Biting Cold (13 page)

Stunned silence filled the air.

“You’ll take her where?” Ethan asked.

“We’ll take custody of her. The Order didn’t manage her before. You know I’m not one to get involved in politics, but I’d also really prefer that the city not burn down around us, since we’ve decided to stay in it.”

Ethan looked completely befuddled. “I’m sorry, but I’m having
trouble wrapping my mind around this. Where would you take her?”

“We have a place” was all Gabe said. “And you’d be welcome to visit her at your convenience. Catcher, too,” he said, looking at Mallory. “She wouldn’t dare try that bullshit she pulled on the Order with us.”

He gave her an ugly, pointed stare that should have scared the shit out of her. It scared me a little, and I wasn’t even the one in trouble.

“She’ll need caretakers,” Ethan said. “She believes she’s ill—that she has a magical imbalance that necessitated what she’s done.”

Gabriel’s lip curled. “She doesn’t need to be coddled. She has acted like a criminal without remorse. If she were one of mine, the problem would have solved itself.”

Gabriel had been betrayed by his youngest brother, Adam, and we hadn’t heard from Adam since. “She won’t work magic around us. We can arrange that fairly easily. As it is, she doesn’t need excuses. She needs to get her shit together.”

“And you can help her do that?”

“No,” Gabriel said, eyes narrowed at Mallory. “No one can
help
her. She either does it or she doesn’t. That’s the choice we’ll give her.”

So he was taking the tough-love approach. It certainly didn’t sound easy, but nothing else had worked. The Order put her in a medical facility—gave her around-the-clock care and treatment—and look where that got us.

“I’ll want to check on her,” Paige said to Gabriel, apparently willing to let them have the burden of watching her.

He nodded. “I understand decisions will need to be made about her long-term status. She has amends to make. Many amends,
to friends and family.” Gabriel looked up at me. “I’m going to give her the chance to do that. Success or failure is up to her.”

“It’s a lot of responsibility,” Ethan said.

Gabriel nodded. “And I’m not looking for new responsibilities. I’ve got a wife and a son and problems of my own. But if I can help address this now, I won’t have to worry about it later. Besides,” he said, turning his golden eyes on me, “you’ve helped us before. I still owe you one.”

Gabriel had made a prophecy about me and my future with, or without, Ethan. It had something to do with a favor I was going to do for him, but of course he hadn’t given away any details about that.

Ethan glanced at Mallory. “Are you sure you can make it back to Chicago without her causing trouble?”

Gabriel chuckled. “There’s always a solution to that problem.” He walked over to Mallory and crouched down before her.

“How are you doing?”

She looked up to respond to him, but before she could speak he put a hand on her cheek and tapped it gently. When her head went limp on her shoulders, Gabriel stood up again. “And that takes care of that.”

“Is she okay?” I asked.

“She’s fine. Just a careful touch. It’s like holding a shark upside down—it calms them. A handy little technique for putting out errant sorceresses. Gives us a good four or five hours before she wakes up again. And when she does wake up, we can have a nice chat.”

I gave him a flat look. “You couldn’t have done that three days ago?”

Gabe shrugged. “No one asked me to.”

And that was a succinct lesson in using all available assets during a crisis.

“How will you get her back to Chicago?” Ethan asked.

“Sidecar,” Jeff said, thumbing his hand back toward the driveway.

“You have a sidecar?” I held up a hand. “Wait. Let me restate that. You rode to Nebraska in a sidecar?”

Adorable as Jeff was, I couldn’t get the image of him riding excitedly in an old-fashioned sidecar—brown locks waving in the wind, as happy as a puppy—out of my mind.

“I drove my own rig,” he said. “The sidecar was for the book. And now it’s for the girl who destroyed the book.”

We all looked at her again, limp on the ground, plans for her future being decided around her and without her permission, because she’d given up her right to object.

The low roar of a fire truck sounded in the distance. It must have taken the neighbors a while to realize that anything was amiss. That meant it was time for us to make our exit. The Order could clean up the rest of this mess.

“How will you get back?” Gabriel asked.

“I have a truck,” Paige said. “Fortunately, the keys are inside it.”

“Then, if you can give us a ride to the airport, we can take the jet,” Ethan said.

I stared at him. “I’m sorry—the jet?”

“The House has a jet,” Ethan said. “Well, the House leases a jet on occasion. And I’d say this is an appropriate occasion.”

“Were you going to mention we had a jet before we spent eight hours driving to Nebraska and destroyed your Mercedes in the process?”

He looked up and arched an eyebrow at me. “If I’d done that, we wouldn’t have had all those hours together, Sentinel.”

That might have been an unintended benefit, but he wouldn’t have delayed us with a car ride if a faster alternative had been so
easily available. “Couldn’t find a pilot on such short notice?” I asked.

“Perhaps. But don’t ruin the illusion.”

I rolled my eyes.

“We’ll get her settled and introduce her to the rules,” Gabriel said, “and then you can say hello. It’ll give you a chance to check out her situation. Although I’m fairly certain you’ll approve; you’ve already met the caretaker I have in mind.”

I didn’t have a good reason to object to that offer, so I nodded. “By the way, there’s a strip along I-29 that’s probably going to require a detour.”

Gabriel frowned. “It was clear on the way down.”

“That was pre-Tate.”

Gabriel sighed, and I looked at Ethan. “By all means,” I said, “let’s take the jet.”

I
took the passenger seat, and Paige drove us in a beat-up extended-cab pickup truck with
FARM TRUCK
license plates to a private hangar at Omaha’s airport. Ethan was in the backseat with our swords and Paige’s pile of cherished books.

To call the mood somber was an understatement. Mallory had proven again that she was willing to hurt others to rid herself of pain. It wasn’t exactly a cause for celebration. But at least the
Maleficium
was gone.

