“I know you’ve talked to him before. He has some kind of connection with you. I’m not saying I like it,” she quickly added, “but you use what you’ve got, right?”
I wet my lips and thought about it for a moment. She was right—Sebastian clearly wanted to contact me. While I wasn’t thrilled about setting up a meeting, at least I wasn’t doing it behind anyone’s back. And maybe he had information about the blackout.
“You’re right. I should talk to him.” I started typing a response. “But I’m going over lunch, and you’re going with me.”
* * *
Sebastian agreed to meet us beside the Chicago River, which cut through the city’s downtown. We were allowed to walk around our neighborhood during the lunch hour, and the River was technically too far away from campus. But what was a little rule-breaking between friends?
We were supposed to meet him beside the bridge on State Street. Sure, I hadn’t been here long, and I hadn’t exactly come here by choice. But there was something about this city I liked. I liked the mix of buildings in downtown Chicago, the never-ending stream of tourists who all seemed to be in awe of the city, the Italian food, and the reflection of the city on the river at night, even if I didn’t make it outside damp and chilly tunnels very often to actually see that reflection. I liked listening to Jason and Michael argue about the Cubs and Sox and whether Wrigley was better than U.S. Cellular Field.
Maybe a long winter would change how I felt about the city, but it wasn’t winter yet. For now, Chicago was pretty good.
As we approached the bridge, we could see traffic was stopped. A crowd of onlookers stood at a stone railing overlooking the water. They stared expectantly over the edge.
“Did someone fall in?” I whispered.
“Oh, sweet luck!” Scout said, dragging me across the street as soon as the light changed.
“What are you doing?”
“There are certain good luck charms in Chicago,” she said. “And this is one of them.”
“Staring at the river?” I asked, seriously confused.
“Not the river,” she said, squeezing us into an empty spot at the railing. “The bridge.”
As it turned out, the crowd wasn’t checking out what was in the river—they were looking at what was out of it. The gigantic steel bridge was rising up, its two metal arms splitting in half and lifting toward the sky so taller boats could pass through it.
“Oh, that is just frickin’ sweet,” Scout said, pulling out her phone to snap some pictures.
The boats were ready to go: A dozen sailboats were in the stretch of river on the other side of the bridge, waiting to pass beneath it. A few kayaks were sprinkled in the water beside them. And this bridge wasn’t the only one moving. As I looked down the river, I could see two more in line behind it, now slowly moving back down again—two pieces of the road coming back together so traffic could pass.
The boaters sat on the decks of their boats, bundled up against the chilly fall wind. The boats were moving away from the lake, probably into harbors for the winter.
I heard the excited chatter of people around us and glanced over.
A few yards down the railing stood a slender girl with a ponytail of sleek, dark hair, and a big black camera around her neck. She threw her head back in a laugh, and I got a full view of her companion.
It was Sebastian Born. Tall, dark, handsome, and at least moderately evil.
I quickly looked back at the river again, suddenly nervous. “He’s here,” I said. “Three o’clock.”
“Three o’clock? I thought you said noon?”
“He’s standing at three o’clock. Beside the girl with the ponytail and camera.”
That got Scout’s attention. Very carefully, she glanced to the side, like she was just watching the next bridge begin to rise, before looking back at the river again. “That is definitely Sebastian Born.”
I blew out a breath to calm my nerves. “All right, I’m going over there.”
“I’ll stay right here. Out of Reaper range.”
“Thoughtful of you,” I said, and then my feet were moving and I was walking toward him. It took only a second before he looked up and met my gaze.
The deep, dark blue of his eyes was almost shocking. They offered up a punch, and I felt it in my gut as sure as any fist. But I made myself keep walking, and stopped when I reached the girl.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets, suddenly self-conscious. It wasn’t exactly normal practice for Adepts and Reapers to meet in the middle of downtown Chicago on purpose and aboveground.
“Oh, uh, this is my cousin, Fayden. Fayden, Lily Parker.”
Fayden glanced over at me and smiled a little before turning her gaze back to the river. “Hiya,” she said.
“The bridge is pretty cool, huh?” he asked.
I glanced back just as a man and woman in bright orange kayaks and puffy coats paddled by. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”
“Fayden’s new to town,” Sebastian. “She’s a two-L at Northwestern. Law school,” he added, at my confused expression. “That means she’s in her second year. She transferred from California.”
“That’s a big change,” I said.
Fayden smiled. “Seventy degrees and sunny skies made me too perky. I figured a few winters in Chicago would help balance me out.”
