Wild Things

Chapter Six GAME, SET, VAMPIRE

I woke with a start just after sunset. Ethan lay at my side, his eyes closed in sleep, an arm over his head. His long legs were tangled in the pale sheets, his silk pajama bottoms riding temptingly low on his hips.

He opened one eye, smiled invitingly. “Good evening, Sentinel.”

“Sullivan,” I said, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips.

There was a knock at the bedroom door. Catcher opened it without waiting for a response. I sat up straight again, grateful I’d slept in pajamas and wasn’t staring him down half naked.

“You’re awake,” he said. He wore his typically dour expression and a T-shirt with NOPE! across the front in bold, white letters.

Ethan flipped the blanket over my body like a matador, covering even the pajamaed parts. “I don’t recall inviting you in.”

“I’m a sorcerer, not a vampire. I don’t need an invite. And now that we’ve discussed our supernatural predilections, we need to get going. Gabriel wants to talk.”

Mallory stepped into the doorway, a bowl of cereal in hand, mouth busy with a spoonful. “Good evening, vampires.”

It didn’t escape me that she took a moment to admire my particular vampire.

“Eyes on your own man candy.”

“My man candy’s already dressed,” she said between bites of what looked like chocolate sludge. “Yours is . . . less so.”

And mine was clearly enjoying the attention. He linked his hands behind his head, showing off his well-toned chest.

“Down, boy,” I murmured.

“Yes, boy,” Catcher said. “Quit flirting with my girlfriend.”

Ethan only smiled. “You’re the ones darkening my doorway. I’m beginning to see why so many sups don’t like sorcerers.”

“Oh, he’s grumpy at sunset,” Mallory said, glancing at me.

“It’s not just sunset,” Catcher offered. “And we’re wasting time on the argument, so get dressed, and let’s go.” He rapped twice on the doorjamb before he and Mallory shuffled back into the main room.

“Fine friends you have, Sentinel.”

“They’re your friends, too, Sullivan. You’ve known Catcher longer than you’ve known me.”

I climbed out of bed, and he swatted me on the bottom.

“I’m not sure that’s flattering to either of you.”

“Neither am I,” I admitted, “but at the moment, we’re all stuck with each other.”

• • •

Ethan grabbed breakfast from the kitchen while I dressed. Thinking I couldn’t be too careful, I dressed in my leathers, then settled in with blood and a bagel.

After he’d eaten, Ethan pulled on jeans and a V-neck sweater with a shirt beneath. A lock of blond hair fell across his face as he tucked the shirt into very-well-fitting jeans, looking more like an East Coast blue blood than a midwestern vampire.

His phone rang, and Ethan finished the tuck, pushed his hair behind his ears, and picked it up.

“Luc,” Ethan said in greeting. “You’re on speaker. We were just about to leave.”

“This won’t take long. Just wanted to give you an update. The lawyers report Kowalcyzk is apparently trying to convince the prosecutor the House’s security tapes were tampered with—that the video of Monmonth arriving at the House and killing Louie and Angelo was doctored.”

“And therefore that Ethan didn’t act in self-defense,” I concluded.

“That’s patently ridiculous,” Ethan said. “As if we don’t have anything better to do than doctor our own security footage.”

“Rumor is, the prosecutor has doubts. And he’s the one who’d have to take the case to a jury. In any other city, that would probably be enough. But this is Chicago; the mayor’s got pull.”

God knew, I loved my hometown. But sometimes the Second City needed a good kick to the groin.

“We can prove the tapes weren’t doctored,” Ethan said. “Forensics run both ways.”

“We can,” Luc agreed. “And the lawyers are negotiating for that, and billing the House like its going out of style,” he mumbled. “Unfortunately, while the lawyers argue, she’s attacked on another front.”

Ethan’s gaze narrowed. “How?”

“Anne Rice–style, as it turns out.” Luc waited a beat for us to get the punch line.

“Interview with the Vampire,” Lindsey put in. Luc must have had us on speakerphone.

“That’s my girl,” Luc said. “And you win the prize. Jonah called. The mayor’s people picked up Scott Grey fifteen minutes ago for questioning.”

