Chicagoland Vampires - Friday Night Bites Part 8

I nearly choked on chicken, and when I was done with the coughing fit, asked, "The acronym for the Order of sorcerers is 'U-a.s.s'?"

"A, seriously appropriate," Mallory commented, giving Catcher a sideways grin. "B, explains why they call it 'the Order.' "

I nodded my agreement on both points.

"So, they're good with the benefits, s.h.i.+tty with the marketing," Catcher said. "The point is, she won't be spending three months in Detroit."

"Not that it isn't a lovely city," Mallory put in.

"Lovely city," I agreed, but just for form, as I'd never been there. "So this training is, what, magical cla.s.ses and whatnot?"

"Whatnot," Catcher said. "No cla.s.ses-just on-the-job training. She'll begin to utilize and manipulate the Keys, major and minor, so that she can understand her duties and obligations to the rest of the Order and, if they have a few spare minutes"-his voice went dry as toast-"how to harness and redistribute the power that is beginning to funnel its way through her body."

I looked at her, blinking, trying to imagine exactly how my blue-haired, blue-eyed, ad exec of a best friend-currently in a MISS BEHAVIN' T-s.h.i.+rt and skinny jeans-was going to manage to do that.

"Huh," was all I said.

"She'll live and breathe the power of it, learn to exercise the control." He paused contemplatively, staring off into s.p.a.ce until Mallory touched his hand with the tips of her fingers. He turned and looked at her.

"Sorcerers learn by practice, by actually funneling the power. No books, no cla.s.srooms, just doing it.

She'll be put into a situation in Schaumburg, and she'll handle it. The hard way-on her own, no nets."

I guessed "the way I had to do it" was coming next. The speech had the ring of old-school pract.i.tioner complaining about the way things had changed sincehis time, when he had to walk uphill both ways to get to school, etc., etc. Of course, I bet learning to funnel magic through Mal's slender frame took considerably more effort than hauling a couple of arithmetic books up a hill.

"d.a.m.n," I said, giving her a sympathetic look. "At least vampires get a desk reference." On the other hand, that's about all we got. Although Luc valued training, and I appreciated the effort, he and Ethan had had decades to gain experience before a.s.suming their House positions. To play the part of Sentinel, I got two weeks, a sorcerer with an att.i.tude, and a katana.

"So's I'm going to Schaumburg," Mal said, "where I'll get a little less practical experience than if I'd summered full-time in Detroit, but hopefully enough that I learn not to turn bad guys into piles of glitter because I inadvertently snapped my fingers."

As if to ill.u.s.trate her point, she snapped them, a tiny blue spark jumping from her fingertips, the air suddenly stirring with the electricity of magic. Catcher closed his fingers around the spark, and when he opened them again, a glowing blue orb was centered in his palm. He lifted his hand, pursed his lips, and blew the orb away. It shattered into a crystalline glitter that peppered the air with sparkling magic before it dispersed and faded.

Then he turned to Mallory with a lurid look that made me happy,super happy , to be living in CadoganHouse. "She's a nice funnel."

Oh, dear, sweet G.o.d, did Inot need to hear about Mallory being a funnel. "So you're going to Schaumburg," I repeated, refocusing the conversation and taking another bite before I lost my appet.i.te completely. "And you'll do your interns.h.i.+p there. How long do you have to stay? How long will it take?

Give me the deets."

"It'll be nightlies," Catcher said. "She'll spend most of her evenings in Schaumburg for a while. Since she's getting an exemption, we're not sure how long her practice will last. Special case, special rules.

She'll stay, I a.s.sume, until she proves her worth."

Mallory and I shared a snarky glance about that one. "Sad thing is," she said, "he's serious."

Something occurred to me. "Oh, s.h.i.+t, Mal, what are you going to do about your job?"

Mallory's expression went uncharacteristically wan. She stretched up from the stool and grabbed a white envelope from atop a pile of mail that sat at one end of the island. She held it in front of me so I could read the addressee-McGettrick Combs.

