Drink Deep

I FEEL THE EARTH MOVE



"What the hel is that?" he asked, as we watched this new mountain burst through the middle of Wrigleyvil e. The asphalt around it cracked and moved, stopping traffic and turning over cars on the sides of the road. Car alarms and honking horns began to ripple down the sidewalk as chaos erupted, people streaming from the bars to scream at the bubble of earth in front of them.



Both too stunned to move, we stood on the sidewalk, Jonah's arm stil around me, staring at it. I risked a glance at the sky, and saw exactly what I'd expected to see.



It was flaming red again, the sky flashing as lightning lit the clouds from within. And I'd bet good money the lakes and rivers were back to black and were sucking in magic.



"This is earth," I said, foreboding col ecting heavily in my abdomen. "I talked to Tate. The problems occur when someone mixes good and evil magic and the balance of the elements is thrown off in the process."



"We'l leave aside the fact that you went to see Tate alone again," Jonah darkly said. "For now. Bigger point -



whoever or whatever is responsible for these problems is at it again."



Before I could answer him, the rumbling began again.



"Jonah," I warned, and he released me, scanning the street for the next eruption.



"I feel it," he agreed, and we watched, horrified, as another mountain punched through the sidewalk in the front of a real estate office down the block a bit. Before we could react, a third fol owed, a couple of blocks down the road.



"They're stil coming."



"And they're headed toward Grey House," he frantical y said, pul ing out his phone. He dialed some number, but then cursed. "I can't get through."



"Go," I told him. "Go back to your House. Take your vampires with you if you think you need help."



When he looked down at me, for the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.



"They'l bury us with this, Merit. They wil bury us."



The heavy weight in my stomach didn't disagree, but that's not what he needed to hear right now.



"Work the problem," I told him. "Work the problem in front of you, because that's the only thing you can do. Don't worry about the next one until this one's solved." I squeezed his arm. "Things wil get worse. Consider it an inevitability and know that I'l be there to help work the problem when it comes."



For a second, he closed his eyes, relief obvious on his face. Maybe he'd needed a partner for a long time. Maybe Jonah had needed someone to trust, as wel .



"I'l be at the House, and I'l make my way back here once I'm confident things are in hand."



I'm confident things are in hand."



I gave him a nod, and he ran back into Benson's to grab troops. I stared back at the destruction in front of me, unsure what to do.



"Oh, my God!" someone screais>



I snapped my head in the direction of the screams. The third eruption down the street had popped up squarely beneath a sedan, and the occupant - a woman I guessed was in her late twenties - had climbed out of the car and was perched atop the mountain of asphalt and soil. That mountain was probably forty feet tal  - the height of a four-story building.



Within a split second, her foot slipped, and she was dangling over an edge of cantilevered asphalt with nothing below her but vehicles and street.



I started running.



"I'm coming!" I told her, as a crowd of humans gathered below, hands over mouths, pointing at the sky. "Just hang on!"



While thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, I climbed up the old-fashioned way - hand over hand. And the going wasn't easy. The hil was covered by chunks of broken asphalt over loose dirt and rock, so the entire mountain was slippery. It was impossible to move forward without sliding back a little, and I lost my foothold every few seconds.



The woman screamed again, clearly terrified, so with dirty nails and slipping boots, I kept my eyes on the dirt in front of me and moved, ever so slowly upward, final y mounting the plateau of asphalt.



I kicked my legs over the side, and when I was sure it was stable enough, crawled on hands and knees toward the girl. I could see her fingers - dirty with bleeding nails -



on the edge of the asphalt.



"I'm here," I told her. "I'm here." I bel y-crawled to the edge and glanced over it. We were forty feet from the ground.



Assuming I remembered how to jump safely, the fal wouldn't bother me. But at this height, she'd wouldn't be so lucky.



I found her wrist and grabbed on.



She sobbed and loosened her grip on the asphalt with that hand, which would make it easier for me to pul her up, but gave me the burden of al of her weight. It's not that she was heavy - she was a very petite girl - but we were both dangling over a square of asphalt connected only by our fingers wrapped around sweaty, dirty skin.



"Don't let go," I told her.



