by Chloe Neill
“Bond was posted?” Ethan asked, rising and walking forward.
“No bond necessary. Mr. Reed isn’t going to press charges.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but I wasn’t surprised in the least. Reed couldn’t torture us if we were locked away. He’d get more enjoyment from having us freed, forcing us to watch his ascendancy.
We signed some paperwork, picked up our personal effects, and headed outside. Jeff stood in front of the Audi, which he must have driven over from the Botanic Garden. Shifter or not, he was a stand-up man. And by his expression, still very irritated.
“You all right?” he asked, looking us over.
“We are,” Ethan said. “Thank you for bringing the car, and for coming earlier. Especially considering . . .” Ethan didn’t have to mention the item in consideration—the fact that we were currently fighting with Jeff’s alpha.
Jeff nodded. “Pack’s still a democracy. I didn’t know about the Circle; obviously, I’d have mentioned it.” He sounded mildly perturbed about the fact that he hadn’t known. Understandable, since he’d been among the group of us who’d had to track it down.
“And I’m not saying I agree or disagree with Gabe,” he added, lest we think he was completely on our side. He looked pointedly at Ethan. “Being a leader means making decisions that, in hindsight, look regrettable.”
A smile was not appropriate, so I bit it back. Jeff was usually too agreeable for his alpha side to pop out, but it would be wrong to forget he was still, literally and figuratively, a tiger.
“It’s worth saying again that we appreciate your help. And perhaps I should get Merit back to the car before she decides to leave with you.”
“It’s a close call,” I agreed.
Jeff nodded, handed Ethan the keys.
“Do you need a ride?” Ethan asked.
Jeff glanced back at the car. “Even if I did, there’s no room in the car for me. But no. Fallon’s waiting.” He gestured to a motorcycle parked a few stalls away. A petite figure in black leather and a matching helmet revved the bike with a flick of her wrist.
Jeff smiled, magic and love blooming in the air.
“I’ll be in touch tomorrow about the alchemy,” he said, shifting his attention back to me. “I’ve been talking to Paige.”
It was another shot, and a completely fair one. Reed had distracted us, which was probably part of his plan.
“I’m also working on the safe-deposit box key. I’m about sixty percent through the first search of bank records but haven’t found anything yet.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I plan to offer my help to Paige as soon as I get back to the House.” And out of the dress and heels. What novelty there’d been had completely worn off.
“Where’s Catcher tonight?” I asked. “It’s unlike him to miss a chance to bitch at us.”
Jeff nearly smiled, which was good enough for me. “He’s following up with the Order again. Still trying to confirm they don’t have any information about our alchemist. He made the trip to Milwaukee in person.” He checked his watch. “Probably on his way back.”
“Not the wisest move to induce a pissed-off sorcerer to travel to see you,” Ethan said.
“No,” Jeff said. “It wasn’t. But then, you usually have better sense, too.”
I snorted. “I think he sank your battleship.”
“Maybe Reed is making everyone crazy,” Ethan said.
“Speaking of which,” I said, gesturing to the station, “did you know there are River nymphs in there?”
Jeff nodded. “We’re letting them cool off. They won’t press charges against each other, so they’ll be released when they calm down.”
“Already in process,” I said. “They were gossiping about us when we left.”
“Just doing our part,” Ethan said. “Thank you again, Jeff. I’ll try to get Merit back to Cadogan House without further trouble. And perhaps we could meet at dusk to discuss what we’ve all learned so far?”
Jeff nodded. “I’ll tell Chuck, Catcher.” He squeezed my hand before walking toward the bike, then climbed on the bike behind Fallon and put on the helmet she offered him. More engine revving, and they drove away.
“I believe I pissed off your knight in shining armor,” Ethan said.
“Probably so,” I said, and gathered up voluminous silk to slide into the passenger seat. The anger I’d pushed down began to bubble up again. “He’s protective of me, and I got arrested, so . . .”