Scott Grey was the Master of Grey House, and Jonah’s boss.

Magic spiked as Ethan’s irritation rose. “I presume Scott’s Second arranged for a lawyer?”

“He has. Our guys say she’s sharp, but the mayor’s muscle isn’t letting her near Scott. She apparently was told he doesn’t have a right to counsel because the Houses are under suspicion as domestic terrorists.”

It took Ethan a moment to respond. And in the seconds that passed, magic rose to a furious crescendo.

“Domestic terrorists?” Each syllable was bitten off.

“Their words. The muscle’s from a task force she’s set up. All the lawyers are talking. I also called Morgan and gave him a heads-up.”

Morgan rounded out the city’s three Masters. He became Master of Navarre after the former Master, Celina Desaulniers, was accused of murder. Morgan and I had briefly dated when I’d first become a vampire, but the relationship, such as it was, hadn’t lasted long.

“I’m surprised he answered the phone considering the blacklist.”

When we left the GP, the organization had responded by forbidding Navarre and Grey from communicating with us. That hadn’t stopped Grey House, at least not in the long run, but Navarre played by the GP’s rules.

“He wasn’t thrilled. I’d call it denial with an arrogance chaser.”

“I don’t know what you saw in him,” Lindsey said.

I glanced at Ethan. “My Master demanded I date him for the benefit of the House.”

“Not one of my better decisions,” Ethan admitted. “Kowalcyzk can call us domestic terrorists if she wants, but she won’t be able to make that stick. There’s no evidence of anything but the opposite—that we help the city at every turn. What about the governor?”

“No dice so far,” Luc said. “Malik’s spoken with her, but she’s loath to get involved in an investigation. She’s calling it comity and federalism and blah-blah political mumbo jumbo I don’t care about. In any event, we’ll let you know if there’s any movement.”

Ethan nodded, and silence descended for a moment.

“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be right now,” Luc said, responding to Ethan’s unspoken complaint. “And we have a plan. It just may not come together as soon as we’d like.”

“Well, we’re here for the duration in any event,” Ethan said.

“Shifter arrest is better than human arrest?” Luc cheekily asked. “Oh, and one more thing while I’m checking off my list of craptastic news. Lakshmi’s arrived. She’s in a suite at the Peninsula.” The Peninsula was one of Chicago’s swankiest hotels, located a few blocks east of Michigan Avenue.

Nerves jangled at the edges of my consciousness, but I pushed them back. Worrying about when she’d call in her favor would have to wait; my plate was full.

“She’s made arrangements to speak to Malik?”

“Nope. She said she’d wait to talk to you.”

I looked at Ethan. “That seems like good news. If they were going to go ballistic, they wouldn’t care if you were there or not.”

“Or their price is stiff and meant just for me.”

That ominous prediction settled uncomfortably in the room.

“We have to go,” Ethan said. “The Pack is awaiting our arrival. Keep us posted.”

They said their good-byes and ended the call, and Ethan slanted a worried glance at me. He’d pulled his hair back today, framing rugged cheekbones and his emerald eyes, which were clouded with worry.

“Is this one of those times I’m supposed to be supportive and tell you everything will work out perfectly?”

Ethan made a vague grunt of amusement. “Only if you can say it honestly.”

“So I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

Ethan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He pulled me into an embrace, his warmth and clean cologne enveloping us both. “I don’t want others to bear the burdens of my choices.”

So Scott’s situation concerned him, I thought.

“She’s just interviewing him,” I pointed out. “We’ve all been through worse than an interview. And frankly, this may not be retribution against you. If she’s got a task force, it could just be her usual brand of paranoia.”

He kissed the top of my head. “You’re a good and comforting Sentinel.”

“I’d prefer to be the Sentinel that talks some damned sense into the mayor, but that opportunity hasn’t yet arisen.”

I texted Jonah, let him know we were aware of Scott’s interrogation and were monitoring. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else we could do from Loring Park.

Vampiric business concluded, we met Catcher and Mallory in the front room.

