Biting Cold

EVERY TIME A BELL RINGS...



I jolted awake nine hours later, stil alone in my chily bedroom.



My phone was ringing, so I grabbed it from the nightstand and checked the screen. It was Jeff.



"Hey," I said, checking the time. It was barely after sunset; Jeff must have been aching to cal me.



"We have news," Jeff said, "and it's not looking good."



Not exactly the way I wanted to start the night, but then not terribly surprising, either. "What's happened?"



"Not what has happened, but what might happen. Turns out, the crime scene folks found something at the scene of Paulie's murder. They thought it was just a random bit of paper at the scene but, when they checked the blood patterns, discovered it was put there after Paulie's throat was cut."



I sat up and puled my hair from my face. "What was it?"



"A newspaper article. Remember I told you about those four cops who got busted for beating up those vamps?"



"The ones you told us about in Nebraska? Yeah. Why?"



"The evidence at the crime scene? It was an article about them."



"Why would Tate be interested in something like that?"



"The article was about the cops being released. I guess they had to do some processing, or waiting for the bail money to go through, I don't know. Their release is scheduled for tonight - there's a big to-do at a CPD lockup on the South Side. Plenty of people are pissed about it."



That made more sense than I'd wanted it to. "Crap," I muttered.



"What?"



"As it turns out, we're hypothesizing Tate's an old-school messenger - an avenging angel with a revenge problem whose halo fel off many, many centuries ago."



"A falen angel?"



"That's the one. And if he thinks the cops didn't get the justice they deserved, he might be hoping to wield his sword against them."



"Tate the supernatural avenger," Jeff muttered. "In what universe does that make sense?"



"This one, unfortunately," I said. "First things first. Can you make contact with the cops or their attorneys? Let them know he's a threat?"



"Already tried that route. Chuck caled one of the attorneys -  apparently he'd had some relationship with him when he was on the force - and tried to get him to cancel the conference."



Chuck was my grandfather. "The attorney didn't buy it?"



"He did not. He said his client was a cop and he could take care of himself, especialy against, and I'm quoting here, a 'desk-riding politician.' He said he wouldn't cancel the press conference because the city of Chicago needed to know how poorly his client had been treated. He supposedly went on for ten minutes about the injustice of being a cop behind bars."



I roled my eyes. "Then maybe the cop shouldn't have helped beat the crap out of four people."



"I believe that was Chuck's point. But I'm sure he said it more diplomaticaly."



"Probably so. I guess the lawyers wil find out soon enough about Tate's 'desk riding.' If you'l send me the article, we'l see what we can do from this end."



"Wil do," he said.



"Thanks, Jeff. We appreciate it."



"No prob, Merit. I'm sure we'l talk later."



The e-mail came almost immediately. The article was lengthy; someone had done an in-depth review of the cops involved and their attorneys' unsurprising friendships with Mayor Kowalcyzk.



That certainly explained the early release, and it might very wel have been enough to trigger another burst of angelic retribution.



I hung up, grabbed a shower, got dressed, and ran upstairs to Ethan's bedroom.



He opened the door in nothing but silk pajama bottoms, and I nearly wept at the sight. Long, flat abdomen, ridges of muscle at his hips, his hair loose around his shoulders. It was almost cruel to see and not be able to touch.



"Is everything okay?"



I told him about the article Jeff had found. "This could always be a trap," I warned. "Maybe one of the Tates wants another run at us and left the article at the crime scene so we'd find it.



But we have to take the chance. The attorneys aren't listening, the mayor has dismissed the Ombud's office, and there could be hundreds of people at the press conference."



Ethan nodded. "If we're the only ones who see the threat, I suppose we'l be the ones to handle it. And I agree - the risk of colateral damage is too high to ignore. I'l get dressed. Get your sword and meet me in the office."



This time, I did as I was told.



Luc, Malik, and Ethan were already in Ethan's office when I arrived, the blade of my katana impeccable, my body clad in head-to-toe leather for the impending fight.



