Drink Deep (28 page)

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Authors: Chloe Neill

BOOK: Drink Deep
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I touched the pendant again, running my fingertip across the engraved letters. The medal had been mine since I was Commended into the House—promoted from Initiate to Novitiate vampire and given the position of Sentinel.
Ethan had clasped the medal around my neck. Since his death, I’d rarely removed it. But the problems facing Chicago and its supernaturals were bigger than me or Ethan or a small bit of gold, so I relented.
Without a word to Tate—although I could feel his smug satisfaction from across the table—I unclasped the medal and let it fall into my hand.
Tate held out his hand to receive it, but I shook my head.
“Information first,” I told him. “Prize later.”
“I had no idea you were so . . .
tenacious
.”
“I learned from the best,” I said, smiling sweetly. “Get on with it.”
Tate considered the bargain for a moment, and finally nodded.
“Fine. The deal is struck. But as you might imagine, I don’t get visitors often. I’m taking the long road. Besides, you are clearly woefully undereducated about the supernatural world.”
I couldn’t fight back a sigh. Getting a lengthy history lecture from Tate wasn’t high on my list of things to accomplish tonight. (“Saving the city” was actually number one on that list.) On the other hand, he was probably right. I was undereducated.
While he may have planned to take the long road, he didn’t waste a moment getting comfortable in his chair and imparting his wisdom.
“Magic wasn’t born on the eve of vampires’ creation,” he lectured. “It existed for millennia on this plane and others. Good and evil lived together in relationship slightly more, shall we say, symbiotic than this one. They were partners, neither better than the other, coexisting in peace. There was a certain justice in the world. Magic was unified—dark and light. Good and evil. The distinctions didn’t exist. Magic only
was
. Neither m/i>oexistingoral or immoral, but amoral, as it was meant to be. And then one red-letter day, humans decided evil wasn’t merely the other side of the coin—it was
wrong
. Bad. Not the other half of good, but its opposite. Its apotheosis.”
Tate drew a square on the tabletop with a finger. “The evil was deemed a contamination. It was drawn from good, separated.”
Mallory had once told me that black magic was like a second four-quadrant grid that lay above the four Keys. It sounded like her explanation had been pretty accurate.
“How was the magic separated?” I wondered.
“Carefully,” he said. “There were a number of iterations. Gods were divided into two halves; one moral, one immoral. Sides were taken, and angels were deemed true or fallen. Most important, some would say, evil was placed into a vessel that would contain it. It was parceled out only to a few who would seek to wield it.”
“What was the vessel?”
“It’s called the
Maleficium
.”
“So what does this have to do with the city? I’ve been told we’re seeing effects in the lake and sky because the four elements—earth, air, fire, and water—are unbalanced.”
“Like I mentioned, that’s a typical human instinct—to create categories to explain the world and blame the unfamiliar on a disruption in the categories. But categories don’t explain things; they describe them. You’ve heard the myth of the four Keys?”
“The four divisions of magic? Yeah, but I’ve never heard them referred to as a ‘myth.’ ”
Tate rolled his eyes. “That’s because sorcerers aren’t honest with themselves. Every categorization of magic—by Keys, by elements, by astrological signs, whatever—is just a way of ordering the universe for purposes of their practice. Each sect creates its own divisions and distributes magical properties into those divisions. But the divisions don’t matter.”
I found that revelation to be surprisingly disappointing—that the philosophy of magic Catcher had imparted to me those months ago wasn’t quite accurate, or at least it was only one of many half-accurate ideas.
“The point, Merit, is not that the magical systems are incorrect—but that they simply aren’t important.”
“Then what is?”
“The distinction between dark and light.” He placed a hand flat on the table. “Assume this hand is the entire world of magic.” He spread his fingers. “Call each finger a Key, an element, a drawer, what have you. The name doesn’t matter. The point is, however you describe the categories, the categories are all part of a single system.”
“Sure,” I said with a nod.
“Now, imagine the system is ripped in two by those who decided good and evil were anathema to each other.” His left hand flat on the table, he placed his right hand palm down a few inches above it. “Each hand is now half of the magic in the world. The world continues to function as we know it only while those two layers remain in balance.”
My thoughts stopped whirling chaotically and fell into order. “Which is why the lake stopped moving and the sky turned red—because the natural laws are askew.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘askew.’ I would say ‘undergoing reorganization.’ ”
“So the nymphSidts, the siren, the fairies. They truly have nothing to do with it?”
“Bit players at best.”
I sighed, regrouped, and kept going. “Why would things become unbalanced?”
“Because light and dark magic are being blended together. Because the separations between them have been violated. There are a variety of reasons, I suppose, to employ dark magic. Murder. Binding someone to service. The creation of a familiar. Prophecy, for those who don’t have the gift. Conjuring demons. Communing with otherworldly creatures.”
“Then who’s doing it? And how do I fix it?”
“How do you fix it?” He barked out a laugh. “You don’t
fix
it. It’s not a screw that needs tightening. It simply
is
. Some would say it’s a return to the original world. The First World. That Which Existed and Should Exist Again.”
There was a self-satisfied gleam in his eyes that suggested he was looking forward to that day. It seemed clear he thought the world was ready for change.
“Wouldn’t it be a return to war?” I wondered. “To Armageddon?”
He clucked his tongue. “That’s such a naïve view. Good and evil existed together for eons before humans—or vampires, for that matter—came into being. Don’t knock what you don’t understand.”
I ignored the sass. “And the
Maleficium
. Where can I find it?”
He sat back in his chair and threw an arm over the back. “Now, now, Ballerina. I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?”
“Are you using the
Maleficium
to make magic of your own? To bring about that new world order?”
He smiled at me through half-lidded eyes. “Would I do such a thing?”
“Yes. And you’d lie about it.”
He tilted his head to the side in obvious interest. “After all I’ve just given you, you accuse me of dishonesty?”
“You’ve lied your entire life. That you had the city’s welfare at heart. That you were trying to help vampires. That you were human.”
“Yes, well. Amorality was easier before evil intent was ascribed to it.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you didn’t have anything to do with it, why do the fairies think old magic is involved? And why did the city smell like lemon and sugar after it rained?”
“Just because I didn’t make the magic doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it. The
Maleficium
is old magic. The recombination of good and evil leaves its mark on the natural world—the water and sky. It also leaves its mark on the wind. In the latent magic in the air. I can’t be faulted for wanting to sample it, can I?”
“How can you sample airborne magic from across town?”
“There is more to the universe, Horatio, than what you can see or believe to be true.”
“I’m aware,” I dryly said.
“The point is, magic doesn’t need a freeway.”
“If you don’t have the
Maleficium
, who does?”
“The Order maintains possession of it. Guards it, if you will.”
My stomach churned with butterflies. I was going to have to go back to to ">“TCatcher and accuse a sorcerer of screwing with the
Maleficium
. Yeah—maybe Mallory was distorting the natural world in her fifteen minutes of free time each day.
Well, regardless of whether I liked his answer, I couldn’t fault him for not sticking to his word. I placed the medal on the table and slid it toward Tate. Without looking back, I rose from my chair and walked toward the door.
“Thank you for the prize,” Tate said. “And don’t be a stranger.”
Frankly, I’d be fine if I never had to see him again. But I doubted I’d be that lucky.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
 
