Biting Cold (Chicagoland Vampires #6)(22)
Author: Chloe Neill

The smoke and ash thickened the nearer I moved to the house, and it became nearly impossible to breathe. The air was scalding hot, searing my lungs with every intake of breath. But I kept walking.

"Paige!" I shouted, as something large fel somewhere nearby.

"Don’t get any closer."

She coughed loudly. "I need my books!" But she stopped within a few feet of the front door and lifted her arms. Even through the energy of the fire, I could feel the buzz of magic. She must have shaken off Tate’s magic and could work her own again.

"At least she didn’t go inside," I murmured, and watched as one book, then another, then another, flew from the doorway of the house to safety outside.

She must not have had the power to save the house, but at least she could save a few of her most prized possessions.

My relief didn’t last long. When another crack split the air, I looked up. Flames licked the smal portico over the front door, and one corner tilted dangerously low.

Suddenly the portico began to drop.

I didn’t stop to think. I ignored the shooting pain in my ankle and propeled myself forward through pain and smoke and the fingertips of fire that I would have sworn reached out through the window to snag me.

She didn’t see me coming and realized I was there only when I used my body and momentum to push her out of the way. We flew through the air, hitting the ground a few feet away just as the portico crashed to the ground, covering the spot where Paige had stood with a blazing mass of wood – and completely blocking the door.

"Good God," she said, chest heaving as she looked from me to the blaze and back again. "Thank you. I could have been kiled."

Stil on the ground, I swatted at a spark on the arm of my jacket. "Least I could do. Sorceresses were having a bad-enough night."

When another burst of sparks flew through the window, I climbed to my feet again, then held out a hand to Paige. "We’re too close."

She let me help her to her feet, her face dark with soot, and we limped back to the pile of books she’d managed to save. Six volumes, their covers singed and dusted with ash.

"Al my books," she said. "Al my writings, completely gone."

"Did you save anything useful?"

She picked up a book and dusted off the cover. "Each book is just one bit of the whole colection. Six books? That’s not even a start."

Paige hugged the book to her chest. There in the dark, the raging fire reflecting off her vibrantly red hair, she looked like a creature from a Grimm fairy tale.

We both looked up at the sound of footsteps. Ethan, an arm around Malory, moved toward us.

Paige didn’t waste any time. "You did this." She bounded forward, intending to pummel Malory, but I wrapped an arm around her waist and held her back.

"She did this!" Paige screamed, red hair flying about her face as she struggled in my arms. "This is al her fault. Al of it! You think we don’t al feel the imbalance? We do! That’s how we know right from wrong, Malory. That’s how we know it! It’s not a punishment; it’s part of our gift. You use it. You learn from it. You don’t let it drive you to destroy the world!"

"Paige, stop it! This isn’t going to help." I worked to maintain my grip, but her arms reached out for Malory, who seemed completely oblivious to the conversation.

"She should have to pay for what she’s done!"

"She wil pay," Ethan said. "But her punishment is not for you to decide."

"It should be mine. Look what she did!"

"Paige," I said, "that’s exactly what Malory tried to do – control things she shouldn’t have controled. She shouldn’t have done it, and you shouldn’t do it, either."

Paige shook her head, but after a moment she stopped squirming, so I let her go.

"Everything I owned was there. Everything. Al my stuff. Al my clothes." She swalowed thickly. "I don’t have anywhere else to go."

Our clothes, too, and everything else in our duffels. Thank God we’d taken our swords with us. The heat of a house fire might not have had much impact on finely tempered steel, but I’d rather not test that theory firsthand.

"If you want to return with us to Chicago, you can stay at the House until you make other arrangements," Ethan said. "We’l also need to get Malory back safely. We’ve seen her before in magical handcuffs. Perhaps…?"

Paige nodded and wiped her eyes and, with a bare flick of her finger and thumb, whipped out a fierce bite of magic that puled Malory’s hands together like they’d been zip-tied.

Malory just let it happen. No argument. No squirming. I couldn’t help but wonder: Was this the beginning of her contrition or another chance for her to fake remorse until she could escape again?

"Those wil keep her for a little while," Paige said, puling a cel phone from her pocket. "And I’l cal Baumgartner. He can decide where to put her. Maybe in the same place they held her before, but with a little more security this time."

At the sound of boots on dirt, we looked up. Dark figures approached from the other side of the house.

"Tate?" Paige asked.

I opened my senses and caught the sharp, wild scent of animal. A bit of the tension left my shoulders. Our odds were evening a bit.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Shifters."

Specificaly, Gabriel Keene, brawny and tawny haired, with golden eyes that seemed to look right through you. He was the head of the Apex of the North American Central Pack of shifters. And beside him, a pack mate: tal and lanky Jeff Christopher, my grandfather’s employee. Or former employee, anyway.

They both wore jeans and thick leather jackets, and I guessed their motorcycles were parked nearby.

"What are you doing here?" I exclaimed.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend, Kitten?"

Gabe was right. I jumped forward and hugged him. He laughed and patted my back. "That’s enough. Sulivan here wil get jealous."

I stepped back, then gave Jeff a little wave. He blushed.

"Sulivan assures me he won’t get jealous," I said.

But Gabriel’s smile faded when he looked at Ethan. As if not quite sure what he was seeing, Gabe gave him a good, long once-over.

By the look in Gabriel’s eyes and the tingle of magic around him, this was something heavy, weighty. Gabe hadn’t seen Ethan since he’d returned, and it seemed clear that Gabe was evaluating who Ethan was – whether he was stil vampire, whether he was stil good, whether he was stil Ethan. Whether the magic had tainted him, changed him into something else, or damaged him irreparably.

"The sorceress did a number," Gabriel finaly said.