CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

IDENTITY

Mallory studied the translated equation, then helped Paige set the wards on the House. When it was protected, or as well as it could be, the city’s supernatural leaders were called, and we prepared for battle.

By the time we gathered in the conference room, we were leather-clad and katana-wielding. Ethan wore a black moto-style leather jacket over dark jeans and boots, his hair pulled back with a leather cord. I’d added my apotrope to my ensemble.

Lindsey, Kelley, and Juliet were also dressed in leathers. Luc and Malik would remain at the House—Luc to keep it safe, and Malik to keep it under control. As Ethan’s Second, he’d be in charge of the House in Ethan’s absence—and the hundreds of vampires who’d come here to escape the magic.

Malik joined us, as did Paige and the Librarian, Catcher and Mallory, Gabriel, Eli, Jeff, and Fallon. Jonah walked into the room with Scott, which filled me with relief. I rose, met them at the door, could feel Ethan’s gaze on both of us. But since Jonah had jumped out in front of me and probably saved my life, he could bear a little jealousy.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Not bad,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for dragging me out of the line of fire.”

“Thanks for taking the hit for me.” I smiled up at him. “And don’t ever do it again.”

“I’ll make a note.”

I stepped aside so they could walk to the table, was surprised to see Morgan walk in behind them. He was as leather-clad as the rest of us, a yellow katana belted at his waist. And his expression was fierce.

He found Ethan. Morgan, the dark-haired Master of the nation’s oldest vampire House, matched against Ethan, the blond-haired Master of the city’s most active House. A former boyfriend matched against my forever love, and a vampire who’d been too human matched against one who, until recently, hadn’t been quite human enough. It was interesting how things had changed.

“I hadn’t expected you to fight,” Ethan said, extending a hand.

“You don’t mean that as an insult,” Morgan said, “but it’s embarrassing all the same. I should have been fighting a long time ago, against Reed and otherwise. Better late than never, I hope.”

Ethan nodded. “You’re here now. That counts.”

“I hope so.” Morgan glanced at me, smiled with disarmingly boyish charm. “I’ve seen Merit fight. She can avenge me if I go down.”

“Let’s hope no one needs avenging,” Ethan said.

“We’re ready,” Luc said when he and Jeff had finagled a small projector in the center of the table that shot an image onto a screen that descended at the far end of the conference table. Luc dimmed the lights.

A map of the Loop that showed Towerline—or its currently skeletal frame—and the surrounding blocks was projected on one half of the screen. Jeff’s projection of the QE filled the other.

“This is the Quinta Essentia,” Ethan said as heads turned to look at the symbol. “I don’t want to spend too much time on the magical details. Suffice it to say we believe Adrien Reed, his sorcerer, and his vampire, who’s been identified as Logan Hill, a Rogue, have been working on a complex alchemical equation. That equation is intended to provide one or all of them control of every supernatural within the boundaries.”

“Control,” Scott repeated, incredulous.

“Control,” Ethan confirmed. “They’ve manipulated a shifter and, as of earlier tonight, several trolls. They’re dead,” he said, and glanced at Gabriel. “Your shifter?”

Gabriel just shook his head. “No sign of him.”

“So he could still be under Reed’s control,” Ethan said.

“What’s his long game here?” Scott asked. “He can’t have imagined this would work out well—that people wouldn’t notice what he was doing.”

“I believe Reed expected we’d take much, much longer to figure out what he’s doing. We literally stumbled onto the Wrigleyville symbols.”

Mallory nodded. “If we hadn’t figured out the what and where of the magic, he’d be doing all this right now, only without police surrounding the building. We’d fall to his control, and he would have a supernatural army, and we would be none the wiser. And with that magical army, with that power, humans would be hard-pressed to argue with him.”

Ethan paused to let that sink in.

“If the QE is kindled, we’re all at risk,” he said. “The House is warded. All supernaturals are invited to shelter here. Mallory will have wearable countermagics for anyone on the go team.”

“How, exactly, does the magic work?” Morgan asked, leaning forward and linking his hands on the table. “And how can we use it against them?”

Ethan nodded at Mallory, who stepped forward. “The alchemy utilizes, combines, the sorcerer’s magic and the vampire’s magic. That’s where the control arises.”

“So we can just take out one of them?” Morgan asked.

Mallory shook her head. “It’s not that simple, unfortunately. Their magic gives effect to the QE, yes. But once the QE is on, it’s on. Taking them out won’t affect anything; that’s part of the fail-safe they’ve built into the alchemy. Ditto erasing the symbols,” she said, glancing at Paige, who nodded. “The only way out is backward. We have to use a countermagic—literally reverse the magic to remove its effect.”