“Would you like me to say you told me so?”
“That won’t change anything.”
“No,” Ethan said, closing the door. “It won’t.”
It was the first time we’d been alone together since we arrived at the Garden, and my first opportunity to vent. “You put my father and my grandfather in a hell of a position, and you put us right into Reed’s hands. We made our reputation worse—and we’re damn lucky there weren’t paparazzi outside the station waiting to reveal our arrest to the world.”
“He got under my skin.”
“And that’s no excuse. You have centuries more experience. You know better. You are better.” Tears stung my eyes. “That was absolutely humiliating.”
“He thinks he’s invincible.” His voice was measured, still edged with fury. “He thinks he’s untouchable. None of that will change if we go along to get along. If we wait for someone else to do the dirty work. Nothing will change until someone calls him out.” He looked at me. “If we don’t do it, who will?”
“I don’t disagree with you. But he’s powerful, well protected, and very savvy.” I looked at Ethan. “He plays games with people, Ethan. He did it with Celina. He did it with the vampire pretending to be Balthasar. That’s who he is. He’s a narcissist, an opportunist, and a criminal entrepreneur. But maybe most of all, he’s a psychopath. He likes to torture people, take advantage of their vulnerabilities. Their insecurities. We have to be smarter than that. We can’t just play into his hands.”
“I should have listened to you. I didn’t, and I should have. I may be wise in the ways of supernaturals, but you’re better with humans.”
In fairness, I’d been one about four hundred years more recently than him.
“Now you’re just kissing my ass,” I said.
“I am trying my damnedest.” He paused. “Is it working?”
“No.”
He glanced at me, reached out to push a lock of hair behind my ear. “You know I lost my family once. You are my family now, Merit. I will not lose you.”
“I still have a family, Ethan. They certainly aren’t perfect, but I won’t lose them to a man like Reed.” I looked at him. “And I won’t have them used.”
I could practically see his frustration rising again. “It was one phone call,” he said. “Your father owes you that much and more.”
“That was my decision to make. Not yours.”
“As you reminded Jennifer Jacobs, no one forced him to do as I asked.”
I nearly punched him. Right then and there, I nearly plowed a fist into that gorgeous face for turning that around on me. Even if he was right.
Ethan started the car, backed onto the road. “Be angry with me if you must, Sentinel. I can bear it. But Adrien Reed will not lay a hand on you.”
• • •
It was past midnight when we rolled back into the Cadogan garage.
Ethan went to his office to update Malik and Luc.
I went upstairs to update my ensemble. The gown had done its part, whatever that part might have been. I placed it on the bed, where laundry or dry-cleaning elves (or a vampire directed by Helen, more like) would attempt to clean and repair it.
I changed into jeans and a navy T-shirt with CADOGAN in white block letters across the front to head back to the library.
My phone beeped as I was closing the do
or. I found a message from Jonah: HEARD ABOUT ARREST. CALL IF YOU NEED TO. AND PHOTO NOT FAMILIAR.
Word of our near incarceration had apparently spread. Jonah hadn’t been in a hurry to get back to me about the Rogue, and I hadn’t thought to follow up. But I’d have to deal with him and the RG’s baggage later.
I made it down the flight of stairs before my phone buzzed again, this time with a phone call. I pulled it out but didn’t recognize the number. “This is Merit.”
“Hi, Merit. It’s Annabelle—the necromancer. You told me to call if I found something alchemical.”
My heart began to pound with anticipation. “Hi, Annabelle. What did you find?”
“I’m not entirely sure. But you might want to get here sooner rather than later.”
My phone beeped again, signaling the receipt of an image. I scanned the screen and the photograph she’d forwarded—and the dozens of alchemical symbols pictured there.
“We’ll be right there,” I promised.
Once again, the library would have to wait.
• • •
Ethan was Master of the House and one of the twelve members of America’s reigning vampire council.
