DEEP-FRIED PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY ON A STICK
I needed a break from vampires. I also hadn't checked in on Mallory in a while, and that definitely needed to be remedied. So when I woke and dressed, I texted her for an update and learned that she and Catcher were training at his gym. Translation: I'd get to watch Catcher torture someone other than me, and I'd get to see Mallory work her magic.
Easy call. I left the House and headed to the Near North Side, where Catcher's workout space was tucked into another old warehouse.
(Converting former warehouses into playrooms for vampires and other sups was apparently the new trend in Chicago.)
I hardly needed to sneak out of the House.
Darius had pulled us off the V investigation, so there wasn't going to be much need for me to stick around. And my conversation with Ethan last night had raised uncomfortable questions about me and my hypocrisy that I wasn't keen to face. I knew we'd talk eventually; there was likely no avoiding it. But it didn't have to be right now.
But avoider though I might have been, I wasn't so immature that I didn't take my beeper; I also put my dagger and sword in the car. Even if I was on investigatory hiatus, it wasn't impossible Paulie had passed along my message to "Marie," who planned on paying me an unscripted visit. On that front, better to be prepared.
The drive was pretty quick by Chicago standards - a surprisingly speedy jaunt along Lake Shore Drive - but it did give me a few minutes to reflect and gain a little perspective.
Not that I was going to find a lot of resolution in a fifteen-minute drive or even a few hours away from the House, but the space was necessary. I needed to recharge around people who knew me only as Merit . . . not as Sentinel.
I'd apparently burned through my parking luck; a new bar had opened across the street from Catcher's gym, so the neighborhood was full of long-legged girls and overcologned boys ready to head into the bar for flirtations and overpriced appletinis. I found a space three blocks away and walked back to the gym, then headed inside.
The interior of the building was shaped like a giant T, and the gym - the place where Catcher had taught me to use a sword - was down the central hallway. I felt the electric sizzle in the air as soon as I reached the doorway. Rubbing the uncomfortable prickle along my arms, I peeked inside.
Catcher wore his fancy new glasses, track pants, and a T-shirt; Mallory wore yoga pants and a sports bra, which was actually more clothing than he'd let me train in. The lucky duck.
That said, her training was a different duck altogether. I'd known Catcher was amazing with a sword, and I'd known sorcerers - in addition to bending the universe to their wills - could throw balls of what looked like magical fire. But I'd never seen anything like this.
It was a like a game of magical handball. The two of them stood at opposite ends of the room, throwing and dodging brilliantly colored orbs at each other. Catcher would heft a ball of magic toward Mallory, and Mallory would avoid it or toss out her own shot. Sometimes the shots would hit each other and burst into a fall of sparks; sometimes they'd miss and explode against the walls with a crackle of sound.
That explained the tingle in the air - each time a ball exploded, it sent a cloud of magic pulsing through the room. I guess that was the risk of watching sorcerers practice.
Mallory looked over and offered a quick wave before lobbing a ball of blue fire back at Catcher.
"Hey, you!"
I glanced over. Jeff sat in a plastic chair on the other side of the door, a bowl of popcorn in his lap.
"Cop a squat," he said, patting the seat behind him. "I was actually going to call you."
"No need to call now," I said, taking a seat and grabbing some kernels of corn. It was kettle corn, which I adored. A little bit salty, a little bit sweet, and probably plenty better for me than a box of Mallocakes.
"So, I did a little more digging into the criminal record of our friend Paulie Cermak."
"I thought you said his file was sealed."
Jeff threw up a piece of popcorn, then caught it in his teeth. "Oh, I did. But 'sealed' and 'no longer in the system' are two different things."
"Is this the appropriate time for a lecture on computer hacking?"
"Not if you want me to give you the information I found."
I was becoming less of a stickler for the rules.
"Lay it on me."
"So, to put it in layman's terms, while the file has officially been sealed for court purposes, an image of the file's contents was cached before it was sealed, so all the data's still out there. Now, as it turns out, there was only one item on the guy's record - he got a citation for punching someone in the face. A simple assault kind of deal."
