Wild Things

But my father was still my grandfather’s son, and I actually respected him. So I answered politely. “I don’t think that’s the best option.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” my grandfather said. “I don’t really care to be in here when this city is falling down around us.”

Unfortunately, being out there wasn’t proving all that helpful, either.

“Is it time for you to think about slowing down?” I asked the question out of obligation, even though I knew the answer—and predicted the flatness of his expression.

“Caroline Merit. You know better than that. I’m a cop. Always was, always will be.” He looked down at his blanket-covered legs. “And it’s going to take more than a bump to make daytime television look good by comparison. Especially when you’re out there. You’re still mine to protect, baby girl.”

I leaned over, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Grandpa.”

“I love you, too, Merit. And now that you’ve cleared your conscience,” he said with a grin, “what did you really want to talk about?”

I smiled. He read me better than nearly anyone. “Aline and Niera,” I said, and he nodded.

The librarian and Paige had given him the details. So when he nodded, I gave him an update, telling him about Regan’s involvement, the other disappearances, and the magical attacks.

“We haven’t been able to find her or the carnival.”

“You think there’s a link between her and Dominic Tate?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really fit what we know about the Messengers and the breakup of the Maleficium.”

He looked at me for a moment. “You’re thinking about finding Tate.”

I blushed. I hadn’t actually considered it as a tactic—why invite trouble?—but I was running out of options. Chicago’s vampires were potential targets, and the longer it took to find Niera, the higher the risk the elves would consider the truce breached. And that was unacceptable to me.

“It’s an idea,” I admitted. “He’d know better than anyone what she is—and how to stop her. What do you think?”

He whistled. “His history was, as you know, inconsistent. I know he’s fashioned himself as a different man after the Maleficium. Do you believe him?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know Seth Tate, and I knew Dominic Tate. Seth was a different man after the split. Not just personality-wise. He’s still a politician,” I said with a smile. “But magically. Psychically, I guess. You could tell he was different. And he’s the key to this. I’m just not sure how.”

“Sometimes you have to follow your gut.” He smiled a little. “And in this particular case, I’d check with chain of command. Follow your gut, but cover your ass.”

Advice didn’t get any better than that.

• • •

I didn’t want to end on such a dark note, so I turned the conversation to something lighter and we chatted a little while longer, sneaking Oreos from the drawer after ensuring the coast—and hallway—was clear. We apparently hadn’t been in Loring Park long enough to miss any important family events. My brother’s wife was still very pregnant, and my father still had money coming out of his ears.

Supernatural events were slightly more interesting. Four of the city’s petite and busty River nymphs had visited my grandfather, bringing jars of “healing” River water that were confiscated and emptied by my grandfather’s nurses—and bringing a fight over which segment of the River had the most beautiful architecture. Apparently there wasn’t much to do during the frozen winter months.

When my grandfather yawned and barely managed to hide it, I decided it was time to go. I gave him a kiss, left the rest of the embargoed cookies in the drawer, and promised to keep him updated if anything interesting happened.

• • •

Traffic was an ugly snarl, and Moneypenny and I practically crawled our way north again. The House was quiet when I walked in, the energy tense and subdued. I’d have expected to get a call if Ethan had been released, but the tension in the air was sign enough.

I found Luc, Lindsey, Brody, and Kelley around the table in the Ops Room. Kelley twirled a lock of her straight black hair while staring at the overhead screen, which was once again tuned to an all-news channel.

What would it have been like, I wondered, to have been a vampire in an age before the Internet, twenty-four-hour news channels, social media, text messages? Before technology provided a constant assault of drama, bad news, and Things You Should Be Worrying About.

Tonight, the news showed Diane Kowalcyzk posing in front of a poster propped on an easel. Shots of Ethan, Scott, Morgan, the Masters of the three Chicago Houses, were pictured beneath a headline that read ENEMIES OF CHICAGO?

The question mark, probably the brainchild of some lawyer who thought it would protect the city against a libel charge, was laughable. Who’d see the photographs, read the headline, and think she was posing a question?

