or business, it wasn’t a complication I needed right now.

I nodded at both of them. “Thank you for the heads-up.”

I climbed into my orange, boxy Volvo, which was admittedly a downgrade from Ethan’s shiny new Aston Martin. But until I got a promotion or a stiff pay raise, the Volvo would have to do.

My phone rang nearly as soon as I buckled my seat belt. I propped it on the dashboard and turned on the speakerphone.

“Merit,” I answered, pulling onto the street.

“Hey, it’s Jeff.”

“What’s new?”

“Absolutely nothing. Catcher went to see Mallory, and it’s dead quiet over here. I mean, I racked a new server, and the cabling was a bitch, but that’s about it. I thought I’d call and see if you had any news.”

“Well, Seth Tate showed up at Cadogan House, if that counts.”

“Oh, shiz. That totally counts. How do you know it was him?”

“Long story short, about twenty linear feet of white, fluffy wingspan.”

“That’s a pretty good indication.”

“Yes. It was. We did manage to get a little more background. It’s no coincidence that they look alike. Dominic and Seth are twin angels, although Dominic turned to the dark side after his mythological hissy fit. We think Dominic has somehow been inside Seth for centuries, and they got split apart when the
Maleficium
was triggered. Seth has the scar to prove it.”

“And he had no idea?”

“Not as far as we can tell. Personally, it sounds like Dominic may have been the little red devil that sat on his shoulder and told him to do naughty things, but Seth’s accepting responsibility for now. Which is kind of a nice change.”

“No kidding. It’s definitely usually the other way around. What did Seth have to say?”

“He wants to help us deal with Dominic as part of his atonement. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have any idea how to go about doing that. What about you? Might there be anything in your shifter encyclopedia about that?”

“We don’t have an encyclopedia. We’re more of a storytelling people. But I’m not aware of a fable on bat-winged, parasitic dudes who feed off mayors. Although that would have explained a lot of Chicago’s political history.”

“Sad but true. I’m heading out to see Mallory. I’ll ask if she has any information. Oh—and another weird one. The mercenary fairies at the gate think Dominic and Claudia, their queen, are going to have a meet and greet. While you’re researching him, look for any connection with the fairies.”

“Will do.”

“I appreciate it. And Jeff, how’s Fallon?” I felt like I hadn’t heard anything about Gabriel’s sister—and Jeff’s newish flame—in a while. I wasn’t sure if that was because things were going well, or because they weren’t.

“She’s good. She’s…” He sighed. “I think she has things to figure out.”

That didn’t sound good. “What kinds of things?”

“What she wants in life and in a man. There’s a lot of pressure growing up in the Apex’s family. I think she’s still sorting out who she thinks she is versus who she thinks her family expects her to be.”

“That’s tough. Anything I can do?”

“Just stay in play as my backup.”

I nearly swerved the car off the road. “I’m sorry—your backup?”

“You know, in case it doesn’t work out with Fallon.”

“And what about Ethan?”

Jeff chuckled. “I just figured he was your backup for me.”

Of course he did. “Good night, Jeff,” I said, and hung up the phone.

Boys.

Traffic was horrible, and the drive to Ukrainian Village took exponentially longer than it should have. Even as late as it was, and with a clear sky above us, traffic on Lake Shore Drive had slowed to a crawl, and the freeway wasn’t any better.

Even Little Red was packed, every spot outside the bar filled with a motorcycle, and a cadre of shifters stood just outside the door, smoking and chatting one another up. Sure, there was a deadly angel on the loose, but there were cigarettes to be rolled and whiskey to be drunk.

Supernatural man drama was making me grouchy.

I parked two blocks away and thought about leaving my sword in the car. But since Dominic was on the prowl, I decided not to take chances. My next visit to the sunlight prison might not have such a happy ending.

I dodged drunken revelers as I headed back toward the bar, and I was full-on ready to argue about whether the guys outside the bar would let me in with a sword at my side. But no one paid me any mind.