I tried to play back my memory. I thought I'd seen Paulie Cermak before. Had it been on television? A report of the assault on the evening news? But I couldn't remember anything specific. "Who was the victim?"
"No clue. The guy never pressed charges, and his name was redacted from the file before it was scanned."
I sighed. "So Paulie Cermak punches a guy.
The cops get called, but the vic doesn't press charges, and the file gets sealed anyway."
"That sums it up."
"That's weird. Why seal his file if no one pressed charges?"
Jeff shrugged and tossed another piece of popcorn in the air. This one bounced off his lip and hit the floor - or would have hit the floor, had it not bounced just as a pulse of magic moved through the room. It hovered for a moment a few inches above the floor, and then exploded into tiny popcorn shards.
Jeff and I both ducked, then looked up at Catcher. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring us down. "Popcorn? Really?"
"What?" Jeff said slyly. "This is like the best tennis match ever. We needed a snack."
Catcher's lip curled, and he lobbed a shot of blue that had us both dropping in our chairs. It hit the wall behind us and burst into a shower of sparks. I sat up, frantically brushing sparks from my hair.
"Hello! I'm here to be supportive. Let's ix-nay on the hitting me with agic-may."
"Yeah, Catch," Mallory said. "She's trying to be supportive." She threw a ball of magic that had him jumping to avoid the sparks and letting out a string of curses.
"Good times," I said, giving Mallory a thumbs-up.
"So, before we were so rudely interrupted," Jeff said, "I was going to say that it's not exactly a common thing to do - to seal a record when there's no charges pressed or whatever - but there could be lots of reasons. Most likely, Paulie Cermak had friends in high places." He chuckled.
I made a sarcastic sound. "Paulie doesn't exactly seem like someone who hangs with suits.
Maybe Celina had him rough someone up."
"It's an idea. I'll keep digging."
"You're doing a great job," I told him, bumping him with my shoulder. "I appreciate the hard work."
Jeff blushed little. "Even Catcher said I was doing some pretty good investigation on this one."
"Well, Catcher never met a topic he didn't have an opinion on. Speaking of which, any developments on the V? I assume the CPD does testing and such."
"Yeah - they do, and did. Turns out, V's chemical structure is similar to adrenaline."
"That explains why it gets vamps so hyped up."
Jeff nodded. "Exactly. But that's not even the most interesting part. Catcher did a little magical sniffing of his own, and he thinks there's another component to the drug beyond the chemistry - magic."
I frowned. "Who else could have added the magic?"
"That's what's got him worried."
It had me worried, too. Even if we could pin V on Paulie and Celina, we now had an unknown source who was throwing gratuitous magic around. And speaking of unknowns: "Did you ever glean any more information about the assault Mr. Jackson saw?"
"Only the info you already knew. There haven't been any developments as far as I'm aware. Case is going cold."
I wasn't sure if that was better or worse than bodies having been located. That question in mind, my phone buzzed, so I pulled it from my pocket, expecting a question from Ethan:
"Sentinel, where are you?" or the like.
I didn't recognize the number, but I answered it anyway. "This is Merit."
"Kid, I got something I think you'll be interested in."
The New York accent was unmistakable.
"Paulie. What do you want?"
"A certain someone wants to meet with you."
"A certain someone?"
"Marie," he said. "You asked her for a meeting, and it turns out she's amenable."
Of course she was. We knew Celina wouldn't pass up the chance, and even if this "Marie" wasn't Celina, a meeting would almost certainly answer some of our questions. "Where and when?"
"Street Fest. Tonight. Meet beside the Town booth."
Town was a chichi cafe in the Loop that regularly topped the annual "best of " lists. It was a place for socialites to see and be seen, a place that required reservations weeks in advance - unless you knew someone . . . or you were the daughter of Joshua Merit. Pork saltimbocca?
Yes, please.
Although I didn't figure Celina for a Street Fest participant, Town was just the kind of place she'd choose.
"What time?"
"Eleven o'clock."
I checked my watch. It was a quarter till ten.
Street Fest ended at one o'clock, so the meeting time would hit the crescendo of bands, foods,and imbibing Chicagoans.
"I assume I won't need to wear a carnation in my lapel so she recognizes me?"