BLACK BIRD
 
C
atcher met me in the golf cart just outside the door. I climbed in, and he took off for the gate.
“What happened to your medal?”
“I traded it for some magic beans,” I grouchily said.
He gave a low whistle. “Those better have been good beans.”
“Jury’s still out. Tate agrees the sky and earth issues are caused by a magical imbalance—basically someone mixing good and evil a little too liberally. He’s not convinced the change wouldn’t be a good idea. He mentioned the
Maleficium
. Do you know anything about it? Is there any chance he could have gotten it?”
Catcher’s brow furrowed, but he shook his head. “The Order has the
Maleficium
. It’s in Nebraska in the silo under thirty feet of farmland and Order lock and key.”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “The silo?”
“Abandoned missile silo. Nebraska’s in the middle of the country, so it’s full of Cold War strategic defense munitions. You know—far enough away from the coasts that you could keep the important stuff there.”
“If you say so. Is it secure?”
“Whatever else I might say about the Order—and believe me, I have many choice words in mind—they would not allow the
Maleficium
to leave the silo. Tate just likes watching you squirm. The man is a total sadist.”
“He succeeded,” I said. “I’m squirming. If he doesn’t have the
Maleficium
, maybe he’s working through someone else. Has he had any visitors?”
“You’re the only one we’ve allowed in.”
So much for that theory. “Then by my estimation, here’s what we’re left with: He says he’s not involved, and I tend to believe him. And last we talked, you did, too.” I braced myself. “If it’s not Tate, and if the
Maleficium
’s involved, and if the Order has the
Maleficium
. . .” I let him fill in the blank.
“It’s not me or Mallory.”
“I know. But that only leaves one person. Simon is the only person in Chicago who’s officially associated with the Order. Wouldn’t that also make him the only person in Chicago who has access to the
Maleficium
?”
Catcher didn’t respond.
“What’s the history with you and Simon?” I asked.
Catcher squealed the golf cart to a stop in front of the gate in a flurry of rocks and gravel. “The problem,” he said, “isn’t historicto ">iv wal.”
“We’re past personal vendettas at this point.”
“It’s not a goddamned personal vendetta!” Catcher yelled, slamming his fist into the cart’s plastic dashboard. “I wanted to protect her from this. I didn’t want her dealing with Order bullshit, dealing with Order politics, dealing with Order flunkies. She is freaking out, and we are both exhausted, and he is in there with her—down there with her—every single day. God only knows what he’s putting into her brain.”
“Mallory would never be unfaithful,” I quietly said.
“Unfaithful to our relationship? No, she wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But there are lots of ways to be turned against someone, Merit. If someone you loved was being brainwashed, what would you do about it?”
“Brainwashed? That’s putting it a little strongly, isn’t it?”
“Does she seem like the same person to you?”
She hadn’t, actually, since she met Simon, which supported my theory that Simon was involved.
“One way or the other, Simon is the linchpin in this thing. If you can’t stand to talk to him, then set up a meeting with me.”
“Simon won’t meet with a member of the House. The Order won’t allow it. There’s a formal process that has to be followed just to make the request, which they won’t grant.”
“I’ve talked to him before.”
“Casually. You’re talking about making him answer to vampires about his actions. That’s different.”
My patience with sorcerers—Catcher included—was growing thin. I climbed out of the cart, then looked back at him. “If I can’t meet with him, then you do it.”
Catcher’s jaw tightened. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, apparently ready for me to leave.

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