Wild Things: A Chicagolands Vampire Novel (Chicagoland Vampires) (32 page)

Crickets chirped in the silence.

Lindsey shook her head and patted Luc’s hand. “Better luck next time, hon.”

•   •   •

It was late, and the neighborhood was mostly dark. We parked on the side opposite the trailers and made our approach, quietly, in the dark. The gates were black wrought iron, cresting to a point between two stone pillars. The streets beyond were quiet, dotted with ornate streetlamps.

I looked up at the gate, which had to be twelve feet tall. I was better with down than with up and didn’t want to fudge an ascent in front of my colleagues.

But a wrought-iron gate was no match for a Jeff Christopher. While we huddled in the darkness beside one of the pillars, Jeff pointed his magic tablet at the card reader notched into the stone until the light above flashed green and the gates swung open.

“Achievement unlocked,” I said with awe, and caught his flashing grin.

“I knew you were a gamer at heart,” he whispered.

We crept quietly through the gates and into the neighborhood.

“The park’s up the street and around the curve,” Jeff whispered, tucking the tablet away again. We stuck to the median that separated the parkway. The trees on the hillock were still empty of leaves, but they gave us a bit of a shield in case anyone bothered to look.

The road curved, and we followed it to a pretty park that took up a long ellipse between two sets of houses.

There, beneath the limbs of winter-bare trees, were two silver, gleaming trailers.

The faint vibration of magic hummed in the air.

“We do one trailer at a time,” Ethan said. “Merit, Mallory, Catcher, and I will go inside. Jeff, Damien will wait here; keep an eye out.”

When everyone nodded, we crept to the closest one, found the door at the end. Ethan hopped onto a step at the back of the truck, pulled down a giant silver handle, and pulled open the door.

Steps descended, and Catcher and I followed Ethan inside.

“Jesus,” Ethan muttered, making a motion across his chest as if to ward off the evil.

The car was divided in half by a passageway, with fluorescent lights running above. It was clean and white and smelled faintly of pine-scented cleaner. Each side of the car had been divided into containers arranged like small sleeping pods. Each pod held a supernatural. I recognized a harpy, a leprechaun, his skin faintly green, a giantess sitting in the largest of them. They wore clean blue scrubs and looked to be in good health, but their eyes were blank and they stared absently.

Tears pricked at my eyes, but I pushed them back. Now wasn’t the time to grieve for the years they’d lost. It was time to give them the rest of their lives.

I looked over the cases, realized who was missing. “Niera and Aline aren’t here.”

“There’s another trailer yet,” Catcher reminded me. “They could be in there.”

“Then let’s get started,” I said. I moved to the first cage and put a hand on the lock—a long silver pin inside a complicated twisting mechanism—but Catcher slammed a hand against the door before I could open it.

I looked at him, bewildered. “We have to let them out.”

“We will,” he calmly said. “But unlocking the doors right now won’t help. If they’re charmed into this kind of oblivion, they aren’t going to be able to run out of here when we open the doors. And they might be spelled to attack.”

“What do we do?” I asked.

Catcher looked at Ethan. “I’ll take this trailer. Mallory can take the other. We’ll unwind the spells, get them ready for release.” He looked at Mallory. “You remember how?”

“Yep,” she said, crossing her arms to hide the tremble in her fingers. But I’d rather have her afraid than cocky and dangerous any day.

Ethan nodded and we walked outside again, explained what we’d seen.

“Damien, stay with Catcher. Jeff, stay with Mallory. Keep them safe while we find Regan.”

“One thing,” Catcher said, when Mallory and Jeff had left for the other train car. He pulled a set of connected silver hoops from his pocket. “Handcuffs, magically enhanced. It’s what we used on Mallory. They should hold her.” He tossed them into the air, and Ethan caught them neatly with one hand.

“Thank you,” he said. “Get them free.”

With a nod and a spark of magic, he got to work. Ethan and I surveyed the park.

“Odds are better if we separate,” I told Ethan.

“I agree. I’ll take the east side. You take the west.”

I nodded, adjusted the tension on my belt. “Will do. I’ll call if I find her.”