“And you can do that?” Scott asked.

“We can,” Mallory said, looking at Catcher with adoration and pride. “They’ve got a vampire and a sorcerer. We’ve got three sorcerers. I say we win.”

I couldn’t help smiling despite the circumstances.

“Where do you need to be?” Ethan asked.

“On the ground.”

Catcher nodded, gestured to Jeff, and the picture switched to the street view, and a shot of the Loop I’d never seen before—almost completely devoid of people.

“The CPD’s cordoned off a two-block radius around the construction site,” Catcher said. “Chuck and Arthur Jacobs are coordinating from the ground.”

“I want to be here,” Mallory said, pointing to the plaza in front of the building. “I think this is the best place to set the countermagic—draw the reverse QBE. And then we’ll kindle the magic, begin to reverse theirs.”

“You’ll be in full view of the public,” Malik said quietly. “If they see you do this, they’ll know what you are, and what you can do.”

The public knew a lot about supernaturals. But they hadn’t yet learned about sorcerers.

Mallory looked at Catcher, squeezed his hand, then looked back at Malik. “We know. On the one hand, it can’t be helped. And on the other hand, it’s about damn time.”

“And their magic?” Scott asked. “What’s their HQ?”

Luc switched the image to photographs of the building’s current “roof.” It was a square of concrete, one of the building’s previous upper floors, surrounded by the steel framework that remained around it. The photos showed several figures moving around a large black structure that was partially hidden by a cloth. Probably a drop cloth to keep it covered until they were ready to go.

“It’s the sixty-eighth floor,” Catcher said, stepping forward. “They’ve got two construction elevators that go all the way to the top. The CPD confirmed by drone that there are six figures on the floor, but they shot it down before they could confirm their identities.”

“It’s most likely Reed, Logan, the sorcerer, and supernaturals to keep them safe,” Ethan said.

“And possibly Sorcha,” I said. “She’s always at his side.”

Ethan glanced at me. “You think he’d bring her into this?”

“I don’t think either of them cares about the difference between legal and illegal, danger and safety. He’s clearly crossed a line here—that division between his public and private personas—and may want to make a show of it for her.”

“Maybe she’s involved in it,” Morgan said.

“We haven’t seen any evidence of that,” I said, and flipped through my memories of her. Bored or vacant or typing on her phone.

“So potentially the four of them,” Ethan said, “and at least three supernaturals.”

“With heavy weaponry,” Catcher added. “He’ll have borrowed from the Circle’s cache.”

“Oh, good,” Scott said. “Because this wasn’t already an enormous cluster fuck.”

“No argument there,” Ethan said. “He’ll control any sups within the boundaries who aren’t otherwise protected. They’ll come at us, irrespective of their desire or their alliances, because the Circle wills it.”

I wondered if my immunity from glamour would have given me any protection. Not that it mattered now.

“What do we do about them?” Morgan asked. “We can’t take them out.”

“Chuck’s working with the CPD on that,” Catcher said. “They’ve been developing some small-batch tranq weapons. We’re hoping we can use those, since these sups won’t have been fighting through any fault of their own.”

“You have enough for the entire team?” Jonah asked.

“I’m waiting for word,” Catcher said.

“And speaking of the team,” Ethan said, “we propose Catcher and Mallory, Jeff, Gabriel, Eli, Fallon, Morgan, Merit, and I go downtown.” He looked at Scott and Jonah. “Bringing the sups here will protect them, but if Reed figures that, he may split his troops and attack here. I’d appreciate it if you’d work with Luc and Malik to protect the House.”

Scott drummed his fingers on the table while he considered, then nodded. “I’ll have my vampires come here.” He glanced at Malik and Luc and nodded. “We’ll do what we can to keep everyone here and safe.”

“Appreciated,” Ethan said, then looked at Gabriel. “You have any bodies you want to spare?”

“The countermagic work on shifters?”

Mallory nodded. “Yep. Anything that meets a magical threshold.”

“Then if you’ve got enough, I can offer a few more. They’ll stay outside on the grounds. They don’t need to be in the House. Not after what they’ve done. The rest of them will stay outside the QE.”

Ethan nodded. “Then we leave now. Basement in fifteen, and we’ll arrange transportation.” He looked at all of us like a general surveying his troops. “This isn’t our war, nor is it a war we want to fight. But it is a war all the same. Reed would control us, obliterate us as creatures with free will in order to achieve his ambitions. We must not allow that to happen. We will not allow that to happen.”