“It’s Lily’s first winter, too, actually,” Sebastian said.
I wet my lips and thought about it for a moment. She was right—Sebastian clearly wanted to contact me. While I wasn’t thrilled about setting up a meeting, at least I wasn’t doing it behind anyone’s back. And maybe he had information about the blackout.
“You’re right. I should talk to him.” I started typing a response. “But I’m going over lunch, and you’re going with me.”
* * *
Sebastian agreed to meet us beside the Chicago River, which cut through the city’s downtown. We were allowed to walk around our neighborhood during the lunch hour, and the River was technically too far away from campus. But what was a little rule-breaking between friends?
We were supposed to meet him beside the bridge on State Street. Sure, I hadn’t been here long, and I hadn’t exactly come here by choice. But there was something about this city I liked. I liked the mix of buildings in downtown Chicago, the never-ending stream of tourists who all seemed to be in awe of the city, the Italian food, and the reflection of the city on the river at night, even if I didn’t make it outside damp and chilly tunnels very often to actually see that reflection. I liked listening to Jason and Michael argue about the Cubs and Sox and whether Wrigley was better than U.S. Cellular Field.
Maybe a long winter would change how I felt about the city, but it wasn’t winter yet. For now, Chicago was pretty good.
As we approached the bridge, we could see traffic was stopped. A crowd of onlookers stood at a stone railing overlooking the water. They stared expectantly over the edge.
“Did someone fall in?” I whispered.
“Oh, sweet luck!” Scout said, dragging me across the street as soon as the light changed.
“What are you doing?”
“There are certain good luck charms in Chicago,” she said. “And this is one of them.”
“Staring at the river?” I asked, seriously confused.
“Not the river,” she said, squeezing us into an empty spot at the railing. “The bridge.”
As it turned out, the crowd wasn’t checking out what was in the river—they were looking at what was out of it. The gigantic steel bridge was rising up, its two metal arms splitting in half and lifting toward the sky so taller boats could pass through it.
“Oh, that is just frickin’ sweet,” Scout said, pulling out her phone to snap some pictures.
The boats were ready to go: A dozen sailboats were in the stretch of river on the other side of the bridge, waiting to pass beneath it. A few kayaks were sprinkled in the water beside them. And this bridge wasn’t the only one moving. As I looked down the river, I could see two more in line behind it, now slowly moving back down again—two pieces of the road coming back together so traffic could pass.
The boaters sat on the decks of their boats, bundled up against the chilly fall wind. The boats were moving away from the lake, probably into harbors for the winter.
I heard the excited chatter of people around us and glanced over.
A few yards down the railing stood a slender girl with a ponytail of sleek, dark hair, and a big black camera around her neck. She threw her head back in a laugh, and I got a full view of her companion.
It was Sebastian Born. Tall, dark, handsome, and at least moderately evil.
I quickly looked back at the river again, suddenly nervous. “He’s here,” I said. “Three o’clock.”
“Three o’clock? I thought you said noon?”
“He’s standing at three o’clock. Beside the girl with the ponytail and camera.”
That got Scout’s attention. Very carefully, she glanced to the side, like she was just watching the next bridge begin to rise, before looking back at the river again. “That is definitely Sebastian Born.”
I blew out a breath to calm my nerves. “All right, I’m going over there.”
“I’ll stay right here. Out of Reaper range.”
“Thoughtful of you,” I said, and then my feet were moving and I was walking toward him. It took only a second before he looked up and met my gaze.
The deep, dark blue of his eyes was almost shocking. They offered up a punch, and I felt it in my gut as sure as any fist. But I made myself keep walking, and stopped when I reached the girl.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets, suddenly self-conscious. It wasn’t exactly normal practice for Adepts and Reapers to meet in the middle of downtown Chicago on purpose and aboveground.
“Oh, uh, this is my cousin, Fayden. Fayden, Lily Parker.”
Fayden glanced over at me and smiled a little before turning her gaze back to the river. “Hiya,” she said.
“The bridge is pretty cool, huh?” he asked.
I glanced back just as a man and woman in bright orange kayaks and puffy coats paddled by. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”
“Fayden’s new to town,” Sebastian. “She’s a two-L at Northwestern. Law school,” he added, at my confused expression. “That means she’s in her second year. She transferred from California.”
“That’s a big change,” I said.
Fayden smiled. “Seventy degrees and sunny skies made me too perky. I figured a few winters in Chicago would help balance me out.”
“It’s Lily’s first winter, too, actually,” Sebastian said.
