Biting Cold (18 page)

“Why’s that?”

“He’s the only one who showed up on the security camera. He and the victim had a connection, so there’s a theory Tate’s visiting old friends. Mallory is one of those friends, at least theoretically, so you might want to consider doubling up on big guys with guns.”

“Noted,” Gabriel said.

Finally, since Paige hadn’t yet made it back to the House, I gave her a quick call.

“You’re a master researcher,” I said. “Do you think you’d be able to try to figure out what Tate is and how we can stop him?”

“It’s a nice idea,” she said, “but as you know, I’m down a thousand books or so.”

Oh, but I could solve that problem. “You leave that to me. Just get to the House when you can.”

If there was one thing I had in full supply, it was books. And somewhere, in our stacks and stacks of them, had to be the answers we were looking for.

I
f there was murder to be solved, might as well make the best of it. It was logical to presume that I’d be spending the remainder of the evening at work—either in the Ops Room or in the library. Calling in takeout for the crew was the least I could do.

Fortunately, the House’s foxy chef, with tiger brown eyes and a bob of dark hair that curved into a point across her forehead, was a friend of mine. Margot was pinup curvy and a lot of fun, and as head of the House’s culinary department, the one to ask for food-related favors.

She was also responsible for stocking the kitchens with Mallocakes. How could you not like a girl who did that?

The kitchen was located at the back of the House’s first floor, just past Ethan’s office. I found Margot leaning against a commercial-sized stainless-steel refrigerator, arms crossed over her white chef’s jacket as she watched the activities in her kitchen with amusement.

The grill and prep areas were alight with activity, as the rest of
the staff cheered on a man and woman who were sweating over sauté pans filled with what looked like asparagus.

I sidled up to Margot. “What’s going on?”

She smiled. “We’re having an entrée competition. T.J. and Alice get two ingredients, and they have to make an edible entrée we could actually serve in the cafeteria.
Edible,
” she repeated, slowly and loudly, so the staff and contestants could hear.

She glanced at me. “What can I do for you?”

“Darius is here. Are you making a big dinner for him and Ethan?”

Margot grinned at me. “Wouldn’t you know better than anyone what Ethan’s plans are?”

Not tonight,
I thought. “Actually, I don’t, but this isn’t about Ethan. It’s for the guard crew. I was thinking we might cater in, if you’re not whipping up something exotic for Darius.”

She snorted. “When it comes to food, he doesn’t want exotic. He wants simple and very, very specific.” She reached out and grabbed a clipboard that hung from a wall peg. “Charlie faxed this over last night. It’s Darius’s hospitality rider.”

Charlie was Darius’s majordomo, and a hospitality rider was a list of demands and snacks a band required at a concert venue.

“How long is Darius going to be here that he needs a hospitality rider?”

“Too long if you ask me.” She handed over the clipboard and I scanned through the rider. Some of the stuff was innocuous—type A blood, bottled water, mint gum, Earl Grey tea. (He was British, after all.)

But the list was two single-spaced pages long. Darius was particular about everything from the thread count of his sheets (six hundred) to the content of his meals (preferring raw foods and green juices).

I handed back the clipboard. “Did he do this the last time he was here?”

“He did not,” Margot said, hanging it up again. “It’s no skin off my back—I can cook anything. It just doesn’t bode well if he’s setting up house, you know? Anyway, he’s going to Navarre House tonight.”

More power to Morgan Greer, the Master of Navarre House. Morgan threw tantrums that would impress a two-year-old, but I still wouldn’t wish a GP dinner on him.

“In that case, how many favors would I need to owe you for a good Chicago-style meal for the Ops Room? Is that something you can whip up?”

“I can whip up anything,” she said with a cocky expression. “I’ll send it down when it’s ready.”

I thanked Margot and left her to her refereeing. I could admit dinner was a distraction, something to keep me occupied while I let my subconscious roll around the status of my relationship with Ethan and Tate’s recent rampage. But I still had to function—including eating—even with Tates on the loose. Besides, it wasn’t like I had any better idea where to look for them. I walked back through what we did know.

1. Seth Tate was a magical being of unknown origin. He was possibly an old creature and smelled like lemon and sugar.
   
2. He’d split into two “things” when he touched the
   Maleficium
   and Mallory triggered the spell.
   
3. One of those two “things” killed a former accomplice and those unfortunate enough to be around him, but not with magic.
   

I stopped. If the spell had triggered his split into two creatures, maybe learning more about the spell would give us some clue to his identity and how he could be stopped. I ducked into the back staircase and pulled out my cell phone. I wasn’t sure if Mallory had even been allowed a phone or anything else from the outside, but I knew one person who had.

“Catcher Bell,” he gruffly, but quietly, answered.

“It’s Merit. You heard about Paulie?”

“I did. Jeff texted me.”

“Listen, we’re at a dead end. I need to know what kind of spell Mallory used to trigger the
Maleficium
this time. Can you find out?”

“She’s actually not supposed to be talking about it. She’s supposed to be focused on the here and now, not the magic that went down.”

I took a seat on the stairs. “I get that. But Tate’s already shown a willingness to kill, and I don’t know who he’ll go after next.”

Silence, then, “I’ll find out what I can.”

“Thank you. Catcher, are you doing okay?”

That question took him longer to answer. “I’m coping. With her failures. With mine.”

When he didn’t elaborate, I assumed we were at the end of our conversation. “Okay. Call me when you know something.”

He grunted, then hung up.

I put my phone away and rubbed my hands over my face, then sat in my self-made darkness for a few moments. Vamps didn’t use the back stairwell often, so it was quiet and empty, a bit of solitude from the rest of the House. It wasn’t much to look at—warm beige walls and neutral carpet—but I could take a moment to myself and just
be
. I didn’t get a chance to do that very often.