“Took you long enough,” Catcher said, taking a final drink from a mug before putting it down on the table.

“Scott Grey is now in Kowalcyzk’s custody,” Ethan said.

Catcher looked up, surprised. “Really.”

Ethan nodded, just once. “Suspected of domestic terrorism, according to our rather creative mayor.”

“That lady is off her rocker,” Mallory said, adjusting her knit cap, from beneath which peeked two ombré braids.

“She is something,” Ethan said. “Any leads in the sorcery area?”

Catcher shook his head. “Baumgartner’s on vacation in Tucson with his wife and grandkids. And even if he’d been here, he’s not exactly a think-outside-the-box type of guy. We haven’t reached Simon yet. Paige and the librarian have been in a hotel room in the Loop for a belated Valentine’s Day. Their minds are on other things.”

“So Paige and Baumgartner are out, if they weren’t already. And once again, we have nothing.”

“For now,” I said, squeezing Ethan’s hand. “We always find something.”

The issue was finding it soon enough.

• • •

We pulled on coats and gloves, belted on our katanas, and headed outside. The shifters who awaited us didn’t even spare them a glance, so I presumed Gabriel had approved our wearing them.

The night was cold, the sky covered by a bank of clouds that glowed orange on the horizon, lit by the pollution of a million sodium lights in Chicago. But I was jumpy and couldn’t stop glancing into the darkness, waiting for a new squadron of monsters to emerge.

We walked silently back to the house, hands in pockets and collars lifted against the wind, the shifters forming a guard in front of and behind us. They were all men, all wearing NAC jackets. They didn’t bother to look at us, which I found I preferred. Disinterest, in my book, was better than barely concealed loathing.

One of the shifters in front held open a door, and we entered a spare and utilitarian hallway. This part of the house was for the staff, allowing them to serve the Brecks inconspicuously.

We were marched into the main portion of the house, and then into a formal living room, where Gabriel held court again. The same crew was here again tonight—the Keenes, the Brecks, and a dozen other shifters, including Jeff.

Once again, the room was mostly men, but tonight there were exceptions. Fallon sat on an immaculately tailored couch beside her brother, and Tanya sat on his other side, Connor in her arms. Another female shifter sat on the floor at Tanya’s feet, a petite brunette who had Tanya’s big eyes and sweet features. I guessed she was in her early twenties and probably a younger sister of Tanya’s. She was a lovely girl, with bee-stung lips and pink cheeks, her brown hair pulled up in a messy knot.

The energy in the room was different than it had been last night. Still cautious, grieving. But tonight there was something else, a new softness running through the weft and warp. I presumed Tanya and her sister had brought that to the party.

Tanya glanced at me, nodded her head in acknowledgment as she brushed a hand across the fuzz on Connor’s head, comforting him—and probably her—at the same time.

“Guests,” Gabriel said, nodding mildly at us. He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt with a complicated pattern, jeans, and boots with traces of mud on the bottom. The faint scents of dirt and blood lay beneath fresh flowers and the cologne of the various men in the room. They’d been outside, probably walking the earth where their comrades had died.

Gabe caught my gaze, and I looked up at him. “I trust you slept well.”

“As well as possible, considering.”

“Any developments regarding the attack?” Ethan asked.

“Not yet.” Gabe glanced at the large grandfather clock that ticked ominously across the room. “But that report should come any moment now.”

“And the festival?” Ethan asked.

“We do not give up easily,” Gabriel said. “We’ve managed to get the grounds back into shape, the tents prepared again.” That explained the mud on his boots. “Lupercalia will continue tonight.”

Volleys of magic filled the air as the shifters in the room reacted to the announcement. Some were relieved, some nervous, some angry.

I felt Ethan’s jolt of surprise, understood it. But we were vampires, and the violation hadn’t been against us. Perhaps they needed to prove to the world—and themselves—that they could battle back.

“We wish you the best,” Ethan said. “And obviously we’re happy to assist as we can.”

The clock struck six with a sound like church bells, and the door creaked open.