I'd finaly remembered to grab the worry wood from my room. It was a smal ridge in my jacket pocket, a comforting reminder that magic wasn't al bad, that it could even be helpful.



That was a lesson I was fighting hard to remember lately.



They were seated around the conference table. I joined them.



"The officers are scheduled to be released within the hour," Ethan said. "I contacted Nicholas Breckenridge." Nick was an old family friend and a former flame; he was also a Pulitzer Prize - winning journalist. "He said the cops are planning to make a statement, and the lawyers have invited the media to cover it."



"There wil definitely be a crowd, then," Malik said.



"Everyone wil be fighting for sound bites - those who think vampires are evil, those who think cops aren't limited by rules and regulations, the family members of the humans assaulted."



"Colateral damage," Ethan murmured, as Luc spread a satelite image of the lockup onto the table. The building wasn't huge, but there was a span of long concrete steps across the front bounded by a couple of columns on each side.



"Perfect place for a Law and Order - style shooting," Luc said.



Malik nodded. "And there's more poetic justice if Tate takes them out on the steps. What's the plan?"



"Merit and I wil take positions here and here," Ethan said, pointing at the columns. "Our goal is to keep Tate away from the cops and limit the amount of damage he causes."



"How are you going to do that?" Malik asked.



"I'm stil working on it," Ethan said, eyes scanning the map.



"I do have one smal objection to the plan," I said.



"Which is?" Ethan asked.



"Your participation. You aren't going."



Luc and Malik instantly froze, and Ethan's eyebrow perked upward. "I'm not going?"



There was no denying I was afraid of the coming fight - Tate was a monster beyond al I'd had to fight before, and I didn't even know of a way to fight him now - but fear wasn't going to help me, and it certainly wasn't going to help Ethan. I opted for logic, instead.



"Protecting these cops might mean throwing ourselves in front of them. You can't do that. And as Sentinel, I can't let you do that. We've already lost you once, and the House is in too much political chaos for you to be at risk again. The House needs stability. They don't need a Sentinel."



"And if I say no?"



"My job is to protect this House, even if that means disagreeing with you."



Ethan sat back in his chair and pursed his lips.



"Darius is on his way back for our interviews," Malik added.



"You can't blow him off. Not right now."



Ethan kept his gaze on me. "Luc wil join you."



I shook my head. "Luc needs to stay here in case this is a ploy so the Tates can get to the House."



"I'm not going to let you go out there on your own."



"I have backup."



His expression flattened. "Who?"



This is business, I reminded myself, nothing else. "Jonah. He can meet me there. He's skiled and strong. He's not as good with a katana as you are, but he also doesn't have a history with Tate."



Jonah did, of course, have a history with me...or he'd wanted to. That might make things more than a little awkward between us, but he was stil my best option.



My only option.



Ethan looked at me for a moment, the tension in the room building as the interlude of silence grew longer.



"Gentlemen, give us the room."



Malik moved to Ethan and whispered in his ear, but my senses were so tautly strung it was easy enough to discern the words.



"What she says makes sense," he whispered.



Ethan nodded, and Malik folowed Luc to the door.



"There wil be no heroics," Ethan said when the room was empty again. "Do what you can to protect the officers and keep the public clear of Tate's shenanigans. No heroics," he repeated.



"That is an order."



"I have no plans to the contrary." That was half a lie. I didn't want to be a hero, but I wanted to keep our people safe.



"I don't approve of this plan."



"Your disapproval is noted. But you know there's no better way."



His lip curled in distaste, but finaly he nodded. "And you're sure Jonah is trustworthy?"



I found him trustworthy, but by Ethan's estimation? Probably not, especialy since he was a member of the RG.



"He is. He was a great help when Malory was trying to destroy the city. Malik and Catcher can testify to that."



Ethan tilted his head and watched me for a moment. "Is he in love with you?"



