Biting Bad: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (4 page)

My protective instincts kicked in. Mallory undoubtedly had her issues, but she was still my girl. “He’s not being obnoxious, is he?”

Mallory gave me a flat look. “We’re talking about Catcher. He’s always obnoxious. But not the way you mean. He’s moved into overly protective. Lots of checking in on me, lots of making sure I’m eating and sleeping well.”

“He’s worried about you,” I said.

“And,” she said, drawing out the word, “he’s feeling guilty that he didn’t intervene the first time around. He’s such a hands-off person. I mean, not romantically. He’s very hands-on, if you get my drift.”

“I have no interest in your drift,” I said, gesturing her to keep going.

“The thing is, I think he hates himself a little bit because he didn’t see what I was doing.”

In fairness, he had missed a lot. Mallory was working her bad mojo while she’d ostensibly been studying to become an official member of U-ASS, the sorcerers’ union. She’d done a lot of the mayhem-making in the basement of the town house they shared, right under his nose.

“It still surprises me,” I said honestly. “I’m not really sure how he missed it, either.”

“Yeah,” she said guiltily, “but then, why would you assume your girlfriend was attempting to destroy Chicago?”

You might assume it when Chicago was beginning to literally crumble around you, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

“Okay,” I said. “So he’s being motherly. Have you talked to him about it?”

Saul marched in, wearing a giant oven mitt and holding a round pan that smelled—you guessed it—of cream cheese and bacon. He put the pizza on a trivet in the middle of the table, and as was his style, served up a piece for each of us.

My mouth watered immediately.

“Thank you, Saul,” Mallory said, glancing at me with amusement. “You’re fanging out.”

I covered my mouth with a hand, glancing around to ensure no one else had seen it. There was no point in drawing any extra attention to my biology.

“Thanks,” I said, digging into my slice when I was certain my body was under control and I wouldn’t ravish the pizza in full view of the room. The taste was absolutely sublime. I’d had take-out from Saul’s since becoming a vampire, but that was nothing like eating deep-dish fresh from the oven.

“I’m in the process of talking to Catcher about it,” Mallory continued. “I have to tread carefully because, you know, I almost managed to destroy Chicago. And I don’t mean to make light. I know what I did, and now I’m trying to live with it. To turn myself around so that I can actually use this gift for something more than utter selfishness.”

Now that was more like it. “I like the sound of that. What about Gabe and the others?”

Gabriel Keene was the head of the North American Central Pack and Mallory’s magical rehab sponsor.

“Gabe’s good. He’s spending a lot of time with Tanya and Connor—doesn’t want to miss out on Connor’s milestones. Berna’s still playing mother.” Berna was one of Gabe’s relatives and the bartender at Little Red, the Ukrainian Village watering hole where the Pack hung out in Chicago.

“How long are you going to stay with them?”

“I’m not sure. They’re building up their catering business, and they need help to get it rolling. Frankly, I’m not sure they’ve really thought about me long term.” She cleared her throat. “And that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What’s that?” I asked, cutting a chunk of pizza with the side of my fork.

“What I’m going to do when I’m cleared to use my magic again,” she clarified. “I need a productive job. A mission of some kind. And I thought, maybe, I could help you guys.”

I paused, fork midway to my mouth. “Help us?”

“Help Cadogan House. I need to do something good, Merit,” she explained before I could respond. Which was good, because I had no idea how to respond. “I need to help people. I need to make good for what I did. And, frankly, you guys need a lot of help.”

She wasn’t wrong about that, and I agreed she needed a post-rehab plan. But I wasn’t sure Cadogan House was the appropriate outlet.

“What, exactly, did you have in mind?” I asked.

“Well, I was thinking I could become permanently attached to the House—like a magical consultant. I could help you plan operations. Go out with you on missions. I’ve done it before, with the Tates. And that ended up okay.”

She had helped with the Tates—twin fallen angels Mallory unleashed on Chicago. But we’d asked for her help primarily because she’d created the problem and was in a position to help solve it.

I didn’t want to break her spirit or halt her recuperation, but I couldn’t see Ethan agreeing to that. He wouldn’t give her that kind of access, especially considering her history with the House.