Her face reddened with the effort, but she managed a nod. I had the strength to lift her up, but her skin was damp with sweat, and my fingers were slipping. This wasn't working.



"What's your name?"



"Miss - Missy," she stuttered out. "Missy."



"Missy, I need you to do something for me, okay?" I wrapped another hand around her wrist. Her hand slipped another centimeter, and a bolt of lightning lit the sky.



She screamed, and I saw the pulse of fear in her eyes.



"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God."



"Missy, listen to me. Missy. Missy!" I repeated her name until she met my gaze again. "I can help you up here, but I need you to help me, too, okay? I need you to give me your other hand."



Her gaze skittered to her ragged fingernails, which were barely gripping the edge of the asphalt. "I can't."



"You can," I assured her. "You absolutely can. And I'm strong enough to grab you and pul you up, but I need your help okay?"



She slipped another centimeter, and as the crowd below us screamed, I fought back my own rising panic.



"On three," I told her. "I want you to give me your left hand.



You can do this. I know you can. Okay?"



She shook her head. "I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong enough."



I'm not sure if she slipped or let go, but I reached out and grabbed her hand just as her fingertips lost contact with the blacktop. With both wrists in hand, I braced myself and pul ed her up and over the ledge.



She immediately wrapped her arms around me. "Oh, God, thank you. Thank you."



"You're welcome," I said, helping her take a seat on the ledge. She embraced me in a hug, tears flowing now, and I let her cry until she'd calmed down enough to let me pul away.



"You did real y good," I told her.



"I stil have to get down," she sniffed out. "I was only going to get milk. From the store. Just milk. It's the vampires, isn't it? This is their fault?"



My chest went cold, but I pushed down the burst of anger and my urge to argue with her. This was neither the time, nor the place.



I glanced around. Firemen with ladders were moving toward our mountain. They made eye contact with me, and motioned that they'd be up.



I looked around the rest of Wrigleyvil e, which looked like a disaster area - dunes of dirt and asphalt and cars riddling the street, people bleeding, dust and smoke everywhere.



I looked back at Missy. "There are two firemen on the way to get you down," I said, pointing at them. "Wil you be okay here until they get here? I need to get back to work.



There might be other people who need help."



"Of course. God, thank you, thank you."



"You're welcome." I careful y stood up again, but looked back at her. "I'm a vampire," I told her. "We didn't cause this, but we're trying to stop it." I smiled kindly. "Okay?"



Her face went a little more pale, but she nodded. "Okay, okay. Sure. Thank you."



"You're welcome." With a final smile, I took the first truly, truly awful step that turned into the oh-my-God-fucking-fantastic jump back to the ground.



I hit the ground in a crouch again, one hand on the ground, and lifted my gaze to stare back into Morgan's. He stood at the edge of the crowd, his clubbing attire stil perfectly clean. Apparently, he hadn't bothered to help.



I shook my head rueful y, and hoped he was embarrassed by his inaction. And if he wasn't, if there was some deeper, better reason for his inaction than his refusal to dirty his fancy clothes, I was going to have to investigate that, too. I was going to have to figure out what the hel was going on in Navarre House. But, again, that was a problem for another day.



I stood up and looked around. Morgan might not be wil ing to act, but Ethan had taught me better. Even if I had to go it alone, I wasn't going to stand by and let someone else do my job for me.



I walked around the hil of dirt and got back to work.



The earth stopped rumbling, but there were dozens of cars overturned or abandoned and innumerable tons of earth in the middle of Wrigleyvil e. The architectural damage wasn't extensive, but the roads and sidewalks in four blocks of Wrigleyvil e were beat to hel . And it wasn't the only one; there were pockets of damagekett the in neighborhoods across the city.



Thankful y, I hadn't heard of any fatalities, but the injuries and damage to cars, roads, and property were going to be bad enough for us. I was filthy, cold, and as the scope of the destruction - and the possibility of severe consequences for vampires - became clear, I grew wearier.



This wasn't our fault. There was no evidence vampires had any role in what had gone on in Wrigleyvil e. But I hadn't been able to stop it, and that weight sat heavily on my shoulders and in my gut. I'd investigated and interviewed, hypothesized and theorized . . . and I'd come up empty-handed. Tate knew too much for me to dismiss his involvement, even if I wasn't entirely sure what that was.