My cheeks turned flame hot. I wouldn't cal it love, but Jonah had definitely professed interest. He'd gotten as far as a kiss before backing off. But perhaps, given our current situation, that wasn't information Ethan needed to know...



"I'm not sure," I said. "And as long as our relationship is on halt, I'm not sure it's any of your business, Liege."



Ethan's jaw tightened, but he stil wouldn't abandon his position, even if the ship was sinking around him. "I see," he said.



I nodded. "As long as we're clear. I'l update you as soon as I have news."



This time, when I left his office, I was smiling a little.



Jonah, as I suspected, was up for the meet. He also caled out a handful of other RG members to take spots in the crowd in case things got completely out of hand, which I fuly expected them to.



Tate and his clone were maybe, possibly, planning to kil four Chicago police officers in a public space populated with attorneys, judges, protestors, and reporters. How could this not get fuly out of hand?



It did make me feel a little better that Ethan was locked safely away in Cadogan House under Luc's and Malik's watchful eyes.



He'd worry about me from there, but Luc had plenty of Ops Room toys - satelite surveilance, feed from traffic and CCTV cameras, and scanners covering a ful range of frequencies. Ethan could keep eyes and ears on us from Hyde Park.



Jonah met me half a block away from the CPD building, standing on the sidewalk in jeans and an open long wool coat.



Easier to hide the sword beneath, I assumed.



Jonah was tal and lean, with broad shoulders and shoulder-length auburn hair that waved around his face. His mouth was wide, his nose long and straight, his jaw square. He was wearing a little stubble tonight, along with a Midnight High School T-shirt that marked him as a member of the Red Guard...at least to other members of the Red Guard.



His gaze was on the CPD lockup building.



I looked back at the building - a typical government shop built in white stone to look Greek or Roman, with the spil of steps in front of it. A portico covered the top half of the steps, that half roof held up by the two columns.



There was a podium about halfway up the steps - the perfect post for a few enterprising criminal defense attorneys to claim a little credit.



An area had been roped off at the front of the stairs for reporters and photographers. Men with cameras and impressive lenses stood behind it, waiting for the cops and their attorneys to emerge from the building. And on the edges of the knot of reporters stood two groups of protestors. One group protested the cops' release. Their signs read JUSTICE FOR VAMPIRES AND KEEP CRIMINALS BEHIND BARS! The other group's signs weren't nearly so pleasant. They congratulated the cops - and rued they hadn't managed to wipe us out altogether.



The steps were already lined by people waiting for the cops to emerge from the building. There were plenty of CPD officers on the perimeters, and I was momentarily nervous they'd ask for the registration papers I didn't yet have.



On the other hand, if we were right about what was about to go down, my paperwork would hardly matter.



"Hey," Jonah said, glancing at me.



"Hey."



"How's Ethan?"



"Alive, so far. I kept him at the House so he'd stay that way."



"Good cal." He looked at me with obvious curiosity.



"What?" I asked.



Jonah shrugged. "I'm surprised you caled. Since he's back."



"I made a promise to the Red Guard," I said. "I intend to keep it. And my feelings for Ethan aside, the GP's on my shit list.



Now more than ever."



Jonah nodded. "Darius came by the House last night. I wasn't privy to his discussions, but Scott was in a foul mood when he left."



That news made my stomach curl. Had Darius confessed to Scott the shofet's plan to close down Cadogan House? Was that why Scott was upset? I wanted to interrogate Jonah for details, but if Scott wasn't ready to tel Jonah, his guard captain, what they'd talked about, it probably wasn't news I wanted to know.



"Do you know what's up?" Jonah asked.



"Not that I'm free to say. Suffice it to say, the GP is up to something."



"They usualy are," Jonah said with a grin. "We try to stay under the radar. It's a strategy Cadogan might want to consider."



"Har-har. You know, we can't al afford to keep our heads in the sand. Especialy not when crazies keep targeting us."



"You do have an awful track record. And I don't want to dwel on this or make things awkward, but since your boyfriends have a tendency to wind up deceased, it's probably better nothing happened between us."



