“How will you get home?” he asked.
“Taxi,” I said. “I’ll message you when I’m on my way. And if we’re lucky, I’ll bring information with me.”
“Good luck,” he said, his expression utterly serious now. “And take care.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promised, then watched the car speed away.
I looked back at the lake, the broken shoal that led to the lighthouse. I was going to need all the luck I could get.
• • •
Unless you had a boat, traversing the barrier of rocks and riprap that made up the harbor’s protective wall was the only way to get to the RG’s HQ. Jonah had once hinted that the RG had just such a vessel, but they certainly weren’t sending it for me.
The breakwater was several hundred yards long, and it took precious time to make my way across it, which certainly wasn’t going to help with my punctuality problem. The trip wasn’t an easy one. The hulking chunks of concrete were meant to keep the harbor safe, not provide a walking path. To the contrary—anyone making the attempt would have been thwarted pretty easily.
The lighthouse itself was called a “spark plug,” a shout-out to its slightly stumpy shape. I climbed the rusty ladder that led to the main platform, wiped my dirty hands on my pants, and walked around to the red door that led inside.
I waited for a moment before knocking, gathering up the self-righteousness I was going to need if there was going to be any headway. Knocking making me suddenly self-conscious (and not just because I’d be facing the partner I’d seen only once in a matter of weeks), I straightened the hem of my jacket.
They made me wait for a solid two minutes before opening the door.
Jonah greeted me, wearing jeans and a dark Henley shirt, his hair tucked behind his ears. “Come in,” he said, and stepped aside.
I walked into the room, which was heavy on the brass, nautical accents, and 1970s décor. Half a dozen vampires were in the room, and none of them looked pleased to see me. I didn’t recognize many. RG members weren’t in the same place at the same time very often.
I did recognize the man at the small table on the other side of the room—tall and thin, with pale skin, dark hair, and enormous, fuzzy sideburns. Horace had been a soldier in the Civil War. His girlfriend, a petite woman with dark skin and a cloud of dark hair, walked into the room, moved to stand beside him.
It was common—hell, maybe even expected—for RG partners to date. That was another bit of tension between me and Jonah.
I’d seen Horace’s girlfriend a couple of times but still hadn’t learned her name. From the expression on her face, which wasn’t exactly friendly, I guessed I wouldn’t be learning it tonight.
“You’re late,” said a voice from an interior doorway.
I glanced back. Noah Beck, broad-shouldered, with pale skin and shaggy brown hair, his eyes bright blue, walked into the room. He wore a Midnight High School T-shirt, dark blue with a white spider icon across the front. All RG members got T-shirts for the faux high school; we wore them in the rare times we appeared together in public to help identify one another.
Noah walked to the table, put a hip on the edge, crossed his hands in front of him. The other vampires gathered around him, like a posse coming together to battle a common enemy. Jonah stayed closer to me, but positioned so that I stood between him and the rest of the guards. Symbolic enough that I wondered if he’d done it on purpose.
The room quickly filled with magic, and none of it friendly.
“I was at the House,” I said. “I came as soon as I got your message.” I let my flat voice point out the obvious—I could only get here so quickly.
“We haven’t seen you around much,” Noah said. “Except in the papers, of course.”
“Then you know I’ve been busy,” I said, then glanced at Jonah. “And I haven’t been invited.”
“And what brings you here tonight?” Noah asked.
“A threat. I take it you’ve heard what happened last night?”
“Your very public battle with another vampire?” Noah asked. “Yes. Hard to avoid.”
I ignored the tone. “I don’t know his name. But he’s the one who killed the shifter in Wrigleyville. Caleb Franklin.”
Jonah frowned, his expression all business now. He might have been angry with me, but Grey House was in Wrigleyville, which meant Wrigleyville was his territory, and Franklin’s death was a concern.
“He’s also the vampire who attacked me the night Ethan made me a vampire. He’s the reason Ethan made me a vampire.”
The lighthouse went quiet again.
“You were attacked,” Jonah said. I guessed word hadn’t spread to him, either.
I looked at him, met his concerned gaze. “At U of C. Celina hired him to kill me. He made the attempt, but Ethan and Malik happened upon us, and he ran away.”
Jonah’s eyes widened with realization. “You were one of the women Celina tried to kill.”
I nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t succeed.” Quite the contrary; I’d killed her in former Mayor Seth Tate’s office.
“There’d been no sign of the Rogue since he attacked me,” I said. “Not that I’m aware of, anyway.”
“Until he killed Caleb Franklin,” Noah said, and I nodded.
“We didn’t see his face that night. We gave chase, but he had a car, got away. Last night, he was standing outside Cadogan House.”