The shifter who stood in the doorway was tall and rangy, with black hair that reached his shoulders and a shadow’s worth of stubble. His skin was honeyed, and his eyes were chocolate brown and deep set, offsetting honed cheekbones and a generous mouth. He wore the NAC jacket over jeans and boots, and a series of tangled cords and wraps on his right wrist.

As manly appreciation wasn’t appropriate under the circumstances—and considering the stink eye from Ethan’s direction—I muted my expression. But as I looked away, I happened to catch the wide-eyed interest in Tanya’s sister’s face. I’d seen that look before—I’d had that look before—and it was immediately recognizable, as was the way she seemed to shrink back into her own body, as if willing herself to disappear. She was interested in this new shifter but hadn’t yet confessed her feelings. It was the look of every shy teenager who’d come face-to-face with a high school crush, of every coed who’d decided the object of her affection was out of her league.

All the while, the shifter stood statue still before his Apex, oblivious to the wanting in her eyes, waiting for instructions.

“Damien Garza,” Gabriel said, gesturing to him. “A member of the Pack.” Gabe gestured to us. “Merit, of Cadogan House. Ethan Sullivan, of Cadogan House. And you know Catcher and Mallory.”

Ethan nodded, and Damien acknowledged us with a small dip of his chin, his face devoid of expression.

“Damien is here to report on our missing mates,” Gabe said, signaling Damien to begin.

“There is no sign of Aline,” Damien said, his accent melodic. “But Rowan’s body has been found. Just inside the tree line on the south side of the meadow.”

His expression was as neutral as it had been before, but the magic in the room dipped sadly, becoming low and melancholic. Gabe closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, shoulders slumping in grief.

“We are sorry for your loss,” Ethan gravely said. We’d had to say that too many times since our arrival in Loring Park.

Gabe nodded, rubbing his forehead with his palm as if to soothe the tension there. “Is Aline gone by choice or coercion?”

“I do not know,” Damien said. “But she is not on the estate. And I have looked well.”

“Surely she’s just gone home,” Finley said, glancing at his fellow shifters. “Left the premises because of the drama.”

“All those years she didn’t leave,” Fallon said. “Why would she leave now?”

“Because you brought sorcerers and vampires into your sanctuary.”

All eyes looked to Mallory, who’d spoken the words. She glanced across the room, making eye contact with each shifter, the act an apology and a reckoning.

“It’s the truth, right out of her mouth,” Mallory said. “Maybe it was the final straw for her.”

“Regardless of the reason,” Gabe said, “the timing is suspect. She left precisely when the night brought tragedy to our people, and I don’t believe in coincidences.”

He looked up at Damien. “Go to her home. Learn what you can.” Then he looked at Ethan. “As you’ve offered your help, I suggest Merit go with Damien to look for Aline. It wouldn’t be wise for you to leave the estate, all things considered. I suggest you and the sorcerers stay here and help us ensure the safety of the Pack tonight.”

Papa Breck scoffed at the notion he needed protecting, and it was clear Ethan didn’t like the idea of our splitting up. But as plans went, it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. We had agreed to investigate, and Ethan couldn’t leave the estate until the coast was clear. Lupercalia was going ahead as planned, so we might as well help the Pack.

“I cannot speak for Catcher or Mallory,” Ethan carefully said. “Merit will go with Damien—but Jeff will go as well.”

Ethan, ever the strategist, had done the math. Damien was an unknown, but Jeff was an ally. We’d literally walked through fire together.

A thin smile played at Gabriel’s lips. “Your terms are acceptable, Sullivan. Damien, Jeff, Merit—go now. And find her.”

• • •

I didn’t want to leave Ethan. I (mostly) trusted his safety to Catcher and Mallory, but they’d still be surrounded by shifters who hadn’t decided whether we were friend or foe. And many were leaning toward the latter.

Ethan escorted me to the foyer, where we waited while Jeff and Damien researched Aline’s address. I took the opportunity to play Sentinel.

“Make sure you’re armed in case there’s another attack. Keep your phone on you. And stay in Catcher’s line of sight at all times. He’ll keep you out of harm’s way.”

Ethan cocked an eyebrow. “I do not need a sorcerer to keep me safe.”