We were mostly silent, probably all ruminating on what we’d seen—and what was to come. I was especially worried about Ethan. He was connected to Mallory in a way that was causing him physical pain. If a new sorceress could bring a four-centuries-old vampire to his knees because she was feeling agitated, what else could she do? It wasn’t a question I was comfortable considering, and Ethan couldn’t have felt any better about it.

Paige broke the ominous silence. “And I suggested she was a novice. The gnomes came because I asked them to, because I
promised them she was all smoke and mirrors and very little skill. They were hurt because of me in a fight they didn’t want to wage in the first place.”

The regret on her face was clear. I didn’t relish the fact that she’d been wrong, or that the gnomes had suffered because of it, but at least she was willing to reconsider her choices. Mallory still hadn’t come around to that point yet.

“Because of Mallory,” I clarified.

“Does it matter?” Paige asked. I’m not sure she meant me to answer it, so I changed the subject.

“Todd said they’d go back to ground,” I said.

She nodded. “They live in underground networks. They’re incredibly industrious, and the tunnels keep the soil aerated. You ever wondered why the midwestern states are so big on agriculture? It’s not the dirt,” she said. “It’s who’s
under
the dirt.”

Ethan rubbed his temples. That small action was enough to make the panic flare in my chest.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is she free again?”

“Just a headache,” he said, smiling apologetically. “I think she’s still unconscious. She’s certainly still drained, and I can feel it. But it’s lessening since we’re headed in opposite directions, at least until we get to the airport.”

“You can sense her?” Paige asked, brow furrowed with concern.

“They have some kind of connection,” I explained. “It started after she brought him back, but destroying the
Maleficium
apparently didn’t stop it.”

I met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We’d better,” he said.

His link to Mallory was a liability, not just for his safety, but for Cadogan. Until that link was severed, he’d never regain control of
the House. I’d hoped finishing Mallory’s work with the
Maleficium
might do the trick. Since it hadn’t, I might have to rely on her for answers. That idea didn’t thrill me.

“It’s not surprising she’s tired given the amount of magic she threw out tonight,” Paige said. “Controlling the universe is generally a subtle thing. Powerful, but subtle. Her magic is definitely not subtle. It’s very disco magic. Flashy, but expensive to the aura.”

It was expensive in every possible way: her livelihood, her friends, her family, her karma. No one trusted her, and for pretty good reason.

“You know what I need?” I asked.

“A chocolate fountain?” Ethan suggested. “A complete paper set of the
Encyclopedia Britannica
? A lifetime supply of grilled meat?”

“I like all those ideas, but I was thinking a magical spray I can use on Mallory to wash the crazy off her.”

“Like Lysol for evil?” Paige asked.

“Something like that, yeah.”

Ruminating on that impossibility, we fell silent again. I heard the occasional clicking of Ethan’s phone in the backseat, and I took the opportunity to update Jonah on our progress and the shifters’ intervention with Mallory.

His text message in response encapsulated the problem:
WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITH TWO TATES
?

I wished I had an answer to that.

Just as promised, the jet was sleek and white. It was parked in the middle of the tarmac, where a set of stairs unfolded to the ground.

We waited in a small lobby while the plane was prepared, and then headed outside when they called our names. Paige ascended the stairs first. I followed, and Ethan brought up the rear.

“Good God,” I said, glancing around the fuselage. “This is definitely the way to travel.”

The cabin was divided into two sections—the first held rows of chairs much like a normal plane, and the second held a conversational area with a couch and flat-screen television. All the surfaces were clad in buttery leather or gleaming wood, and the carpet was a thick, lush taupe.

“Not bad, hmm?” Ethan asked, taking a seat and buckling his seat belt with a
click
. Paige sat in a chair behind us, the stack of books in her lap.

I took the seat beside Ethan, and the steward immediately closed the door. As soon as the door was secured, we were moving.

“Very efficient,” I said.

Ethan nodded. “The faster we’re on our way, the faster we’re home.”

“And we move from one bit of drama to another.”

The steward, a tidily dressed woman in a white shirt and navy skirt, brought us glasses of orange juice. “Beverage?” she asked.

I thanked her and took one. I was starving.

“Also, if you’d turn off all electrical devices, please,” she said, then disappeared behind us.

Ethan pulled his cell phone from his pocket to turn it off but stared down at the screen. Whatever he saw there, it wasn’t good.

“Bad news?” I asked, not that there was much guesswork needed given the expression on this face.

He turned off his phone and slid it back into his pocket, his expression carefully neutral. “The
shofet
has met. Whatever their conclusion, Darius is on his way to Chicago to announce it.”

My stomach twisted. If Darius was traveling across the ocean to make some kind of GP pronouncement, the news couldn’t be good.

“That’s disconcerting,” I said.

Ethan nodded. “I’m sure Darius will have choice words about their decision.”

“Darius always has choice words. And I get the sense he likes to hear himself talk.”

“Most men in power do, I find.”

The steward walked back to the front of the plane. Ethan signaled her, and she nodded back.

As the plane ascended sharply into the air, the smell of roasting meat filled the cabin. My stomach grumbled, and loudly.

Ethan chuckled. “Hungry much?”

“When am I not?” I grumpily asked. “I suppose they’re bringing you dinner?”

“That wouldn’t be a very wise move when I know you’d pounce on a meal before I could get at it.”

The steward appeared at my side, presented me with a silver-domed plate, and then whipped off the dome.

The sight and smell of sizzling steak made my mouth instantaneously water. And beside it, a tidy pile of bright green broccoli, a scoop of garlic-permeated mashed potatoes, and a Thermos of blood. As I stared down at it, she delivered a similar plate to Paige.