But before I could answer, a
boom
shook the building.

My heart pounded with sudden fear, but before I could rise from my seat another
boom
sounded—a percussion that vibrated through my body with its bass rumble and prickled my arms into gooseflesh.

A vase dropped from a small shelf on the wall across from us, shattering into pieces on the floor. The human closest to it screamed with surprise, and most everyone else jumped up and ran to the windows.

Now in the darkness came a different sound, a rhythmic sound. It was nothing I could identify, but nothing that was accidental. And there was another thing out there I easily recognized.

Steel.

I could feel out guns and swords, a perk of having tempered my katana with my own blood. That there was enough of it outside the building to sense inside made me that much more nervous.

Mallory’s gaze—narrowed, but not afraid—found mine. “What do you think that was?”

“I don’t know,” I said, dropping my fork, my appetite suddenly, and unusually, gone. “But I think we’d better find out.”

BEAT THE DRUM

M
allory dropped cash on the table and followed me through the crowd of patrons to the front of the restaurant. As we walked, I pulled on my coat and stuffed my gloves into my pocket.

Saul stood at the front window with the aproned members of his kitchen staff, peering into the darkness. He didn’t take his eyes from the glass until I stood beside him.

“What in God’s name was that?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. But I’m going to check it out. Stay in here and lock the door behind me until I’m sure what it is.”

“I’m not going to stay in here while you go traipsing into trouble.”

“I’ve traipsed into worse,” I told him. “I’ll be fine. I’m immortal, but you’re not.” I put a hand on his arm and raised my pleading gaze to his. “Let me take this one, okay?”

Saul looked at me, judging for a moment, before stepping aside and letting me through.

But I wasn’t the only one who aimed for the door. Mallory was right behind me.

I put out a hand. “Where are you going?”

“With you,” she said, petulantly as any teenager. “I have certain skills, as we’ve seen.”

I glanced around, realizing we weren’t exactly in the right place to have a discussion about her skills—or whether she should be showing them off.

“You’re not supposed to be
using
your particular skills,” I murmured, “and I don’t want to initiate a war with the Pack because I let you do it.” We had enough intraspecies animosity in Chicago.

Mallory leaned in. “And I’m not going to stand around while you walk out into trouble.”

“We don’t know it’s trouble yet.”

“You know,” she countered. “Your magic’s all over the place. You know something about what’s out there. Something you haven’t said yet.”

I hadn’t mentioned the weapons, because I couldn’t confirm anything in here. Not for sure. I looked at her for a moment, weighing my options: using her as backup and risking Gabriel’s ire versus leaving her inside and risking her ire.

“If nothing else,” she said, “I’ll need a ride back to the bar. I’ve got an hour until Catcher is supposed to pick me up. He and Gabe aren’t going to want me waiting here without you if there’s trouble out there.”

Unfortunately, she was right. They’d both have my ass in a sling if she got hurt on my watch. “Fine. You can come. But you don’t move an inch unless I tell you to.”

She gave me a salute, and we slipped out the door. When we were free of it, Saul pulled it shut and clicked the lock again.

I scanned the street, looking for the source of the noise. But other than the worried faces of humans peeking through doorways and windows, looking for the source of the percussions, I couldn’t see anything. There was smoke in the air, so the trouble was nearby, but not in my line of sight. Whatever it was, it grew closer; the rhythmic sound grew louder, and the sensation of steel grew stronger.

Sirens began to whine as two CPD cruisers sped past the restaurant, lights flashing.

“What is it?” Mallory asked.

“I’m not sure. But I think they have weapons.” Weapons and a total lack of visibility meant I needed backup. I could be brave when necessary, but I tried very hard not to be stupid.

I took out my phone and dialed up the Cadogan House Operations Room, where Cadogan’s guards (and I) investigated and strategized.

Luc answered on the first ring. “Sentinel? What’s the good word?”

“I’m in Wicker Park at Saul’s. We just heard two really loud bangs. I can’t see anything, but I can smell smoke. And I think they’ve got weapons. Can you get eyes on it?”

