Biting Cold

Chapter Seventeen

SHE'S GOT A WAY
I stormed up the stairs to the third floor, fueled by my own indignation.
Why did everything have to be his way? Why did he have to control every situation, even when that very control threatened to tear everything apart?
Fear loomed in the back of my mind. Fear that I'd changed, and Ethan had changed, and who we'd become in the months he'd been gone was too different for us to find each other again.
But I put it aside. I was Sentinel of the House, and since Keley and Luc now had plenty of House guards, I was officialy a ful-time Sentinel again. I was going Sentineling, and my first stop was Malory. Paige and Seth could investigate the Dominic-Seth link from here; I'd use my original source. She stil may not have been trustworthy, but I doubted anyone else in Chicago had as much knowledge about the Maleficium and the evil stuck into it.
I zipped up my leather jacket, puled my hair into a ponytail, and grabbed my sword. I stil gave Keley a heads-up before I left, but Ethan was in time-out as far as I was concerned. If he needed me, he could cal. I had work to do.
I trotted down the sidewalk to the gate, and both mercenary fairies stared at me as I passed them by. I stopped short, glancing back at them in turn.
"Is everything okay?"
They looked at each other. Since they were nearly identical, it was like watching one of them look into a mirror. A strange effect in the middle of an already strange city.
My instincts triggered, I walked back to them. "What is it?"
They looked at me simultaneously. "Your Dark One," said the one on the left. "It is possible he wil contact her."
"Her? You mean Claudia?"
He nodded. "They are acquaintances, of a sort."
So Dominic and Claudia knew each other. She certainly hadn't confessed that to me. On the other hand, I hadn't asked her outright, either, and Claudia wasn't exactly free with information.
"Did they know each other before his wings turned black?"
"Before, during, and after," said the other fairy, not with approval, but earning a narrow-eyed look from his partner. He must have spiled too much.
I looked back at the apparent team leader and decided to skip the political wrangling. "Why are you teling me this?"
They both look flummoxed by the question. Since we paid them to stand guard outside our House - and, admittedly, I'd been baited into going for one's jugular while visiting Claudia - the confusion was understandable.
"He is dangerous. She is our queen, but she is...vulnerable to his suggestion. The sooner he is gone, the better for al of us."
Not that I needed the incentive to nab Dominic, but I'd heard Claudia's threats before. "Nuclear" was her first and only option.
Whatever had been between them, love or business, it wasn't a complication I needed right now.
I nodded at both of them. "Thank you for the heads-up."
I climbed into my orange, boxy Volvo, which was admittedly a downgrade from Ethan's shiny new Aston Martin. But until I got a promotion or a stiff pay raise, the Volvo would have to do.
My phone rang nearly as soon as I buckled my seat belt. I propped it on the dashboard and turned on the speakerphone.
"Merit," I answered, puling onto the street.
"Hey, it's Jeff."
"What's new?"
"Absolutely nothing. Catcher went to see Malory, and it's dead quiet over here. I mean, I racked a new server, and the cabling was a bitch, but that's about it. I thought I'd cal and see if you had any news."
if you had any news."
"Wel, Seth Tate showed up at Cadogan House, if that counts."
"Oh, shiz. That totaly counts. How do you know it was him?"
"Long story short, about twenty linear feet of white, fluffy wingspan."
"That's a pretty good indication."
"Yes. It was. We did manage to get a little more background.
It's no coincidence that they look alike. Dominic and Seth are twin angels, although Dominic turned to the dark side after his mythological hissy fit. We think Dominic has somehow been inside Seth for centuries, and they got split apart when the Maleficium was triggered. Seth has the scar to prove it."
"And he had no idea?"
"Not as far as we can tel. Personaly, it sounds like Dominic may have been the little red devil that sat on his shoulder and told him to do naughty things, but Seth's accepting responsibility for now. Which is kind of a nice change."
"No kidding. It's definitely usualy the other way around.
What did Seth have to say?"
"He wants to help us deal with Dominic as part of his atonement. Unfortunately, he doesn't have any idea how to go about doing that. What about you? Might there be anything in your shifter encyclopedia about that?"
