Midnight Marked

We stepped into darkness with the rest of them, threw into the stream the weapons we’d confiscated. And, like the rest of the supernaturals hurrying out of the club, we disappeared into the night.

 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

 

SHAKE IT OFF

Gabriel had left us a message advising that most of the shifters had dispersed, and inviting us to stop by Little Red.

We’d get there, but first we had more immediate concerns—namely, my ravenous hunger. It felt like there were gears in my abdomen grinding angrily against one another. I was dizzy, light-headed, and aching with need.

That I ached with other needs, too, would have to wait for a more opportune moment.

Super Thai was a hole in the wall in West Town, not far from Little Red. A tiny woman escorted us to a plastic-lined booth, where I ordered pad Thai. Whatever the fight had done to me, I needed peanuts and noodles, and I needed them now.

I only barely managed to wait until the waitress put the plate in front of me. I mixed peanuts and cilantro into noodles, doused my food with chili sauce, and dug in.

“I’m sorry,” I said when I’d inhaled two enormous forkfuls. “I can’t stop myself. I feel like I haven’t eaten in a month.”

“It might have been my glamour,” Ethan said. He’d declined food, and now watched me like a scientist. “Perhaps because your susceptibility came online late, and you’re still adjusting to it.”

“That and the fact that I just battled a two-hundred-pound warrior queen with a personal vendetta. But as for the glamour, yeah, that seems to be the way of things.”

It was another reason a vampire in the making shouldn’t get drugs to ease the process. Ethan had administered them out of guilt that I hadn’t been able to consent to my transition because I was bloodied and unconscious at the time.

“Again,” Ethan said, and I saw the quick flash of regret in his eyes. Pointless, since he’d saved my life.

“You did what you thought best to save me pain,” I said, and saw his expression soften. I paused long enough to drink from the small glass of ice water that had accompanied my food. The hotter the food, the smaller the glass. Why was that?

“How do you want to deal with La Douleur?”

“We’ll talk to Luc, add the club to the information we’re compiling about the Circle, about Reed.”

“We need to tell my grandfather. Make an anonymous report tomorrow, if you want. Give Cyrius time to report back to Reed first. But he’s still part of the Circle, and the CPD should know it.”

Ethan smiled, lifted his phone. “I submitted an anonymous tip to the CPD via the Web site while you were inspecting the menu. I also sent your grandfather a message, said we wanted to get clear before the CPD came rolling along, just in case.”

Relief flowed through me. I didn’t want my grandfather walking into a doubly hazardous neighborhood, but neither did I want to hold back information. “Good.”

“I mean, I had plenty of time,” Ethan snarked. “Between the spring rolls, the curry, and the pad Thai, you gave that menu a thorough inspection.”

I made a juvenile face. Ethan’s expression sobered. “You saw the woman leaving?”

“The one with the black eyes?”

He nodded. “I wanted to give her a chance to get away. She can report to the CPD if she chooses to, tell them what’s happened to her. But that should be her choice, not a decision forced on her by a police raid.”

“That was a good call.” I plucked a peanut from my plate, crunched it. “Speaking of the CPD, I think they’ll find more than they bargain for.”

Ethan frowned. “Oh?”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, that you previously visited La Douleur. In said hypothetical visits, did you ever see paper exchange hands?”

He smiled slyly. “Of course not. No one who visits that particular establishment wants a paper trail.”

“Precisely. So why were there so many file boxes in the back room?”

Ethan opened his mouth, closed it again.

“Exactly,” I said. “I’d also bet running a criminal empire requires plenty of paper. Even if Reed’s gone digital now, he’d still have decades of paper. Hell, the tax evasion alone would require boxes of it. And where better to stash it than a neighborhood too polluted to visit?”

Ethan smiled warmly. “My, my, Sentinel. We might have to increase your stipend.”

Every Cadogan Novitiate received a stipend for their contributions to the House. I didn’t really need the money—not with the Master’s apartments and a Margot to boot. But I appreciated the approbation.

“I’m sure you can think of a more interesting reward for a job well done. Or a clue well located.” I speared a chunk of fried egg. “We put the CPD onto Cyrius Lore and La Douleur, and we’re one step closer to bringing down Adrien Reed.” I looked up at Ethan. “He’s going to be pissed about that. He’s also going to know that we know about Hellriver and La Douleur, that the alchemy and sorcerer are his, that he’s responsible for Caleb Franklin’s death, and that he has something big planned.”

“Perhaps,” Ethan said. “Although I wouldn’t put it past Cyrius to avoid telling him, take whatever emergency cache he’s squirreled away and leave town. He doesn’t seem like the brave type. Either way, Reed will know we are on his path, and not afraid to get our hands dirty. I think that’s a fairly good play.”

“It’s a good start,” I agreed. Bringing down an enormous criminal organization was going to take a lot more than that.

“It’s been a good night for you,” Ethan said warmly. “You found a necromancer, kicked some fairly significant ass, and discovered some very good information.”

I mimicked a microphone drop.

Surprising no one, Ethan didn’t get it.

“If you keep me in Thai food, I’ll try to come up with more good information.”

“Let’s start with the one plate, Nancy Drew, and see where it goes from there.”

• • •

Little Red took up a corner in Ukrainian Village and was bounded by an alley on the other side. The walls were brick, and the front featured an enormous plate-glass window beneath a glowing sign.

When Ethan opened the door, the scents of meat, cigar smoke, and beer wafted out. The linoleum was dark, warped, and worn, the walls were dingy, and the tables were uneven, with wads of napkin stuck beneath too-short legs. It looked the same as it had the last time I’d been there; it was good to know some things didn’t change.