Biting Cold (22 page)

I hoped Chicago wasn’t Carthage. I hoped we could all find some peace. I hoped the sunrise wouldn’t bring more problems than it solved.

I
jolted awake nine hours later, still alone in my chilly bedroom. My phone was ringing, so I grabbed it from the nightstand and checked the screen. It was Jeff.

“Hey,” I said, checking the time. It was barely after sunset; Jeff must have been aching to call me.

“We have news,” Jeff said, “and it’s not looking good.”

Not exactly the way I wanted to start the night, but then not terribly surprising, either. “What’s happened?”

“Not what has happened, but what
might
happen. Turns out, the crime scene folks found something at the scene of Paulie’s murder. They thought it was just a random bit of paper at the scene but, when they checked the blood patterns, discovered it was put there after Paulie’s throat was cut.”

I sat up and pulled my hair from my face. “What was it?”

“A newspaper article. Remember I told you about those four cops who got busted for beating up those vamps?”

“The ones you told us about in Nebraska? Yeah. Why?”

“The evidence at the crime scene? It was an article about them.”

“Why would Tate be interested in something like that?”

“The article was about the cops being released. I guess they had to do some processing, or waiting for the bail money to go through, I don’t know. Their release is scheduled for tonight—there’s a big to-do at a CPD lockup on the South Side. Plenty of people are pissed about it.”

That made more sense than I’d wanted it to. “Crap,” I muttered.

“What?”

“As it turns out, we’re hypothesizing Tate’s an old-school messenger—an avenging angel with a revenge problem whose halo fell off many, many centuries ago.”

“A fallen angel?”

“That’s the one. And if he thinks the cops didn’t get the justice they deserved, he might be hoping to wield his sword against them.”

“Tate the supernatural avenger,” Jeff muttered. “In what universe does that make sense?”

“This one, unfortunately,” I said. “First things first. Can you make contact with the cops or their attorneys? Let them know he’s a threat?”

“Already tried that route. Chuck called one of the attorneys—apparently he’d had some relationship with him when he was on the force—and tried to get him to cancel the conference.”

Chuck was my grandfather. “The attorney didn’t buy it?”

“He did not. He said his client was a cop and he could take care of himself, especially against, and I’m quoting here, a ‘desk-riding politician.’ He said he wouldn’t cancel the press conference because the city of Chicago needed to know how poorly his client had been treated. He supposedly went on for ten minutes about the injustice of being a cop behind bars.”

I rolled my eyes. “Then maybe the cop shouldn’t have helped beat the crap out of four people.”

“I believe that was Chuck’s point. But I’m sure he said it more diplomatically.”

“Probably so. I guess the lawyers will find out soon enough about Tate’s ‘desk riding.’ If you’ll send me the article, we’ll see what we can do from this end.”

“Will do,” he said.

“Thanks, Jeff. We appreciate it.”

“No prob, Merit. I’m sure we’ll talk later.”

The e-mail came almost immediately. The article was lengthy; someone had done an in-depth review of the cops involved and their attorneys’ unsurprising friendships with Mayor Kowalcyzk. That certainly explained the early release, and it might very well have been enough to trigger another burst of angelic retribution.

I hung up, grabbed a shower, got dressed, and ran upstairs to Ethan’s bedroom.

He opened the door in nothing but silk pajama bottoms, and I nearly wept at the sight. Long, flat abdomen, ridges of muscle at his hips, his hair loose around his shoulders. It was almost cruel to see and not be able to touch.

“Is everything okay?”

I told him about the article Jeff had found. “This could always be a trap,” I warned. “Maybe one of the Tates wants another run at us and left the article at the crime scene so we’d find it. But we have to take the chance. The attorneys aren’t listening, the mayor has dismissed the Ombud’s office, and there could be hundreds of people at the press conference.”

