Biting Bad: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (20 page)

He looked at us suspiciously when we approached. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Ethan, and this is Merit. We’re here to talk to Ms. Bryant.”

The guard smiled, his grin wide, toothy, and completely disarming, and nodded at Ethan. “I know who you are, Mr. Sullivan. I’m a Rogue myself, but I’m acquainted with your House and your tribulations with the GP. I hope you come out on top.”

Ethan offered him a hand. “We just hope to come out of it,” he said, “but I appreciate the thought.”

The guard lifted the plastic and we walked inside, where the coppery tang of blood filled the air.

At least I’d actually eaten this time.

A woman with short brown hair peeked in from a door that led farther into the building. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Charla Bryant.”

“I’ll just notify her,” she said brightly, then disappeared again.

Ethan, apparently not content to stand by and wait, walked to the end of the hallway, which ended in a large window.

“Come here,” he said over his shoulder, and I joined him.

The window looked in on the bottling room. There were giant vats and long conveyors of bottles being washed, filled, capped, and cleaned. Everything was automated, and the entire line moved so fast my brain could barely keep up.

“Very cool,” I said.

“And very crucial,” said a voice behind us.

We turned to find Charla in the hallway in a fitted navy sheath dress and kitten heels. Her hair was tucked behind a couple of thin navy headbands. She looked like the perfect businesswoman—whether or not that business was supernaturally related.

“We supply the vampires of Chicago and much of the upper Midwest. We’re one of the largest facilities in the country.” She smiled at us and stepped forward. “Ethan,” she said, extending a hand, “it’s lovely to finally meet you in person.”

“Charla, a pleasure. And I understand you’ve met Merit.”

Charla nodded, then clasped her hands in front of her. “It looks like you’ve had an evening out. Except for the galoshes, perhaps.”

“We’ve tried,” Ethan said. “Per my note, we’re here about the riots. We’d believed Robin Pope might have played a role in selecting Bryant Industries as her first target. But it appears she’s unconnected to the crime.”

“I see,” Charla said, frowning. “So you’re looking for another cause?”

“We’re trying to identify the source of the riots so we can stop them from happening again,” Ethan said.

Charla smiled, just a little. “Like the Supernatural Justice League?”

“Something like that,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’ve thought of any other reason you might have been targeted?”

“Honestly, I’ve been racking my brain. I wasn’t convinced Robin had the capacity to organize people—she just doesn’t think anyone is as intelligent as she is—but she is a very angry person. So from that perspective, the theory fit. But I cannot think of any other reason people would be upset with us, other than because we’re associated with vampires, of course. No grudges, no family disputes.”

My gaze kept flicking back to the production line, the blur of bottles streaming by.

“This is pretty amazing to watch,” I said. “And it’s so clean. Not that I expected it to be dirty, but when you’re bottling a liquid, you expect spills. That room looks spotless.”

“Oh, it is,” Charla said. “We had a city inspection last week, so we’ve been extra careful about pretty much every detail around here, including security.”

Ethan looked suddenly interested. “A city inspection?”

Charla nodded. “Department of Public Health. They inspect our facility as part of our arrangement with the city. They’ve known who we are and what we do for a very long time. They had to—it was the only way we could get operational permits.” She frowned. “Although, come to think of it, this inspection was a little less than routine.”

“How so?” Ethan asked.

“Normally, our inspections are scheduled a month in advance. We might have an unscheduled drop-in, of course, but the top-to-bottom reviews are planned. This last time, they gave us two days.”

Ethan and I exchanged a glance.

“You said the inspection was a week ago,” I said. “Just a few days before the riot?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Charla said. “But now that you mention it, yes. They did. Do you think that matters?”

“It’s difficult to tell,” Ethan said. “Perhaps it’s coincidence.”

Or perhaps,
I thought,
someone wanted inside the facility.

“Did anything weird occur during the inspection? Did they take anything, or look at anything they don’t usually inspect?”

“I actually wasn’t here that day,” Charla said sheepishly. “I take a spa day twice a year, and I’d had it scheduled for months, so when they called about the inspection, I let my brother handle it.”

I smiled politely. “Completely understandable.”