“Let’s hope not,” I said. “Because that wouldn’t do much for your hard-ass vamp cred.”

Ethan humphed. “I have all the hard-ass vampire cred.” The ferocity in his eyes was actually pretty convincing. “You’ll stick to Jeff?”

“As close as I can. Do you know anything about Garza?”

“Nothing at all,” Ethan said, sliding his gaze to the tall and rangy shifter, who stood against the opposite wall, arms crossed as he looked down at Jeff.

“This was the best bargain you could make,” I assured Ethan, squeezing his hand. He didn’t look entirely convinced, but I was right; there was no better bargain in the offing.

“Got it,” Jeff said, tucking his phone away and moving back toward us. “We’re good to go.”

“You’ll keep an eye on her?” Ethan asked, giving Jeff the same cool look he’d given me.

“I was hoping she’d keep an eye on me,” he good-naturedly said. We smiled, looking at Damien pleasantly to invite him into the conversation, but his expression stayed blank.

Realizing the joke hadn’t gone far, Jeff grimaced and gestured toward the door. “Let’s forget this happened and get in the car.”

Wordlessly, they walked to the front door and disappeared outside, letting in a swift breeze that swept across the foyer.

Ethan took my lapels in hand and hauled me against him, his body hard and hot against mine. He kissed me slowly, deeply, madly.

“I love you,” he murmured, mouth slipping to my cheek, an electric chill running the length of my body.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself linger against him. “I love you, too.”

He kissed me again and released me. “And Sentinel?”

I glanced up at him, fairly drunk from the kiss.

“For the sake of peace between shifters and vampires, do try to avoid staring at Damien Garza.” With that advice and a sly smile, he slipped back into the room, just in time to avoid catching the blush on my cheeks.

I hadn’t stared.

I’d admired. There was a difference.

• • •

In his boots, Damien couldn’t have been a hair under six feet five. He was long and lean, which made the small electric car he pulled up to the front of the Breckenridge house seem like a clown car by comparison.

“This looks . . . energy efficient,” I politely said, as I squeezed into the backseat, katana across my lap.

Jeff climbed into the passenger seat beside Damien, the front of the car small enough that their shoulders nearly touched.

“It is,” Damien said, eyes narrowed at me in the rearview mirror. I smiled politely and couldn’t help imagining the possibility he’d drive Jeff and me to the middle of a cornfield, take us out, and leave our bodies for the crows.

On the other hand, I thought, as he revved the car’s lawn-mower engine, I could probably run faster than the car.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Into town,” Jeff said, glancing back. “Aline’s got a house near downtown.”

“Any friends or relatives she might have gone to visit?”

“Not here in town,” Jeff said. “But she does have a human resources gig at an agricultural company about halfway between here and Chicago.”

“Friends?” I asked.

“Unknown,” Damien said. “She kept to herself.”

“I don’t recall seeing her at the battle,” I said. “We met her before it started. She made a snarky comment about nonshifters and the downfall of the Pack, and then hustled off into the crowd.”

Damien nodded but didn’t say another word.

A few minutes later, he pulled the car into the driveway of a small cottage on a quiet residential street. The surrounding houses were small but the yards were tidy, and probably would have been full of pansies had the weather been warm enough.

Jeff helped me out of the car, and I belted on my katana. Damien gave it a quick glance, lifted his gaze to mine.

“You can use that effectively?”

Not appreciating the tone, I decided to meet it head-on. I rested my fingers on the handle, gave him an appraising glance. “Can you shift effectively?”

When he made a dubious sound—something between a snort, a chuckle, and a grunt—I decided I’d made the right play.

Alert for any sign of life, or harpies with hostages, we walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Jeff climbed the stairs, pulled open the metal storm door, and tried the doorknob.

“Locked,” Jeff said, glancing back at us.

“Allow me,” Damien said, sliding into Jeff’s spot, wiggling the knob, and then rapping his knuckles along the edges of the frame, as if testing for weakness.

“Stand back,” was the only warning we got, and he barely managed to finish the warning before his foot was up and out and he’d made contact, kicking the door in.