The bar was overflowing with shifters. Berna was back at the bar, helped by a young woman with deep-set eyes, dark hair, and a very snug T-shirt. I pushed through bodies and mildly intoxicated magic to reach them.

“Upstairs,” Berna said, without looking up.

She was busy, and I was smart enough to stay out of the way. I walked through the back room, the table again empty of shifters and card players, and up the stairs.

The door to Mallory’s small bedroom-slash-prison-cell was open, and I could hear people chatting. Since I already had one black mark for snooping this week, I decided to actually announce myself.

I knocked on the doorjamb and peeked inside.

Mallory sat cross-legged on the bed. She looked thin and tired and still oddly blond, but she looked more like Mallory than she had in a long time. Her eyes were clearer, somehow. The knot of worry around my heart unclenched a bit.

She wasn’t alone. Catcher stood nearby, arms crossed and a frown on his face as he stared at the third person in the room, who was new to me. He was older, probably in his late fifties or early sixties. Average height, round belly, and a thick head of silvery white hair. He wore a thick green Packers jacket, jeans, and shiny white tennis shoes with thick soles. Grandpa-style tennis shoes.

They all turned to look at me.

I waved a little, suddenly self-conscious, the uninvited vampire. “Hi.”

Catcher waved me in.

“Merit, this is Al Baumgartner, head of the Order.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

This guy
was Al Baumgartner? This guy who looked like someone my grandfather bowled with was in charge of all the sorcerers in North America? I’d expected someone a little more Darius, maybe. A little more polished. A little more professional. A little slicker.

Al Baumgartner smiled politely, then stretched out a hand. “Merit, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, as well.”

“We appreciate your help in getting all this sorted out,” he said. “It’s good to know who your friends are.”

I didn’t say it aloud, but we weren’t friends, and Mallory wasn’t a problem to be “sorted out,” like he’d simply forgotten to pay the electric bill on time.

But from what I’d heard from Catcher and Paige, there was no point in arguing with him.

“We did what needed to be done,” I said politely. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all. I’m just here to check in. The world is changing, and we’re just trying to keep up.”

I slid Catcher a surreptitious glance and enjoyed his dramatic eye roll.

“I see,” I said, although there was no doubt he was telling us only part of the story.

“Well,” Baumgartner said, “I should probably be off. I’ve got some things to attend to while I’m in town.” He looked at Mallory, and his features changed. From grandfather caricature to magical overlord. That expression looked a bit more honest on his face, I thought.

“We’ll talk” was all he said to her, then smiled politely at me, zipped up his Packers coat, and walked out the door.

I waited for the sound of footsteps on the stairs before I spoke. “Why is he really here?”

“Punishment,” Catcher said.

It didn’t say a lot that the answer didn’t surprise me—because the Order rarely seemed to pay that much attention. “What’s he proposing?”

“Nothing yet,” Catcher said. “Could be rendition—a mix of isolation and indoctrination. Could be nullification.”

“What’s nullification?”

Mallory uncrossed her legs. “That’s where they take away my magic for a specified period of time.”

“That doesn’t sound as bad as rendition.”

“It’s not,” Catcher said, “but it’s worse than it sounds. She’s had the magic for a long time, even before she was aware of it. It’s integrated into her body, which makes nullification akin to a magical lobotomy.”

Put that way, it sounded pretty horrible. “And when will they make a decision?”

Catcher shrugged. “They’re mulling things over.”

It was clear the “mulling” was getting to Mallory. Even though she looked better, she picked nervously at the edge of the blanket.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Mallory.

“Like I’m trying to quit smoking again. If the smoking killed everybody else but me, turned me into a she-bitch, and made me screw over all of my friends.”

That about said it.

“It takes time,” Catcher said.

“I know,” she said, then squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I know this is an addiction and I know it will take time to really feel better, and I am trying my damndest not to fuck up my life any more than I already have. But in the meantime, it sucks. I feel like crap.” She laughed hoarsely. “And it doesn’t help that I have a Packers fan deciding my fate. I mean, seriously? You’re going to wear that jacket in Chicago?”