I gave him an arch look. "That only happened once." My tone was dry, but I was secretly glad he'd brought it up and put it out there. Better to make a joke out of it than to have something weird and awkward between us.



"I guess that's true," Jonah said. "I mean, Morgan got promoted."



"You are just hilarious. Are we the only ones here?"



"On the sides of good and righteousness? No. There are two more Red Guards in the crowd. They'l stay quiet unless something pops."



"Like an angel of justice taking them down with his giant sword of righteousness?"



"That sounds like the tagline for a bad porn flick."



"It does, doesn't it? And yet, it's true. Or so we suspect. We haven't exactly had a chance to ask Tate if he's a dispenser of wrath."



He smiled down at me. "You know, every time I hang out with you, things get weirder."



I nodded. It was hard to argue with that. "It's a personal flaw. I'm making a resolution for next year to become much more average. Ordinary, even."



"I'm not sure that's possible. Any known weaknesses for our angelic friend?"



"None that I'm aware of. And it could be friends, plural. Only one showed up to Paulie's party, but who knows what they're thinking right now. We can't even differentiate between them."



Jonah linked his fingers together and stretched out his arms, limbering up for the fight. "I do like to play for the underdog."



He might have been bluffing; he might have meant it. Either way, it was good to have a partner who kept his sense of humor in the face of pretty bad odds.



"So how are we playing this?" he asked.



I offered up the plan Ethan had suggested. "Let's each take a column. When the cops come out, keep an eye out for the Tates, or one of them. I can't imagine he'l wait around and risk missing his chance. And the cops know he was involved in Paulie's murder, so he'l either have to be in disguise - "



"Or he'l have to come in with a bang and not give them time to wrestle him down," Jonah said.



"Exactly. A quick strike either way. I'm sure he could take out a cop or two pretty easily, but there are a lot of people here, and a lot of cops. Unless he wants to be riddled with bulet holes, he'l have to get in, get it done, and get out. So if we can throw him off, slow down his schedule, anything, we might have a chance to keep him from kiling anyone."



"Even if we stop him - or them - tonight, he might take another run at it."



"He might," I agreed. "The cops' attorneys have already been warned Tate was coming, but they didn't believe it. Maybe if he shows himself tonight, they'l take the threat seriously. Maybe they can be put into protective custody or something."



"Any chance this ends wel?"



"I can't imagine that it wil," I said. "But we fight the good fight anyway."



"Spoken just like an RG member. I'm so proud." He gave me a supportive clap on the back. "I'l take the west column. You take the east."



"Sounds good. Good luck."



"You, too."



Jonah disappeared into the crowd, and within seconds the building's doors opened. The protestors began screaming and chanting en masse, their signs bobbing up and down with the new burst of energy.



The attorneys came out first - four men in expensive suits and probably equaly high-maintenance egos. They were folowed by the officers - four men of various ages and races, stil in uniforms, despite how much they'd tarnished them.



They walked down the steps and grouped together at the podium. The first attorney adjusted the microphone.



"Ladies and gentlemen. Members of the press. We are thriled tonight that justice has been done in Chicago."



There was no sign of Tate, but he couldn't be far behind a statement like that.



Someone tapped my shoulder. "Hey, you can't have that here."



At the same time, I caught sight of a tal, dark-haired man moving through the crowd. My heart quickened.



"Hey, did you hear what I said? Hand over the sword or we're taking a little trip into the lockup."



I glanced behind me. A uniformed CPD cop - a barrel-chested man with a thick mustache - tapped my sword with his stick. A second cop moved in closer, probably thinking I was the threat they were supposed to be watching for.



"Sir, the guy who kiled Paulie - the drug lord? - he might be in the crowd."



"Yeah, I'm sure." He stuck the stick back into his utility belt but put a hand on the butt of his service weapon. "Give me the sword, ma'am, or we're going to have some trouble. And there are a lot of uniforms here tonight. You don't want to start something you can't finish."



