Authors: Chloe Neill
Drink Deep (27 page)
With a sickened expression, Malik reached over and flipped off the radio.
“That woman is a piece of goddamned work,” Luc spat out. “Who does she think she is, and how stupid is she that she believes McKetrick?” He blew out a breath and linked his hands atop his head. “She’s a fascist with an ache to be president, and she isn’t going to stop.”
“Not while there are headlines to be made,” Malik agreed. He looked at me. “Kelley told me what actually went down, that you arranged for Catcher to pick him up. I’m hopeful he at least got some useful information before the release?”
“I’m going back to visit Tate. Catcher should be there, and I’ll ask for the details.”
“You’re thinking Tate is in play?” Luc asked.
“I think, at a minimum, he knows what’s going on.” I told them about the old magic Claudia had mentioned and the scents of lemon and sugar that Catcher hadn’t been convinced were meaningful.
But that didn’t seem to faze Malik. “You stand Sentinel of this House for a reason, Merit. He trusted you. I trust you. Luc trusts you. Your instincts are good. Follow them where they lead, and we will support you whatever the result.”
He may have taken the reigns of the House in regrettable circumstances, but there was no doubt he was a Master.
The second verse of getting to Tate was pretty much the same as the first, except for the part about carefully skirting the men with large guns who stood in front of the House. Thaboalnd e members of the National Guard looked more than capable of keeping the screaming protestors at bay. Problem was, if McKetrick had convinced the mayor of the third biggest city in the country that vampires were evil, could they be convinced, as well?
I drove toward the lake and met Catcher at the factory gate. He looked exhausted, and I wasn’t sure if the problems in the city or his sorceress were responsible for the bloodshot eyes.
“I hear McKetrick’s back on the street.”
“I heard the broadcast,” he grumbled. “We didn’t have a secure facility for interrogation. We called Jacobs, who hauled him in. He questioned him through the night, let us sit in.” That explained the exhaustion, I thought. “At least until the mayor called and Jacobs had to let him go. I assume he trotted down to her office and they concocted the story.”
“Did you get anything out of him?”
“Not much—but I’m not sure he has much to hide. McKetrick’s pretty clear about his position on vampires. Genocide’s a harsh word, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Let’s hope Kowalczyk is smart enough not to buy in. I don’t suppose he gave up the location of his facility?”
“He did not. But he did give up his fingerprints and a little DNA, and we got another set from the gun you brought in. That gives us something to work with if he starts making trouble.”
“I suppose that’s something,” I conceded, but wondered if that data had been worth the risk. McKetrick was going to be
pissed
, and the episode was only going to tie McKetrick and Kowalczyk closer together. She’d rescued him, and that wasn’t going to be something either one of them forgot.
pissed
, and the episode was only going to tie McKetrick and Kowalczyk closer together. She’d rescued him, and that wasn’t going to be something either one of them forgot.
He pulled to a stop in front of the building, and I realized uniformed CPD guards, not fairies, were guarding it.
“This is a bad idea,” I quietly said, surveying the officers, who all looked like rookies just out of training—and undoubtedly had no defenses against whatever magic Tate wielded.
“They’re the reason we were able to get in at all,” Catcher said. “Chuck served with one of their grandfathers, and he called in a favor. The boys in blue are loyal to each other.”
“Maybe so,” I said. “But these kids are no match for Tate. He was able to manipulate Celina, and she’s as stubborn and resilient as they come.”
“There’s no other choice,” he said. “Chuck had to fight to keep Tate separated from the rest of the prison population. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure if it’s better or worse that Tate’s no longer mayor. He started off strong enough—opened the Ombud’s office. He was a real supporter of Chuck.”
“Until he started manufacturing drugs and attempting to control vampires?”
“There is that,” Catcher agreed. “I’m not saying those were good deeds. I just think they’re anomalies in the bigger scheme of Tate.”
I didn’t disagree the change was odd, but I thought it revealed true colors Tate hadn’t been able to hide any longer. “Scheme,” I thought, was the key word.
I hopped out of the cart, offered up my weapons, then glanced back at Catcher. “You’re staying here?”
He’d already pulled out a book and was flipping through the pages. “Right here waiting, just like the song. I’m scanning the Orderninte h’s annals for any evidence of whether anything like this happened before—including whether Tate might be involved.” With a frown, he absently scratched the back of his head. “I’m hoping if I can find that kind of entry, I can backtrack and figure out what kind of magic was behind it.”
Given his obvious exhaustion and tireless efforts, I managed not to make a juvenile joke about the “annals” of an organization with the acronym U-ASS.
“That sounds perfectly reasonable.”
“We’ll see,” he grumbled in response, but he was already scanning the pages.
I headed for the door. The kid in uniform offered me a salute, then opened the door to the building. A second uniform stood point at the steel door that led into the office.
“Ma’am. Be careful in there,” he said, and when I assured him I would, opened the door and let me inside.
It immediately slammed shut behind me.
I jumped a little, which wasn’t exactly the brave facade I’d hoped to put on for this meeting.
“I don’t bite, Ballerina,” Tate cannily said. In his orange jumpsuit, he was seated at the aluminum table again. Since he clearly wasn’t going to use my name, I didn’t bother to correct him. I’d also already decided it was useless to play games with a liar, so I sat down across from him and got down to business.