With the place to myself, I gave myself another little break.
I let my guards down—the mental and emotional blocks I erected against all the random noise in the world. Sights. Smells. Sounds. My improved vampire senses made it all accessible to me, but the sheer volume of information became quickly overpowering.

But here, in the dark and silence, I could risk a bit of a slip.

Eyes closed, I blew out a slow breath and let the world envelop me. Smells from the kitchen—hot oil and acidic green vegetables. The feel of carpet fiber under my fingers, each discrete knot of yarn meticulously wound together.

And sounds…coming from Ethan’s office next door.

My eyes flashed open. The back stairway bordered Ethan’s office, and the wall separating the two was evidently fairly thin.

I heard Ethan, his tone clipped, and Darius, his careful words and British accent easily recognizable.

At first, I could hear only vague bits of noise, but the more I opened my mind to the sounds, the clearer the words became. And from the sound of it, they’d moved past the pleasantries and things weren’t going well.

“I feel like I’ve been called to the principal’s office like a child,” Ethan said.

“I’ve flown to Chicago, if you recall, but I don’t object to the analogy. My visit here was necessitated by acts of late in this House. There is the matter of the chain of succession, and the uproar that’s been generated in the city more generally.”

“My House did not generate that uproar.”

“It’s not your House,” Darius reminded him. “You are not Master of it.”

“That is a matter of circumstance, as you are aware, Sire.” That was Malik. I guessed Darius wouldn’t settle for berating only one Master of Cadogan House.

“Malik still holds this House. Ethan has not been reinvested by the GP.”

“He acted in my stead while—”

“While you were
dead
,” Darius finished. “You were dead and gone and a new Master was heralded in your place. That is the manner of such things.” There was shifting in the room, and I imagined Darius crossing his legs. “While I appreciate your steadfast loyalty,” Darius said, “the GP does not exist to satisfy the whims of Cadogan House. The GP exists to protect the interests of all vampires in the United States and Western Europe. Our territory is vast, and our concerns are numerous. They are not limited to a small square of ground in Hyde Park. This House isn’t even our only concern in Chicago, much less the Western Hemisphere.”

Darius paused. “Ethan, Malik, I will be frank. The GP is seriously concerned. We sent the receiver here to investigate this House, to assure ourselves that the House was stable and things were well in hand.” He meant Cabot—the GP’s receiver. “I understand his efforts were respected for a time. But ultimately those efforts were rejected and, in essence, so was our oversight.”

“He limited the blood supply,” Malik said. “He made our guards stand in the sun just to prove a point—and to see our Sentinel removed. He was patronizing on his best night, and abusive on his worst.”

“So you assume,” Darius said. “He was testing, as he is authorized to test, whether your vampires can withstand the sun and if they will obey the chain of command. One, Juliet, did both. Another did not.”

He didn’t say my name; he didn’t need to. I forfeited the contest while I was still in the shade because Juliet was stuck in the sun, and she’d been too stubborn to give up her position. I wasn’t willing to watch her burn to a crisp just to satisfy a GP rule.

“The GP should be their protector,” Malik said, “not their torturer.”

“And as for Merit,” Ethan added, “he clearly wanted her out of the House. He set up the contest so she’d have to forfeit or risk Juliet’s life.”

“Perhaps. But that does not negate the validity of the test. If someone else, anyone else, had been in Merit’s position, would you feel the same?”

“Yes,” Ethan and Malik said simultaneously.

“Well, at any rate, the blood rations tested whether your vampires could sustain a shortage. It’s not impossible to imagine that they may face something similar in the future, particularly if your politicians’ opinions of vampires remain the same. They need to be prepared, and we needed to know how much assistance we’ll be asked to provide.”

I was probably the last person who wanted to agree with Darius. The problem was, I couldn’t fault his logic. Things were bad in Chicago, and it wasn’t impossible to believe they’d get worse before all was said and done. Were we spoiled vampires not afraid enough of what might happen? Had we become too soft?

I may have wondered, but Ethan definitely wasn’t convinced.

“It can be dressed in pretty language,” Ethan said, “but neither Chicago nor the Houses are to blame for Cabot’s actions. He rationed blood in a time of crisis. He put an already stressed guard crew through brutal testing. I understand the need for testing—and make use of it when necessary. But I do not sanction exacerbating the crises already faced by this House’s vampires. You test when the waters are smooth; you support when the waters are rough. The GP is adding to our problems, not helping fix them.”

“The GP is aware of your position.”

“And what do they propose to do about it?” Malik asked.

There was silence for a moment, and even when Darius answered, he didn’t really answer. “The
shofet
had voted to remove Cadogan House’s accreditation.”

There was silence except for the sudden rush of blood in my ears.

“The GP cannot disband this House,” Ethan quietly said.

“The GP can and will do what it deems appropriate. Tonight I need to speak with Morgan and Scott. I’ll interview you two and Kelley tomorrow.”

“For what purpose?” Malik asked.

Adding insult to injury was my best guess.

“Because I am head of the GP, and I’d like to see the data for myself.” The sound of his voice changed, and I guessed he’d stood up. “Ultimately, the GP will make the decision that is best for all its vampires. The call is not yours to make. Is that understood, gentlemen?”

“Sire,” they both said.

And that was apparently the end of that.

I heard the office door open and shut. I snapped my guards back into place and jumped to my feet, then peeked into the hallway. Darius—tall, rangy, and impeccably dressed in dress pants and a pin-striped shirt—walked down the hallway with Malik toward Malik’s office.

When they were out of sight, I walked to Ethan’s office. This was going to require serious damage control. Although I wasn’t entirely sure I was up to the task, someone had to do something. It might as well be me.