CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NEWSIES 2.0

Ethan and I returned to the House, stopped at the basement stairs.

“You’re going to the Ops Room?” he asked.

I nodded. “You’re going to meet with supplicants?”

“It’s only fair.”

We stood in silence for a moment. We were both afraid—afraid of losing something dear, afraid of what Adrien Reed wanted to take from us. That fear had blossomed into anger and frustration, and those emotions roiled between us, a barrier we hadn’t yet crossed.

“I’m not sure what else I can say.”

I looked up at Ethan. “Me, neither.”

He looked down, nodded. “Then let’s go about our work until we do know. I’ll see you later.” Without waiting for my response, he began to trot up the stairs.

When he’d disappeared, I pressed a hand against my stomach, which had tightened with nerves and fear.

Yet another reason to detest Adrien Reed.

•   •   •

I walked down the hall, but when I opened the Ops Room door, Lindsey shook her head.

“Nope, nope,” she said, moving to bar the door with arms outstretched. “You have company upstairs.”

I frowned at her. “Company? Who?”

“A very pissed-off sorceress.”

Damn. “Paige? Because of the alchemy?”

“Paige is in the library. It’s Mallory.”

“Mallory?” I checked my watch. It was late, and I didn’t have any idea why Mallory might be pissed off.

“And before you ask,” Lindsey said, “no, I don’t know what she wants, even with my wicked psychic powers.” She released one of her arms, used it to shoo me. “Go upstairs, talk to her, and get her to knock off the bad juju. She’s magically funking up the joint.”

I wanted to argue but decided the fastest way to figure out what was up with Mallory was to actually go upstairs and ask her. Still, I felt a low sense of dread. I didn’t know anything I’d done to piss her off, which raised other issues—did it have something to do with the shifters? My grandfather? Dark magic?

I hustled up the stairs, glanced around the foyer, saw no one but the supplicants in the foyer and a vampire at the desk.

The assault came from behind me. She popped out of the woodwork like a pixie, began slapping at me with fluttering, butterfly hands.

“Ow! What the hell, Mallory?” For a petite woman with plenty of magic at her disposal, she slapped pretty hard.

“Biggest thing to happen in either of our damn lives and you didn’t even tell me!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Gabriel’s prophecy,” she said in a fierce, growling whisper.

I stopped, stared at her.

There weren’t many who knew about it, and I hadn’t told anyone other than Ethan, for obvious reasons, and Lindsey, and because she’d mostly guessed it.

“How did you—”

She crossed her arms. “Gabriel’s angry at Ethan. I guess he let it slip to Jeff, and Jeff told me.”

Supernaturals could not keep secrets to save their lives. “Does my grandfather know?”

“No. Jeff didn’t even mean to tell me, and he swore me to secrecy.”

I rubbed my temples, which were beginning to ache from the weight of too much drama. Or Mallory’s psychic funk.

“Let’s go for a walk outside,” I said.

But Mallory just kept staring at me, and her eyes began to fill. “You didn’t tell me.”

Crap, I thought, and took her arm much more gently than she’d have taken mine.

“Let’s go outside,” I said, heading off another round of bruises, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

•   •   •

I walked her through the House and the cafeteria, which was filled with chattering vampires and the scents of meat and chilies. It was Tex-Mex night, a House favorite. Thankfully, the food kept their attention as we walked past.

I led Mallory outside to the House’s enormous pool, a beautiful rectangle of sparkling water. I sat down on the concrete that surrounded it. Mallory sat in front of me, cross-legged.

She put a hand on her chest. “Is it because of the magic? Because you don’t trust me? Because you don’t want me to know that you’re trying to get pregnant?”

The fear in her eyes was obvious.

“No,” I said, and when she looked at me, I said it again. “No. Big no, little no, no. We’re not trying to get pregnant, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you or trust. It doesn’t have anything to do with anything, really. It’s just—it may not ever happen. It’s all very fuzzy and up in the air.”