•   •   •

We scattered, colleagues clustering together to make plans, arrangements. I drank a bottle of blood—like an athlete preparing for battle. When I returned to the foyer, Ethan and Malik stood together, Ethan’s hands on Malik’s face.

Ethan whispered something, Malik’s eyes flared with concern. It wasn’t difficult to guess the nature of Ethan’s words. This was the last communion of a soldier and his family before war. It was a promise by Malik to care for the House, a confirmation by Ethan that he knew Malik would protect and serve it, and a good-bye for both of them.

I’d seen this scene before, and each time it moved me; I had to look away to keep tears from blooming.

“Sentinel,” Malik said, walking toward me when their discussion was complete. “Good luck. Take care of yourself and our Master.”

“He’s the first thing on my mind,” I promised. I embraced him, then Luc.

“You got this, Sentinel. Go kick their asses.”

“I fully intend to.”

There was one particular vampire on my mind.

•   •   •

CPD had cordoned the blocks around Towerline with police tape and crowd barriers. Officers in riot gear were stationed every few yards, and people were stacked ten deep behind them, cameras raised high above the crowd to catch photos and video. They probably weren’t entirely sure what was going to happen, but they figured it would be exciting.

Magic filled the air like the tingle of electricity before a thunderstorm. The entire city was waiting for something to happen. And Reed was working to ensure that it did.

The plaza was empty of people, but figures moved inside the building’s two-story atrium, which had already been surrounded by glass. Maybe that had been a strategic decision, too.

We walked toward the cordoned area, were waved in by my grandfather, who stood with Detective Jacobs in the middle of a V formed by two canted police cars in the northbound lane of Michigan Avenue. My father stood with them in a Merit Properties windbreaker against the spring chill, and his expression was utterly dour. I had an extra twinge of guilt about both of them. Fathers and daughters were a complicated thing.

My grandfather greeted us, then introduced the rest of the team to the several officers he was working with. But for him and Jacobs, they were also dressed in riot gear—dark shirts, dark pants, boots, protective vests, and plenty of communications equipment. They were not messing around.

How much blood would have to be shed to satisfy Reed’s ego?

“They’re still on the top floor, as far as we can tell,” Jacobs said. “Sups in the lobby with automatic weapons.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t been more aggressive,” Ethan said.

Morgan’s gaze tracked the moving shadows. “We’re tools to him. He’ll think of them as assets, and he won’t want to waste them until his plan’s completely in place.”

Jacobs nodded. “Our thought as well. We move toward the building, and he’ll attack.”

“That’s why we go in first,” Ethan said, and the cops around us went quiet, looked back at us.

“You aren’t qualified for that,” said a man in SWAT gear, but it sounded more like a question than an accusation.

“We are,” Ethan said. “All of us are combat-trained in some manner or other, and all of us are experienced in dealing with supernaturals. We’ve also been shielded against the magic. Oh, and some of us are immortal.”

His tone was dry; he didn’t intend to give up his chance to fight Reed.

“Look,” Catcher said. “We’re not trying to step on anyone’s territory. But Reed’s brought this battle to supernaturals. For better or worse, we’re the ones best equipped to do the fighting. We take care of the magic on the ground, and we send in a team to bring Reed out.”

“The goal is to limit fatalities,” the SWAT guy said.

“That’s our goal as well,” Catcher said.

Jacobs held out his hands as sorcerer and cop edged closer together in the rising tension. “This is my task force and my call. The sups are better equipped to deal with magic, and they won’t be sensitive to the vampire’s glamour. We would be. They go in, neutralize. We extract.”

“For what it’s worth,” my father put in, “it was my building. They say they can handle it, we let them handle it.”

It had taken twenty-eight years to get even that much approbation from my father. I wasn’t sure if that made it feel better or worse.

“There’s something else,” my grandfather said, and looked at my father.

“Robert’s meeting with Reed was tonight,” he said.

My body went cold, but my heart just pounded further.

“Elizabeth called a little while ago,” my father continued. “Asked if I’d heard from him yet because it was late. I hadn’t.”

“We’re working from the assumption he’s in the building with Reed,” my grandfather said. “Reed would see him as an asset, so I don’t think he’d hurt Robert.”

“We’ll find him,” Ethan said confidently, looking between two generations of Merit men, and promising protection for a third. “We’ll find him, and we’ll get him out of there.”

Fear wanted to bubble up and strangle me, but that was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Especially now that the magic in the air was increasing—the buzz of anticipation growing. There were gasps in the crowd. We looked up, followed the crowd’s gazes, and stared at the green lines that were beginning to spread across the city like lines of infection. Where Mallory’s magic had been nearly invisible, light as smoke, this was a sickly, radioactive green.