The words were sarcastic, but I could tell she was walking a knife’s edge of fear and anger. That would certainly explain Ethan’s irritability.

“What brings you by?” Catcher asked.

I gave them the same overview I’d given Jeff, and I wasn’t thrilled when they looked as surprised as he’d sounded. I was hoping for a little more familiarity with the problem—and through that, a solution.

“How did they end up together?” Catcher asked.

“That’s the part we aren’t sure about. I was hoping you might have an idea.”

Mallory shook her head. “It doesn’t ring any bells for me. You, Catcher?”

It saddened me that Mallory was back to calling him Catcher. She had a million nicknames for him and used them more often than not. But they were on a break that Catcher deserved, so there wasn’t much I could do about it.

“I don’t know,” Catcher said. “I can ask Jeff.”

“He’s already on it, as are Seth and Paige. I’m sure someone will come up with something.”

Catcher nodded, then glanced at his watch, then up at Mallory again. “I need to get back.”

She nodded a couple of times. “Okay.”

“I’ll let you know if we find anything,” he said, then walked out the door.

No hug, no kiss good-bye for Mallory. No good-bye at all, really.

I looked back at her, but she wouldn’t meet my gaze. She just kept picking at that spot on the blanket.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She laughed mirthlessly. “I have flushed my entire life down the toilet. That’s really all there is to say right now.” She put both hands over her face, then pressed her palms against her eyes.

I nodded, my heart aching for her, even though I could completely sympathize with Catcher.

“You and Ethan?” she asked, trying to smile a little. Somehow, that made her seem even sadder.

“We’re…working on it. Things are complicated right now.”

She nodded, then chewed the edge of her lip.

“This is so awkward,” I said.

“It really is.” She seemed relieved to say it.

“Like we’re strangers to each other.”

Mallory nodded. “We are. I am a stranger to you. You didn’t know I was capable of all these things—of the things I’ve done. Horrible things. Turns out, I am.” She looked up at me. “I’m the kind of person who hurts others to get what they want. I shouldn’t be here right now, Merit. I should be in prison.”

Her sadness was palpable, but at least she was beginning to see reality.

“Have you talked to Gabriel?”

“He thinks I’m redeemable.”

That simple statement made me feel better than I had in a long, long time. Gabriel wasn’t an easy one to impress, and he had insight—magical or otherwise—into the future. If he thought Mallory was redeemable, that meant something. And it wasn’t like he was prone to overcomplimenting.

“That’s something,” I said.

“It’s something,” she agreed. “I’m working at the bar. This is my lunch break, I guess, although I’m not hungry much. I’m not much of anything right now. Numb, I guess. I know the things I did. They replay in my head over and over and over again. But they feel removed, like it wasn’t me. Like I’m just watching a video playback or something.”

“Those things happened. They were real.”

She nodded. “Gabriel says—he thinks I have a sensitivity to the imbalance the
Maleficium
created. He thinks that’s why I was so drawn to it.”

I nodded. “Paige said all sorcerers felt that a little.”

“Some more than others, I guess. And I’m not trying to make an excuse. I’m just—I’m trying to understand why—” She began sobbing again.

I sat down on the bed beside her. Not touching—I wasn’t ready for that—but acknowledging what she was going through, and that she was finally facing her demons.

“God, I am so sick of myself,” she said after a few minutes.

“A lot of us are,” I said with a smirk, and she choked out a laugh and nodded.

“I needed that,” she said, knuckling away tears. “I can’t use my magic here. He arranged it or something.”

“I know.”

“It will be a long time before they let me use it again. But Gabriel thinks I have talent, but I have to be trained how to use it for the right causes.”

“Gabriel said that?” It was an unusually hands-on position for a shifter, who was usually more concerned with carousing than counseling.

“He says there’s work I can do. Hard work, but fulfilling.”

“Did he say what?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure it matters. I’m not sure I’ll ever make this up to anyone, no matter what I do.”

She and Seth were a pair right now. Both facing guilt and the specter of never being able to atone for what they’d done, both suffering because of a book intended—ironically—to make life better for everyone.