Ethan nodded. “If we’re the only ones who see the threat, I suppose we’ll be the ones to handle it. And I agree—the risk of
collateral damage is too high to ignore. I’ll get dressed. Get your sword and meet me in the office.”

This time, I did as I was told.

Luc, Malik, and Ethan were already in Ethan’s office when I arrived, the blade of my katana impeccable, my body clad in head-to-toe leather for the impending fight.

I’d finally remembered to grab the worry wood from my room. It was a small ridge in my jacket pocket, a comforting reminder that magic wasn’t all bad, that it could even be helpful. That was a lesson I was fighting hard to remember lately.

They were seated around the conference table. I joined them.

“The officers are scheduled to be released within the hour,” Ethan said. “I contacted Nicholas Breckenridge.” Nick was an old family friend and a former flame; he was also a Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist. “He said the cops are planning to make a statement, and the lawyers have invited the media to cover it.”

“There will definitely be a crowd, then,” Malik said. “Everyone will be fighting for sound bites—those who think vampires are evil, those who think cops aren’t limited by rules and regulations, the family members of the humans assaulted.”

“Collateral damage,” Ethan murmured, as Luc spread a satellite image of the lockup onto the table. The building wasn’t huge, but there was a span of long concrete steps across the front bounded by a couple of columns on each side.

“Perfect place for a
Law and Order
–style shooting,” Luc said.

Malik nodded. “And there’s more poetic justice if Tate takes them out on the steps. What’s the plan?”

“Merit and I will take positions here and here,” Ethan said, pointing at the columns. “Our goal is to keep Tate away from the cops and limit the amount of damage he causes.”

“How are you going to do that?” Malik asked.

“I’m still working on it,” Ethan said, eyes scanning the map.

“I do have one small objection to the plan,” I said.

“Which is?” Ethan asked.

“Your participation. You aren’t going.”

Luc and Malik instantly froze, and Ethan’s eyebrow perked upward. “I’m not going?”

There was no denying I was afraid of the coming fight—Tate was a monster beyond all I’d had to fight before, and I didn’t even know of a way to fight him now—but fear wasn’t going to help me, and it certainly wasn’t going to help Ethan. I opted for logic, instead.

“Protecting these cops might mean throwing ourselves in front of them. You can’t do that. And as Sentinel, I can’t let you do that. We’ve already lost you once, and the House is in too much political chaos for you to be at risk again. The House needs stability. They don’t need a Sentinel.”

“And if I say no?”

“My job is to protect this House, even if that means disagreeing with you.”

Ethan sat back in his chair and pursed his lips.

“Darius is on his way back for our interviews,” Malik added. “You can’t blow him off. Not right now.”

Ethan kept his gaze on me. “Luc will join you.”

I shook my head. “Luc needs to stay here in case this is a ploy so the Tates can get to the House.”

“I’m not going to let you go out there on your own.”

“I have backup.”

His expression flattened. “Who?”

This is business,
I reminded myself,
nothing else.
“Jonah. He can meet me there. He’s skilled and strong. He’s not as good with a katana as you are, but he also doesn’t have a history with Tate.”

Jonah did, of course, have a history with me…or he’d wanted to. That might make things more than a little awkward between us, but he was still my best option.

My only option.

Ethan looked at me for a moment, the tension in the room building as the interlude of silence grew longer.

“Gentlemen, give us the room.”

Malik moved to Ethan and whispered in his ear, but my senses were so tautly strung it was easy enough to discern the words.

“What she says makes sense,” he whispered.

Ethan nodded, and Malik followed Luc to the door.

“There will be no heroics,” Ethan said when the room was empty again. “Do what you can to protect the officers and keep the public clear of Tate’s shenanigans. No heroics,” he repeated. “That is an order.”

“I have no plans to the contrary.” That was half a lie. I didn’t want to be a hero, but I wanted to keep our people safe.

“I don’t approve of this plan.”

“Your disapproval is noted. But you know there’s no better way.”

