Mallory nodded. “Besides, she’s an alchemical witch. This doesn’t feel like alchemy.”
Pulaski held up his hand. “I’m not interested in the magical mumbo jumbo. I’ll leave that to you. What I want to know is what, exactly, happened here. In detail.”
“I’ll walk you through it,” Catcher said, and led him a few feet away, pointing at the spot where we’d rounded the corner some unfathomably long time ago.
My grandfather followed them but looked back at us, circled a finger in the air. He wanted us to keep going, to keep talking it through.
“So it’s someone else’s magic?” Ethan asked.
“It has to be,” Mallory said. “I just don’t know whose, or at least not yet. Although there is that weird metallic thing.”
“Yeah,” I said, turning back to Mallory. “I sensed the same thing after seeing Winston. I thought it was because of the delusions. Like, he’d been sick, which gave his magic a weird scent. But maybe it’s a signature of some kind. Is it associated with a certain kind of magic or creature?”
She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I’ll have to check the books.”
“Paige is out of town,” Ethan said, “or I’d have her look, too.” Paige was a sorceress who practically lived in Cadogan House, mostly owing to her relationship with our Librarian. “The Librarian’s at an ALA conference in New York,” Ethan added. “She’s with him.”
Paige had been bummed about missing the wedding. The Librarian had been too excited about the conference—and the books—to be overly concerned.
“I can look,” Mallory said, glancing at her husband, who stood with my grandfather and Pulaski. “He’s going to be tied up with this for at least the short term.”
“The mayor’s going to blow a fuse,” I agreed.
“Yeah. Probably.”
Amit walked over to us. “Not the trip to the States I had in mind,” he said, and glanced at Ethan, concern in his eyes. “There is something about Chicago, isn’t there?”
“Something in the damn water, I’m beginning to fear,” Ethan said.
“Or in the air,” I said, and looked at Mallory. “Gabe’s had the same sense of dread. So whatever you’re feeling, you aren’t alone.”
She looked understandably relieved and concerned by that information.
A reporter had found us, was busily snapping pictures of the carnage, the remains of the wedding party.
“Take this picture,” Mallory said to him, moving aside so that Ethan and I stood alone.
“If you want the real sense of Cadogan House, get Merit and Ethan after battle. Get the shot of them together, bloodied because they tried to make a difference. Those are Chicagoland’s vampires.”
With a somber expression, the reporter nodded and aimed his camera at us.
CHAPTER NINE
BITTERSWEETNESS
We said good-byes to what remained of the wedding party and climbed into the limousine that would take us back to the Portman.
At dusk, we were supposed to take a specially equipped and sunlight-protected plane to Paris for a week of madeleines and espresso and moonlight reflecting on the Seine.
Except I knew that couldn’t be. “We aren’t going to Paris,” I said, and settled my head on his shoulder.
“No,” he said. “And I should request all wedding guests leave Chicago as soon as possible. There’s no point in dragging them further into this.”
I felt suddenly, unbearably tired. Emotionally exhausted by a long night of prepping and socializing, physically exhausted by the battle we hadn’t wanted to find ourselves in. And as much as I knew why we couldn’t go, why we couldn’t leave the city in the midst of some unknown supernatural contagion, I couldn’t shake the heavy grief that settled into my bones.
I’d only wanted a honeymoon. That wasn’t so much to ask, was it?
Ethan put an arm around me, drew me closer. I shut my eyes and let myself be calmed by the warmth and nearness of him. “I suppose I was wrong about this not being our problem,” he said.
“It became our problem through no fault of yours. Not much we could have done about that. And it’s better we were there than not. It wasn’t our plan, but if we hadn’t stepped in, things would have been a lot worse.”
Ethan smirked, drew me closer. “I believe I’m the one who should be comforting you, rather than the other way around. Because my beautiful wife deserves peace and comfort.”
“‘Wife’ sounds weird. I wonder when I’ll get used to it.”
“You’ve an eternity,” Ethan said, “as I’m not letting you go.”
• • •
It was nearly dawn, and the Portman Grand was quiet, our footsteps echoing on the marble floor. A woman stood behind the reservation counter, brow furrowed at something in front of her. A man across the room dusted tables in the sitting area, and a lone and exhausted-looking family waited at the bottom of the stairs, all in matching CARTER FAMILY VACATION T-shirts. The parents’ gazes lifted to watch us, eyes widening as they took in our torn clothes, scraped bodies.
“Sit down,” Ethan quietly said. “I’ll check in.”
I nodded, walked toward the stone fountain against the far wall.
“Big fight over the bridal bouquet,” I said to the parents, with the only hint of a smile that I could manage, and hoped that would be enough to soothe their fears.
Water trickled from a lion’s head mounted to the wall in a quatrefoil base. I sat down on the edge, watched koi dart across the water toward me, probably hoping for breakfast.