And while I thought Simon was the key to the Maleficium, I couldn't get close enough to him to find out.



That was going to have to change.



I needed a little bit of time and space from the chaos, so I walked up the street a few blocks until the sounds and smel s of new, damp earth began to fade.



I reached the barricades the CPD had established at the edge of the destruction, and was ruing the fact that my grandfather could no longer show up at these events in an official capacity, when I stopped short.



A few feet away from the barricade, my father stood on the sidewalk beneath a streetlight in dress pants, a button-up shirt, and a MERIT PROPERTIES windbreaker. He was supervising two men who were unloading plastic-wrapped packs of water bottles onto the sidewalk, where a woman I recognized as an admin in my father's office handed them out.



I walked toward them, and waited until the workers left my father alone. "What are you doing here?"



"Public service," he said. "The office is just up the road, and we happened to have the truck ready for a conference at a building in Napervil e. We decided it could be put to a better use, so we hurried down here."



The reason might have been legitimate, but I stil questioned his motives. I couldn't help it; my father brought out the worst in me. I'd always been a stranger where my family was concerned, and the business with Ethan hadn't helped. My father thought he'd been doing me a favor -



gifting me with an immortality I hadn't asked for - but that didn't make it any less of a violation.



He gestured behind me, and I glanced back. Dusty and scraped men and women stood or sat on curbs nearby sipping water.



"This was a nice thought," I said. "But you can't use bridges that were burned a long time ago."



He used a box cutter to slice through the plastic wrap on a new bundle of bottles and passed one over to me. "That's the difference between you and me: I refuse to believe bridges were burned. Every moment is a new opportunity."



I accepted the bottle of water, and let that stand in for any additional thanks. I walked across the street to the curb and sat down, my muscles aching from the work.



I'd taken a single sip when Jonah sat down beside me.



He looked as filthy as I did, streaks of mud and dirt on his jeans and T-shirt.



"Everything okay at Grey House?" I asked.



"Yeah. The damage didn't extend that far." He scanned the street, eyes narrowing when he saw the truck. "Did your father suddenly become charitable?"



"Not without an ulterior motive. A suggestion?d onggen he sa



Jonah took the bottle of water from me and took a long drink. "What's that?"



"While you're busy having my back, don't be surprised when family members are there to stab me in it."



"That's what partners are for," he assured. "Wel , that, and getting you out of Dodge when things get dicey." He gestured toward some humans on the other side of the street who were beginning to look at us askew. Maybe they recognized us as vampires, maybe they didn't. Either way, they weren't thril ed about the destruction in their neighborhood, and it looked like they were looking for someone to blame.



"We'l go to Grey House," he said, a hand at my elbow to help me up. "We'l convene there and we'l make a plan and we'l get this thing figured out."



"You think it wil be that easy?"



"Not even close," he said. "But it's RG rule number one: Make a plan."



I guess a plan was better than nothing.



Scott Grey's vampires were taking shifts assisting in the aftermath of the destruction, and he'd set up food and aid stations in the House's open atrium for any vampires in the vicinity who needed a break. He also gave me a quiet spot to give Catcher a cal .



"How are things up north?" he asked.



"Pretty bad," I admitted, and gave him the lay of the land .



. . and the magic. "It looks like Claudia was right and we're looking at elemental magic. Water. Air - "



"And now earth," Catcher finished.



"Yeah. I didn't see any hint this time that Tate was involved, but his magical imbalance theory is looking more plausible. And if he's right, that means someone has the Maleficium. I want to talk to Simon."



"And your suggestion for getting past Order bitchiness?"



"Remind them the world might be ending? Tel them we think the Maleficium is at work. Have my grandfather cal them, or tel them the former mayor - who may or may not be some kind of ancient magical being - may or may not be trying to herald in a new era of evil. Tel them whatever you want. But make them understand."



He murmured something about women and hormones, but when he hung up the phone, I decided I'd made my point.



Jonah stepped into the doorway. "Find anything out?"



"That goddamned bureaucracies are kil ing me this week. Catcher's giving me trouble about setting up a meeting with Simon."