“Do that.” Before I could leave, he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulled my body against him, and pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “Do protect what’s mine, Sentinel.”

I made a sound at the possessive tone in his voice but still reveled in it. That I was strong enough to take down a foe didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy Ethan’s alpha male attitude every once in a while.

“Same to you, Sullivan,” I said, and headed off down the sidewalk.

The night was chilly, but this was Chicago, gated or not, and Chicagoans were used to the chill. A few people were out and about, walking dogs or returning late from work with quick steps around the edge of the park. Including one girl with platinum blond hair.

I’ve got her,
I told Ethan.
East side of the park, moving south.

I’ll circle behind,
he said.
You intercept, and carefully.

Without killing civilians or myself, he meant. Not unreasonable advice.

I stepped off the path, watched while she moved closer. She wore a long black coat, nipped at the waist and buttoned up, and a large glossy shopping bag hung off her shoulder.

As she neared, I caught the unmistakable scents of smoke and sulfur.

When she was four feet away, I stepped in front of her. “Hello, Regan.”

She stopped, eyed me curiously. “Merit, I presume. Sentinel of Cadogan House.”

“That’s me. I understand you have wings.”

I’d hoped to catch her off guard with the reference to something I bet she showed very few people.

The ploy worked. Her eyes widened, and her hands whitened around her bag. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I do, actually. At least, I think I do. Your mother told you your father was special.”

Her jaw twitched, and her voice was controlled fury. “You don’t know anything about my mother.”

“Oh, I know a lot about Annalissa. And your father was special, as it turns out. Magical and talented and very unique. I’m sorry to say that he’s no longer with us, but his twin brother is alive. Your uncle.” At least, that was the relationship I’d decided on. We were in the fuzzy territory where magic and genetics collided, and I wasn’t really sure of anything.

“Oh, and your uncle’s an angel.”

For the first time, she looked genuinely flummoxed. “What?”

“An angel, and a very good man, Regan. I can help you meet him, if you’d like.”

She snorted. “You think I’m going to trust you? You want to put me in a cage.”

She didn’t seem to get the irony. “You’ve committed crimes in several states,” I pointed out. “Kidnapping, primarily.”

She looked disgusted by my ignorance. “They weren’t kidnapped. They are my family.”

“They are in cages. Drugged and stuffed inside cages like animals while you’ve been out shopping.” She flinched, proving I was on the right track.

“Is that how you treat family? You keep them safely locked away so they aren’t gone when you return home? So they don’t leave you like your father did?”

“You don’t know anything about me or my family.”

“I know too much,” I said, the honest truth. “And I know you can’t force a family with magic just because you’re pissed off at the real one.”

I’d pushed her over the edge. She let out a scream, whipped around the shopping bag, and slung it at me. I put up an arm to dodge it, wincing when the weight of it hit my arm. Using my hesitation, she took off across the park.

And so the chase began.

She’s heading for the trailers,
I told Ethan, running full out and trying to close the gap between us. She hurdled a bench and I followed, thrilled when the vault put me five feet closer to her.

I paused long enough to pluck the dagger from my boot and send it spiraling, end over end, in her direction.

Regan yelped when it bit into her shoulder, stumbled forward but caught herself, yanked it out with a scream.

The scents of smoke and sulfur grew stronger. When she turned back to me, the dagger glinting in her hand, there was murder in her eyes. “Do you know what I am?”

“I do,” I assured her, unsheathing my katana and settling my fingers around the handle. I kept my gaze on hers, and my expression just as haughty.

“You’re the daughter of Dominic Tate. The niece of Seth Tate, former mayor of Chicago, and an angel. You’re also a spoiled brat. But that’s just my opinion.”

Regan launched herself forward, swiping the blade in a shot I neatly dodged.

I sliced horizontally, and she ducked to avoid the blow, bringing up the dagger with a clean shot that nicked my shin. A line of pain burned hot, but I ignored it, finished my spin, and attacked downward.

She rolled across the ground, popping up a few feet away. We circled each other, and as we turned, I caught movement from the corner of my eye—Ethan stood nearby, his sword still sheathed but his eyes cold and calculating.

