Wild Things: A Chicagolands Vampire Novel (Chicagoland Vampires)

by Neill, Chloe

  “And this harpy and elf bullshit? You know who attacks us when we’re strong? Nobody. We were attacked because Keene can’t hold our shit together. His old man was a fucking shifter. A fucking wolf. And now? We’re cavorting with vampires, with sorcerers. The Packs don’t cavort! We are shifters!” He beat a fist against his chest. “We eat. We ride. We fuck. We fight.”

  The magic in the crowd began to rise, buzzing louder. He was ramping them up, riling them up, preparing them for something.

  Ethan firmly believed we needed the Pack as allies in this volatile time, but frankly I couldn’t think of a group more volatile than shifters. We shifted from allies to enemies in the span of days, and sometimes over the course of a single day. They couldn’t seem to make their mind up about us, and their fair-weather friendship was beginning to grate on me.

  Lethal scanned the crowd, locked his gaze on Mallory.

  “And then there’s the fucking sorcerers,” he said. “Was Gabe a pussy before he started playing with girls and their magic? Would he send us all home like whelps, tails between our legs? The elves show their faces, kidnap two of our own, and we don’t fight them? We don’t stand and deliver?” He barked out a laugh. “That’s bullshit. Part of that hippie nonsense he’s always spouting. ‘We’re all part of the universe,’” he said in a mocking voice. “She’s making him soft.”

  Gabriel did have a holistic view of shifters, seeing the Pack as a crucial part of the natural world. It wasn’t unlike the sorcerers’ belief that they funneled magic through their bodies, although he hadn’t voiced it that way. Regardless, he’d been talking about nature before Mallory went bad, and certainly before he became her tutor.

  But Lethal wouldn’t have cared about that. He was pissed and looking for an excuse to do some damage. And as he stared down at Mallory, a disturbing glint in his eyes, it seemed clear whom he’d picked as a target.

  He began to stalk toward us, the rest of the shifters moving out of his way just as they had when Gabriel passed. I wasn’t impressed that they stood by while a bully attempted to cower a guest, especially someone he could easily overpower—at least in terms of pure physicality.

  Wordlessly, Ethan and I moved together and formed a barrier around Mallory and Catcher. Damien did the same.

  My heart began to race with the possibility of a fight, and I let my irritation shine in my eyes.

  Lethal emerged through the crowd in front of us, maybe ten feet away. The shifters closest to us—all in NAC jackets and with the look of bikers who’d been riding hard for a few days—looked between us, not entirely sure which side they’d bet on, but happy to see some action either way.

  I’d been a victim yesterday; I preferred to be a perp today.

  I stepped in front of all of them, flipped off the thumb guard on my katana, and lifted the handle just a bit, letting them know that I’d be happy to roll if that’s how they wanted to play it.

  “Did you need something?” I asked.

  But it wasn’t a big, burly shifter who wanted to talk.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Emma, Tanya’s petite sister, stepped out of the crowd on the other side of the room, drawing everyone’s attention. She looked the opposite of Lethal in nearly every way—petite and fragile, wearing a simple cotton top and jeans, her eyes wide and face flushed with anger.

  “We are facing crises—several, at once—and the only thing you can think to do is blame other supernaturals for our issues?”

  There were mumbles in the crowd.

  Any pretense of shyness was gone now. However quiet she might have seemed, she’d found her voice.

  She looked at Lethal and made a sarcastic noise. “You want to challenge Gabriel? Then do it, you cowardly asshole. Don’t stand up in here and cause trouble for the rest of us, and for these people, who’ve done nothing but try to help. I’m pretty sure you spent yesterday sleeping off a hangover.”

  The crowd snorted with laughter. I bit back a grin, deciding conclusively that I liked Emma. I also cast a glance at Damien, saw pride shine in his eyes.

  But Lethal wanted his bit of infamy, and he wasn’t about to give that up to Emma. “And who are you to talk about it? Are you even old enough to drink?”

  Emma’s expression didn’t change, but she did put her hands on her hips. “Plenty. And I bet I can hold my liquor better than you can, Mervin.”

