Wild Things: A Chicagolands Vampire Novel (Chicagoland Vampires) by Chloe Neill

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