Biting Cold (Chicagoland Vampires #6)(8)
Author: Chloe Neill

Ethan shook his head. "That seems unlikely. The only other vampire ashes in Chicago were Celina’s. Suffice it to say they are no longer in Chicago."

Paige nodded. "She could always go the familiar route with something – or someone – else. Beyond that, there are milions of spels in the world, al of them somewhere on the scale between good and evil. She could pick any number of spels on the evil end of that spectrum."

"Speaking of evil," Ethan said, "Malory isn’t the only one who’s after the Maleficium."

Ethan filed Paige in on our pit stop with Tate and his own goal of unleashing evil. By the time he was done, Paige had abandoned her teacup and was leaning back on the couch, arms crossed, gaze glued to Ethan.

"And this Tate is what kind of creature, exactly?"

"We were hoping you might know," I said.

Frowning, she rose from the couch, moved to the halway of books, and began to scan the spines. "Unfortunately, there are lots of options, and we don’t have enough information to do a fair diagnosis. Demigod? Djinn? Fairy?" She puled out one book, flipped through it, then slid it back onto its shelf. "Maybe an incubus?"

"I don’t know about the others," I said, "but he’s not a fairy."

"We work with them," Ethan explained, as mercenary fairies guarded the gates of Cadogan House. But that’s not what I’d meant.

"I’ve also met Claudia, the queen."

Paige’s eyes widened. "You met the queen of the fairies?"

I nodded, thinking of the tal, curvaceous, strawberry blond woman. "During Ethan’s unfortunate demise. We were looking for the cause of the sky turning red. They’re known as the sky masters, so we paid them a visit. They gave us a little information, I nearly bit one of them, and yadda yadda yadda, we learned they had nothing to do with the color change."

"You can’t yadda yadda yadda nearly biting a fairy," Paige said.

"You can if the fairy queen baits you into it by shedding fairy blood. Tip for the future: Fairy blood is rather aluring for vampires."

"Noted," Paige said, selecting another book and bringing it back to the couch.

"While we’re on the subject of Tate," I said, "I think… something about him has changed recently."

"How do you mean?" Paige asked.

"He’s not the man he used to be. For years he was campaigning for antipoverty measures and pushing his ‘Tate for a New Chicago’ agenda, and al of a sudden he’s flipping drugs to vampires?" I shook my head. "That seems odd."

"He’s an actor," Ethan pointed out. "And a magical one. The entirety of it was an act."

"For ten years?"

"Ten years could barely be a drop of time for him, for al we know. And he did destroy my car, you’l recal. I’m not exactly feeling friendly toward Seth Tate right now."

"I know. And I’m not, either. If it wasn’t for him, you and Celina…"

Tightness clutched at my chest at the memory of that look in Ethan’s eyes – just as the stake hit him, and just before he disappeared. "Anyway, I’m not suddenly a Tate fan. I just think there was a transition."

Silence, until Paige slapped the book closed and placed it on the floor again. "Enough with the doom and gloom. The sun’s nearly up, and I know you need to avoid that. How about I show you to your rooms, and tomorrow night we can take a look at the silo?"

"Is it a good idea for al of us to sleep?" I wondered. Tate and Malory didn’t seem like the types to hunt for the Maleficium in broad daylight, but who knew?

"I’l set the house alarms," she said. "They’l alert us if there’s magic in the vicinity. Wel, they’re supposed to." She cast a wary glance at the front door. "Maybe I’l just turn on the regular alarm, too."

"I don’t suppose you have any blood?" Ethan asked. "Our stock was in the car, and it didn’t survive the trip."

My appetite suddenly perked up.

Paige nodded. "I thought you might need it, especialy if things got complicated with Malory. I’l grab some."

We picked up our bags and swords, then waited for Paige to emerge from the kitchen with a tray of old-fashioned glass tumblers. "This way," she said.

We folowed her to the staircase, then to the second floor and a long, straight halway of rooms.

"The farm’s original owners had six children," Paige explained. "The master bedroom is downstairs, and there are six bedrooms up here. You can take your pick." She cast an appraising glance at Ethan. "Unless you’re single and interested in sharing the bedroom downstairs?"

"As thoughtful as that offer is," Ethan said, "I must decline. Merit would undoubtedly take another of my lives."

"Disappointing," Paige said. "I’ve always wondered about vampires. And the biting."

"Every word is true," Ethan cannily said.

Pity I couldn’t talk to him silently right now. I might have a few words about his flirting with Paige Martin. Instead, I settled for an arch look that had him grinning back at me. Both the look and his grin made me feel better.

Paige gave us the tray and said her good nights, then disappeared down the stairs, leaving me and Ethan alone again.

The house’s six bedrooms were remarkably similar, and it looked like they hadn’t changed much since the 1940s. Each held a cast-iron bed, a nightstand, and a bureau. Pale floral walpaper adorned the wals. The floors were wel-worn hardwood, and the bed linens were old-fashioned chenile spreads. They looked like the types of rooms in which children would have hidden old basebal cards and Cracker Jack toys in the backs of the bureau drawers or under the mattresses.

Each room had a single window covered by a heavy velvet curtain. I guessed Paige hadn’t wanted to encourage snoopy neighbors.

"Do you have a room preference?" I asked Ethan.

"Whichever you prefer," he said, "since I’l be staying with you."

There was no equivocation in his voice. No question, no request for permission. It was a statement, an announcement of something he meant to do. Something he would do.

"Of course you wil," I said. "It would be rude to muss two of her bedrooms. We might as wel bunk up and save her the trouble."

Ethan roled his eyes. "That isn’t exactly the reasoning I had in mind."

"Oh, I know," I said, walking back to the first bedroom. "But if I don’t keep a check on your ego, you’l become insufferable."

He made a sarcastic, but pleased, grunt.

Figuring it made sense to pick the easy exit, I opted for the bedroom closest to the stairs and dropped my bag on the side of the bed closest to the door. I was the Sentinel, after al, and stil responsible for my Master’s safety.