She frowned, then cast a quick and wary gaze at my crotch before lifting her gaze to mine again. “You’re going to need to explain that. Jeff was vague on the details, and I’m not really sure I understand how pregnancy could be fuzzy or up in the air.”

“Because it’s a prophecy, not a pregnancy test. Gabriel thinks we’ll have a child—me and Ethan. But that would basically be a miracle among miracles.”

“Why?”

“Because no vampire child has ever been born.”

She leaned back in surprise. “Ever?”

“Forever ever. Three known vampire conceptions in the entire history of the world. None made it to term.”

Her expression fell. “Damn, Merit. Those are pretty shitty odds.”

“They are. Which makes Gabriel’s prediction that much more awesome, and that much more questionable. And, to add insult to injury, we have to go through some kind of test before it happens.”

She frowned. “What kind of test?”

“I don’t know. Something bad that we have to endure.”

She snorted lightly. “Hasn’t there already been plenty of that?”

“I had the same question. I don’t know what it will be, or when, or if it’s sitting out there around the corner just waiting for us.”

Or were we already in the middle of it—this nightmare with Reed? Was this the nastiness we had to survive, individually and together?

“What?” she asked.

I shook my head, not wanting to talk about Ethan, but she thumped me on the shin. “Ow. You are violent tonight.”

She grinned. “It’s very effective. And if you don’t spill, I’ll do it again.” To prove her point, she made a circle of her thumb and index finger, held them near my shinbone.

“Ethan and I are fighting. I think.”

“That is just shocking, because you’re both so easygoing.”

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere.”

“I disagree, but I’ll skip the argument. Spill.”

I sighed. “You know about the Botanic Garden?”

“I got the earful, yeah.”

“He found out Reed was going to be there by calling my father, having him make a phone call or something, confirm Reed’s attendance.”

“Hmmm,” was all she said.

“Yeah.”

Mallory pulled up her knees, wrapped her arms around them. “The territory near your father is tricky, tricky ground. On the one hand, yeah, he’s an adult. Could have told Ethan to pound sand. And just making a phone call isn’t necessarily risky.”

“And on the other hand?”

“On the other hand, Ethan even potentially involving your father with Reed again? That’s dicey.”

“Yeah, it is. That’s exactly what I said.”

“Has he apologized?”

“In the way that he apologizes. ‘I would do anything to protect you,’” I said, in a pretty good imitation.

Mallory nodded. “He gave you an alphapology.”

“What now?”

“An alphapology. The apology made by the alpha male, which isn’t really an apology, but more a reason for insane behavior. Catcher does it all the damn time. Drives me up the wall.”

“Alphapology,” I repeated, kicking the tires. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. What do I do about it?”

“Depends on Darth Sullivan’s particular brand of alpha. He knows you’ve got a rocky relationship with your family, but he also knows they matter to you. And frankly, Merit, at least some of his asinine behavior is because of Reed. Reed’s a crazy asshole, and crazy breeds crazy. If Ethan gets to the point where he acknowledges the phone call was a mistake, you can carry on.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then Darth Sullivan isn’t the man I thought he was.” She reached out, took my hand, squeezed it. “And he is that man, Merit. Look at it this way. If this is the testing, you know you’ll get through it. Or at least through it enough to get knocked up,” she said with a snort.

“That’s not really funny.”

“I know.”

“You know, I’m kind of surprised Gabriel didn’t mention this to you when you were tutoring with him.”

“Gabriel’s really weird about his prophecies. He doesn’t like to talk about them.” She frowned, as if considering her words. “I’m not even sure ‘prophecy’ gets to the heart of it, not really. The word makes it sound like he knows this independent piece of information—this bit of knowledge that’s separate from him. But it doesn’t work that way. Shifters are connected—to the earth, to the things living on it, to the kind of”—she waved her hands in the air—“universal timeline. The things they prophesize, that knowledge, is part of that interconnected timeline. Part of who they are.”

“That’s pretty deep.”

“It sounds like horseshit,” she said with a grin. “Like the nonsense I’d have spewed in my Grateful Dead and patchouli days.”