"We don't have an encyclopedia. We're more of a storyteling people. But I'm not aware of a fable on bat-winged, parasitic dudes who feed off mayors. Although that would have explained a lot of Chicago's political history."
"Sad but true. I'm heading out to see Malory. I'l ask if she has any information. Oh - and another weird one. The mercenary fairies at the gate think Dominic and Claudia, their queen, are going to have a meet and greet. While you're researching him, look for any connection with the fairies."
"Wil do."
"I appreciate it. And Jeff, how's Falon?" I felt like I hadn't heard anything about Gabriel's sister - and Jeff's newish flame -  in a while. I wasn't sure if that was because things were going wel, or because they weren't.
"She's good. She's..." He sighed. "I think she has things to figure out."
That didn't sound good. "What kinds of things?"
"What she wants in life and in a man. There's a lot of pressure growing up in the Apex's family. I think she's stil sorting out who she thinks she is versus who she thinks her family expects her to be."
"That's tough. Anything I can do?"
"Just stay in play as my backup."
I nearly swerved the car off the road. "I'm sorry - your backup?"
"You know, in case it doesn't work out with Falon."
"And what about Ethan?"
Jeff chuckled. "I just figured he was your backup for me."
Of course he did. "Good night, Jeff," I said, and hung up the phone.
Boys.
Traffic was horrible, and the drive to Ukrainian Vilage took exponentialy longer than it should have. Even as late as it was, and with a clear sky above us, traffic on Lake Shore Drive had slowed to a crawl, and the freeway wasn't any better.
Even Little Red was packed, every spot outside the bar filed with a motorcycle, and a cadre of shifters stood just outside the door, smoking and chatting one another up. Sure, there was a deadly angel on the loose, but there were cigarettes to be roled and whiskey to be drunk.
Supernatural man drama was making me grouchy.
I parked two blocks away and thought about leaving my sword in the car. But since Dominic was on the prowl, I decided not to take chances. My next visit to the sunlight prison might not have such a happy ending.
I dodged drunken revelers as I headed back toward the bar, and I was ful-on ready to argue about whether the guys outside the bar would let me in with a sword at my side. But no one paid me any mind.
The bar was overflowing with shifters. Berna was back at the bar, helped by a young woman with deep-set eyes, dark hair, and a very snug T-shirt. I pushed through bodies and mildly intoxicated magic to reach them.
"Upstairs," Berna said, without looking up.
She was busy, and I was smart enough to stay out of the way.
I walked through the back room, the table again empty of shifters and card players, and up the stairs.
The door to Malory's smal bedroom-slash-prison-cel was open, and I could hear people chatting. Since I already had one black mark for snooping this week, I decided to actualy announce myself.
I knocked on the doorjamb and peeked inside.
Malory sat cross-legged on the bed. She looked thin and tired and stil oddly blond, but she looked more like Malory than she had in a long time. Her eyes were clearer, somehow. The knot of worry around my heart unclenched a bit.
She wasn't alone. Catcher stood nearby, arms crossed and a frown on his face as he stared at the third person in the room, who was new to me. He was older, probably in his late fifties or early sixties. Average height, round bely, and a thick head of silvery white hair. He wore a thick green Packers jacket, jeans, and shiny white tennis shoes with thick soles. Grandpa-style tennis shoes.
They al turned to look at me.
I waved a little, suddenly self-conscious, the uninvited vampire. "Hi."
Catcher waved me in.
"Merit, this is Al Baumgartner, head of the Order."
You could have knocked me over with a feather.
This guy was Al Baumgartner? This guy who looked like someone my grandfather bowled with was in charge of al the sorcerers in North America? I'd expected someone a little more Darius, maybe. A little more polished. A little more professional.
A little slicker.
Al Baumgartner smiled politely, then stretched out a hand.
"Merit, it's very nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, as wel."
"We appreciate your help in getting al this sorted out," he said. "It's good to know who your friends are."
I didn't say it aloud, but we weren't friends, and Malory wasn't a problem to be "sorted out," like he'd simply forgotten to pay the electric bil on time.
But from what I'd heard from Catcher and Paige, there was no point in arguing with him.
"We did what needed to be done," I said politely. "Am I interrupting?"