It flew open, slamming back against an interior wall with rattling force. When it swung forward again, still propelled by his momentum, he caught it in a hand, nodded at us.

“Not locked,” he simply said.

Quiet was Damien Garza. And effective.

The scent that wafted from the house was strong and not entirely welcoming. It wasn’t the smell of death—thank goodness—but of dirt. Old paper. Dust. Musty fabrics. And beneath it all, the acrid scent of animals. Cats, I thought. A few of them, considering the odor.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness. Aline’s house was small, dingy, and full of . . . everything. Dust motes floated through the few shafts of light that managed to penetrate the darkness and the tall columns of boxes, magazines, and flea-market finds. Ceramics from the 1970s competed with quilted jackets, and romance novels with bodice-ripping covers were stacked with tangled coat hangers.

“She’s a hoarder?” Damien asked.

Jeff nodded. “Apparently so.” He glanced around the room and the narrow paths through the stuff, then pointed at the pathway straight ahead. “Merit and I will go that way. You go to the right.”

“Roger that,” I said, and Damien quickly disappeared behind a towering stack of mismatched encyclopedias. I took a few steps into the other path, and Jeff fell in step behind me.

“So what’s the scoop on Damien?” I quietly asked.

“The scoop?”

“I’ve never seen him around before.”

“He stays behind the scenes,” Jeff added. I glanced back. He’d found a stack of magazines and papers and was flipping through them. He chuckled, pulled out a magazine, and held it up. Monthly Disco Review, read the cover, which featured a couple in flimsy chiffon beneath an enormous disco ball.

“A classic publication,” I said. “Better photographs than Disco Review Monthly and better articles than The Disco Month in Review.”

Jeff chuckled, as I’d meant him to.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Not avoiding,” Jeff said. “Just being discreet.” He slid the magazine back into its stack. “Damien handles the Pack’s messier matters. Sensitive matters.”

“He’s an enforcer?”

“He doesn’t have a title,” Jeff said. “He’s a trusted Pack member, and that’s all a nosy vampire needs to know.”

I snorted. “If I wasn’t nosy, Jeff Christopher, Gabriel wouldn’t want me here. It’s one of my finer qualities. And speaking of nosy, it looks like you and Fallon are getting along well.”

The circumstances might have been grim, but that didn’t stop the smile that lifted his lips. “We’re officially a couple.”

“Congratulations. I’m glad to hear it worked out.”

Something ghosted across his face, but he shook it off. “Me, too, Merit. Me, too.”

We walked quietly through the labyrinth.

“Looks like she found solace in this stuff,” Jeff said. “Or tried to.”

I nodded, gently pushing aside the dusty leaves of a silk houseplant as I walked past. The dust looked undisturbed, and there was no sign of life in the house. We continued down the path, the clearing so tight we couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of us, and crossed a threshold into a small bedroom. There was a bed, a single window, and piles of clothing and newspapers and knickknacks in every bit of the room that wasn’t occupied by the bed. The bed was neatly made, a glass of water on the side table. But a thin layer of dust covered the surface of the water.

“It looks like she hasn’t been here in a while,” I said.

“That’s my thought,” Jeff said. “But if she isn’t here, where is she?”

As if in answer, something skittered on the other side of the bed, rustling the ruffled curtain. I held up a hand to signal Jeff, pointed to it. He nodded me forward.

I took one step, then another, flipping the thumb guard on my sword as I moved. “Aline? Is that you?”

A stack of sweaters shuddered from the movement of some unseen foe. I swallowed, gripped the handle of my katana, and prepared to unsheathe it. “Jeff,” I whispered. “What animal is she?”

“I’m not sure. Gabe didn’t say.”

There in the dark, with shadows moving across unfamiliar towers of stuff, my brain decided she was a wolverine, teeth bared and claws exposed, pissed off and ready to defend herself.

I did not want a faceful of wolverine.

“Aline? Can you come out? We just want to talk.” I took another step forward.

Without warning, as quick as a fox, she attacked, a blur of black fur and teeth and bright green eyes. I let out a howl of surprise, my body jolting with fear, and slashed the air where the animal had attacked.