“Those were very colorful days.” Mallory had braided her hair, worn broomstick skirts, and stocked the fridge with Cherry Garcia. I hadn’t complained about the last.

“They were something,” she agreed. “But Gabriel’s the real deal. You’ve seen the Pack together. Hell, you saw Convocation. You know what they’re like.”

“Yeah. But I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“I’d say, take the middle ground. Cautiously optimistic. Or optimistically cautious.”

“My question is, how’s it actually going to happen?”

“Well, Merit, Ethan will put his—”

I held up a hand. “I didn’t mean literally. If no child of vampires has ever been carried to term, how are we going to beat those odds?”

“I don’t know,” she said, brow furrowed. “Something with magic?”

“That was my guess, but I still don’t know how the mechanics would work.”

“Tab A, slot B.”

“This conversation has taken a weird turn.”

“Yeah, but that’s kind of our thing.” She leaned forward, put a hand on my knee. “My God, do I want to see Ethan facing his first loaded diaper. And can you imagine him dealing with milk puke?”

“I think he’ll be a good dad.” A protective one, certainly. He had that gene in spades. “I mean, for a four-hundred-year-old pretentious Master vampire.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s his burden to bear, and we shouldn’t hold it against him. You know what we need?” she asked suddenly. “A beach vacation before you’re ankle-deep in poopy diapers. I mean, I know you can’t sunbathe, but we can still do manicures. Pedicures. Eat plenty of fried fish and listen to Jimmy Buffett by moonlight.”

“I’ve never listened to Jimmy Buffett in my life.”

“I haven’t, either. But I think that’s what you do on the beach. While drinking a margarita. We’ll call it a retreat! I’ll write a grimoire of good and helpful magic, or work on SWOB stuff, and you can, I don’t know, sharpen your sword.”

“Is that what you think we do in our free time? Sharpen our swords?”

She grinned. “Yes. Literally and figuratively.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“I know.” She sighed happily. “All the shit we’ve been through—all the shit I’ve been through—and I can still make lascivious jokes with the best of them. That’s impressive, Merit. That’s character. And I’m serious about the retreat idea. I might even let you bring Ethan for a night if you two make up. I bet he’d look fine in one of those tiny Speedos.”

I grimaced. As far as I was concerned, no one looked good in them. But I imagined Ethan would look good emerging from the ocean, body drenched and trunks riding low on his hips, striding across the sand like Poseidon.

I cleared my throat. “If we make up, I’ll talk to him.”

Mallory grinned. “You were thinking about him naked, weren’t you?”

“No. Maybe. Yes.”

“Good,” she said with a grin. “’Cause you got a baby to make. And I should get going. I need to run an errand. I’m going to buy a crucible, actually. I mean, technically it’s part of an old ceramics kiln. But I figure it will do the trick.”

According to the books the Librarian had provided, crucibles were a crucial part of alchemy. “Are you going to actually try a transmutation?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m thinking it would be worthwhile to try out one of the subequations—one of the shorter alchemical phrases. I was thinking that will help us fill in some of the nonsensical spots. But I don’t want to accidentally set Reed’s big plan in motion.”

“No argument from me there.”

“You gonna work on the symbols?”

I checked my watch. I’d spent part of the night on the road, part in a ball gown, part in a jail cell, and part in a cemetery. There wasn’t much darkness left. “I’ll at least stop by the library, yeah. I haven’t exactly been a very good assistant for Paige.”

“Since you’re usually the one doing the heavy lifting, I wouldn’t feel too bad about that. You’re working other angles.”

I nodded. “And speaking of, Ethan wants to meet here at dusk to talk. We told Catcher earlier.”

“Yeah, he texted me. We’ll be here.” She pushed to her feet, offered me a hand. And when she’d helped me lever myself up, she surrounded me with a hug.

“I love you, Merit. Just—maybe give me a call the next time an Apex shifter predicts you’ll have a bouncing magic vampire baby?”

