Biting Cold (3 page)

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Catcher said. “For now, I need to wrap this up. I’ll call you if I learn anything else.”

We said our good-byes, and Ethan switched off the phone.

“He seems to be holding up,” Ethan said.

“He doesn’t have much of a choice. He loves her, or I assume he still does, and she’s out there head over heels in danger, and he can’t do a damn thing about it. For the second time.”

“How did he fail to see what she was doing the first time around?” Ethan wondered. “They were living together.”

Mallory had set Chicago ablaze in her attempt to make Ethan a familiar. She’d made the magic in the basement of the Wicker Park brownstone she and Catcher shared.

“I think part of it was denial. He didn’t want to believe she was capable of the mess she put the city through. And she was studying for exams—and taking them, apparently—the entire time. If Simon didn’t suspect anything, why should Catcher?”

“Simon again?”

“Unfortunately. And that’s not the end of it. Catcher thought she and Simon were having an affair. Not a romantic one, maybe, but they were becoming too close for his comfort. He was afraid she was going to take Simon’s side—the Order’s side—against Catcher.”

“Love does strange things to a man,” Ethan said, his voice suddenly distracted. He tapped a finger on the dashboard. “There’s something in the road there. A dog?”

I squinted at the freeway ahead, trying to ferret out what Ethan had spotted. After a moment, I saw it—a dark mass on the centerline a quarter mile ahead. It wasn’t moving. It also definitely wasn’t a dog.

Two arms, two legs, six foot tall, and standing in the middle of the road. It was a person.

“Ethan,” I called out in warning, my first thought that the figure was McKetrick, a Chicago-based vampire hater who’d guessed our route and was ready to launch an attack against the car.

The sudden punch of peppery magic that filled the car—and the cloying scent of sugar and lemons that accompanied it—proved this was a magical problem…and a problem I knew all too well.

A cold sweat trickled down my back. “It’s not an animal. It’s Tate.”

We didn’t have time to decide whether to fight or take flight. Before I could speed up or change course, the car began to slow.

Tate had somehow managed to take control of it.

I wrenched the wheel, but it made no difference. We were heading right for him.

Fear and anticipation tightened my chest, my heart fluttering like a frightened bird beneath my ribs. I had no idea what Tate was capable of, or even what he really was. Well, other than an asshat.

We slowed to a stop in the middle of the westbound lanes, straddling the centerline. Fortunately, it was late and we were in the middle of Iowa; there wasn’t another car in sight. Since Tate had rendered the car useless and there was no point in wasting gas, I turned off the ignition but left the headlights on.

He stood in the beam in jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair ruffled into dark waves. There was a glint of gold around his neck, and I knew instantly what it was. Every Cadogan vampire wore a small gold disk on a chain, a kind of vampire dog tag, that identified their name and position. I’d bargained mine away to Tate in exchange for information about the
Maleficium
.

Ethan had given me the medal, and although I’d gotten a replacement, I didn’t like to see Tate wearing it.

“I’m open to any suggestions you might have, Sentinel,” Ethan said, eyes fixed on Tate.

Unfortunately, our sharp and sleek Japanese swords were in the trunk, and I doubted Tate was going to give us time to grab them.

“We face him,” I said. “And in case we need to make a run for it, leave your door open.” Knowing Ethan could maneuver the Mercedes more effectively than me, I handed him the keys, sucked in a breath, and opened the door.

W
e stepped outside at the same time, two vampires facing down a magical mystery man on a dark Iowa night. It wasn’t exactly how I preferred to spend an evening, but what other option did I have?

Tate’s eyes darted to Ethan, widening in surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“As you orchestrated my death, no, I imagine you didn’t.”

Tate rolled his eyes. “I orchestrated nothing.”

“You set the wheels in motion,” Ethan said. “You put Merit in a room with a drugged vampire who hated her. You had to know I’d look for her and that Celina would react. Since it was her stake that hit me, I think ‘orchestrated’ is rather accurate.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree, Sullivan.” Tate smiled drowsily at me. “Lovely to see you again, Ballerina.”

I’d danced when I was younger, and Tate had filed that information away. “I can’t say the feeling is mutual.”

“Oh, come now. What’s a little reunion between friends?”

“You aren’t a friend,” I said, and I wasn’t in the mood for a reunion. “How did you get Mayor Kowalcyzk to release you?”

“Easily, as it turns out. There’s no evidence against me.”

That was a lie. They’d found Tate’s fingerprints on the drugs, and his favorite minion, a guy named Paulie, had spilled the rest of the details to the Chicago Police Department.

“Did you tell her your arrest was part of a supernatural conspiracy?” I asked. “Woo her with your tales of oppression by vampires?”

“I’ve found Diane to be a woman who appreciates a reasonable argument.”

“Diane Kowalcyzk couldn’t pick a reasonable argument out of a lineup,” I countered. “What do you want?”

“What do you think I want?” he asked. “I want the book.”

Ethan crossed his arms. “Why?”

“Because our girl made it sound so interesting.” His smile was oily. “Didn’t you?”

“I’m not your girl, and I didn’t tell you about the
Maleficium
.”

“So my memory isn’t perfect. But I can only assume you enjoyed our visits, or you wouldn’t have visited me twice.”

Beside me, Ethan growled possessively.

“Quit baiting him,” I demanded. “I visited you to get information, which is the only thing I want now. Why do you want the
Maleficium
?”

“I told you already,” Tate nonchalantly said. “I told you when we sat together in my prison of human making, when I advised you the division of evil and good was unnatural, that ‘evil’ was a human construct. Holding it captive in the
Maleficium
is unnatural. I have an opportunity to right that wrong, to release it. And I don’t plan to let that chance pass me by.”