"We could probably try Tate again, too."



I didn't want to do that, but I was running out of options.



I spent a few minutes giving Keley and Malik an update, and got the text just as I'd finished: SIMON. ONE HOUR.



JENKINS SUPPLY CO.



"Jenkins Supply Company?" Jonah asked when I showed him the message. "What's that?"



"I have no clue," I answered, tucking the phone away again. "Let's go find out."



Jenkins Supply Company, it turned out, was a hardware store not far from Hyde Park. Before heading in, we stood outside for a moment just taking in the building. It was a mom and pop store, with a sign above the door in olthes go find d-fashioned, red cursive letters. There weren't many cars in the lot, but the lights were stil on, so we headed inside.



Like most hardware stores, it smel ed like rubber and paint and wood. An older man with white hair and square glasses tidied the area near a cash register, and he nodded at us as we entered.



We offered smiles and moved past him into an aisle of cold weather gear - shovels, ice melt, gloves, and snowblowers. Al the necessities of a Chicago winter.



There was no immediate sign of Simon, but there was a lingering trail of magic in the store. I motioned to Jonah, and fol owed it like a bloodhound.



We found Simon and Mal ory together in an aisle with smal tools - hammers, screwdrivers, that kind of thing.



They were loading items into a basket.



Jonah and I exchanged a glance, then made our way down the aisle.



Simon looked up as we walked toward him. He wore a polo shirt and jeans, and looked completely innocuous. But there was no mistaking the concern in his expression. Was it concern about what was going on - or because he'd been caught?



Mal ory also looked worse for wear; exams had clearly taken a tol . She looked tired, and her T-shirt and skinny jeans seemed baggier than usual. I always gained weight during exams - too many late night pizzas and ice cream breaks. She smiled a little at me, then crossed her arms, hiding her hands. She barely made eye contact.



My stomach bal ed with nerves. Maybe Simon did know something about the Maleficium - and she couldn't get away to tel us.



"How bad is it out there?" Simon asked.



"Pretty bad," I said. "The cleanup is going to take a while."



"There were no fatalities, right?"



"None," Jonah confirmed. "Minor injuries and major property damage. What are you doing here?"



"Gathering supplies," he said, then gestured at Mal ory.



"Exams are pass-fail, and the Order won't al ow exams to be suspended. If we stop, she fails. But we were thinking we could use the last exam to help clean up. Move mountains, as it were."



Curious, I peeked into Mal ory's basket. It held candles, salt, and a couple of thick construction pencils. Nothing dangerous, at least from what I could tel , and al stuff that looked pretty witchy. The kind of things you might have used to work a spel you found on the Internet.



"We think they're fol owing an elemental pattern," Jonah said. "Water, air, now earth. Do you know what might be causing it?"



"I've been researching," Simon said. "And I know Catcher has, too. I haven't found anything discussing these kinds of problems."



"What about the Order?"



Simon and Mal ory shared a glance, and then Simon looked around worriedly as if he expected someone to burst through the door after him.



"The Order's taken a hard line," Simon said, leaning forward conspiratorial y, and there was no mistaking the fear in his eyes. "They think there's old magic involved -



magic that existed before the Order was even organized.



That's not their territory, and they don't want anything to do with it."



Awesome. Denial was total y going to help me right now.



But I pressed forward, the Order be damned. "What anedo wibout the Maleficium ?"



"Don't say that aloud," Simon whispered. "That's dangerous stuff. The Order would go bal istic if they even heard the word mentioned."



"Fine," I said. "Cal it what you want. Is it possible someone could be using it now to work some kind of magic? That it could be in Chicago?"



"It's under lock and key," he assured me. "It's not even possible."



Jonah frowned at him. "Then how would you explain what's happening?"



"It's not a sorcerer," Simon slowly said, "so it has to be Tate."



I didn't disagree that we were running out of options. I just wasn't convinced Simon wasn't involved. If I'd learned anything over the last few months, it was that things were rarely as simple as they seemed. Simon was too quick with answers, too positive of his facts. The supernatural world was rarely that black or white.