Paulie coughed out a laugh. "She'll find you. Eleven p.m. sharp."
The line went dead, so I tucked the phone away again and nibbled on my thumb as I thought it through.
Celina - well, someone I thought must be Celina - wanted a meeting in a public place. And not just a public place - a public place where thousands of humans would be milling about.
Was she hoping the crowd would give her anonymity, or was she planning on causing trouble in the middle of them?
She had to have an ulterior motive, something she wanted to pull off. Maybe a trap she hoped to spring. It was just a matter of figuring it out - or planning for all contingencies.
When I finally looked up again, I found Catcher, Jeff, and Mallory staring at me.
"Paulie Cermak," I explained. "'Marie' wants to meet me at Street Fest tonight."
Catcher and Mallory walked toward us.
"You're going?"
"Do I have a choice? Darius is pissed, and so's Tate." I rolled my shoulders, muscles aching against the joint irritation of magic and tension.
"We could pretend this isn't our problem, but that's not going to make V go away, and it's not going to keep our House together."
"So what's the downside of meeting with her?" Mallory asked.
"Other than the possibility she'll kill me? Darius ordered me and Ethan to stop investigating."
Catcher's expression was incredulous. "On what basis? Vamps are fighting in public. How could he possibly deny that there's a problem?"
"Oh, he knows something's going on." I filled them in on the escapade at Grey House. "Darius just thinks it's Tate's problem to solve. He also apparently thinks we're the ones creating the problem - that Celina's acting out because we keep giving her attention."
"Not impressed with Darius so far," Mallory said.
"Tell me about it," I agreed.
"Am I interrupting?"
All heads turned to the doorway. A cute guy in a T-shirt and jeans smiled back at us.
"Who's he?" I whispered.
"That," Mallory tiredly said, "is Simon. My tutor."
I'll be honest - when Mallory had said she had a tutor, I'd expected the nerdy type. Someone with an academic bent and maybe a pocket protector.
Simon was about as far from the stereotype as they got: buff and cute in a boy-next-door way, with nary a pencil to be seen. His hair was closely cropped, with blue eyes peering out beneath a strong brow.
"Well done," I whispered to her.
"You wouldn't say that if he was making you levitate a two-hundred-pound lead weight for the sixty-seventh time." But she smiled politely. "Hi, Simon."
"Mallory," Simon said, then looked at Catcher.
"It's been a while."
Catcher's expression stayed blank. He apparently wasn't interested in a warm reunion with a member of the Order. "Simon. What brings you to the city?"
Simon gestured toward Mallory. "We're going to take a ghost tour."
I glanced at Mallory. "You're going on a ghost tour?" It's not that Mallory wasn't interested in the occult. She was the girl with the Buffy fixation, after all. But she'd always refused when I'd asked her to go, calling the idea of a ghost tour the "fauxcult."
"Simon," Mallory said with an absent wave of the hand, "this is Merit and Jeff. She's a vampire, but I'm still friends with her because I'm awesome that way, and he's a computer nerdling extraordinaire who works with Catcher."
Simon smiled at me, but the effect wasn't nearly as friendly as you might have imagined.
"So, you're Sullivan's Sentinel."
"I'm the Cadogan House Sentinel," I politely corrected.
"Of course," he said, in a tone that suggested he didn't quite buy my clarification.
"So you're going on a ghost tour?" Jeff asked.
"Is that some kind of magical research?"
"In a manner of speaking," Simon said. "The hauntings aren't all wives' tales. Some of the locales are legitimately infested. Mallory's task tonight will be to separate fact from fiction. It's part of her practicum."
Mallory frowned. "Is that today? I thought that was tomorrow."
"Do you need to reschedule? There are some other things I could take care of while I'm in town."
Mallory waved him off. "No, today's fine. It's going to be on the exam, so I might as well do it."
"Oh, my God, you are Harry Potter," I said, pointing a finger at her. "I knew it!"
She rolled her eyes, then looked at Catcher. "I guess I need to get cleaned up and go?"
Catcher frowned, clearly not comfortable sending Mallory off into the city with Simon. I couldn't tell if the animus was all Order related or not.
