Drink Deep (Chicagoland Vampires 5)

"Of course it's not a good idea," I said. "But he's talked to the GP, and he's spreading rumors about what went down that night. He's not the type to waste energy unless there's something in it for him, and I want to know what that is."

"He could just be baiting you into visiting him."

"He probably is. But that doesn't make the trip any less necessary."

"Okay. I'l talk to Catcher and Chuck. There are protocols, I imagine."

"Understood. But he's making trouble for the House, so I can't just let this go. Do the best you can."

We said our good-byes, and I hung up with Jeff, but the cal left me with a lingering worry. I wasn't crazy about the idea of visiting Tate. I was pretty sure he wasn't human, and I was already facing down one unknown magical creature tonight. Two was real y pushing it.

"Big girl panties," I quietly reminded myself. "Big girl panties."

And since I was playing grown-up, I dialed Mal ory's number.

She'd been a little growly when we'd talked before, but as BFF it was my job to check in. Since I didn't claim my own money-grubbing family (aside from borrowing the family name, which I actual y liked), Mal ory has been my primary family. Hel , we'd been each other's family. And losing Ethan had reminded me how much I needed her.

Of course, I wasn't exactly surprised when the phone flipped to voice mail almost immediately.

"Hey, it's me," I told her. "I just wanted to give you a cal and wish you luck on your exams. Kick ass, and impress Simon, and become a real, live sorceress, and al that other inspirational crap. Go, Mal ory! And now that I sound like a perky teenager, which I am most definitely not, I'm going to hang up now. Cal me when you can."

I flipped the phone closed and silently wished her luck. I'd seen Mal ory stressed to the gil s a few weeks ago, crying from the stress of the work she was doing - and the physical pain. Apparently, funneling the power of the universe through your body was a tough job. It certainly wasn't anything I wanted a part of. Dealing with vampires was more than enough work for me.

My chores done, I showered and dressed. I wasn't exactly sure what to wear to accuse a s [to nt> iren of ruining Chicago's water, but I decided the ful leather ensemble was a little aggressive. I stuck with the leather jacket, but paired it with jeans and a thin, long-sleeved T-shirt. My Cadogan medal and boots were my accessories, as was my dagger. I figured dropping out of a helicopter with a thirty-two-inch sword probably wasn't the most diplomatic of entrances.

When I was dressed, I headed to the Ops Room to update Keley. She sat at the conference table, reviewing information on a tablet computer. Lindsey sat at one of the computer stations on the wal ; Juliet was nowhere in sight.

"What's up, ladies?"

Keley glanced up from her toy. "Good evening, Merit.

Did Frank find you?"

"Unfortunately, yes," I said, checking my wal file for information. We usual y received "Dailies," updates about House visitors, news and happenings. Since we were short-staffed, they were closer to "Weeklies," and Keley paged us if anything needed to be relayed immediately.

"He questioned my ability to serve, Ethan's decision to appoint me, and every other decision he made while in charge of the House."

"Oh," she said with a fake smile. "So the usual stuff."

"Pretty much." I took a seat at the table. "He also asked me about the night Ethan was kil ed."

I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Lindsey's shoulders stiffen. She glanced back at me, concern in her expression, and I nodded in thanks.

"As it turns out," I said, "Tate gave the GP a different version of events."

"Why, in God's name, would the GP talk to Tate about that night? I mean, there were tapes of Tate's involvement in the drugs. Why would they take his word over yours?"

"Because he's not me. And for whatever reason, they don't trust me."

"Jerks," Lindsey muttered.

"Agreed. But we've heard from Darius, Charlie, and now Frank that the GP real y does think we're creating problems for ourselves. They have this idea we're cowboys in the American wilderness, randomly stirring up trouble with humans."

"Instead of laying the blame for that at Celina's door?"

Keley wondered.

"My thoughts exactly. Silent assimilation is only a viable strategy when you haven't been dragged kicking and screaming out of the closet."

Keley sighed and tapped her crimson nails on the tabletop. "And yet, what can we do about it? Whenever the GP gets information in front of them, they ignore it."

"We defect," Lindsey said.

Keley's gaze snapped to Lindsey. "Don't say that out loud," she warned. "God only knows how secure the House is with him here."

"Is that even an option?" I quietly wondered. I had a short version of the Canon - the laws that bound North American vampires - but I didn't recal having seen anything about defection. Not that the GP would advertise that kind of thing.

"Only twice in the GP's history," Keley said, "and never by an American House."

"Never say never," Lindsey muttered.

"Lindsey," Keley warned again, this time with a tone of authority in her voice.

Lindsey glanced back from her computer, brows lifted.

"What? I'm not afraid to say it aloud. This House is governed by the GP. The GP is supposed to keep things stable and protect the House. Is that happening now? Hel s to the no. Instead, they're criticizing and investigating our vampires when they should be working to keep these crazy-ass humans away from us."

She pointed to one of the monitors in front of her, and both Keley and I moved closer for a better look. The screen showed the sidewalk outside the House, where the number of protestors seemed to have tripled since dawn. They were marching up and down with signs that blamed the stil - dark waters of the lake on Cadogan House. As if we'd created the problem, instead of trying to stop it.

"They blame us," I concluded. "They have no evidence we have anything to do with the lake; they just don't know anyone else to blame. That's the only reason they're here."

"Oh, no," Keley said. "That's not the only reason." She walked back to the table, tapped a bit on the tablet, and handed it over to me.

The screen displayed a video of Mayor Kowalczyk, wearing a sensible red power suit and a bouffant of brown hair, and standing in front of a podium.

"Press conference?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," Keley said, then swiped the screen to start the video.