“Are you the one manipulating the city right now?”
He looked back at me, head slightly tilted, his expression inscrutable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His tone was equally opaque. I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or if he was truly surprised by the question.
I decided there was no point in not putting all my cards on the table—not when the city was at stake.
“The lake went dead. The sky turned red. I understand we’re seeing elemental magic, symptoms that are popping up because the city is unbalanced. We’ve seen water and air so far. Fire and earth could be next.”
“And?”
I paused, picking a tone to offer up my theory. I opted for Ethan’s “Slyer Than Thou” voice. “It’s the strangest thing, Tate. Whenever I’m in your presence, I smell lemon and sugar—like cookies baking.”
His expression stayed flat, but his pupils had narrowed just a smidge. I was on to something.
“Yesterday, while the sky was red, it rained. And I smelled the same thing.” I linked my hands together on the table, and leaned forward. “I know you’re doing this. And you’re going to tell me how to stop it, or we’re going to go a round. Right here. Right now.”
Okay, I might have gone a bit overboard on the last bit, and not just because I had no weapons and wasn’t entirely sure what he could do. But Tate ignored the bravado.
“If I am the maker of these events, how, exactly did I arrange them from my humble abode?”
“I hadn’t exactly gotten to that part.”
He made a sound of disdain. “You hadn’t gotten to
any
part. You could hardly be more wrong, and that bodes as poorly for the city as anything else. It is not in my nature to produce that kind of magic.”
any
part. You could hardly be more wrong, and that bodes as poorly for the city as anything else. It is not in my nature to produce that kind of magic.”
“What are you?” I asked him.
“If this magic isn’t mine, why does it matter?”
“How could it possibly
not
matter?”
not
matter?”
Tate frowned and shuffled in his chair. “Humans have an irritating desire to group their fellow men and women into categories. To give them a type, and to give the type a name, so that by definition ‘they’ are otherwise. ‘They’ are not who ‘we’ are. Frankly, I find the endeavor exhausting. I am what I am, just as you are what you are.”
A confession from Tate—of his magical identity and his responsibility for the water and sky—would have been nice. But I knew when to push and when to listen. And even if he wasn’t going to confess, he seemed to honestly believe he understood what was happening. That was definitely worth my time.
“If you didn’t have anything to do with this, then tell me who did. Explain to me what’s happening.”
Slowly, a smile curved his lips. “Now this is interesting. You asking me for information. For a favor, as it were.”
“It’s not a favor if I’m helping save the city you swore an oath to protect.”
“Oaths are overrated. You’ve sworn them as well, did you not? To protect your House?”
“I did, and I have,” I growled out. He hadn’t expressly suggested that I’d broken my oaths—presumably by failing to protect Ethan—but it rode beneath his words.
“Hmm,” he noncommittally said. “And if I was to give you this information, what’s my incentive? My payment? My boon?”
“The public good?”
He laughed heartily. “You amuse me greatly, Ballerina. You really do. And while I enjoy Chicago, there are plenty of cities in the world. Saving this one is hardly incentive enough for the kind of information you’re talking about.”
It wasn’t surprising that he wanted payment for the information. But I didn’t want to offer up a prize without a little negotiation.
“I owe you nothing,” I told him. “If anything, you owe me. You’re responsible for my Master’s death.”
“And the death of your enemy,” he pointed out. He leaned forward over the table, hands flat on the tabletop, and stared at me like I was the subject of his psychological experiment. Which I probably was. “Does it bother you that you’ve killed? That a life was extinguished by your hand?”
Don’t take the bait
, I reminded myself. “Does it bother you that you were the true cause of her death?”
, I reminded myself. “Does it bother you that you were the true cause of her death?”
“Let’s not get into a philosophical discussion about causation.”
“Then let’s agree that you owe me one, and you can tell me what you know.”
“Interesting tactic, but no.”
Probably not surprising that his questionable ethics didn’t prompt him to help me out of his own accord. “What do you want?”
“What do you have?”
I thought about the question. Honestly, I didn’t have much. My dagger and sword were outside with Catcher. I didn’t have much else of value beyond the family pearls in my room and the signed baseball Ethan had given me, and I wasn’t giving those up.
While I considered the question, I absently touched the Cadogan medal aroogaly nund my neck. Tate’s eyes widened at the move.
“That would be an interesting prize.”
Instinctively, I cupped my fingers around it. His expression was guarded, but clearly sincere. I wasn’t sure about his motivation, but unlike the fairies, I didn’t think his interest was in the gold. Did the medal have magical properties? I’d never thought to ask. Regardless, it was precious to me.
“There’s no way in hell you’re getting this.”
“Then we have nothing to talk about.”
I recalled the first time I’d made a bargain with a supernatural creature. “How about I owe you a favor? A boon of some kind?” That offer had worked with Morgan Greer, now Master of Navarre House, but Tate didn’t seem impressed with it.
“You’re a vampire. You could renege on your offer.”
“I would never,” I said, but since there’s no telling the kind of favor Tate would extract, I silently admitted there was a possibility I wouldn’t go through with it.
Tate sat back. “We’re done here. You can solve this problem on your own. Perhaps one of your friends could help you. They’re sorcerers, no? They should be able to explain things to you.”
Should be able, but were at a loss,
I thought.
I thought.
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