I heard a click and then the sound of frantic typing in the background. I’d been switched to speakerphone, and the noise of computers and research was audible.

“We’re checking the scanners, Sentinel. You there alone?”

“I’m with Mallory. And I’m thinking I need to get her out of here.”

“No argument there, Sentinel.”

“Merit, it’s Lindsey.” Lindsey was another House guard—Luc’s girlfriend and my House bestie. “CPD scanners are talking about explosions. It sounds like they suspect Molotov cocktails blew propane tanks or something.”

“Who’s throwing Molotov cocktails in Wicker Park?” I asked. Mallory’s eyes grew wide.

Cadogan House didn’t answer. I could hear the static drone of scanner feed in the background, but I couldn’t distinguish the words. They must have been listening.

And still, the sound of drumming grew louder, mimicking the acceleration of my heart.

“Guys, I’m going to need something here pretty soon.”

“The CPD’s reporting riots,” Luc said. “There’s a fire a few blocks west of you, and a cabal of rioters moving east.”

That explained the noise. “I think they’re chanting with drums or something. I can hear them moving. What was the target?”

“Looking,” Luc said. “Oh damn.”

“What?”

“They hit Bryant Industries.”

I frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s the company that distributes Blood4You in Chicago. Each distributor is independently owned. They call theirs ‘Bryant Industries’ to keep a low profile.”

In order to assimilate, most American vampires avoided drinking from humans or vampires and, instead, relied on bagged blood called “Blood4You.”

What were the odds of rioters in this day and age
accidentally
bombing a Blood4You distribution center?

“The rioters are anti-vamp,” I guessed, stomach tightening with nerves.

“That’s quite possible,” Luc agreed. “And, Sentinel, they’re moving your way. I think now would be a good time to make a polite exit and get Mallory out of there. Little Red is closer than the House. Maybe stay there until we’re sure the coast is clear?”

I glanced back at the door. “Luc, I can’t just leave Saul here unprotected, not if the rioters are coming this way. What if they try to hit the restaurant?”

“They’re anti-vampire, Merit. They probably don’t pose a specific risk to Saul’s
unless
they find out you’re there. If they think he’s harboring vamps, they might hit it on purpose. You’re a danger to him if you stay.”

That possibility stung, sending a sick feeling through my chest. To them, because of my biology, I was the enemy. And that meant I posed a danger to everyone around me.

“Luc—,” I began, but he cut me off.

“You can’t protect Saul, Merit. Get to your car and go.”

Crap
. “Luc, call my grandfather. He’s still got friends in the CPD. Maybe he can get a cruiser on the building.”

“Good thought,” he said. “I’ll call him as soon as you promise to get your ass to Little Red.”

“On it,” I promised. I hung up the phone but took a moment to send a warning message to Jonah. It was simple and to the point:
RIOTS IN WICKER PARK. BLOOD4YOU HIT. KEEP WATCH.

My phone beeped immediately, and I assumed Jonah had already responded. Instead, I found an infuriating alert that my message hadn’t gone through.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket. I’d have to deal with technology later and hope Jonah got the message.

I glanced at Mallory. She looked nervous, but her eyes were clear, and her magic seemed appropriately banked.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know we should hurry.”

I nodded and had to speak up to be heard over the increasing sound of drumming and chanting. “My car’s only two blocks away, but my katana is in the car. They might be out for supernaturals, so we’re going to pretend that we’re just two girls out for a night on the town. We’re going to walk to the car, get in, and drive as quickly as we can to the bar.”

“And if they recognize you?”

My father, Joshua Merit—Merit was actually my last name—was a Chicago real estate mogul, and media outlets in the city thought it newsworthy that I’d been made a vampire. My photo had been in the papers, so I wasn’t exactly anonymous.

“We hope they don’t,” I said. And there was no chance in hell I’d go down without a fight. And I’d make it a good one.

—

I gave Saul a heads-up and promised that help was on the way. He didn’t look entirely convinced . . . until I told him the riots were anti-vampire and I was part of their target audience.

“I don’t want you or your place to get hurt because of us,” I said. Saul nodded, a little guiltily, and shut and locked the door again.