She nodded but clearly wasn’t convinced she’d done the right thing. “No one reported anything odd to me afterward, and the inspection report was fine. Do you suspect foul play?”

“We suspect the timing,” Ethan said, gesturing toward the front door. “You might want to check with your brother, ask if anything unusual occurred he might not have thought to mention.”

“I appreciate the suggestion,” Charla said, her expression changing to the same all-business mode I’d seen in Ethan’s. She wasn’t a vampire, but she was a leader of humans, and a protector of her particular house.

“Also, you’d mentioned your brother might have security videos he could share?”

Charla pointed at me and pulled a phone from an invisible pocket at her hip. “Thank you for the reminder. I’ll send him a note right now.” She paused for a moment, looking at the phone, which then beeped in acknowledgment.

“Got it,” she said. “He promises to send them tonight.” She put the phone away and smiled at us. “I love my brother, but he’s not quite as . . .
organized
as I am, if you catch my drift.”

“We do,” Ethan said. “And we thank you again.” He put a hand at my back. “We’ll get out of your hair so you can get back to work. Thank you for your time.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for paying attention.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but we talk, you know. The distributors. Most of us are human, but we like to keep an eye out, and not just because you’re clients. It’s a tough time to be a vampire in Chicago, especially when thugs like McKetrick are about. And we know about the GP, about how you stepped forward when others didn’t. Being the leader can be a thankless job,” she said. “It often just makes you a bigger target. But we see. We notice.”

Ethan took her hand in his and patted it collegially. “Thank you, Charla. I appreciate that very much.”

We said our good-byes to Charla and the guard, and walked back across crunchy sidewalks to the car.

“A last-minute city inspection?” I wondered aloud.

“It could be related,” Ethan said. “But don’t get too excited. We don’t have any evidence yet.”

“Okay,” I said. “But I will say this. If the city administration knew this place was a bottling facility for vampires, there’s a good chance McKetrick did as well.”

After my Robin Pope disappointment, I was hedging my bets. But smoke usually meant fire.

“Perhaps,” Ethan agreed. “Perhaps we can tie him to these riots, and this will be the thing that brings him down. Your task, Sentinel? Find me some evidence.”

—

Security was tight—and rather bored-looking—when we returned to the House. Luc generally considered bored security to be ineffective security, but I’d take bored over “overwhelmed by marauders” any day.

Ethan went to his office to get back to business. I didn’t bother changing clothes but went directly to the Ops Room.

I found Jonah and Luc at the conference table, mulling over materials. The temps were at the computers, but the rest of the guards were gone, probably on patrol.

Luc and Jonah looked up when I entered.

“Sentinel,” Luc said. “What’s the good word? How’s the family?”

“It varies by person,” I said, taking a seat at the table. “The children are adorable. The adults grow more ornery with age. . . . It does not appear the rioters have shown up.”

“Not even a hint of a drive-by or look-see,” Jonah said. “But there are hours to go before sunrise.”

“That’s actually something that’s been bothering me,” Luc said.

“What’s that?” Jonah asked.

“The riots have only been occurring at night, when we’re awake. But why? If you want to damage vampires, hurt vampires, why not riot during the day when we’re unconscious? Talk about maximizing damage . . .”

That point echoed many others I’d heard over the last few days. If the rioters really meant to get media attention and do damage, they’d done a pretty bad job of it.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” I said. Counting on my fingers, I offered my concerns: “They don’t hit the most obvious House. They don’t hit us during the day. They don’t hit us as hard as they probably could, and they don’t even show up to protest afterward. All that buildup, and for what?”

“Maybe they just aren’t very good rioters,” Luc said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I can’t help thinking there’s something else afoot here, and we’re only seeing the symptom, not the real illness.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I said, deflated. “I miss having a suspect.”

“Indeed,” Luc said. “Robin Pope, we hardly knew ye. And while we did, we thought you were a crazy weirdo.” He shook his head in faux grief. “What did you learn from Bryant Industries?”

“We talked to Charla. No new information about possible threats per se, but she did pass along a very interesting tidbit.”

