Ethan crossed his arms, expression transitioning to Masterly concentration. “And how does it work?”
Paige gave him the summary. “It’s very clever,” she concluded. “And narcissistic, and a smidge sociopathic. But very clever.”
“That sounds about right. Will it work?”
“Kyle Farr is evidence it already worked,” she said. “But on a smaller scale. We figured the symbol had to have a purpose—some reason to use that much magic, that much energy, for it to just be a laser light show.”
Ethan slid his hands into his pockets and regarded us with Masterly suspicion. “Why do I feel like you’re preparing me for something?”
“Because we are,” Paige said. “We think it’s a boundary. Or, maybe more accurately, a net.”
“A net . . . ,” Ethan began, then trailed off as realization struck him. “For the supernaturals in its border. The magic is supposed to reach all the supernaturals within its territory?”
Paige nodded.
“That’s hundreds of square miles,” he said. “And if the QE works the way the sorcerer’s sample with Kyle Farr did, he’ll control every sup in that area?”
“Yeah,” Paige said with a nod. “If you weren’t scared before, you should be now.”
? ? ?
We left Paige to call Mallory and coordinate on the countermagic while we worked in the Ops Room on the House’s response to the more general threat of Adrien Reed.
That Jeff, Catcher, and Mallory were walking in the front door when we reached the first floor—and that they’d come to the House together without even a warning phone call—didn’t ease my concerns.
“What’s happened?” Ethan asked, apparently of the same mind.
“A lieutenant in Vice, one of the men on the Circle task force, got a wild hair,” Catcher said. “He learned about the document pull, decided this was the time to come down on the Circle and on Reed. His team raided Reed’s home about an hour ago.”
“How did that happen?” Ethan asked.
“There was a leak, probably an informant in the department or the judge’s office that issued the warrant. We aren’t sure; Jacobs is looking into it. Anyway, Reed’s lawyers met them at the door, but by the time they made it inside, the Reeds were gone.”
“He’ll escalate,” Ethan said. “He’d been waiting for the right time to move. This is probably it.”
Catcher nodded, and his expression was bleak. “That’s why we’re here. The Vice guys were going through Reed’s house when a group of River trolls—two men and two women—showed up. There was a shoot-out. Four cops were killed, and all four of the trolls.”
They were the fruitarians we’d discussed a few days ago, large men and women who lived primarily beneath the bascule bridges that crossed the Chicago River.
“Jesus,” Ethan muttered, low and sorrowful.
There was pounding on the stairs, and Luc raced into the front room, magic flurrying around him. He stopped when he reached us, and his expression was as cheerless as Catcher’s.
“The raid?” Luc asked.
Catcher nodded.
“We just heard on the scanner,” Luc said. “They’d kept the radios off during the op.”
“They wanted to keep it quiet in case Reed had informants inside the CPD,” Catcher said. “It didn’t seem to matter much.”
“This was probably a one-off,” Mallory said. “Kyle Farr, but with trolls. We’d know if he’d started the big magic. But he won’t wait much longer.”
“Did Paige catch you? Talk to you about the net?”
“The net?” Luc asked.
“We think the QE is a boundary for the magic,” Ethan said. “Or, if you prefer, a trap for everyone within it.”
Luc’s eyes widened. Understandably.
“We can’t let this happen,” I said. “We can’t let him take us all over.” I could feel the rising panic, and I ignored it, wouldn’t let it rise again. I wouldn’t let his glamour happen again.
“We won’t,” Mallory said, and pulled a plastic bag of what looked like braided friendship bracelets out of the messenger bag she’d canted over one shoulder.
“We haven’t had time to finish the countermagic. We’re working on it—and there are supplies in the car. We can finish it on-site. But I was able to make a few of these. They’re shielded,” she said, handing one to Catcher, to Ethan, then looked at me. “Wear your apotrope. It should keep them out of your head. It’s probably a better shield than these”—she lifted up her right wrist to show the bracelet she wore—“but they’re all I had time to prepare.”
The apotrope was a bracelet with a raven-engraved charm Mallory had bought in what she called Chicago’s “Scandinavian District,” magicked for good luck. I’d used it to keep Faux Balthasar out of my head. Made sense it would work here, too. I’d have to remember to grab it.
“We thank you for the effort,” Ethan said, sliding on a neon pink and green bracelet. He held it up against his immaculate white button-down. “How does it look?”
“Oh so fashionable,” Catcher said, sliding on a navy and red one.