"Not at al. I'm just here to check in. The world is changing, and we're just trying to keep up."
I slid Catcher a surreptitious glance and enjoyed his dramatic eye rol.
"I see," I said, although there was no doubt he was teling us only part of the story.
"Wel," Baumgartner said, "I should probably be off. I've got some things to attend to while I'm in town." He looked at Malory, and his features changed. From grandfather caricature to magical overlord. That expression looked a bit more honest on his face, I thought.
"We'l talk" was al he said to her, then smiled politely at me, zipped up his Packers coat, and walked out the door.
I waited for the sound of footsteps on the stairs before I spoke. "Why is he realy here?"
"Punishment," Catcher said.
It didn't say a lot that the answer didn't surprise me - because the Order rarely seemed to pay that much attention. "What's he proposing?"
"Nothing yet," Catcher said. "Could be rendition - a mix of isolation and indoctrination. Could be nulification."
"What's nulification?"
Malory uncrossed her legs. "That's where they take away my magic for a specified period of time."
"That doesn't sound as bad as rendition."
"It's not," Catcher said, "but it's worse than it sounds. She's had the magic for a long time, even before she was aware of it.
It's integrated into her body, which makes nulification akin to a magical lobotomy."
Put that way, it sounded pretty horrible. "And when wil they make a decision?"
Catcher shrugged. "They're muling things over."
It was clear the "muling" was getting to Malory. Even though she looked better, she picked nervously at the edge of the blanket.
"How are you feeling?" I asked Malory.
"Like I'm trying to quit smoking again. If the smoking kiled everybody else but me, turned me into a she-bitch, and made me screw over al of my friends."
That about said it.
"It takes time," Catcher said.
"I know," she said, then squeezed her eyes closed. "I'm sorry. I know this is an addiction and I know it wil take time to realy feel better, and I am trying my damndest not to fuck up my life any more than I already have. But in the meantime, it sucks. I feel like crap." She laughed hoarsely. "And it doesn't help that I have a Packers fan deciding my fate. I mean, seriously? You're going to wear that jacket in Chicago?"
The words were sarcastic, but I could tel she was walking a knife's edge of fear and anger. That would certainly explain Ethan's irritability.
"What brings you by?" Catcher asked.
I gave them the same overview I'd given Jeff, and I wasn't thriled when they looked as surprised as he'd sounded. I was hoping for a little more familiarity with the problem - and through that, a solution.
"How did they end up together?" Catcher asked.
"That's the part we aren't sure about. I was hoping you might have an idea."
Malory shook her head. "It doesn't ring any bels for me. You, Catcher?"
It saddened me that Malory was back to caling him Catcher.
She had a milion nicknames for him and used them more often than not. But they were on a break that Catcher deserved, so there wasn't much I could do about it.
"I don't know," Catcher said. "I can ask Jeff."
"He's already on it, as are Seth and Paige. I'm sure someone wil come up with something."
Catcher nodded, then glanced at his watch, then up at Malory again. "I need to get back."
She nodded a couple of times. "Okay."
"I'l let you know if we find anything," he said, then walked out the door.
No hug, no kiss good-bye for Malory. No good-bye at al, realy.
I looked back at her, but she wouldn't meet my gaze. She just kept picking at that spot on the blanket.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
She laughed mirthlessly. "I have flushed my entire life down the toilet. That's realy al there is to say right now." She put both hands over her face, then pressed her palms against her eyes.
I nodded, my heart aching for her, even though I could completely sympathize with Catcher.
"You and Ethan?" she asked, trying to smile a little.
Somehow, that made her seem even sadder.
"We're...working on it. Things are complicated right now."
She nodded, then chewed the edge of her lip.
"This is so awkward," I said.
"It realy is." She seemed relieved to say it.
"Like we're strangers to each other."
Malory nodded. "We are. I am a stranger to you. You didn't know I was capable of al these things - of the things I've done.
Horrible things. Turns out, I am." She looked up at me. "I'm the kind of person who hurts others to get what they want. I shouldn't be here right now, Merit. I should be in prison."
Her sadness was palpable, but at least she was beginning to see reality.
"Have you talked to Gabriel?"