“We’re out of time,” Mallory said, slinging off the backpack she and Catcher had filled with countermagic essentials. “We need to get to work.”

“What do you need?” my grandfather said.

“Room to work,” Catcher said. “And when the doors open and the shooting starts, we wouldn’t mind some cover.”

“When should we move?” Ethan asked.

“Let Mallory get the symbol drawn before you rush in,” Catcher said. “We don’t want him to react too quickly or feel like he has to rush things. He’s dealing with a lot of power up there; one wrong move, and Towerline ends up in pieces on the ground.”

“Do try to avoid that if you can,” my father said, but his voice was kind.

“We’ll do our best,” Mallory promised, then looked at us. “It won’t be immediate—the magic, I mean. We’ve got to draw the marker, build the salt, kindle the magic, then work some more symbols to kindle the reversal. That’s when the countermagic will begin to take effect.”

“How long?” Jacobs asked.

“Not quick,” she said. “There are thousands of lines of code—of symbols—that make up their equation. It’s like a cassette tape—it will take the magic time to rewind.”

Catcher looked at his watch. “Let’s mark the time—it’s nearly midnight, right? I’m going to aim for that.”

We checked our watches, confirmed the time. And when that was done, my grandfather nodded. “We’ll keep you safe while you do it.” He looked at Ethan. “And upstairs?”

“You’ve got the tranqs?”

In answer, the SWAT guy pulled out an enormous hard case, popped the latches. Inside a nest of gray foam were a dozen small silver tubes a little larger than a roll of quarters, with one end tilted ninety degrees. He popped the cap off the end, pointed to an orange button on the side. “You need skin-to-skin contact. Hold the dispensing end against skin—doesn’t matter where—and press the button to engage the tranq. You’ll get results in two or three seconds.”

“How many doses per weapon?”

“Only three,” he said, and handed them out. I tucked mine into the pocket of my jacket. “These are still in R and D, and it’s the best we could do on short notice.”

“We’re happy to take them off your hands,” Ethan said. “That’s potentially thirty-six fewer fatalities.”

God willing, it would be enough.

“We go in,” Ethan said. “Make our way to the elevators, put down everyone that we can. We go upstairs, and we contain.”

The SWAT guy—who I realized hadn’t bothered to introduce himself to us—nodded.

Thunder rolled threateningly as energy spread above us, and we all looked up. The sky was clear of clouds, but tentacles of magic flowed like rivulets across the lines that made up the QE.

“He’s screwing up the ionosphere,” Mallory muttered. “What a douche.”

“For that and many other reasons,” Ethan said.

Backpack in one hand, Mallory turned to me, wrapped her free arm around my neck, squeezed. “Be careful up there,” she whispered.

“Be careful down here,” I said, squeezing her back.

I released her to Catcher. Linking hands, they walked to the curb, and the division between concrete and granite. They blew out a breath and did the thing all heroes must do—they took that terrifying first step.

Mallory walked in front of Catcher, and she seemed impossibly delicate walking into the empty square, Towerline rising like the body of a dark and long-forgotten cryptid in front of her.

A cadre of cops stepped behind them, watched while Catcher and Mallory looked up at the building, then the square, gauging the best location. When Catcher nodded to them, pointed, they moved to form a line between the sorcerers and the building.

She looked at them for a moment, as if adjusting to the possibility their bodies were her shield, then pulled out a thick crayon from her pocket and began to drew a white line, then another, until she’d sketched onto the granite a kind of Bizarro World QE, with the symbols in a different order.

When she was done, she nodded at Catcher, who joined her at the boundary. Together, they stepped carefully inside the middle square. While he held her backpack, she unzipped and unloaded what I’d recognized as an Alchemy Starter Pack—glass bottle, her crucible, a box of matches, a notebook, and an assortment of herbs.

For five minutes they worked, combining materials and pressing them into the crucible, drawing small symbols in the square, and reading words from the notebook. Occasionally, one or both of them looked up at the tentacular magic that flowed above us. The air buzzed with it, so even the steady-looking uniformed cops glanced around, shifted on their feet.

Catcher pulled a match from the box, looked at Mallory, waiting for her nod. When he got it, he flicked it against the box and dropped it into the crucible. Lightning or magic or some combination of both cracked down the building like an explosion, shattering the new columns of windows and sending glass shooting down over us. We ducked as glass rained down.

All hell broke loose.

There was no time to wonder whether their magic was working. The tower’s doors burst open, and supernaturals ran forward.

“Fallon, Jeff,” Ethan called out, and we unsheathed our katanas. “Stay with Mallory and Catcher! Keep them safe!”

And we rushed forward.