But if he was tel ing the truth, and he didn't already recognize that principle, there was no hope for him now. So I offered him a vague smile, then checked on Mal ory. She final y made eye contact, her gaze chal enging, as if she were daring me to accuse her of something. Maybe she wasn't hiding anything. Maybe she was stil angry about the phone cal we'd had the other day, about my interrupting her studies to accuse sorcerers of being involved in Chicago happenings.



Her eyes shifted to something behind me, and I glanced around.



Catcher walked through the aisle, his stride determined and no love lost in his expression. He glared at me and Simon, and I wasn't sure if he was pissed or just feeling particularly protective.



"What are you doing here?" Mal ory asked, obviously puzzled.



"I thought I'd give you a ride home," Catcher said. "You are done for the night, right?" he looked pointedly at Simon, and made it obvious that's where his suspicions lay.



"We're al done," Simon said. "Mal, I'l see you tomorrow night."



"Sure thing," she said with what looked like a half-forced smile. But that didn't deter the near growl of aggression from Catcher's direction. He took her shopping basket in one hand and put his other hand at her back, where he guided her away from Simon and toward the front of the store.



"I think the stress is getting to both of them," Simon said.



"I think that's probably true," I agreed.



"Wel , I need to get some things in place for Mal ory's work tomorrow. Get in touch if there's anything we can do to help."



"Sure thing," Jonah said, and we watched him walk back down the aisle.



"Is he that na?ve?" I asked.



"I'm not sure. And did Catcher just play the jealous boyfriend?"



"He's fighting some emotional demons right now."



We stood there quietly for a moment.



"If it's Tate," Jonah said, "we're going to have to nail him on our own."



My stomach grumbled. "Can I get a red hot before we save the world?"



"Definitely," he said. "You can buy." He walked toward the door.



I fol owed. "Why do I have to buy?"



He pushed open the store's front door, holding it so I could pass through. "Because you're my new partner. It's customary."



"Let's start a new custom," I suggested, stepping back outside. "Dude pays."



"We'l talk in the car."



Somehow, with Armageddon on our minds, we skipped the red hots and the talk. But when the time came, I decided I'd stil make him buy.



Jonah drove me back to the House; my car was stil in Wrigleyvil e, but that was going to have to wait a bit. It was probably stil chaos over there, and I didn't have time to wrangle with police and traffic.



I found Keley, Juliet, and Lindsey at the Ops Room conference table, al eyes on the giant screen. Another newscast showed the destruction in Wrigleyvil e above a caption that blamed it entirely on us. Not exactly surprising, but stil hurtful. We'd been the first ones on the scene; we'd been the ones saving humans. Regardless of al that, the registration law had passed, and we were enemies in our own country.



Keley flipped off the image, and turned back to me. I was stil muddy and dirty, and probably didn't look like much.



"What did you learn from Simon?"



"The Order thinks this is a Tate issue. Based on our last conversation, Tate thinks this is a Maleficium issue. Simon is convinced the Maleficium is safe and sound, and Mal ory can't stop her exams because the Order doesn't make exceptions." I sat down at the table beside Lindsey. "In other words, I got bubkes."



"No," Lindsey said, putting a hand on my arm. "You just think you have bubkes. The information's out there. You're just not seeing the forest for the trees."



"So let's look at the forest," I said. Catcher had once used a dry erase board to look for a pattern in raves -



vampire blood orgies - that were popping up across the city. We had the computer equivalent, so I grabbed a stylus and switched the screen's input to a tablet computer that sat on the conference table.



"Okay," I said, beginning to sketch out what we knew in a timeline that was projected onto the screen. "So far we've seen three of the four elements. Water. Air. Earth."



"That means fire is probably next," Lindsey said, so I added "fire" and circled it.



"Tate says these things are happening because the balance between good and evil has shifted - they aren't in balance anymore, and that's upsetting the rules of the natural world."



"Because someone is using the Maleficium?" Keley asked.



"That was Tate's theory." I scribbled more. "Good and evil were divided. Evil went into the Maleficium. Good stayed outside the Maleficium."



"Could Tate be using the Maleficium?" Juliet asked.



"I'm not even sure how he could, given his surroundings.