  It wasn’t a very shiftery name, which was probably why Mervin preferred to go by “Lethal.” But he wasn’t happy about Emma pointing that out. His face went beet red.

  “You think your sister’s being married to a Keene’s gonna save you? You think I won’t hit you because you’re one of them? Or because you’re a girl?”

  “No, I think you won’t hit me because you’re a bully who talks a lot and doesn’t do shit about it.”

  “Come over here and say that to my face.”

  Her courage bobbled, and for a moment there was nothing but fear in her face. But she pushed it back, squared her shoulders, and met his gaze. And then she moved toward us, hands fisted at her sides as if courage were a bird and if she didn’t hold tight enough it would fly away and out of sight.

  She stopped a few feet from him. Together, we formed a triangle of dissension. Or a game of rock, paper, vampires.

  Ethan? I silently whispered, thinking she looked small and frail staring down Lethal and his buddies. But I didn’t want to step forward if that would weaken her position.

  This is her fight, he confirmed.

  “All right,” Lethal said. “You wanna play?” He walked forward, shoved her.

  I saw Damien jerk beside me, his eyes lined with concern, but before he could even think about moving, Emma moved.

  He must have had a foot in height and eighty pounds on her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Emma reached out, grabbed one of his wrists to hold him, then rotated her other elbow and brought it hard against the side of his head. She released him, and he stumbled backward.

  “Fucking bitch,” he murmured, rotating his jaw, setting himself, and lunging again.

  He came at her like a bull, head down and forward, apparently intent on tackling her to the ground. But she was lighter, faster, more spritely. She turned to the side, neatly dodging his dive, and lifted a knee to catch him in the gut.

  Magic rose in the room again, and the rest of the shifters began shuffling, obviously eager to join the fun.

  The shifter in front of me—a tall woman with a long blond braid—grinned wolfishly. She wore the same leather jacket as the others, and ROSIE was embroidered into the front.

  I dipped my chin, pursed my lips, and grinned at her. “Shall we, Rosie?”

  The silver in my eyes spooked her; she swallowed hard and clenched her fingers, clearly rethinking her plan.

  A boom on the other side of the room drew our attention away.

  Lethal hit the hardwood floor on his back, then slid ten feet backward. His eyes were closed.

  We looked at Emma, who shook her right hand, the knuckles split and dotted with blood. A hank of brown fair fell over her eyes, and she blew it up and out of her face.

  I was in absolute awe, and a little bit in love.

  Emma looked around at the crowd. “We’ve lost four people, have one missing, and you still want to fight? How stupid and stubborn do you have to be to think going forward with Lup is a good idea? So we haven’t finished it this year. Who cares? Since when are we defined by whether or not we have a party?”

  “Lup isn’t just a party!” called a smart-ass from somewhere in the crowd.

  “It’s not just,” she agreed. “And neither are we. We are the shifters of the North American Central Pack. And we’ve chosen Gabriel Keene to lead us. Until one of you has teeth enough to step forward and take it from him, then shut the hell up about it.”

  Without another word, she stepped forward and marc
hed out of the room with a dignified tilt to her chin.

  “I really like her,” Ethan murmured.

  “I seriously want to be her best friend,” Mallory said, glancing at me. “No offense.”

  I smiled at her. “I thought the exact same thing.”

  Curious, I glanced at Damien. By the avaricious glint in his eyes, I guessed Damien liked her, too.

  Damien lifted his head, glanced around the room, daring the shifters to step forward. “I think we’re done here.”

  Magic hovered for a moment but dissipated, and shifters began filing out of the room.

  “Crisis number three?” I wondered, as we watched them leave.

  Catcher laughed mirthlessly. “If we start counting crises, we won’t have time to do anything else.”

  And thus was the state of supernaturals in Chicago.