But there was nothing vaguely obedient—or even very polite—in the angry stares Luc and Malik sent him from their unified front in Ethan’s office. They stood side by side, a wall of frustration matched against the Master who’d endangered himself. As much as they hated Reed, they were pissed at Ethan.
Ethan hadn’t changed clothes, but he’d taken off the bow tie and jacket, unbuttoned the top of his shirt. The coiffing he’d done earlier had loosened its grip on his hair, and it waved like golden sunlight around his face, highlighting sharp cheekbones and firm mouth.
“We’ve taken a big enough hit tonight,” Luc said. “You and Merit, particularly, don’t need to take another risk by going out again.”
“And there are supplicants in the foyer,” Malik pointed out.
“There are,” Ethan acknowledged. “And I will apologize to them personally. But we can’t ignore another instance of alchemy. Especially since it seems what we have upstairs is only part of the story.”
“You could send someone else,” Luc pointed out.
Ethan shook his head. “Merit found the first alchemy, and she’s familiar with the symbols. She has a rapport with Annabelle, and she can defend herself if the sorcerer shows up.” He slid his gaze to me, over the invisible wall between us. “And she’s not leaving without me.
“Yes, I let Reed provoke me, and he’ll almost certainly try again. We can’t stop that until we stop him. But if we stay here and put our heads in the sand—we also play into his hands. That’s what has allowed him to gain as much power as he currently holds. That’s what he’s counting on.”
Malik and Luc looked at each other, and then Luc slid his gaze to me. “Sentinel, your analysis?”
“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.”
“Not entirely flattering,” Ethan murmured, rolling up one of his shirtsleeves.
“Wasn’t meant to be,” I assured him, the tension still heavy between us. I looked at Luc and Malik. “He knows how to provoke us, how to play with emotions. That’s what he does. It’s what he’s good at.”
“Balthasar,” Malik said, and I nodded.
“Exactly. And yeah, he likes to wax poetical about the game we’re playing, the chess match, whatever. He likes to screw with people. But we know he has a bigger plan. Lore admitted it. Reed admitted it, with all that messiah complex nonsense about saving Chicago. Whatever he has planned, we aren’t the focus. I think moments like this—this drama he orchestrated at the Botanic Garden—they’re part of his sideshow. He had CPD officers waiting for us. There’s no way they’d have gotten there so quickly otherwise. But they weren’t the main event, because we aren’t the main event. The alchemy, the plan. That’s the main event. That’s why we have to go tonight, because that’s what Reed cares about. That’s what he’s trying to distract us from. If we don’t go, we help him win.”
There was silence for a moment.
“That’s not bad, Sentinel.” Luc wiped a faux tear away. “I’m actually pretty proud.”
“I had good teachers. But let’s not get too cocky,” I said, and pulled out my phone, handed it to Ethan. “Call my grandfather,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Tell him where we’re going. And then let’s get this show on the road.”
Wisely, he didn’t argue.
• • •
Annabelle asked us to meet her at Mount Rider Cemetery, which was located on the city’s far northwest side. My grandfather promised to meet us there—or to send Jeff or Catcher, depending on who could get there quickest. We gave her a heads-up in case we weren’t the first to arrive, then climbed into the car again.
Unlike Longwood, with its chain-link fence and fallen headstones, Mount Rider was as much park as cemetery, its rolling hills landscaped and artfully dotted with trees, shrubs, and reflecting pools. The monuments were tall enough to be war memorials, with plenty of weeping angels and marble obelisks.
Annabelle was still in her car when we arrived, and there was no sign of Ombuddy yet. It took a good fifteen seconds—and an offered hand from Ethan—for her to unwedge herself from behind the steering wheel of her Subaru. “Three more weeks,” she said, locking the door behind her. “Just three more weeks.”
“Your first child?” Ethan asked.
“Second,” she said, adjusting the long, drapey wrap she’d worn over a tank and long jersey-knit skirt. “Marley’s a very precocious four right now. My husband, Cliff, stays at home with her. She is very eager to be a big sister, and he is very excited about having another little one in the house.” She smiled. “I am excited about being able to stand up without assistance. But enough about me.” She glanced around. “No Ombudsman?”
