shifters will be done with their intern, and the Order has proved they can’t handle her. We need a backup plan.”
Ethan scrubbed his hands over his face. “I hate it when you’re right.”
I bit back a grin that only would have gotten me into trouble, and let my mouth do it for me. “Then you must hate me often.”
I disappeared into the bathroom before Ethan could throttle me.
—
The bathroom, like the bedroom, was a bit of a shambles. I picked up clothes from the floor before getting dressed for the night, brushing my fangs like a good little Sentinel, and ensuring my weapons—my thirty-two-inch-long tempered-steel katana and the smaller, double-edged dagger Ethan had given me—were clean and ready for battle.
Not that I planned on a battle, but since a visit to a crime scene was on my agenda, I was damn well going to keep my weapons in good shape.
The bedroom was empty, but the croissants had been stocked, by the time I was dressed and armed. I grabbed a pastry and nibbled the edge while I checked my phone for messages from Jeff, Catcher, or Jonah.
I had no messages, but the phone was bristling with warnings and alerts from Luc’s newest invention—an app that sent House notifications and updates for news around the city.
Most of the notifications were mundane—information about House deliveries and visitors, traffic snarls, and weather reports. But tonight there was another little reminder—a news flash sent out by the
Sun-Times
reminding readers that the Office of Human Liaisons was hosting its first town hall meeting tonight at the Marquesa Theater.
Now that was intriguing. The Marquesa was in Lincoln Park, a neighborhood on the north side of Chicago. It also wasn’t terribly far from Wicker Park and the crime scene I’d be visiting.
My phone beeped again, and I found a text message from Catcher: VISIT TO ROBIN POPE, THEN BRYANT INDUSTRIES?
I guessed Jeff had declined to play escort, and Catcher had taken up the standard.
I passed the phone back and forth in my hands, considering my options. I definitely wanted to talk to Robin Pope about Bryant Industries and the riots. I also wanted to visit Bryant Industries and take a look at the destruction myself.
But there was also another stop I wanted to make, a conversation I wanted to have with a man who’d caused plenty of pain and suffering to Chicago vampires.
SURE, I responded to Catcher. MEET IN 1 HOUR?
I figured I didn’t need much time at the Marquesa Theater. Maybe just long enough to put in an appearance, and remind him we were watching.
Catcher texted me Pope’s address, and he agreed to meet me there in an hour.
With Catcher on my mind, I sent a message to Mallory: EVERYTHING OK, BLUE HAIR?
I waited for a moment for her to answer, but smiled when she did.
GABRIEL POUTING, BUT HAIR STILL BLUE , she reported.
She’d be fine, I decided. At least until she could find a route out of Shifterville.
When I was dressed and armed, I walked down to the first floor and advised Luc and Ethan I was heading out for my site visits. I also gave Luc Robin Pope’s address, just in case of an emergency that I hoped wouldn’t arise.
I walked to the front door, nearly forgetting my Volvo replacement wasn’t parked on the street, but was tucked into its basement space.
Its warm and snow- and ice-free basement space.
That was yet another bit of high living I could definitely get used to.
ChapterSeven
ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH
T he Marquesa Theater was a souvenir from Chicago’s history. There were baroque balconies, red velvet curtains, giant chandeliers, and murals galore. All of it, supposedly, built to give the moll of a Chicago gangster a place to sing arias no one else wanted to hear. The motive might have been regrettable, but you couldn’t deny the beauty of the place.
Tonight, that beauty was marred by a mix of fear and suspicion. I stood in the lobby and watched people of every variety march into the theater, their expressions
Ethan scrubbed his hands over his face. “I hate it when you’re right.”
I bit back a grin that only would have gotten me into trouble, and let my mouth do it for me. “Then you must hate me often.”
I disappeared into the bathroom before Ethan could throttle me.
—
The bathroom, like the bedroom, was a bit of a shambles. I picked up clothes from the floor before getting dressed for the night, brushing my fangs like a good little Sentinel, and ensuring my weapons—my thirty-two-inch-long tempered-steel katana and the smaller, double-edged dagger Ethan had given me—were clean and ready for battle.
Not that I planned on a battle, but since a visit to a crime scene was on my agenda, I was damn well going to keep my weapons in good shape.
The bedroom was empty, but the croissants had been stocked, by the time I was dressed and armed. I grabbed a pastry and nibbled the edge while I checked my phone for messages from Jeff, Catcher, or Jonah.
I had no messages, but the phone was bristling with warnings and alerts from Luc’s newest invention—an app that sent House notifications and updates for news around the city.
Most of the notifications were mundane—information about House deliveries and visitors, traffic snarls, and weather reports. But tonight there was another little reminder—a news flash sent out by the
Sun-Times
reminding readers that the Office of Human Liaisons was hosting its first town hall meeting tonight at the Marquesa Theater.
Now that was intriguing. The Marquesa was in Lincoln Park, a neighborhood on the north side of Chicago. It also wasn’t terribly far from Wicker Park and the crime scene I’d be visiting.
My phone beeped again, and I found a text message from Catcher: VISIT TO ROBIN POPE, THEN BRYANT INDUSTRIES?
I guessed Jeff had declined to play escort, and Catcher had taken up the standard.
I passed the phone back and forth in my hands, considering my options. I definitely wanted to talk to Robin Pope about Bryant Industries and the riots. I also wanted to visit Bryant Industries and take a look at the destruction myself.
But there was also another stop I wanted to make, a conversation I wanted to have with a man who’d caused plenty of pain and suffering to Chicago vampires.
SURE, I responded to Catcher. MEET IN 1 HOUR?
I figured I didn’t need much time at the Marquesa Theater. Maybe just long enough to put in an appearance, and remind him we were watching.
Catcher texted me Pope’s address, and he agreed to meet me there in an hour.
With Catcher on my mind, I sent a message to Mallory: EVERYTHING OK, BLUE HAIR?
I waited for a moment for her to answer, but smiled when she did.
GABRIEL POUTING, BUT HAIR STILL BLUE , she reported.
She’d be fine, I decided. At least until she could find a route out of Shifterville.
When I was dressed and armed, I walked down to the first floor and advised Luc and Ethan I was heading out for my site visits. I also gave Luc Robin Pope’s address, just in case of an emergency that I hoped wouldn’t arise.
I walked to the front door, nearly forgetting my Volvo replacement wasn’t parked on the street, but was tucked into its basement space.
Its warm and snow- and ice-free basement space.
That was yet another bit of high living I could definitely get used to.
ChapterSeven
ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH
T he Marquesa Theater was a souvenir from Chicago’s history. There were baroque balconies, red velvet curtains, giant chandeliers, and murals galore. All of it, supposedly, built to give the moll of a Chicago gangster a place to sing arias no one else wanted to hear. The motive might have been regrettable, but you couldn’t deny the beauty of the place.
Tonight, that beauty was marred by a mix of fear and suspicion. I stood in the lobby and watched people of every variety march into the theater, their expressions
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