I knew I wasn’t human, that I was separated from them by genetics, fangs, and bloodlust. This was a poignant reminder of that separation, of the differences between us.

I looked at Mallory, who nodded and plastered a smile on her face. “You said we were party girls out for a night on the town. So let’s, like, totally get out of here. For reals.”

“Are there valley girls in Chicago?”

“Tonight,” she said, “there are.”

We started toward the car, avoiding Division, darting from the restaurant into the alley across the street, then running through darkness to the other end, where we peered out to survey the source of the noise.

There were dozens of humans, maybe forty or fifty altogether, and they moved up the middle of Division in a cluster. In a
mob
. They ranged in age from young enough to be carded to their mid-forties, and they were obviously passionate about their cause, which they shouted loudly and often.

“Clean Chicago!” they yelled in unison. “No more fangs! Clean Chicago! No more fangs!”

They repeated the words like a mantra of hatred, yelled at people on the street, waved bats and hockey sticks in the air and against one another, and smashed car windows and streetlights as they moved.

These were modern-day villagers with torches, and I was Dr. Frankenstein’s monster.

“What a bunch of assholes,” Mallory muttered.

“No argument,” I said. “And we need to get out of here before they get any closer.” Escape in mind, I scanned the street for the Volvo. It sat safely up the block, no missing mirrors or windows, but we’d have to sidestep the rioters to get to it.

“Party girls,” I reminded her. Mallory nodded, and I slipped my arm into hers. I stuck on my most human expression, and we walked arm in arm toward the car, just two girls returning from a night on the town.

I worked not to wince at every
tinkle
of breaking glass and volley of anti-vampire cursing lobbed behind us, and kept my eyes on the prize. But that didn’t stop my heart from racing. There were more humans here than I could handle alone, especially without a weapon other than the blue-haired girl next to me, who was utterly off-limits.

Sirens sounded around us as the rioters destroyed store windows and set off alarms. As we reached the end of the block—only a few dozen more feet to go—we ducked around the corner, hearts pounding as the rioters drew closer.

Unfortunately, that only riled up my inner predator, which was more than willing to take its chances with humans. Bitchy, whiny humans.

“So, funny story,” Mallory said, her back flat against the wall of the building, her arm tight around mine. “Once upon a time, I tried to have dinner with my best friend, and the apocalypse happened.”

“No kidding,” I murmured in agreement, wincing as sounds of violence punctured the night around us.

“Merit,” she said. “Look.”

I followed the direction of her gaze to the other side of the street, where two young guys had been stopped by rioters who’d split off from the main group.

The kids carried the awkward bearing of adolescence. One was hauntingly thin; the other was more heavyset. They wore ill-fitting clothes that didn’t look warm enough for the cold night, but that was hardly the primary concern.

The rioters, who had six or seven inches and a lot of muscle over them, stood over the guys menacingly. The taller of the bullies had a pincushionesque haircut and a chain with a giant dollar-sign pendant in gleaming gold. His friend, who was four inches shorter, wore a satin jacket with a dragon embroidered on the back and a Cubs cap.

I considered that an insult to the Cubs.

The more heavyset kid must have said something the rioters didn’t like, as they both reached out and shoved the guys’ shoulders, sending them stumbling back a few steps.

“Merit, we need to help them.”

I’d have liked to help them, but first and foremost I had to help her. I could feel the magic beginning to simmer around her, bubbles of it beginning to reach the surface. Soon enough, that magic would reach a full boil, and I might not be able to stop the transition.

“Mallory, I’ve got to get you out of here before something happens.”

She gave me a flat look. “Before I go postal?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“
Caroline Evelyn Merit
. I am not going to go postal.”

So she said. But her track record wasn’t the greatest. We’d managed to create an alliance with shifters, but it was fragile. I didn’t want to be the one to knock it off-kilter.

I looked longingly back at the car.

“I’m not unsympathetic,” I said, “but I have responsibilities, and right now you’re the main one.”

“Shut it,” she said. “You love acting like a vampire hard-ass.”

Without warning, she let out an earsplitting whistle. “Hey, assholes! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”