Catcher looked at Simon. "Could you give us a minute?"
"Of course," Simon said after a moment. "I'll wait in the car. Jeff, nice to meet you. Merit, we'll have to talk sometime. I'd love to hear more about Cadogan House."
I gave him a noncommittal smile.
Simon walked out again. I looked back at Mallory and Catcher. "He seems pleasant enough."
"He's a member of the Order," Catcher grimly said. "They're always 'pleasant enough' until they're calling you a troublemaker and stripping you of your membership."
"Sounds like the Order and the GP have things in common," I said.
Catcher grunted his agreement.
"Simon's . . . okay," Mallory said. "But speaking of the GP, you need to get out there and mix it up." She reached out her arms, and I stepped forward into her hug. "Just like you told me," she said, "you do what you have to do. You know right from wrong, and your instincts are good. Trust them."
"And if I still can't pull it off?"
She pulled back, her expression fierce.
"There's nothing you can't do if you put your mind to it. You just have to decide that you can.
You go and find Celina Desaulniers, and you kick her ass this time."
Let's hope it ended that way.
There was a limo parked outside the House when I returned, as well as the usual gaggle of protesters. I recognized two or three - the same protesters were camped out night after night, their hatred of us apparently taking priority over any other activities.
I figured the limo belonged to Tate or Darius, which didn't thrill me. Neither was going to make my current task easier. I double-parked in front of the House and moved carefully inside, tiptoeing toward Ethan's office.
No Ethan. But Malik stood in the middle of the room, reviewing papers. Darius was in the sitting area, chatting on a cell phone.
I smiled politely at Darius and walked toward Malik. His gaze lifted as I moved closer, and he must have noticed my frazzled expression.
"What now?"
I slid my gaze toward Darius. "In light of the GP's directive, I thought I'd take the evening off.
Head to Street Fest. Meet some friends."
Malik's expression was blank only for a second before realization dawned.
"I thought I'd see if Ethan wants me to bring anything back. You know how much he loves greasy food. The man cannot get enough of battered and fried."
Malik smiled slyly. "That he does, Sentinel. I believe you'll find him in his apartment. He and Darius plan to meet in a few minutes, but perhaps I could entertain him while you discuss the menu?"
At my nod, Malik walked toward Darius. I headed for the door again. Darius must have ended his call, as I heard Malik ask, "Sire, have you had a chance to see the grounds? The gardens are spectacular in late summer."
Good man, I thought, taking the stairs two at a time until I reached the third floor.
Ethan was just walking into the hallway when I reached him. Without bothering to ask permission, I moved past him into his bedroom.
When I turned around again, he was still in the doorway, eyebrow arched.
"Malik is taking care of Darius. I need five minutes."
"I have the distinct sense that I'm not going to enjoy those five minutes."
"Quite possibly not."
Either way, he walked inside and shut the door behind us, then crossed his arms over his chest.
"Tonight will be tricky," I said.
"Because?"
"Because she may be wreaking havoc in a very public place."
He dropped his arms, alarm in his expression.
"How public?"
"Street Fest."
Ethan closed his eyes for a moment. "Do we have defenses?"
"Yours truly."
Ethan's eyes flashed open. He opened his mouth to object, then closed it again.
"Wise decision," I complimented, "since I'm the only defense you've got at the moment."
"Is this a trap?"
"Quite possibly. And it may be the kind of trap
that puts us square in the public eye. But I'm going to do everything I can to prevent that - or at least make sure it's the right kind of publicity."
We stood there quietly while he reached his verdict.
"I assume that's all you're going to tell me?"
"For your sake and mine. Two words, Sullivan: plausible deniability."
"I think I liked you better when you were a nerdy graduate student."
"You didn't know me as a nerdy graduate student," I reminded him. "Well, not while I was conscious, anyway." Technically, he'd known me as an unconscious graduate student, since he'd nursed me for three days following my transition to vampire, but I didn't remember it.
"Anyway, if you've got a better idea, I'm all for it."
He looked at me for a moment, that line of worry between his eyes. "Unfortunately, I do not."
"Your confidence is inspiring, Sullivan."
