Midnight Marked (Chicagoland Vampires, #12)

Catcher glanced back sharply. “You saw him? The sorcerer?”

She held up a hand, smiled apologetically. “I mean, sorry, I didn’t see his face. So, I saw the light on in here for the first time maybe two or three weeks ago. At the time, I thought someone was doing some late maintenance work. Tonight’s the first time I’ve actually been in here. But a few days ago—before I met Ethan and Merit—I noticed someone leaving.”

“What did you see?” Ethan asked.

She closed her eyes, remembering. “Not a tall guy. Maybe five foot eight or nine? Not an especially big guy. On the leaner side. Wore a suit, I think. I mean, it was dark, so I’m not sure, but just from the shape of the clothing, looked like a suit.”

“Did you see where he went?” Ethan asked.

“I didn’t. This was before I met you, learned about the alchemy, so I wasn’t on the lookout. He walked out of the cemetery, and I heard a car start a couple of minutes later. Once we did meet, and you mentioned you were looking for alchemy, I thought I’d better check it out. I expected to find some graffiti, maybe evidence teenagers had been drinking or getting high.” She gestured to the walls. “Did not expect this.”

Her phone rang—her ringtone Chopin’s famous and haunting funeral march—and she checked the screen. “Appointment about a potential client.” She put the phone away, looked up at us. “I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

“Of course,” Ethan said. “We can’t thank you enough for your help. All things considered, I wouldn’t mention what you’ve seen to anyone else. It’s unlikely Reed would know you’re involved, and it’s safest to keep it that way.”

The irony of his saying that wasn’t lost on me. And from the heavy look he offered me, it wasn’t lost on him, either.

“No argument there. If I see anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“Would you like an escort back to your car?” Catcher asked, and she just smiled.

“Thoughtful offer,” she said, patting his arm. “But the night I can’t take care of myself in a graveyard is the night I need to hang up my license.” She turned and walked out the door.

I looked at Catcher. “I bet she and Mallory would get along really well.”

“Merit, Sentinel of Cadogan House and magical matchmaker.” Ethan smiled, probably grateful for the levity.

“I got Paige and the Librarian together,” I pointed out.

Catcher pulled out his phone “Technically, Mallory got them together. Let’s get this photographed for Jeff.”

I nodded, pulled out my own phone.

“I’d like to meet at dusk,” Ethan said, walking to one of the walls and staring at it, hands on his hips.

Catcher nodded. “Jeff mentioned it. You might try not irritating Adrien Reed in the meantime,” he said, angling his phone to get a shot.

“Been holding that one in for a few hours?” I asked.

“I have.”

“It’s good advice,” I said. “You should convince Ethan to take it.”

“You might make the same suggestion to Reed,” Ethan grumbled. “I suspect it won’t be long before we hear from him again.”

“Then we’ll have to double our efforts,” Catcher said.

“We may need to do more than that.”

Catcher and Ethan both stopped, looked back at me.

“We’ve found symbols in two different parts of town. At a cursory glance, it looks like they’re part of the same kind of magic.” I looked at Catcher. “Chicago’s a big town, and two sets isn’t very many for magical purposes. If they really are connected, wouldn’t we expect to see more than two?”

“Possibly,” Catcher said. “But that would mean there are more sites out there. Potentially many more.”

“Yeah,” I said. “My point exactly.”

Ethan looked at Catcher. “Maybe Chuck could ask the city’s sups to keep an eye out, report in if they see anything?”

Catcher nodded. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

“So we know our sorcerer wore a suit,” I said.

Ethan gestured to the tuxedo pants he still wore, the button-down shirt. “Many supernaturals wear suits.”

I thought of the sup at La Douleur in the suit and fedora, the one who I thought had ratted us out to Cyrius. We didn’t know if he was a sorcerer, but he’d known enough to want us out of the club. And he’d been a snazzy dresser.

“I know,” I said. “I’m grasping at straws. Because other than his connection to Adrien Reed, we don’t have anything.”

“Dusk,” Ethan said. “We’ll work through the steps, and we’ll figure this out. He won’t be able to hide much longer.”

Good. Because he’d been hidden long enough.





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.”