  Chapter Twelve

  COME ON, ALINE

  We found Gabriel in Papa Breck’s office, sitting on the floor with Tanya and Connor, who sat on a colorful mat and gnawed on the ear of a plastic giraffe. He wore a long-sleeved baby-sized NAC shirt and baby jeans, which were stupidly adorable. I had an urge—the first, as far as I’m aware—to nibble his little sausage toes. I decided the urge would not necessarily be welcome from someone with fangs, and kept my place.

  Gabriel looked up, scanned us. “Good evening.”

  “You left a mess back there,” Ethan said. “I presume that was intentional?”

  “Intentional enough,” Gabriel allowed. “We had to cancel Lup. There’s no sense in continuing to risk the Pack to whatever’s out there—or whatever presumptively extinct group of supernatural assholes decide to show up on our doorstep tonight.”

  “They weren’t happy about the decision,” Ethan carefully said, considering Gabriel.

  “Of course they aren’t. They’re shifters. They don’t give up, and they don’t give in.”

  “Which is why you made the decision for them,” I said.

  Gabriel nodded, pleased. “Well done, Kitten. If the Pack can’t make the hard choices, I do it for them. If they decide the choice was wrong, they can confirm someone else as Apex.”

  We’d seen that before, when Adam Keene challenged Gabriel for control of the NAC. The fight hadn’t been successful, and we hadn’t seen or heard from Adam since.

  “It’s the way of our world,” Gabriel said. “Out of curiosity, who threw the fit?”

  “A delicate flower named Lethal,” Ethan said. “I presume the moniker was well earned.”

  Gabriel acknowledged that with a nod and didn’t look surprised at the identity of the troublemaker.

  “Emma stood up for your family, for the Pack,” I said, smiling at Tanya. “And did a good job of it.”

  “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Entire family does, of course,” Gabriel added, smiling at Tanya. He brushed fingers across her cheek.

  “She’s also got a great right hook,” Ethan said.

  “I taught her that,” Tanya said, smiling up at Ethan. “We only look delicate.”

  “That is truth if I’ve ever heard it,” Gabriel said, tickling Connor until the baby hiccupped with delight. “Any leads?”

  “Not yet,” Ethan said. “But we have a plan. Just need to touch base with the House. It would be helpful to get Pack feedback on anything we do find.”

  Nick stepped into the room, acknowledged us with a nod. “No one’s put forth a challenge yet,” he told Gabriel.

  “It will happen or it won’t,” Gabriel said. He bobbed his head toward us. “They need to talk to their team in Chicago. I think you can oblige them with the technology?”

  It was posed as a question, but his tone made the order obvious. Nick nodded obediently.

  We followed him down a long, window-lined corridor to the western wing of the house, which had never been occupied, as far as I knew. This part of the house was utterly silent, and it was easy to imagine ghosts lurking in the darkened ends of corridors and inside wardrobes.

  Ethan looked at me, and I shrugged. Whatever Nick had planned was a mystery to me.

  He finally came to a stop in front of a nondescript door. On the wall beside it was a small wooden plaque with a brass plate. But the plaque was a ruse. He lifted it, revealing a digital screen recessed into the wall. He pressed his palm to it, and a red line of light passed back and forth along its surface, scanning for a signature.

  When the scan was finished, there was a heavy metallic click within the doorframe. Several locks disengaging, I guessed.

  “A biometric lock,” I said, impressed by the tech. “Does Jeff know about this?”

  “He should,” Nick answered, pushing open the door. “He designed it. And the rest of this.”

  It was like we’d stepped into a time machine.

  There, in the Jane Eyre–esque hallways of the Breckenridge mansion, was a room that held the highest tech I’d ever seen in real life. The floors were of the same hardwood as other parts of the house, but that was where the similarities ended. The room was dark, the better to view the massive screens that covered the three facing walls. There were no visible computers, but glass panels were placed around the room, their surfaces spinning with text and images, including the travel receipt we’d seen on Aline’s computer. A long, gleaming white conference table and chairs sat in the middle of the room, and Aline’s cardboard box was propped upon it, an anachronism amid modern technology.

  Jeff and Fallon stood in front of the closest screen, on which two horses and riders in full armor galloped across a plain toward a huge stone tower.