He gave me a flat look. "You know better than that. I trust you, Merit - implicitly - even if you don't tell me everything. I wouldn't let you leave the House if I didn't - there's too much at stake."
"At stake. Ha-ha." At his frown, I winced.
"Sorry. I kid when I'm nervous."
"Are you nervous?"
I sighed and crossed my arms. "We are talking about Celina. Am I stronger than before? Yes.
But she's still hundreds of years older than me, and I've barely seen what she's capable of. Plus, we'll be in public. Even if I can take care of myself, how am I going to take care of everyone else who's there?"
"We could give you a perimeter of guards around the festival," Ethan suggested.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's too risky for the House. If Darius finds out I was there, you can say I acted alone, went off on a whim. And I do have a plan in mind."
I'd called on Jonah before; if Cadogan House was barred from acting, maybe Noah would be willing to plant a few Red Guards into the crowd.
"Anything you can share?"
I glanced up at Ethan. There was curiosity in his eyes, but no rebuke. He wanted to know what I had in mind, but he'd leave the decision to me.
"Plausible deniability," I reminded him. "You master the House from here. Let me protect us out there."
Ethan sighed, then put a hand on my cheek. "I don't tell you this enough, but I am incredibly proud of the vampire you've become. I want you to know that."
He leaned his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and breathed in the cottony scent of his cologne. "Be careful."
"I will. I promise." I pulled back and saw the flash of guilt in his eyes, but I shook my head.
"You're doing your job," I assured him. "Now let me do mine."
I offered a little prayer that I had the chance to do it right this time.
It was unrealistic to think I'd find parking near Street Fest, and I didn't have time to wait for the El. While I gave Luc the five-minute precis, Lindsey called a cab and promised to move my car. They'd all heard about Darius's ban on my activities; they'd all agreed to help me carry them out regardless. There were times when the work needed to be done, the consequences be damned. This was one of those times, and they were all on board.
Once in the car, I messaged Noah and asked him for backup. Noah agreed almost instantaneously and told me the crew of guards would be recognizable by their clothing: they'd be wearing faux-retro MIDNIGHT HIGH SCHOOL T-shirts.
Clever boy.
I'd considered calling Jonah, but this was a public event. That risked outing his RG membership and putting him in the same position as me - bearing the wrath of Darius West. No, thank you.
The cabdriver didn't stop glancing back at me, his brown eyes popping up in the rearview mirror every few seconds as if he was waiting for me to breach the plastic wall between the seats and chomp on his neck.
I'll admit, the idea of taunting him occurred to me. But I wasn't Celina. I had a conscience and a job to do, and fang-teasing the cabdriver wasn't part of that job.
"This is fine," I told him, sliding cash into the small door in the plastic when he reached the southern edge of Grant Park. I slipped out of the cab, waving the driver off when he continued to stare at me through the window.
"Humans," I muttered, and set off toward the tents and crowds. This part of the park was empty, which gave me the chance to prepare . . . and get panicky.
I was well trained enough to put on a brave front to Ethan, Luc, and Malik. But let's face it - I was scared. Celina was more powerful than me, and I'd agreed to meet her in a place and at a time she'd selected. This was her game, and there was a good possibility that I wasn't going to win . . . or make it out in one piece.
I walked through the trees, dagger in my boot, my stomach churning with nerves, even as the smells of food drew nearer.
I reached an orange vinyl fence that surrounded the festival. I hopped it, then mingled into a group of drunken bachelorette partygoers as they made their way toward the main thoroughfare. That gave me my first view of the battleground. Columbus Drive was lined with white tents. People walked in the wide lane between them, food and drinks in hand. The air was thick with the smells of batter and beer and people and sweat and trash, and the sound of a thousand conversations and sizzling food and the country band on the make-do stage was nearly enough to overwhelm my senses.
I maneuvered out of the lane of traffic and stopped beside a booth, closing my eyes until the world settled back down to a dull roar.
"Coupons?"
I opened one eye.
A woman balancing a wailing, pink-cheeked toddler on one hip held out a stack of food coupons. "We have extra, and it's getting late, and Kyle is just freaking out, so we need to go."
She smiled sheepishly. "Would you want to buy them by any chance? They're still good."
