Some Girls Bite (Chicagoland Vampires 1)

I nodded.

"Who's to say, if the nymphs set out to control Chicago, they couldn't?" He chuckled. "They'd have a pretty easy time getting the male population behind them. Although shifters are probably the only group with the numbers and power to take a national stand against the vamps. I don't think they're interested in that, but then again, we're dealing with unknowns." He shrugged.

"The truth is, Merit, this is the first supernatural outing in modern history, and it happened in the post-Harry Potter era. In the post-Lord of the Rings era. Humans are a little more comfortable thinking about supernatural beings, supernatural happenings, than they were in the days when witches and vampires burned. Hopefully, things will be different this time." He was quiet for a moment, giving us both the chance to consider that possibility - the possibility that we could all just, to put it tritely, get along. That was certainly better than imagining the worst-case scenario. Burnings. Lynchings. Inquisition-like proceedings. The kind of mob violence that arises when a majority fears the loss of its power, the unbalancing of the status quo.

When my grandfather began talking again, his voice was quieter. More solemn. Weighed down, maybe.

"There's just no precedent. I didn't make thirty-four years on the force by making random guesses, so I can't say what will happen or, if worse comes to worst, who would win. So we'll keep our eyes and ears open, hope the sups keep trusting us, and hope the Mayor steps in if it comes to that."

"It's a hell of a time to've been changed into a vampire." I sighed.

He laughed cheerfully - the sound sweeping away the sudden melancholy - and patted my knee. "That it is, baby girl. That it is."

The door opened behind us, and Catcher stepped outside, his boots clacking on the sidewalk. "Can I have a minute?" he asked my grandfather, inclining his head in my direction. Grandpa looked at me for permission, and I nodded. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, then put his hands on his knees and rose.

"I brought you here because I wanted you to know that you always have a safe place, Merit. If you need help or advice, if you have questions - whatever. You can always come here. We know what you're dealing with, and we'll help you if we can. Okay?"

I stood and gave him a hug. "Thanks, Grandpa. And I'm sorry it took me so long to come by."

He patted my back. "That's no problem, baby girl. I knew you'd call when you'd had a chance to come to terms."

I didn't think I'd come to terms, but I didn't argue the point.

"Give her some cards," Grandpa directed and, after a quick wave, shuffled back into the building. Catcher pulled a handful of business cards from his pocket and handed them over. They bore only a phone number with the label "OMBUD."

"Consider it a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card," Catcher explained, then sat down on one end of the slatted bench seat. He stretched out, slouching low and crossing his feet at the ankles. "So, you challenged Sullivan," he finally said.

"Not on purpose. I went to Cadogan to show him the note. I was pissed about being changed, but I didn't intend to argue with him about it."

"And what happened?"

I bent down to pluck a dandelion from the dewy grass next to the bench and twirled it in my hand, sending a cloud of ephemeral seeds into the air. "Ethan said something inordinately possessive, and it got to me. I challenged him. I think the vamp genetics were a little more eager for a fight than I was, but he offered me a deal - to release me from my obligations to the House if I landed a punch."

Catcher slid me a glance. "I take it you didn't?"

I shook my head. "I ended up on my back on the floor. But I got a few moves in. I held my own. And he didn't land a blow either. He seemed surprised that I was strong. That I was fast."

Catcher blew out a breath while he nodded. "If you held your own against Sullivan, your reflexes are better than they should be for a baby vamp. And that means, Initiate, that you're going to have some power. What about smell? Hearing? Any improvement?"

I shook my head. "Not much above normal, unless I get angry."

Catcher seemed to consider that, tilting his head to regard me. "That's . . . interesting. Could be those powers aren't online yet."

A motorcycle raced down the dark street, and we were quiet until it disappeared around the block.

"If you want to harness your power," Catcher continued, "whatever that power may be, you'll need training. Vamps have their own traditions of sword work - offensive moves, defensive patterns. You need to learn them."

Having depleted the dandelion of its seeds, I dropped the empty stem to the ground. "If I'm stronger, why do I need training?"

"You're going to be a power, Merit, but there's always someone stronger. Well, unless you're Amit Patel, but that's not the point. Trust me - there's going to be lots of vampire kiddies who want to take you for a spin. You'll invite challenges from good guys and bad guys alike. To stay healthy, merely being stronger or faster won't be enough. You need moves." He paused, nodded. "And until the CPD brings this murderer in, it'd help if you could handle yourself. It'd make Chuck feel better, and if Chuck feels better, I feel better."

I smiled collegially, appreciative that my grandfather had Catcher at his back. "Can Jeff handle himself?"

Catcher made a sarcastic sound. "Jeff's a f**king shifter. He doesn't need martial arts to get around in the world."

"And you? Do you need martial arts?"

In lieu of answering, he flicked his hand in my direction. A burst of blue light flew from his open fingers, aiming straight for my head. Immediately, I dropped into a crouch again, then angled to the side as he shot a second burst. With an electric sizzle, the bursts exploded a shower of sparks.

I snapped my gaze back to the low-slung man on the bench, muttering a string of curses that would have turned even my grandfather's ears red. "What the hell are you?"

Catcher stood and extended a hand to help me up. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. "Not people."

"A witch?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you just call me?"

I'd obviously offended him, so I backtracked. "Um . . . Sorry. I'm a little unclear on all the . . . right labels."

He watched me for a moment, then nodded. "Accepted. That's a pretty big insult for someone like me."

I didn't tell him that the vamps threw the word around with casual ease. "And what is that, exactly?"

"I am - was - a fourth-class sorcerer, proficient in the minor and major, greater and lesser Keys."