I glanced back at the crowd. Just as the attorney finished his remarks and the cops stepped up to the podium, the dark-haired man had wedged his way through the crowd to the front of the rope line. Now that he was clear of the crowd, I could see his face.



It was Tate. One of them, anyway.



I looked back and appealed to the cops. "It's definitely him - Seth Tate. Do you see him? He's standing at the front of the crowd. Dark hair?"



The second cop, a little savvier than his friend, frowned and looked over, but the first cop wasn't buying it.



"Al right, I'm taking that weapon, and you're coming with me." He put a hand on the sheath of my sword and puled hard to dislodge it from my belt.



"I'm realy sorry about this," I said, chopping his hand away with a swipe of my arm and whipping out my sword.



Tate picked that moment to act - ripping the rope away and stepping into the gap between the crowd and the cops. He screamed out - that same primordial noise we'd heard in the silo. He wore a trench coat. He whipped it off to reveal a naked torso, and summoned the giant broadsword back into his hands.



And that wasn't al he was carrying.



Tate arched his back and held out his sword. As the horrified crowd looked on, great black wings sprouted from his shoulder blades. The purple-black membranes of his wings were marked by veins and tendons, stretched taut by long, thin bones that ended in needle-sharp claws. His wingspan must have been twenty feet. Twenty terrifying feet. They flapped once, then twice, filing the air with the scents of sulfur and smoke.



A shock of base fear ran through me. It was easy to think of Tate as a storybook creature, but this was no storybook. He was something old and fundamental to the earth, created not to protect men, but to judge them. He would see into your heart of hearts, and if he found you lacking, you had only yourself to blame for your suffering.



My worry wood was so not going to help with this.



The crowd screamed. I was distracted by the sights and sounds before me, and the second cop managed to pul the sword from my hand.



I could have fought him for it, but I realy didn't want to assault a cop if I didn't have to. I opted for pleading instead and held out my hand. "Please, someone has to stop him. I can try, but only with my sword."



Tate probably had no idea I was in the crowd and most certainly didn't care if I was being handled by the cops. Tate was busy fighting a battle of his own. He pushed away a uniformed cop from the crowd who tried to stop him and swiped his sword at one of the released cops. The cop stumbled backward to get away, but the sword caught him on the chin, and he screamed out.



While everyone else ran away from the monster and his weapon, Jonah jumped right into the fray, unsheathing his own sword. Before Tate noticed he was there, Jonah struck out and gashed the thin webbing of one of Tate's wings.



Tate screamed out and turned, his giant wing pivoting through the air and throwing Jonah backward.



"Jonah!" I yeled out, then looked back at the second cop, pleading in my eyes. "Please, for God's sake, give me back my sword."



He looked nervously between me and the drama that was playing out a few dozen feet in front of him. "What the hel is that?"



Cops trained for a lot of things, but likely nothing had prepared this poor guy for what he was seeing.



I picked an easy answer; this wasn't the time for complicated honesty. "He's a monster. He's something that doesn't belong here, but he's going to do a lot of damage until he's gone. I'm a vampire, and I think I can stop him, but I need my sword."



Stil nothing. The guy was stuck in a paralyzing panic, so I broke out the big gun.



"I'm Caroline Merit," I said. "Chuck Merit's granddaughter."



His eyes cleared, understanding blossoming in his expression.



Not for me, most likely, but for my grandfather, who'd walked a beat in Chicago for years before he'd become Seth Tate's Ombudsman.



The officer Tate had nicked on the chin screamed as Tate cut him down with the sword. Other cops in the crowd fired, but their bulets had no effect on him.



So he had magical weapons, giant wings, and a sword, and he was immune to bulets. This was getting better and better.



"I need to go now!" I told the cop.



It took him a second, but he finaly nodded and handed back my sword. "Go! Go!"