  This was Jakob’s Quest, Jeff’s favorite video game. And it seemed he’d found a partner in Fallon.

  “Having fun?” Nick asked.

  Jeff and Fallon turned back to us, both wearing headsets.

  “Oh, hey,” Jeff said with a smile. “Figured you’d make your way in here eventually. Thought we’d kill some time while you did.”

  I smiled at Fallon. “He’s convinced you to join him?”

  She grinned. “Other way around, I’m afraid. I introduced him to Jakob’s Quest.”

  “She did,” Jeff said with a smile, pulling off his headset.

  I bobbed my head toward the screen. “I assume Jakob’s the male rider. Who’s the chick?”

  The female character was impressively dressed in a jointed suit of armor much like Jakob’s, but shaped for her curvier and more petite form. Her hair was long and golden, pulled into a complicated braid down her back, and her eyes were blue. A tattoo on her left cheek looked like a Celtic knot.

  “That’s Adriel,” Fallon said. “She’s the kingdom’s crown princess, but she gave the throne to her twin brother and sister so she could keep the land safe.”

  Jeff reached out his hand and she took it, and they shared a look of such intimacy and love that I turned away, not wanting to intrude on it.

  Ethan touched the back of my neck, acknowledging the love that swirled in the room.

  “Now that we’ve covered the software,” Ethan said lightly, “the hardware looks equally impressive.”

  “That’s what she said,” Jeff muttered. Love or not, he was still Jeff. I bit back a smile at Fallon’s eye roll.

  “We put it in a few months ago,” Nick said. “After the incident involving Jamie.”

  The incident had been an unfortunate attempt at blackmail that Papa Breck believed was our fault. That was at least some of the reason for the strained relationship between us.

  Nick walked to a freestanding screen, swirled a hand across the glass and, when a keyboard prompt filled the screen, typed in a password. The screen shifted, throwing up images of the house, the grounds on the right side. The left side showed news channels, newspaper headlines.

  “It’s impressive,” Ethan said. “Have you had much cause to use it?”

  “Not u
ntil this weekend,” Nick said. “And unfortunately, not until after the fact.”

  I heard the guilt in his voice, the regret they hadn’t been able to stop the harpies or elves ahead of time.

  “Security cameras do not afford the gift of premonition,” Ethan kindly said, hands behind his back as he stepped forward to review the screen. “You’ve heard about Scott Grey?”

  “We have,” Nick said. “The mayor doesn’t seem eager to let up on you.”

  “No,” Ethan agreed, sliding his hands into his pockets. “She does not, although I suppose that’s not entirely surprising considering her past actions.”

  Jeff swiped the screen again, and Jakob and his trusty steed disappeared, replaced by a mock-up of the dry-erase board from the House’s Ops Room.

  “You made a whiteboard for us?” I asked with a grin.

  Jeff shrugged adorably. “We’ve kind of become a team. It seemed like the thing to do.”

  “And with that,” Nick said, moving toward the door, “I’ll let you get to work.”

  He disappeared, closing the door behind him.

  “The Brecks have a house of pissed-off Pack members,” Jeff explained. “They’ll be packing up, heading out, and he wants to make sure they remain calm until they do.”

  “Entirely understandable,” I said. “Let’s talk business.”

  Maybe I was becoming a private eye. I really needed to learn more of the lingo.

  “The receipt,” Jeff said, enlarging it on the screen. “Showing a flight to Anchorage. I talked to Luc, who talked to his connection at the airlines.”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” I murmured, and Ethan whistled low, apparently recognizing the potential drama that would cause.

  “Yeah. So she confirmed Aline was on the passenger manifest for the Anchorage flight, but she didn’t show up or call to cancel.”

  “The ticket could have been a plant,” Mallory suggested, but Jeff shook his head.

  “Damien called the Meadows,” Jeff said. “She reserved a room but didn’t show.”

  “The Meadows is where shifters stay when they’re in Aurora,” I explained. “So she didn’t get on her flight. And, more important, she didn’t actually arrive.”