Biting Bad (Chicagoland Vampires 8)

"The riot was only three days ago," I said. "How long would it take any adulteration to make its way into stores?"

"Yikes," Jeff said. "I am not digging this conversation. I'm going to send Catcher a note, ask him to double-check with Charla."

Luc recapped his marker and ran his fingers through his hair. "Or maybe all of this is just bullshit speculation. Maybe the inspection has nothing to do with anything. Maybe McKetrick made them move up the date because he's a self-centered prick. Maybe he hoped to catch them unprepared and shut them down."

"That would help drive vampires out of Chicago," I said. "If the inspection was clean, maybe the riot's just another attempt to shut them down."

Luc uncapped his marker again and scratched "Close them down" across the board with a series of squeaks. "Maybe it's that simple."

Maybe, but I doubted it. McKetrick preferred grandstanding when he could get it, and working indirectly to close down a blood supply facility seemed an amateur move for him.

"Got a message from Catcher," Jeff said. "I'm quoting: 'Charla thinks blood supply is safe. Frequent testing.'"

To say that was a relief would be an understatement. Poisoning the city's blood supply would be a quick way to end vampires en masse.

"I don't suppose Catcher mentioned anything else about the videos?" I asked.

"He said he asked her to check again."

"So there you go," Luc said. "We check the videos, and we see if they show us anything interesting."

They would, I silently thought. The question now was what.

-

As a graduate student, I'd spent a lot of time poring over books and manuscripts. Flipping through pages of centuries-old paper while wearing cotton gloves, staring through the lens of a microfiche machine at illuminated manuscripts. It was usually a slow and time-consuming process.

With that experience under my belt, you'd have thought I'd grown accustomed to being patient and methodical.

But where McKetrick was maybe, possibly concerned, patience was impossible. I sat at the Ops Room table, staring at the whiteboard from a distance and hoping that seeing the big picture would bring me some insight, suggest a clue I'd somehow missed that we could easily backtrack and find in order to secure all the puzzle pieces into the appropriate slots.

But that was easier said than done. You'd also think, having stared at the whiteboard for various mysteries and assignments, and having eventually resolved all of them, I'd get used to the pace. To the grind of looking for information - any information - while waiting for the flint to strike.

The process made me antsy and frustrated, and I found it difficult not to blame myself when clues and solutions weren't immediate, and when vampires were in danger in the meantime.

Before I could add anything helpful, the Ops Room door opened. Ethan and Scott walked in, Jonah behind them.

I had become a bundle of nerves, because even Masters walking through the door made me paranoid.

"Liege?" Luc asked. There was nervous anticipation in his voice, too, which made me feel slightly less crazy. "The GP?"

"Utter silence," Ethan said. "No members of the GP are talking to anyone, as far as we can tell. And I'm not yet sure if that's better or worse than a dressing-down."

"Maybe they're getting their own house in order before talking to the rest of us," Luc said. "But if they're still being silent, what brings you down here?"

"We've just finalized a contract for the apartment building in Lakeview," Scott said. "We've ordered some temporary furnishings while the House decor is being cleaned, and we're going to start moving people in within the hour."

Luc whistled. "That was fast. Congratulations on finding a place. Do you think it will suit you?"

"In the immediate term, yes. We still want to get back to the warehouse, but it's going to be weeks, possibly months, before the roof is finished and the repairs are done. This will give us a bit of breathing room, a bit of normalcy, in the meantime."

"Moving puts Scott and his people in a vulnerable position," Ethan said. "A lot of people coming and going, a lot of chaos. They're going to be busy with moving and making arrangements, so we're going to provide some assistance at the new location."

Ethan looked at me. "Merit, you'll take point. Coordinate with Jonah on the arrangements."

It couldn't have been easy for Ethan to hand me over to Jonah on Valentine's Day, but he managed to do it without sneaky comment. I had to respect that.

"Of course," I said, glancing at Jonah, and wondering if he didn't also have RG support in mind during the move.

"We aren't anticipating specific trouble," Scott said. "But we prepare for the worst, and hope for the best."

"That's practically our motto," Luc said, glancing at me. "Earbuds so you and Jonah can stay in touch?"

The earbuds were some of Luc's favorite toys, minuscule devices with microphones and transmitters, so we could communicate without bulky electronics or signaling our connections to our enemies.

"Sure," I said. "That would be great." I'd also take a full-length insulated coat and thermal underwear while I was at it, because it was probably freezing outside. But work was work, and there was no sense in complaining about it.

"We'll be here if you need us," Luc said, pulling the earbuds from a cabinet and handing them over.

I smiled and tucked mine into my jacket pocket. "Thanks. When are we leaving?"

"I thought you and I could head out first," Jonah said. "Take a look at the grounds and decide where to place folks. The Grey House guards will keep an eye on the rest of the vampires leaving here, and we'll keep an eye on them going in."

I nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"In that case," Jonah said, clapping his hands together, "I think we're ready."

-

It made sense for us to drive separately; Jonah would be bunking in the House's new digs for the evening, while I'd head back home and again into the Master's suite.

Moneypenny still sat in the garage, dots of salt and grime on her exterior, but no less beautiful for it.

I'd just opened the door and put my sword into the passenger seat when the basement door opened behind me. Ethan walked inside, his gaze on the car.

"She needs cleaning," he said.

"Probably, although she's not going to get any cleaner tonight." It was useless washing a car in Chicago in the winter until the snow was gone and the forecast was clear.