"He thinks I'm redeemable."
That simple statement made me feel better than I had in a long, long time. Gabriel wasn't an easy one to impress, and he had insight - magical or otherwise - into the future. If he thought Malory was redeemable, that meant something. And it wasn't like he was prone to overcomplimenting.
"That's something," I said.
"It's something," she agreed. "I'm working at the bar. This is my lunch break, I guess, although I'm not hungry much. I'm not much of anything right now. Numb, I guess. I know the things I did. They replay in my head over and over and over again. But they feel removed, like it wasn't me. Like I'm just watching a video playback or something."
"Those things happened. They were real."
She nodded. "Gabriel says - he thinks I have a sensitivity to the imbalance the Maleficium created. He thinks that's why I was so drawn to it."
I nodded. "Paige said al sorcerers felt that a little."
"Some more than others, I guess. And I'm not trying to make an excuse. I'm just - I'm trying to understand why - " She began sobbing again.
I sat down on the bed beside her. Not touching - I wasn't ready for that - but acknowledging what she was going through, and that she was finaly facing her demons.
"God, I am so sick of myself," she said after a few minutes.
"A lot of us are," I said with a smirk, and she choked out a laugh and nodded.
"I needed that," she said, knuckling away tears. "I can't use my magic here. He arranged it or something."
"I know."
"It wil be a long time before they let me use it again. But Gabriel thinks I have talent, but I have to be trained how to use it for the right causes."
"Gabriel said that?" It was an unusualy hands-on position for a shifter, who was usualy more concerned with carousing than counseling.
"He says there's work I can do. Hard work, but fulfiling."
"Did he say what?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure it matters. I'm not sure I'l ever make this up to anyone, no matter what I do."
She and Seth were a pair right now. Both facing guilt and the specter of never being able to atone for what they'd done, both suffering because of a book intended - ironicaly - to make life better for everyone.
The moral of the story? Don't fuck with the magical order.
"There's one thing you can do to help," I said.
She looked up at me, and I trusted her with my secret.
"You may not have completed the familiar spel, but you and Ethan are linked together somehow."
Malory blanched. "What?"
"I think when you feel strong emotions, he does, too. You're connected to each other because of the spel you attempted."
She looked horrified, which actualy made me feel better. "Oh my God, Merit, I didn't know."
"I didn't want to tel you," I confessed. "Not until I was sure you were in control of yourself." I wasn't entirely sure she was in control of herself now, but she was aware of her weaknesses and of what she'd done, which was more maturity than I'd seen from her in a while.
I'd expected more tears from my confession, but she steeled her expression and looked up at me.
"I wil fix this," she said.
"Then do it," I said. "Make this your first act of contrition.
Give him back to me."
The smal black alarm clock on her bedside table buzzed, and she tapped it with a hand. "I should get back to work."
I nodded. "What do you have to do?"
"Dishes again. The bar serves some food, and shifters eat. A lot."
She'd gone from high-profile ad executive to high-powered witch...and now she was cleaning up for drunken shifters in the back of a run-down bar.
"Does it bother you? That you're doing dishes?"
"It's not the best job. Hot. Swampy. Kind of gross - al those little bits of wet bread and crust." She made a gagging sound.
"But it's something to do that's not magical. And there's a kind of security, I guess, with al of them around me. Like I can't backslide while they're watching. And that they realy believe I could do something worthwhile someday."
"How long is someday?"
She shrugged. "How long does it take to make up for what I've done?" She stood up. "I need to get downstairs."
I didn't want to go back to the House. I didn't want to face Dominic on the way or Darius or Ethan when I arrived. I got her point about security. Here, I was behind a wal of dozens of shifters and lots of firearms. It might not have been safe from Dominic, not realy, but it felt safer. It felt removed from the world, and I could use that right now.
"I could help you?"
She looked at me, tentative hope in her face, and nodded.
So I stayed with her. We walked downstairs again and I hung my leather jacket on the back of the door. She dumped food while I rinsed, and in the rising heat and steam, under the watchful eye of a very big shifter with a very large gun, we did our work in silence.
It wasn't an act of forgiveness, but it was a step forward. And right now, I needed one of those.