I waited for a moment before the big reveal, giving everyone a chance to lean forward in anticipation. But no one did.

“Seriously? What’s a girl gotta do to build a little tension around here?”

“Firebombs,” Luc and Jonah simultaneously said, then congratulated their single-mindedness with a fist bump.

“The Chicago Department of Public Health scheduled a last-minute inspection at the facility.”

Still, no reaction.

“Really? Nothing?”

“Their facility was firebombed,” Jonah said. “Probably they just want to look things over, make sure the product isn’t tainted.”

“The last-minute inspection was before the riot,” I clarified.

Finally, there was a pique of interest in their eyes.

“Before the riot?” Jonah asked.

I nodded. “The city of Chicago has taken an oddly timed interest in a vampire-service facility. Maybe the riot occurred at Bryant because they didn’t get something they wanted at the inspection.”

“Like what?” Luc asked. “If they wanted blood, they could buy it.”

He was right. Anti-vamp sentiment or not, humans were more than happy to stock Blood4You in their stores. I guess profit trumped conviction for the store owners who didn’t really like vampires.

“Maybe it wasn’t blood,” I said.

“Then what?” Jonah asked. “What else do you want at a Blood4You facility?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But consider this—if Robin Pope isn’t the one organizing the riots, maybe someone else from the city administration is. Maybe McKetrick is.”

“You’ve got evidence of that?”

“Why does everyone keep harping on ‘evidence’?” I whined. “And no, I don’t have any. But we’ve got a vamp hater in a new position of power, and a sudden interest in a facility that’s been providing blood to vampires for decades. The rioters hit Bryant Industries first; they must have had a reason for it. Why else that place? Why else now?”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Sentinel,” Luc said. “But you don’t have anything yet to confirm you’re right.”

“I’ll find something.”

Luc checked his watch. “You’d better find it quick. You’ve got a turn on patrol coming up, and that dress isn’t going to cut it. Go upstairs and get dressed. I’ll call Jeff and Catcher, see if your grandfather has any connections at the health department.”

“What time is Saul arriving?” Jonah asked.

Somehow, I’d forgotten it was pizza night at Cadogan House, the food thoughtfully delivered during vampires’ prime eating hours. Not that I needed any more food. Dinner at the Merit house had been plentiful.

“Half hour or so,” Luc said.

“In that case, I’ll walk Merit upstairs,” Jonah said. “All this discussion of blood is making me thirsty. I want to grab some before the pizza arrives.”

Probably not a bad idea for me, too, since I hadn’t had any yet today. And other than the few minutes at Bryant Industries, I hadn’t even had a craving for it. The emergency drink Ethan had given me last night must have satisfied the lust.

When Jonah and I were alone in the hallway, I broached the topic I hadn’t had time to discuss with my RG partner.

“So, I met Aubrey,” I said.

“Yeah? She’s great. Relatively new to the House. Not compared to you, of course, but new compared to the rest of us. She was one of the first women sworn in as a special agent in the FBI.”

“Neat,” I said. That was actually pretty awesome, but I was on a mission here. “The thing is, she seemed to think I’d somehow wronged you.”

“Wronged me?”

“Regarding our relationship. Or the relationship that should have been?”

Jonah stopped in the middle of the hallway and blinked . . . like a vampire in headlights. “Oh?”

I screwed up my face. “So, did you tell all your guards that I broke your heart? ’Cause I gotta say, that’s kind of awkward.”

“No,” he said loudly. “No,” he repeated, a little softer this time, his stance growing more awkward. “I didn’t say that at all.”

“We don’t need to get into the details; it’s just—they clearly have some strong opinions about me, and if we have to work together . . .”

Jonah grimaced. “Aubrey is . . . protective.”

“So I noticed.”

“In all seriousness, I mentioned you, but also that you weren’t interested, and there weren’t any hard feelings. Maybe she took my disappointment as, you know, a pretty severe heartbreak. But it wasn’t. I swear it.” He shrugged charmingly. “Just ordinary heartbreak.”

I believed him, especially about Aubrey being the protective type. She was a guard, after all. It was her job to protect her House, including her captain of the guards from all enemies. Living or dead, as the oath went.