There was an intent gleam in his eyes and a shock of chilling
magic in the air. There was little doubt he didn’t plan to let us stand in his way.

“We don’t have it,” Ethan told him.

“Given the direction you’re traveling, that’s obvious. But I also assume you’re on your way to retrieve it, perhaps before Ms. Carmichael does something drastic?”

A sickening feeling blossomed in my stomach. “Stay away from her.”

“You know that’s not possible. Not when we’re all racing for the same prize. And besides, she might come in handy.”

I felt the rising tide of magic lift further as my own fury contributed to the swell. “Stay. Away. From her,” I gritted out, “or you will answer to me.”

Tate rolled his eyes. “I could finish you in a minute.” Then he looked at me askance, which was even more frightening. Like he was studying me. “I bet it hurts, doesn’t it, to feel like your best friend has betrayed you? She isn’t so unlike your father in that respect, is she?”

Tate had told me—only moments before Ethan’s death—that my father had offered Ethan money to make me a vampire. But that hadn’t been the entire truth.

“Ethan didn’t take the money, and you know it.”

“But he knew, didn’t he? Ethan knew your father was asking around, and he did nothing.”

“You are a son of a bitch,” Ethan said. Before I could stop him, he strode forward, struck out with a mean right hook, and punched Seth Tate in the mouth.

“Ethan!” I screamed out, equal parts horrified that he’d just punched someone in the face…and proud he’d done it. Ethan
punched
him. Maybe it wasn’t a great decision under the circumstances, but that didn’t mean Tate didn’t deserve it and I didn’t enjoy it.

Tate’s head snapped back, but he didn’t otherwise move except to raise his knuckles to the lip Ethan had split. He glanced down at the blood there before slowly lifting his gaze to Ethan. Magic poured across us as Tate’s anger rose.

“You’ll regret that, Sullivan.”

Ethan’s lip curled, and his gaze narrowed. “Only that I didn’t have a chance to do it sooner. Consider it a down payment on what you’re owed for arranging the deaths of two Master vampires and putting a third vampire through two months of hell.”

Tate shifted his gaze to me. “At least I was able to keep company with you, Ballerina, in his absence.”

Another burst of magic pulsed from Ethan’s direction, and he bared his teeth maliciously. I put a hand flat against Ethan’s chest to keep him from rushing Tate again.

“Stop it,” I gritted out.

They growled at each other like animals.

“If you think you can land another punch,” Tate said, “I invite you to try.”

“I won’t have to try,” Ethan gritted out, taking a step forward. But before he could lash out again, I wrapped an arm around him and hauled him back.

“Ethan! We have enough trouble right now.”

Tate was already in rare form; the last thing we needed was for Ethan to rile him up further—or for Ethan to get riled up any further.

Ethan freed himself from my arms, then straightened his shirt.

The pause didn’t diminish Tate’s indignation. His magic deepened and strengthened. A thick fog began to seep across the freeway toward us, covering the ground like rolling smoke. It took me a second to realize this wasn’t just fog. Filaments of bright blue shot through it, each spark punctuating the air with a sharp, irritating tingle.

Ethan’s gaze didn’t waver. “We won’t let you destroy the world.”

“No one is going to destroy the world. If anything, it will be made better—stronger—by a return to the natural order and the rule of natural laws. To that which existed
before
.”

The air warmed, and the wind began to swirl around us. Tate stared at me, his body frozen, the energy still growing. Small blue sparks hopped across the fog, like electricity beginning to build toward something big.

This wasn’t weather. It was
magic
.

Goose bumps peppered my arms, and I glanced back over my shoulder. Behind us, the fog of magic began to rise, one foot at a time, into a shimmering wall of sparks. My hair stood on end.

I looked back at Tate, whose arms were crossed as he glared at me. He stared back at me with unconcealed malice.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“What needs to be done. What
must
be done. You seek to interrupt that which should happen—and should have happened long ago. The emptying of the
Maleficium
. Sorcerers split magic asunder, Merit, and it’s time to bring the pieces back together. I won’t allow you to stop that. I cannot allow you to stop it.”

Whoever Tate had been before—reformer, politician, romancer of women—he’d changed. He meant to stop us, whatever it took.

“Get in the car, Merit.”

My gaze was glued to Tate’s, so it took a moment for my brain to register what Ethan was saying. I looked back at him. “What?”

“Get in the car.
Now
.” Ethan still had the keys, so he pushed me toward the passenger side as he ran for the driver’s.

We both yanked open the doors and hustled inside, and he started the car and punched the accelerator, zooming around Tate and farther away from the wall of magic behind us. Whatever Tate’s origin, he must have been pouring his power into the magical
cloud; I assumed that was the only reason he wasn’t controlling the car again.

I yanked on my seat belt as the speedometer climbed. Sixty miles an hour. Seventy. Eighty. We were gaining speed, but when I turned around to check the back window, the wall—now shimmering with blue filaments—was moving ever closer. It was gaining speed even faster than we did, its acceleration exponentially faster than ours.

And that wasn’t even the worst part. It was
growing
.

It spread left to right across the median and both strips of the freeway, and it didn’t spare anything it touched. The asphalt buckled and split like crushed-up crackers, chunks of debris flying through the air. Trees split and fell with thunderous cracks. A reflective green mileage sign folded in half as if made of construction paper instead of construction-grade steel.

And the distance between us and the wall of destruction kept shrinking.

“It’s going to catch us,” I yelled out over the howling wind.

“We’ll make it,” Ethan said, knuckles white on the wheel as he worked to keep the car on the road. Another sign flew past us, barely missing the Mercedes and skittering across the road and into a field on the other side.

The back of the car began to rattle as the wall grew closer, and the world outside went white as fog and mist surrounded us.