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Luc said, pushing back from the table with enough force to rattle the entire twelve feet of it.

“She’s made a Wanted poster,” Lindsey said, eyes wide as she stared at the screen. “People will want his blood. All of their blood.”

“Kelley, get in touch with Jonah and Will,” Luc ordered, eyes still on the screen. “Make sure they’re seeing this.” Kelley nodded, plucked up her phone from the table, started dialing.

“We have to do something,” Lindsey said, looking back at Luc with obvious fear in her eyes. “We can’t just let this go on.”

“We are doing something,” Luc said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “We’ve hired lawyers, and we’ve connected with reporters. That’s what we can do right now.”

“The lawyers and reporters aren’t helping,” I said. “We can’t leave him in there. He’s an enemy of the state and he’s surrounded by law enforcement officers and felons.”

“And what, exactly, would you like me to do, Merit? Beg the mayor to release your boyfriend because you’re afraid for him?”

I flinched from the heat of his words; Luc wiped a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Unfortunately, you’re right. They think he’s an enemy of the state; there’s no begging we can do that will release him.”

“What about your father?” Brody asked me, drawing groans from the rest of the room.

“Not an option,” Luc said. “So don’t even consider it.” He blew out a breath, ran his hands through his hair. “We have to let Andrew do his job.” But he sounded just as frustrated as I felt.

I put my head on my folded arms. “Why does my father have to be such an asshole?”

“Because we all have our burdens to bear. And if you’re even thinking about making that call,” Luc said, pointing a warning finger at me, “put that thought out of your head immediately. Ethan would lose his shit if he thought you asked your father for help.”

“I know,” I said, lifting my head. “And I know I can’t run in there with a sword or two. But I sure would like to.” I thought of what my grandfather had said about magic, about the darker forces that had affected the last mayor. “Maybe she’s got her own Dominic. A little evil twin who lives in her helmet hair and makes her do evil, dirty things.”

Luc laughed. “That is both perfectly absurd and perfectly appropriate.”

Speaking of evil twins, it was time to offer up the plan I’d been considering.

“I’d like to find Seth Tate.”

He just stared at me. “Sentinel, have you lost your damn mind?”

“No,” I said, and since the tone didn’t sound convincing, I said it again with feeling. “No. I have not lost my mind, damned or otherwise. Look—Regan’s either a Messenger or she’s got a connection to Dominic Tate. Either way, Seth’s the only person we can ask about it. He can help us identify her—and tell us how to take her down.

“And, while I’m there, maybe I can talk to him about the mayor. Maybe he has an idea about how we can bring her around.”

That, he looked interested in.

“I don’t think he’s dangerous,” I offered. “Before he left, he told us he was looking for contrition. He sounded earnest and Ethan trusted him.”

“Respectfully, Sentinel, Ethan isn’t here, and I’m not one to invite trouble while he’s gone. Tate’s demonic half was stripped from his body, so sure, he shouldn’t be evil. But he’s still powerful. And we can’t exactly account for that.”

“Actually, I think she’d be okay,” Lindsey said. “Seth Tate has the hots for her.”

“He does not,” I protested, but I could feel the burn skimming up my cheeks. We had a history, yes, but it wasn’t romantic. At least not from my end.

“All right,” I said. “So you all think this is a bad idea.”

“It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It’s at least one or two up from the very bottom.” He scratched his head. “But I’m not thrilled about sending you to play with Seth Tate while Ethan’s incarcerated.”

“Ethan will live.”

“Easy for you to say. If you’re hurt, he’ll come after me.”

“Seth is our best option to figure out what Regan is—how she exists.”

Luc’s jaw worked. “Even if I said yes, you still have to find him.”

“Actually,” I said, “I have an idea about that.”

“He may not want to come back.”

“He probably won’t want to. It’s my job to convince him.”

Luc’s phone began to ring, and he glanced at the screen. “It’s Jonah. Grey’s seen the ad.” He lifted it to his ear, glanced at me. “Find him first. Then we’ll talk.”