He's under a pretty tight lock and key. And his room was empty. Catcher showed me a picture."



"Wel ," Lindsey said, "is there any other way we could tie him to the magic? Do we have any other evidence? Is anything else strange going on?"



"I've been having awful dreams," I sarcastical y said.



But then I thought about it . . .



"Merit?" Lindsey quietly asked after a moment.



My heart began to beat wildly, and I looked over at her.



"I've been having dreams about Ethan. They started a few weeks ago. But I've had a bunch just this week."



"There's nothing wrong with having dreams about Ethan,"



Juliet said. "You know, considering what happened."



I shook my head. "They aren't those kinds of dreams.



They're big dreams." Realization struck. "And there's always something elemental in them. There's been a storm, and an eclipse, and then he disappeared into ashes."



"Water, sky, earth," Juliet said, paling a bit. "You're dreaming about the things that are happening in the city."



I thought back to dreams, and quickly scribbled them onto the timeline. When that was done, we stared up at the screen.



"You dreamed about them before they happened,"



Lindsey quietly said. "But what does that mean? That you're a little bit psychic? I mean, that's possible, I guess. I've got mad skil s, after al ."



I frowned. That was an explanation, but it didn't sing to me.



Careful y, Juliet raised her voice and asked the question.



"Could the magic - whoever's doing it and whatever they're trying to accomplish - could it be affecting you separately?



Through the dreams, I mean?"



Silence.



"I don't mean to be cruel," Lindsey said, "but Ethan's gone. The stake, the ashes. You saw him take the stake, and you saw them place the ashes into the House vault."



She was right, so I nodded. "I know."



"Wait," Keley said. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. So we think the Maleficium is tied to the elements. What is that, exactly?"



"Tate said it was a vessel that holds evil," I said. "That's al I know."



She frowned. "And we're talking, what - like an urn? A vase? Do you remember seeing it anywhere? Maybe in Creeley Creek when you were there?"



I racked my brain, flipping through mental images of the stuff in Tate's former office, but couldn't come up with anything.



But I knew someone who could. I leaned over to the conference phone in the middle of the table and dialed up the librarian.



He answered with his title. "Librarian."



"It's Merit. I have a question for you. What do you know about the Maleficium?"



His silence was shockingly stark, and then his voice was surprisingly stern. "How did you learn about the Maleficium?"



I glanced up at Keley, and when she shrugged, continued. "Mayor Tate. I know it's a vessel that holds evil, blah blah blah. Do you have any more information about it?



Is it big? Smal ? A box? An urn?"



"It is none of those things," he said. "The Maleficium is a book. A spel book, for which we are the current guardians."



My hands shook on the table from the sudden burst of adrenaline. "What do you mean we?"



"We, as in Cadogan House. It was given to Ethan for safekeepi fodden bursng."



"But the sorcerers al think the Order has it. Catcher mentioned something about Nebraska. How could they not know it was in Cadogan House?"



He made a sound of disdain. "If you had a book that held al the evil in the world and explained its use, would you let sorcerers know where it was kept? Would you let the Order



- the very people who'd try to use it - be its keepers? They help pick the guardians, but they're the last ones who should have possession."



Point made. So, to summarize, the Order didn't have the Maleficium . It was safe and sound in Cadogan House.



At least, it was supposed to be.



But if magic that crossed the boundary between good and evil was being worked across the city to reunite good and evil, maybe it wasn't so safe . . .



"As its guardians," I quietly began, "where do we store the Maleficium ?"



"I shouldn't tel you this, you know. But given what's going on out there . . ." He trailed off, and for a moment I thought he wouldn't confess it. But then he said the words that changed everything.



"The Maleficium is in the House vault."



With that news in hand, Keley cal ed Malik and Luc down to the Ops Room. Frank, unfortunately, decided to tag along.



When we were al assembled, Lindsey closed the Ops Room door again.



"Keley?" Malik asked. "What's going on?"



She looked at me. "This one's al Merit," she said, and gave me the floor. At her nod, I laid it out.



"We know Cadogan House is the current guardian of the Maleficium , the book that holds evil."



The room went silent.



Frank blustered a bit about magic and secrets, but I kept my eyes trained on Malik - and I saw the second he decided to tel us the truth.