“Right here,” said a voice behind us. Catcher jogged up, stuffing his car keys into the pocket of the dark-wash jeans he’d paired with a gray T-shirt. NO MAGIC? NO PROBLEM was written across the front. The Ombuddies were showing love for everyone.
“I parked on the other side of the block,” he said, running a hand over his shorn head. “Didn’t want too many cars parked in one spot, just in case. Catcher Bell,” he said, extending a hand to Annabelle.
“Annabelle Shaw. You’re the sorcerer.”
“And you’re the necromancer.”
“All night long.”
We chuckled. Supernatural inside joke.
“Heard you were dealing with the Order tonight,” I said.
Catcher’s lip curled. “They have the bureaucracy of a DMV office with one hundred percent less effectiveness.”
“Any news about the sorcerer?” Ethan asked.
“Not from the Order. They maintain they have no knowledge of a sorcerer with expertise in alchemy, nor of alchemy being used in the city. And they’re holding the line on Reed—that no union sorcerers work for him.”
“Adrien Reed?” Annabelle asked. “Is he involved in this? With the alchemy?”
“We believe so,” Ethan said. “But we’re still trying to figure out the mechanics.”
“And who the sorcerer is.”
“Exactly,” Ethan said with a nod.
“Sometimes I wish I was more involved in the city’s supernatural communities,” she said. “And sometimes I hear about nonsense like this and I’m glad I live under the radar.”
“Stay sequestered,” I recommended. “Unless there’s a potluck.”
And that reminded me: I needed to plan a potluck.
“Fair enough. Shall we?” she asked, and when we nodded, she walked to the cemetery’s gate, used an enormous key on an equally enormous round key ring to unlock it.
We followed her inside and down another crushed-stone path.
“They never sleep as well when their memori
als are disturbed,” she said.
“Then by God,” I said, trying to step as lightly as possible in her footsteps, “let’s not do that.”
We followed her over a low hill. Heavily pregnant or not, she moved like a sprite, walking under a copse where dew glimmered in the moonlight like fallen coins, and then stopping outside a small brick building.
“It used to be a maintenance facility,” she said, stepping back onto the paved walkway that led to the front door. The glass in the windows and door had been painted white, not unlike the treatment at La Douleur. An open padlock hung from the door’s handle. Annabelle pulled it off, pushed open the door, and flipped on the light switch just inside it.
“Welcome to Symboltown,” she said, the room illuminated by a bare bulb that swung from the ceiling.
Its circle of light shifted back and forth across the square room, illuminating the symbols that had been drawn in black across the whitewashed walls.
“That’s affirmative for alchemy,” Catcher said, spinning in a slow circle to take it in.
“The scale is impressive,” Annabelle said, hand on the small of her back, her gaze on the walls. “But I don’t get the point of going to all this trouble. Alchemy seems more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Maybe this is magic that only alchemy can accomplish,” I said, nearly skimming my fingers over the symbol for mercury until a hand gripped my arm.
I glanced up, found Ethan’s hand there, his expression concerned. “You looked like you might dive right into it. Perhaps a step back, Sentinel.”
I took the advice and made it a big step.
“Alchemy’s not my bag,” Catcher said. “But I see your point. This is a lot of symbols.”
“Does any of this look familiar?” Ethan asked. “In the specific equations, I mean?”
I walked around the room, trying to find the starting point, settled on a symbol near the ceiling of the back wall where the symbols seemed a little bit larger than the others, as if he’d shrunk them slightly as he worked to fit them all in.
I followed the symbols as they moved down the wall, looking for a pattern, part of the equation that might have matched the ones I’d seen while helping Paige. The symbols were basically the same—the primary symbols of the alchemical language, along with some of the same hieroglyphs we’d seen at Wrigley.