I nodded and took it, savoring the bite of leather cording against my palm. I yeled out over the barrage of bulets, "Please try to stop them from firing at me, if you can. It won't kil me, but it wil hurt like a son of a bitch."



The cop nodded back, and I watched his eyes flatten as his instincts took over. He'd be fine.



"Hold your fire!" he yeled out, arms flapping the air to get the others' attention. "Hold your fire!"



The shots trailed off and finaly stopped. The attorneys had abandoned their clients, leaving three of the released cops frozen in fear on the stairs. The fourth lay arms and legs akimbo on the step below them.



I said a silent prayer, gripped my sword, and moved forward.



"Tate!" I caled out when I reached the bottom step.



He stopped and froze, and I suddenly knew how every movie heroine who'd tried to save someone by diverting the monster's attention felt. The obvious problem with that approach? It put the monster's attention squarely on you.



Slowly, Tate turned toward me. His face so handsome but so deadly. His eyes burned like blue fire, fed by zealotry and a power that eclipsed anything else I'd seen before.



It seemed the rest of the city fel quiet to hear him speak. "This isn't your fight, Balerina."



He recognized me - but did that mean he was Tate Part One or Tate Part Two?



I took another step. "You've attacked my city, Tate. That makes it my fight. Walk away and leave them be."



"You think you can take me?"



In the corner of my eye, I saw Jonah nearing Tate again, back on his feet with his sword in hand.



"Whether I can or not is irrelevant. I wil try because you don't have the right to attack these men."



"Justice is not being served," he said.



"That's an issue for humans. It's not your concern."



"And yet here you are," he said, reaching out to grab one of the other three released cops by the neck. The cop screamed and kicked, but Tate was unmoved. He held him in the crook of his arm like the cop was nothing more than a game animal, caught for sport.



Or in this case, to prove a point.



"This city is corrupt!" Tate yeled out, thrusting the sword into the air with his free hand, the fervor of a zealot in his voice. "It must be cleansed, and mine is the sword that wil see it purified."



It was time to bring him down a peg. I took another step forward. "You know, Tate, if I had a quarter for every time a politician promised to clean up this city, I'd be a milionaire by now."



I heard an appreciative chuckle in the crowd, as Jonah stepped slowly toward Tate from behind as I moved closer in front.



"Justice wil be done," Tate said, then threw the cop to the ground and raised his sword to strike.



Neither Jonah nor I wasted any time. Jonah struck Tate from the back, and I launched toward him, katana in the air, from the front. I aimed for his sword and managed to knock him off target. Our swords clanged together with body-shaking force, and I hit the ground in a rol before popping up again.



"Run!" I told the cop, and he squirmed away.



Tate roared out his displeasure, turning to swipe at Jonah, which sent his wings flying in my direction. I jumped back, but the tip of a claw grazed my stomach, sending a sharp spike of pain across my bely.



I cursed but hopped to my feet again. Jonah and Tate began sparring, Jonah's thin, sleek katana an odd foil against Tate's massive sword - like a samurai fighting a medieval knight.



They battled in a circle, Jonah moving spritely up and down the stairs as Tate moved after him.



The cop who'd given me my sword back was moving toward the released cop, who stil lay motionless on the ground.



It was my turn to tap in. "Tate!"



He stopped and glanced back at me, eyes narrowed like a predator. Or a crazed angel.



I crooked a finger at him, then loosened my knees and positioned my sword. "Come and get me."



Tate took a step forward, but it wasn't to get to me. Instead, he launched toward the cop who'd given me my sword back and lofted his sword in the air.



There was no way I was going to reach him in time. I said the only thing that occurred to me...and did the very thing Ethan had forbidden me to do.



"Tate!"



He looked at me, ferocity in his eyes.



"Let him go," I said. "Take me instead."



I'd hoped to throw Tate off his mark or at least gain a little time. But he didn't pause to think.



"Very well," he said. Before I could move away, Tate lunged forward and grabbed my wrist.



My skin flamed beneath his touch, and everything went black.