I could practically see her gears working. “Don’t say vambaby. And you’ll be the first Bell I call.”

“Damn right I will.”

We walked back to the House over soft, cool grass, fell into a companionable silence.

“It’s Tex-Mex night in there, right?” she asked when we reached the patio.

“It is.”

“You think there’s any enchiladas? Maybe I could grab one to eat on the trip back? Catcher’s on a kale and quinoa kick. It’s horrible.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I’m not sure. But we can ask.”

Arm in arm, we walked into the sensual embrace of Tex-Mex night.

•   •   •

This time, Lindsey let me into the Ops Room. The fact that I’d brought guacamole probably hadn’t hurt, since the guards fell on it like wolves.

Double-dipping wolves, as it turned out.

“About damn time you made it down here,” Luc said.

“Sorry,” I said, and tried to remembered what I’d been planning to report before I was interrupted by a sorcerer and banned by a fellow guard. “Mallory had a personal crisis. Needed to get it resolved so we could all get back to work.”

I offered my phone, showed him the pictures we’d taken at Mount Rider. “Catcher took pictures, too. He’s going to ask Jeff to work them into that algorithm. And Ethan wants to meet at dusk.”

“I don’t think Ethan’s in a position to make any demands right now,” Luc grouched, spearing a chip into the bowl.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to be the one to tell him that. But you go right ahead.”

Luc made a dubious grunt. “You told Catcher about the dusk meeting?”

“And Mallory.”

Luc nodded. “I’ll tell Paige and the Librarian.”

“I was going to go to the library,” I said, but when I checked the clock, I realized dawn was approaching. “But the night has wasted away again.”

“I talked to Paige while you were gone, made your apologies.” He ran a hand through his tousled curls. “Frankly, Sentinel, I don’t think your being there would have made much of a difference. She’s stuck, too. Said the equations still aren’t making sense. At least you got a new location tonight. Not that that helps with the scope of our problem. Just increases it.”

“I’ve asked Catcher to spread the word among the sups, have them alert us if someone finds more alchemy.”

Luc nodded. “That’s something, but Chicago’s an enormous city.”

“We need to tell the Houses.”

“They’ve got the basics,” he said. “Wouldn’t have been fair to keep the information about the alchemy from them. But requesting they jump in? Yeah. I mean, they aren’t Cadogan House—more Hufflepuff to our Gryffindor—but we could use the extra bodies.”

I just stared at him. “Harry Potter? Really?”

“Those books are quality, Sentinel. You should read them.”

He said it like he was the first person to discover the books, to realize they were good. I decided not to mention my first editions.

“I’ll make a note of it,” I said. “Oh, and Annabelle saw the sorcerer.” I passed along the minimal details she’d been able to see, my curiosity about the man at La Douleur.

“Lots of vampires wear suits.”

“I know. Ethan said the same thing.” Suddenly exhausted, I rose. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Get Ethan on the right track,” Luc said. “You’ll both feel a lot better.”

“Bang his brains out,” Lindsey offered helpfully from the other side of the room.

Luc shook his head. “Apologies, Sentinel. My girlfriend is crude.”

“And you love it,” she said.

From his wide smile, I guessed she was right.

“Good luck, Sentinel,” Luc said. “Our wands are up for you.”

I didn’t think that quite sounded the way he’d meant it to.

•   •   •

When I walked into our apartments, Ethan stood at his bureau. If circumstances had been different, I’d have teased him about Mallory, the fact that she now knew about the maybe-baby. That would raise the specter of baby showers, cribs, and godparents, which would have flustered him to my amusement.

But that’s not where we were. Not right then.

I took off my clothes, washed my face, and slid into pajamas. He did the same, sat down on his side of the bed just as I’d sat down on mine. The wall was invisible, but it was there. “They know of the meeting at dusk?”

“They do,” I said, turning off the bedside light and slipping my feet under cool sheets.

“Good. Perhaps we can make progress. Perhaps we’ll all feel better if we make progress.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant himself or me or both of us. Either way, the sun rose before I could ask the question.