"Sorry," I kindly said. "I don't need anything."
Obviously disappointed, she sighed heavily and lumbered awkwardly away, the baby now beginning to squall.
"Good luck," I called out, but she was already looking for someone else to tempt.
I didn't always get to play the hero.
I walked around the tent and back into the flow of people, and I was nearly overdone again.
My stomach growled at the smells; there was only so much blocking that a vampire could do. I silently promised myself a deep-fried candy bar and a paper tray of bacon-wrapped Tater Tots if I made it through the night unscathed. Not a good nutritional combo, but I figured the odds were low anyway.
I walked to a sign that identified the tents' locations, found the Town booth, and checked my watch. It was about ten minutes until eleven.
Ten minutes until showtime.
A hand suddenly gripped my arm. I jerked, expecting to see Celina. For better or worse, I got a different kind of surprise.
"Hello, there," said the man at my side.
It was McKetrick, having traded in his fatigues for jeans and a snug black T-shirt. The better to blend in with the humans, I assumed. He smiled grandly at me. He might have been handsome, but the effect was still creepy.
I pulled back my arm. "If you're smart, you'll walk away right now and go about your business."
"Merit, you are my business. You're a vampire, and I'd be willing to bet you're carrying a weapon here in this public place. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go on about your merry way, don't you think?"
It would save me a lot of trouble, I thought, because there was no way I could explain why I needed him to leave me alone. He'd go ballistic if he knew I was here to entertain Celina. And speaking of, time was ticking down, and I needed to get to the Town tent.
"If you're smart," I told him, "you'll be on your own merry way."
He tilted his head. "You seem a little preoccupied. You aren't planning to start trouble, are you? That would be most unfortunate."
"I never start trouble," I assured him. It just usually seemed to pop up in my vicinity. Case in point: "Since I was minding my own business before you grabbed me, you're the one causing trouble."
"If you minded your own business," McKetrick retorted, "you'd be home among your own kind."
I was saved the trouble of responding to his prejudiced idiocy by the sound of an argument moving toward us. I looked up. A man and woman bickered as they walked, each clearly irritated by the other.
"Really, Bob? Really?" asked the woman.
"You think the best course of action is to spend an entire week's salary on food tickets? That's what you think? Because you want to eat gyros and fried cheesecake for the rest of the week?
Not that I should be surprised. It's just the kind of harebrained thing you'd do."
"Oh, yeah, Sharon. Lay it on. Lay it on thick.
Right here in public where everybody can see!"
The man, who was only a couple of feet from me, lifted his arms and moved in a circle. "Did anyone not hear my lovely wife berating me? Anyone?"
The people around us chuckled nervously, not sure whether they should step in and put an end to the dramatics, or ignore them.
I had the same question - until the man made the full turn and I could see the red T-shirt beneath his thin jacket. MIDNIGHT HIGH SCHOOL was written in faded white letters across the front. These were my RG helpers.
The guy winked at me, then stepped directly between me and McKetrick. "I mean, really, sir, is this the kind of behavior you'd expect from your wife? What happened to 'for better or worse' and all that?"
The woman stepped up and poked a finger into the guy's chest. "Oh, just another thing for you to criticize me about, huh, Bob? I'm shocked.
Really shocked. I should have listened to my mother, you know!"
"Oh, yeah, Sharon. Bring your mother into this. Your poor, woebegone mother!"
A crowd began to gather around the couple, creating a thicker human barrier that put more space between McKetrick and me. Two security guards also ambled over, adding two more humans - and two more weapons - to the fray.
I got while the getting was good.
I found the Town booth and camped beside it, but fifteen minutes, and then half an hour, passed with no action. I cursed McKetrick, positive that he'd scared Celina away.
For the twentieth time, I stood on tiptoes to get a better look at the grounds, nearly falling over when a dark-haired woman nudged past me.
Absently, I watched her dark ponytail bob as she walked, but it wasn't until she was nearly gone that I felt the tingle of magic in the air. I hadn't recognized her - and wouldn't have, but for the power that lingered behind her. My heart began to thud with anticipation.
Before she could escape, I grabbed her wrist.