Midnight Marked
“If you could take a look, or get your people to take a look, maybe you’ll find something that ties him to the sorcerer, to the vampire. Something that explains why he was killed.”
“We’ll take a look,” Ethan said, nodding at me. “The address?”
Gabriel read it off. “I understand it’s near Hellriver. So be careful.”
In the 1950s, Hellriver had been “Belle River,” a pretty suburb near the Des Plaines River. That changed forty years ago, when an ugly chemical spill sent most of the neighborhood packing. The houses, churches, and stores were still there, but Chicago hadn’t been able to get the funds for a cleanup, and nobody wanted to live in still-toxic Hellriver.
“We always are. How did you find the address?”
“Damien made some calls. Caleb may not have been a Pack member, but he still had friends inside. It’s not supposed to work that way—defection is defection—but I can’t stop what I don’t see.”
“And now you can see it,” Ethan said.
“Yeah. We’ll be having some discussions about that.”
“Good luck to you,” Ethan said. “We’ll take a look and let you know what we find.”
“Appreciate it.” There was a thunk on Gabriel’s end. “Goddamn whelps. Somebody pull those assholes apart! Later,” he said into the phone, and the call ended.
“Sounds like he’s having fun.”
“If Mastering vampires is akin to herding cats, mastering shifters is akin to herding bull elephants.”
“So you’re saying you don’t envy him.”
“Not in the slightest.” He put his phone away, looked at me. “Are you up for a field trip?”
I smiled. “As long as I can take my sword. I’m curious to learn more about our defecting shifter.”
“You aren’t the only one, Sentinel,” Ethan murmured. “We should probably warn Luc we’re going.”
“Why? What could happen at the house of a dead shifter beside a toxic neighborhood? I’m sure everything will be fine.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcasm.
“We’re clear,” he called out, and Paige came back with a thin black easel. She set it up, then placed the poster in the crossbar.
“Unfortunately,” Ethan said, “I won’t be able to volunteer Merit quite as early as I’d imagined. Gabriel has a lead on the shifter who was killed, and he’s asked us to check it out.”
“No worries,” Paige said with a smile, and she probably meant it. “I’d like the chance to take a look before I assign anything to Merit.”
The Librarian came back to us with a tablet and cord in hand. He plugged it in, arranged it on the tabletop for Paige to use. “Thank you, Arthur.”
His cheeks flushed with pleasure. “You’re welcome,” he said, then put his hands on his hips, surveyed the setup.
“I think we’re good to go here,” Paige said.
“Excellent,” Ethan said, putting a hand at my back. “We’ll get to our business with the shifters. If there are any developments—if you learn anything—please let us know.”
“We will,” Paige said, settling herself into a chair. “And good luck.”
“I’ll grab my sword,” I said when we’d left the library and were back in the hallway again.
“I’ll advise Luc of the call, the trip. Meet you in the basement.”
And we went our separate ways.
CHAPTER SIX
FOUR ON THE FLOOR
Despite our plan, I met him on the first floor near the staircase, just leaving his office, a glossy box in hand. “What’s that?”
“A gift for Gabriel, should we end up at Little Red.” He opened the tabs on the box, showed me the neck of a bottle of what looked like good Scotch.
“Excellent. This is random, but don’t you think Paige is just gorgeous?”
We took the stairs to the basement. “I don’t think there’s a way I can answer that question without incurring your wrath.”
I smiled at him. “As long as you don’t touch her, I’ve got no problem with your agreement. I don’t think her attractiveness is debatable. And if you do touch her, I’ll slice your fingers off and feed them to a River troll.”
“River trolls are fruitarians.”
“Not the point.”
He chuckled, keyed in his code, opened the door to the garage. “No, I suppose not. Regardless, I only have eyes for you, Sentinel. Well, you . . . and her.”
I looked in the direction of his gaze, half expecting to find a beautiful woman in the garage.
But there was no woman. Instead there was a gleaming white, two-door convertible with sporty wheels, deep vents in the doors, and another vent across the back.
Hands on my hips, I glanced at him. “And what is this?”
“This, Sentinel, is an Audi.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I could appreciate good steel, fine leather, and impressive horsepower, but I recognized the model for one singular and important reason. “You bought Iron Man’s car.”
“He’s not even immortal.” The clear disdain in Ethan’s voice made me snort.
“He’s a fictional superhero. You aren’t in competition.”
“He’s a very mortal superhero outside that suit,” he said, looking over his car with an appraiser’s eye.
“You’ve apparently put some thought into that.”
“A man carefully considers his ride, Sentinel. And his rivals. This car will get us where we need to go, and it will do so very, very quickly.”
There was hardly a point in arguing with that. It certainly looked like a fast car, so I let the comment pass and walked around the vehicle, gave it a once-over. The car absolutely gleamed, its interior deep crimson leather, its soft roof made of fabric in the same shade.
I looked at him over the car from the passenger side. “You do have good taste.”
“Of course I do,” he said. “Shall we go for a ride?”
“I mean, I’m not going to say no.” I grinned at him. “Have you named her yet?”
The faintest flush of crimson rode his cheeks. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him blush before. “Sophia,” he said.