"We are the guardians," Malik agreed, holding up a hand to silence Frank. "It is always passed from one guardian to another in secrecy. McDonald House had it last. We have it now."



"And it's stored in the vault?" I asked.



After a moment, Malik nodded.



"I think we need to check the vault."



"Because?" Malik asked.



"I understand the events we've seen reflect an imbalance between good and evil," I explained. "Good and evil used to be united. The world as we know it exists now only because good and evil were separated from each other. The world keeps its rules only as long as they remain in balance, opposites of equal force."



"And when they're imbalanced," Luc said, "the natural world goes haywire. Earth. Air. Water."



"Exactly," I said with a nod. "The Maleficium tel s of the division between good and evil, and identifies the magical doings that, to be accomplished, require crossing the boundary between good and evil. The mixing of good and black magic."



"So you think that if the natural world is unraveling, someone must be using the Maleficium," Luc said. "That's an interesting theory, Merit, but there hasn't been anyone in the House since Tate issued the dictate banning humans -



just Mr. Cabot and the Cabi>," LucCadogan vampires. And none of us would be capable of using it for more than a real y effective paperweight."



For a moment, I thought he was right, but my stomach suddenly curled with fear, al breath leaving me. Luc, I realized, was wrong -  absolutely wrong.



"Merit?" he asked. "Are you al right?"



I looked around the room, my head spinning with horrible possibilities. "There was someone else in the House."



Al eyes turned to me.



"Merit?" Malik asked.



I could barely make myself say it. "The week after Ethan's death, Mal ory was here. She was granted permission to stay in my room with me."



Silence again.



"Merit," Luc said. "Mal ory wouldn't take something from the House."



Wouldn't she?



I thought about our conversations over the last week, about the things I'd seen and the things we'd discussed.



About her chapped, shaking hands. Her inability to make eye contact. Her irritability, and her acceptance of dark magic.



Had I been that stupid? That na?ve?



I opened my mouth to speak, but paused, considering the implications of what I was about to say. If I was right, my relationship with Mal ory would never be the same.



But if I was right, my relationship with Mal ory hadn't been the same in two months.



"I think the magic has changed her. I think whatever she's doing for these exams - or whatever she's been doing in her apprenticeship - have changed her." I offered up my evidence, and then got to the most damning part.



"When I visited her earlier in the week, she was perusing a book."



"A sorceress with a book?" Frank dryly asked. "How surprising."



This time, Malik didn't bother hiding his eye rol . "What did the book look like?"



"It was big." I closed my eyes, imagining myself in Mal ory's basement beside her table. "Red leather," I said,



"with a gold symbol on the cover."



As if I'd just confirmed his worst fear, Malik rubbed his temples with a hand, and then he pul ed a square key on a metal chain from beneath his button-up shirt.



"I hope to God that you are wrong," he said. "But we do not survive on hope. We survive on facing our problems square on. Let's check the vault."



"This is unprecedented," Frank said, "and highly inappropriate. The ashes of a Master vampire are contained there. You wil not open the House vault."



Malik skewered him with a look. "You are a representative of the GP and a guest in this House. But you are not a Master, and you are certainly not Master of this House. You may review the protocols and data as you wil , and you may test these vampires as the GP sees fit. But you wil not, under any circumstances, issue dictates to me.



You are not my Master, Mr. Cabot, and I recommend you not forget it."



With that, Malik turned on his heel and headed for the door.



One by one the rest of us fol owed.



The trip down the basement hal way to the vault had al the levity of a funeral procesfunt size="3sion. There was a possibility the sanctity of the House had been violated, and by a woman I'd believed was my best friend - and who'd been my virtual sister for years.



Malik slid the key into the vault, then turned it forty-five degrees. The lock disengaged with an audible click. He lifted a hand to the door, but paused for a moment before gripping the handle, steadying himself. After a moment, his fingers were on the latch and the door was open.



Malik stood before it, blocking the view inside, and then stepped to the side, his gaze on me.



My heart beating wildly, I looked inside.



Hope and fear simultaneously blossomed.



The Maleficium wasn't the only thing missing.



The vault was empty.