Biting Bad (Chicagoland Vampires 8)

"This is one of those nights - one of those weeks - in which I think I could very much enjoy a mundane human life."

The admission, so close to what I'd been thinking, struck me in its honesty.

"I know," I said. "I've had nights like that, too. When a cubicle and a desk job and mind-numbing boredom seem preferable."

"I don't think a cubicle is our only other option. We could buy an estate in Scotland on the moors or in the wilds of Alaska where no one would ever find us."

"The grass is always greener," said a voice at the door. Looking up, we found Catcher and Mallory in the doorway.

Mallory's hair was in two long braids, a knit cap pulled over her brow. She wore a puffy down jacket and calf-high winter boots over jeans. Catcher, on the other hand, wore a thin barn coat over jeans, no gloves, hat, or scarf in sight. He was, however, wearing one of those expressions that said, quite clearly, "The world is an idiot." I guess his anger was keeping him warm.

"Looks like we missed some excitement?" he said.

"Too many vampires and too much testosterone in the House," I explained, earning an eye roll from Ethan. He could object to the phrasing as much as he wanted, but facts were facts.

"What brings you by?" Ethan asked them.

"We heard about what happened last night," Mallory said. "We wanted to check in on you." She gave me a head-to-toe look. "You look whole."

"I am," I said. "Just a little sore."

Catcher and Mallory stepped inside, and Catcher closed the door behind them. "I hear the GP didn't fare so well?"

At Ethan's gesture, we all walked to the office's sitting area. It had been a long time since we'd shared a casual chat at the House with the two of them.

Mallory and Catcher sat down. Catcher practically commanded the seat, arms on the armrests, one leg crossed, ankle over knee.

Mallory sat beside him, but she looked vaguely uncomfortable, perhaps because she hadn't actually been inside Cadogan House since Ethan's death. And that visit hadn't exactly turned out for the best.

"Harold Monmonth is no longer with us," Ethan confirmed. "And my blade is the reason for that."

"Can't say I envy your position," Catcher said, "although the guy attacks your House, he has to know the risks."

"One would assume," Ethan said. "But logic has often eluded the GP."

"How has the GP responded?" Catcher asked.

"They haven't," Ethan said. "We're awaiting their move."

"So the atmosphere around here is cool, calm, and collected as usual?" Mallory asked lightly.

"Pretty much," I said. "What about you? How are things with the Apex?"

"About the same."

I thought of my conversation with Catcher and the work Mallory and the shifters were doing together. I considered not asking her about it since she hadn't mentioned it herself, but playing subtle with Mallory had only ended in despair the first time around.

"I understand you've been working with the shifters on your magic?"

"I've been working on control," she said, meeting my gaze without blinking, which showed more confidence than I'd expected. Maybe she was ready to fan out her cards after all.

"They have a relationship to magic that's unique, and Gabe thought if I had a better connection to that magic, more sympathy for it, I might be able to balance myself a little better."

"Is it working?"

"It's not not working," she said with a smile. "But I use so little of it, it's hard to say."

Ethan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. By his expression, he was clearly fascinated by the concept. "They're letting you watch their rituals?"

"Some," she said carefully. "For some of the Keene wolves. I understand each type of animal has its own way to commune with the world."

"And that's what it is?" I asked. "Communing with the world?"

She tilted her head to the side and scrunched up her face, trying to gather the right words. "Magic isn't binary. It's not on or off." She glanced at Catcher. "Some folks say it's divided into keys, into segments." That was the way I'd learned about magic, the theory Catcher had espoused.

"But for me," she said, "it's more like a radio tuner. You can adjust the dial up or down until you get the station you want."

"And they're helping you get the station you want?" Ethan asked.

"They're helping me identify the stations," she said. "Feel them out. Figure out which stations are good for me, and which aren't."

"That sounds promising," Ethan said. I had to agree. It sounded better, at any rate, than her tuning into the magical "station" that was apparently intent on destroying Chicago.

"It is, I think," she said. "There's a way to go, but it's promising."

"What does the Order plan to do with you?" Ethan asked her.

"Pretend I don't exist?"

"They aren't good with punishment," Catcher said. "Yeah, they can kick someone out and theoretically ban someone from practicing in a particular area, but we've seen how well that worked."

Catcher wasn't supposed to be in Chicago; he'd been kicked out of the Order for coming here against Order mandate.

"They have methods," he said. "You might remember we can be stripped of our magic, but it's an . . . unpleasant process. Like the magical version of a lobotomy."

"Nullification, right?" Ethan asked.

Catcher nodded.

"And when Mallory's time with the shifters is up?" Ethan asked.

Mallory and Catcher looked at each other, and Catcher nodded a little.

"We've actually been talking about that," Mallory said. She linked her fingers in her lap and looked at Ethan.

She looked nervous and eager - like a job applicant at an interview - and it wasn't hard to guess what she was about to say.

"Catcher and I have been talking," she said. "And I've talked to Gabriel and Berna. With Berna until I'm blue in the face," she added. "And sooner rather than later I'm going to need to branch out on my own. They don't think it's wise that I don't use my magic at all - it builds up, and we saw how unpleasant that can become."

She paused, waiting for some commentary from Ethan, but he offered none. He stared back at her from his chair, his emotions completely unreadable. She might have been a stranger, not a woman with whom he'd felt a psychic connection.

"I have to prepare for my life," she said. "A life with my magic. A life in which I use it for something that makes me feel better about myself, instead of worse." Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away.