Hard Bitten (Chicagoland Vampires 4)

Of course she was. We knew Celina wouldn't pass up the chance, and even if this "Marie" wasn't Celina, a meeting would almost certainly answer some of our questions. "Where and when?"

"Street Fest. Tonight. Meet beside the Town booth."

Town was a chichi cafe in the Loop that regularly topped the annual "best of " lists. It was a place for socialites to see and be seen, a place that required reservations weeks in advance  - unless you knew someone . . . or you were the daughter of Joshua Merit. Pork saltimbocca?

Yes, please.

Although I didn't figure Celina for a Street Fest participant, Town was just the kind of place she'd choose.

"What time?"

"Eleven o'clock."

I checked my watch. It was a quarter till ten.

Street Fest ended at one o'clock, so the meeting time would hit the crescendo of bands, foods,and imbibing Chicagoans.

"I assume I won't need to wear a carnation in my lapel so she recognizes me?"

Paulie coughed out a laugh. "She'll find you. Eleven p.m. sharp."

The line went dead, so I tucked the phone away again and nibbled on my thumb as I thought it through.

Celina - well, someone I thought must be Celina - wanted a meeting in a public place. And not just a public place - a public place where thousands of humans would be milling about.

Was she hoping the crowd would give her anonymity, or was she planning on causing trouble in the middle of them?

She had to have an ulterior motive, something she wanted to pull off. Maybe a trap she hoped to spring. It was just a matter of figuring it out - or planning for all contingencies.

When I finally looked up again, I found Catcher, Jeff, and Mallory staring at me.

"Paulie Cermak," I explained. "'Marie' wants to meet me at Street Fest tonight."

Catcher and Mallory walked toward us.

"You're going?"

"Do I have a choice? Darius is pissed, and so's Tate." I rolled my shoulders, muscles aching against the joint irritation of magic and tension.

"We could pretend this isn't our problem, but that's not going to make V go away, and it's not going to keep our House together."

"So what's the downside of meeting with her?" Mallory asked.

"Other than the possibility she'll kill me? Darius ordered me and Ethan to stop investigating."

Catcher's expression was incredulous. "On what basis? Vamps are fighting in public. How could he possibly deny that there's a problem?"

"Oh, he knows something's going on." I filled them in on the escapade at Grey House. "Darius just thinks it's Tate's problem to solve. He also apparently thinks we're the ones creating the problem - that Celina's acting out because we keep giving her attention."

"Not impressed with Darius so far," Mallory said.

"Tell me about it," I agreed.

"Am I interrupting?"

All heads turned to the doorway. A cute guy in a T-shirt and jeans smiled back at us.

"Who's he?" I whispered.

"That," Mallory tiredly said, "is Simon. My tutor."

I'll be honest - when Mallory had said she had a tutor, I'd expected the nerdy type. Someone with an academic bent and maybe a pocket protector.

Simon was about as far from the stereotype as they got: buff and cute in a boy-next-door way, with nary a pencil to be seen. His hair was closely cropped, with blue eyes peering out beneath a strong brow.

"Well done," I whispered to her.

"You wouldn't say that if he was making you levitate a two-hundred-pound lead weight for the sixty-seventh time." But she smiled politely. "Hi, Simon."

"Mallory," Simon said, then looked at Catcher.

"It's been a while."

Catcher's expression stayed blank. He apparently wasn't interested in a warm reunion with a member of the Order. "Simon. What brings you to the city?"

Simon gestured toward Mallory. "We're going to take a ghost tour."

I glanced at Mallory. "You're going on a ghost tour?" It's not that Mallory wasn't interested in the occult. She was the girl with the Buffy fixation, after all. But she'd always refused when I'd asked her to go, calling the idea of a ghost tour the "fauxcult."

"Simon," Mallory said with an absent wave of the hand, "this is Merit and Jeff. She's a vampire, but I'm still friends with her because I'm awesome that way, and he's a computer nerdling extraordinaire who works with Catcher."

Simon smiled at me, but the effect wasn't nearly as friendly as you might have imagined.

"So, you're Sullivan's Sentinel."

"I'm the Cadogan House Sentinel," I politely corrected.

"Of course," he said, in a tone that suggested he didn't quite buy my clarification.

"So you're going on a ghost tour?" Jeff asked.

"Is that some kind of magical research?"

"In a manner of speaking," Simon said. "The hauntings aren't all wives' tales. Some of the locales are legitimately infested. Mallory's task tonight will be to separate fact from fiction. It's part of her practicum."

Mallory frowned. "Is that today? I thought that was tomorrow."

"Do you need to reschedule? There are some other things I could take care of while I'm in town."

Mallory waved him off. "No, today's fine. It's going to be on the exam, so I might as well do it."

"Oh, my God, you are Harry Potter," I said, pointing a finger at her. "I knew it!"

She rolled her eyes, then looked at Catcher. "I guess I need to get cleaned up and go?"

Catcher frowned, clearly not comfortable sending Mallory off into the city with Simon. I couldn't tell if the animus was all Order related or not.

Catcher looked at Simon. "Could you give us a minute?"

"Of course," Simon said after a moment. "I'll wait in the car. Jeff, nice to meet you. Merit, we'll have to talk sometime. I'd love to hear more about Cadogan House."

I gave him a noncommittal smile.

Simon walked out again. I looked back at Mallory and Catcher. "He seems pleasant enough."

"He's a member of the Order," Catcher grimly said. "They're always 'pleasant enough' until they're calling you a troublemaker and stripping you of your membership."

"Sounds like the Order and the GP have things in common," I said.

Catcher grunted his agreement.

"Simon's . . . okay," Mallory said. "But speaking of the GP, you need to get out there and mix it up." She reached out her arms, and I stepped forward into her hug. "Just like you told me," she said, "you do what you have to do. You know right from wrong, and your instincts are good. Trust them."