Feel free to join in,
I told him, jumping back to dodge her advance and the tip of the blade.

You seem to be managing fine on your own. The sups are unspelled and released. You might mention that to her.

“The gig’s up, Regan. The sups are gone. It’s just you and me.”

She cursed, moved forward, dropping the blade and using the weight of her body to send me to the ground. My katana skidded away, and snow seeped into the gaps in my leather, sending wet trickles down hot skin.

“They’re my
family
,” she yelled, trying to pummel me into submission.

“They have . . . their own . . . families,” I reminded her. I grabbed her fist, twisted, and pushed her over, pinning her to the ground.

I was faster, but she was stronger. Regan screamed, threw me off and away. I flew back six feet, skidding across the ground.

I believe now I might join you,
Ethan said.

Too late,
I told him, wiping blood from my eye.
She’s mine.

I put my hands behind me, flipped to my feet, and snatched my katana from the ground, spinning as I turned to face her again.

She flew out an arm and a crackle of magic that sent the tree behind us to the ground with an enormous
crack
. I jumped as it fell to the ground a foot away, branches swaying with the force of the movement, and a sizzling, chemical scent in the air.

“You’re a little old for tantrum throwing, aren’t you?” I asked, jumping atop a branch and rolling the katana in my fingers.

“I’ll show you a tantrum,” she said, holding out her palms, a fiery sword appearing between them. She immediately swung it at me, and I neatly dodged and sliced again.

“Of course she has a flaming sword,” I murmured, dodging another slice. Regan didn’t have the training—her movements made that obvious—but she had strength and magic enough to wield her flaming steel like a champion.

Sirens rose in the distance, and I caught my chance. I dodged, sliced, and moved gradually toward the sidewalk and the blue and red lights that were racing up the street.

She let out a low growl, my hair standing on end as she prepared to throw out another blade of magic.

I ducked and hit the ground as a sizzle lit the air. But it was Regan who crumpled, the sword in her hand disappearing with a puff of smoke.

We looked behind us, where Detective Jacobs stood beside a squad car, a Taser in hand. He smiled, his smile a deep crevice in his dark skin.

“Just thought I’d offer you a hand,” he said with a wink.

I’d always liked him.

•   •   •

Ethan applied the cuffs, and Catcher helped transport Regan into the back of Detective Jacobs’s vehicle.

When possession was transferred to him, they walked back to where Ethan and I stood by, just close enough to ensure she’d been taken into custody.

“That will hold her,” Catcher said. “They’re going to use the same dampening magic they used on Tate. Apparently the corrections departments across the U.S. have developed some pretty good skills in that area.”

“I’ll contact Gabriel,” Damien said, nodding toward Niera and Aline, who sat on opposite ends of a nearby bench. Even in crisis, there was no friendship between these particular clans.

Aline stood and walked toward us, looked at me and Ethan.

“I don’t know that I trust you. But I know how to give thanks where thanks are due.”

She held out a hand. Dumbfounded, I accepted it. The deed done, she turned and walked back to the bench, where she sat sullenly again.

“Well, that happened,” I said. “I don’t know if that moment of friendship will stick, but it’s a start.”

“Sometimes,” Ethan said, “that’s the best we can hope for.”

“And speaking of hope,” I said, glancing at Niera, “we have a truce to make good on.”

•   •   •

They stood in long, precise columns that stretched across the field near their village. They’d traded their simple tunics for gleaming armor and open helms with thin guards that covered their noses, and each held a bow and arrow. There must have been thousands of them, and they stood with robotic precision, ready for action.

Perhaps not so unlike the metaphorical locusts.

We stood in front of them, a smaller group than the last time we’d met. The Brecks, the Keenes, Ethan, and me. More vulnerable to the elves without an army behind us, and trusting that they’d stand by their word.

But not so trusting that we didn’t have our swords unsheathed and at the ready.

And at my side stood Niera. She made no sound, just as during the trip to the Brecks’ estate. But she’d stared at the sights with a mix of wonderment and fear that sent magic through the car. It seemed the elves had avoided all contact with the metropolis that lay at the edge of their territory.