Pulaski held up his hand. “I’m not interested in the magical mumbo jumbo. I’ll leave that to you. What I want to know is what, exactly, happened here. In detail.”
“I’ll walk you through it,” Catcher said, and led him a few feet away, pointing at the spot where we’d rounded the corner some unfathomably long time ago.
My grandfather followed them but looked back at us, circled a finger in the air. He wanted us to keep going, to keep talking it through.
“So it’s someone else’s magic?” Ethan asked.
“It has to be,” Mallory said. “I just don’t know whose, or at least not yet. Although there is that weird metallic thing.”
“Yeah,” I said, turning back to Mallory. “I sensed the same thing after seeing Winston. I thought it was because of the delusions. Like, he’d been sick, which gave his magic a weird scent. But maybe it’s a signature of some kind. Is it associated with a certain kind of magic or creature?”
She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I’ll have to check the books.”
“Paige is out of town,” Ethan said, “or I’d have her look, too.” Paige was a sorceress who practically lived in Cadogan House, mostly owing to her relationship with our Librarian. “The Librarian’s at an ALA conference in New York,” Ethan added. “She’s with him.”
Paige had been bummed about missing the wedding. The Librarian had been too excited about the conference—and the books—to be overly concerned.
“I can look,” Mallory said, glancing at her husband, who stood with my grandfather and Pulaski. “He’s going to be tied up with this for at least the short term.”
“The mayor’s going to blow a fuse,” I agreed.
“Yeah. Probably.”
Amit walked over to us. “Not the trip to the States I had in mind,” he said, and glanced at Ethan, concern in his eyes. “There is something about Chicago, isn’t there?”
“Something in the damn water, I’m beginning to fear,” Ethan said.
“Or in the air,” I said, and looked at Mallory. “Gabe’s had the same sense of dread. So whatever you’re feeling, you aren’t alone.”
She looked understandably relieved and concerned by that information.
A reporter had found us, was busily snapping pictures of the carnage, the remains of the wedding party.
“Take this picture,” Mallory said to him, moving aside so that Ethan and I stood alone.
“If you want the real sense of Cadogan House, get Merit and Ethan after battle. Get the shot of them together, bloodied because they tried to make a difference. Those are Chicagoland’s vampires.”
With a somber expression, the reporter nodded and aimed his camera at us.
CHAPTER NINE
BITTERSWEETNESS
We said good-byes to what remained of the wedding party and climbed into the limousine that would take us back to the Portman.
At dusk, we were supposed to take a specially equipped and sunlight-protected plane to Paris for a week of madeleines and espresso and moonlight reflecting on the Seine.
Except I knew that couldn’t be. “We aren’t going to Paris,” I said, and settled my head on his shoulder.
“No,” he said. “And I should request all wedding guests leave Chicago as soon as possible. There’s no point in dragging them further into this.”
I felt suddenly, unbearably tired. Emotionally exhausted by a long night of prepping and socializing, physically exhausted by the battle we hadn’t wanted to find ourselves in. And as much as I knew why we couldn’t go, why we couldn’t leave the city in the midst of some unknown supernatural contagion, I couldn’t shake the heavy grief that settled into my bones.
I’d only wanted a honeymoon. That wasn’t so much to ask, was it?
Ethan put an arm around me, drew me closer. I shut my eyes and let myself be calmed by the warmth and nearness of him. “I suppose I was wrong about this not being our problem,” he said.
“It became our problem through no fault of yours. Not much we could have done about that. And it’s better we were there than not. It wasn’t our plan, but if we hadn’t stepped in, things would have been a lot worse.”
Ethan smirked, drew me closer. “I believe I’m the one who should be comforting you, rather than the other way around. Because my beautiful wife deserves peace and comfort.”
“‘Wife’ sounds weird. I wonder when I’ll get used to it.”
“You’ve an eternity,” Ethan said, “as I’m not letting you go.”
• • •
It was nearly dawn, and the Portman Grand was quiet, our footsteps echoing on the marble floor. A woman stood behind the reservation counter, brow furrowed at something in front of her. A man across the room dusted tables in the sitting area, and a lone and exhausted-looking family waited at the bottom of the stairs, all in matching CARTER FAMILY VACATION T-shirts. The parents’ gazes lifted to watch us, eyes widening as they took in our torn clothes, scraped bodies.
“Sit down,” Ethan quietly said. “I’ll check in.”
I nodded, walked toward the stone fountain against the far wall.
“Big fight over the bridal bouquet,” I said to the parents, with the only hint of a smile that I could manage, and hoped that would be enough to soothe their fears.
Water trickled from a lion’s head mounted to the wall in a quatrefoil base. I sat down on the edge, watched koi dart across the water toward me, probably hoping for breakfast.