His lip curled in distaste, but finally he nodded. “And you’re sure Jonah is trustworthy?”

I found him trustworthy, but by Ethan’s estimation? Probably not, especially since he was a member of the RG.

“He is. He was a great help when Mallory was trying to destroy the city. Malik and Catcher can testify to that.”

Ethan tilted his head and watched me for a moment. “Is he in love with you?”

My cheeks turned flame hot. I wouldn’t call it love, but Jonah had definitely professed interest. He’d gotten as far as a kiss before backing off. But perhaps, given our current situation, that wasn’t information Ethan needed to know…

“I’m not sure,” I said. “And as long as our relationship is on halt, I’m not sure it’s any of your business,
Liege
.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he still wouldn’t abandon his position, even if the ship was sinking around him. “I see,” he said.

I nodded. “As long as we’re clear. I’ll update you as soon as I have news.”

This time, when I left his office, I was smiling a little.

Jonah, as I suspected, was up for the meet. He also called out a handful of other RG members to take spots in the crowd in case things got completely out of hand, which I fully expected them to.

Tate and his clone were maybe, possibly, planning to kill four Chicago police officers in a public space populated with attorneys, judges, protestors, and reporters. How could this
not
get fully out of hand?

It did make me feel a little better that Ethan was locked safely away in Cadogan House under Luc’s and Malik’s watchful eyes. He’d worry about me from there, but Luc had plenty of Ops Room toys—satellite surveillance, feed from traffic and CCTV cameras, and scanners covering a full range of frequencies. Ethan could keep eyes and ears on us from Hyde Park.

Jonah met me half a block away from the CPD building, standing on the sidewalk in jeans and an open long wool coat. Easier to hide the sword beneath, I assumed.

Jonah was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and shoulder-length auburn hair that waved around his face. His mouth was wide, his nose long and straight, his jaw square. He was wearing a little stubble tonight, along with a Midnight High School T-shirt that marked him as a member of the Red Guard…at least to other members of the Red Guard.

His gaze was on the CPD lockup building.

I looked back at the building—a typical government shop built in white stone to look Greek or Roman, with the spill of steps in front of it. A portico covered the top half of the steps, that half roof held up by the two columns.

There was a podium about halfway up the steps—the perfect post for a few enterprising criminal defense attorneys to claim a little credit.

An area had been roped off at the front of the stairs for reporters and photographers. Men with cameras and impressive lenses stood behind it, waiting for the cops and their attorneys to emerge from the building. And on the edges of the knot of reporters stood two groups of protestors. One group protested the cops’ release. Their signs read
JUSTICE FOR VAMPIRES AND KEEP CRIMINALS BEHIND BARS
! The other group’s signs weren’t nearly so pleasant. They congratulated the cops—and rued they hadn’t managed to wipe us out altogether.

The steps were already lined by people waiting for the cops to emerge from the building. There were plenty of CPD officers on the perimeters, and I was momentarily nervous they’d ask for the registration papers I didn’t yet have.

On the other hand, if we were right about what was about to go down, my paperwork would hardly matter.

“Hey,” Jonah said, glancing at me.

“Hey.”

“How’s Ethan?”

“Alive, so far. I kept him at the House so he’d stay that way.”

“Good call.” He looked at me with obvious curiosity.

“What?” I asked.

Jonah shrugged. “I’m surprised you called. Since he’s back.”

“I made a promise to the Red Guard,” I said. “I intend to keep it. And my feelings for Ethan aside, the GP’s on my shit list. Now more than ever.”

Jonah nodded. “Darius came by the House last night. I wasn’t privy to his discussions, but Scott was in a foul mood when he left.”

That news made my stomach curl. Had Darius confessed to Scott the
shofet
’s plan to close down Cadogan House? Was that why Scott was upset? I wanted to interrogate Jonah for details, but if Scott wasn’t ready to tell Jonah, his guard captain, what they’d talked about, it probably wasn’t news I wanted to know.