“Merit!” Jeff yelled out, rushing forward . . . as a small, sleek black cat dropped onto the bed. Oblivious to the commotion it had caused, the cat stuck its bottom into the air and began to knead the blanket.

Jeff howled with laughter.

I tried to slow my racing heart while mortification reddened my face. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“You screamed like a kid in a horror movie,” Jeff said, now doubled over and wiping tears from his eyes. “That was tremendous.”

“Any chance that cat’s a shifter?” I asked, hoping to save what remained of my pride.

“It’s barely a cat,” Jeff said, laughing as Damien emerged from a clearing across the room.

“Everything okay?”

“Merit found a monster,” Jeff said, gesturing toward my feline attacker. “And a fierce one.”

The cat looked up at Jeff and began to clean its paw.

“Thanks for the help, buddy,” I murmured, resheathing my sword and saying good-bye to what was left of my pride.

Damien glanced at me, and for the first time, I caught a glimpse of humor in his eyes. “I don’t suppose you actually found anything helpful?”

“Merit has decided she hasn’t been here in a while. I’d agree.”

“Although she hasn’t been gone long enough to bother the cat,” I said. Apparently clean enough, he sat on his haunches and looked between us, the picture of health.

“What about magic?” Damien asked.

“I’ve seen a sorcerer’s workshop,” I said, thinking of the basement in Mallory’s Wicker Park brownstone. “Nothing here looks like she’s been mixing spells or magic.”

“So no magic,” Damien said, “and no Aline. If she’s not here, where is she?”

“She has to be somewhere. We just need a clue. I’ll check the mailbox,” I said, then glanced at Jeff. “Maybe you can find a computer or laptop in this mess? Maybe her Web searches will give us a clue, or there’s a receipt that tells us where she’s been.”

He nodded. “Good thought.”

I entered the labyrinth again, only a little nervous when Damien fell into step behind me.

“So, do you live in Chicago?” I said conversationally.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“The cat’s perfectly healthy,” I reminded him, “and I’m a vampire.”

“Gabriel calls you Kitten. Although since you’re scared of them, the moniker seems a little inappropriate.”

I was glad Damien was behind me and couldn’t see the searing expression on my face. But I changed the subject.

“There was a girl sitting by Tanya at the house. Is that her sister?”

It took him a moment to answer, which only piqued my killing curiosity even more. “Emma,” he said. “Her name is Emma.”

His voice was softer now, careful, as if speaking her name too loudly would work its own magic.

We reached the front door and I pulled it open, relieved to breathe fresh air again. The neighborhood smelled different than the Breckenridge estate had. There, the air was heavy with the scents of crushed pine needles, animals, pastures. The air on Aline’s front porch smelled more like a city—more smoke, more vehicle exhaust, even the scent of food from the carnival down the road.

Aline’s mailbox was at the end of the pitted sidewalk in front of her house, the wooden post surrounded by a tangle of vines with long-wilted flowers. I pulled open the door, found a single envelope inside.

I looked at it for a moment, debating whether I’d be jailed for tampering with the mail.

“Problem?” Damien asked, looming behind me. He was tall enough to peer over my shoulder but seemed content to let me do the tampering.

“None at all,” I said, sliding the envelope from the box and turning to read the label in the streetlight.

Luck shifted. It was addressed to Aline Norsworthy from Pic-N-Pac Storage, and from the clear window on the front, I guessed it was a bill.

“Aline has a storage unit,” I said, handing the envelope to Damien, who ripped it open and pulled out the letter.

“A new storage unit,” he said, handing the paper to me. It was a bill for forty-eight dollars, fifteen of which was allocated to a “New Locker Setup Fee,” which was processed two days ago.

I whistled, glanced up at Damien. “Our disappeared shifter just rented a storage unit.”

I memorized the address, stuffed the letter into the mangled envelope, and put it back where I’d found it.

“I’m pretty sure mail tampering’s a felony.”

Damien made a gravelly laugh, started back up the sidewalk. “Girl, you’re a vampire. This day and age, everything you do is a felony.”