"Resignation letter?" I asked. She nodded, then returned the envelope to the pile.

Catcher put his hand at the back of her neck, rubbed it. "We talked about this."

"I know," she said, nodding her head. "It's just a change." When she looked up at me, her eyes were bright with tears. Notwithstanding the discomfort of being witness to their more amorous adventures, I was glad Catcher was here for her, that she had someone who'd been through similar experiences, who could guide her through the process or just be there when she needed comforting.

"I'm sorry, Mallory," was all I could think to say, knowing how much she'd loved her job, how well suited for it she'd been, how much pride she'd taken when a commercial or print ad she'd conceptualized appeared in theTrib or on ABC-7.

She sniffed, nodded, and knuckled away the tears that had slipped beneath her lashes, before chuckling.

"Hey, I'll get my union card, and think of all the doors that will open for me then."

"Absolutely, kiddo," Catcher said, leaning over to plant a kiss on her temple. "Absolutely."

"I don't want to bust the pro-union party here," I said, "but will those doors open into any bank vaults or some kind of salary?"

Catcher nodded. "Once she's completed her on-the-job, since the Order has finally realized they need someone on the ground in Chicago, she'll be on call." The middle part of that sentence had been spoken gruffly and with obvious bitterness. Typical Catcher, in other words.

"On call?" I asked, turning my gaze to Mallory, who smiled slyly.

"I'll be doing my own dispute handling, investigating, that kind of thing." She shrugged. "It's a job. I mean, it's not Cadogan-Hyde Park kind of money, but I'll manage. Speaking of Cadogan money, what's up on your end of things? How's life under the tutelage of Darth Sullivan?"

"Well," I began, "I've been roped into shenanigans."

Without preface, Catcher muttered a curse, then leaned over, slipped his wallet from his jeans, and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, which he handed to Mallory.

She grinned down at it, then carefully folded it and tucked it into her s.h.i.+rt. "On behalf of Carmichael Savings and Loan, we appreciate your business."

At my arched eyebrows, she bobbed her head toward Catcher. "I voted shenanigans within the first twenty-four hours. Mr. Bell over here thought Darth Sullivan would let you get 'settled.' " She used air quotes for that last part.

"d.a.m.n. I wish I could have taken that bet," I said. I debated how much I could tell them about said ensuing shenanigans, but since Ethan would probably tell Catcher his plans, and Catcher would undoubtedly tell Mallory, I didn't think I was risking much.

"We'll be doing some reconnaissance work. Long story short, I'm going home."

Mallory arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean, going home?"

"I'll be hanging out with the Merit clan."

"Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm going to try to get close to an old friend. According to Ethan, at least the part he's telling me, we're trying to keep prying human eyes away from some questionable vamp activities. G.o.d onlyknows what other secret motivations he's got."

"Does getting into your pants count as a secret motivation these days?"

I screwed up my face. "Ew."

Mal rolled her eyes, apparently not buying my disgust. "Whatever. You'd totally hit that if he weren't such an a.s.s."

"And that's exactly his problem," I muttered.

"And speaking of hitting that," Mal added, perking up, "any word from Morgan? You guys have anything planned for the weekend?"

"Not really," I vaguely said, and left it at that. It was true that there wasn't much to report, but I also wasn't up for talking about it; being conflicted about the guy I was pseudo-dating wasn't helped by a.n.a.lyzing it to death.

I checked my watch. It was two hours until sunup. That gave me time to sneak back to Cadogan House, grab an obscenely long shower, and chillax a little before bed.

"I should go," I told them. I took my empty plate to the sink, deposited it and then glanced back. "When does the training start?"

"Sunday," Mallory said, rising from her stool. That gave her two full days to wreak pre-interns.h.i.+p havoc, or at least enjoy some rowdy pre-interns.h.i.+p rounds with Catcher.

"I'll walk you out," she said. Catcher followed us, a hand at Mallory's back. We reached the living room and, without another word, he sat down on the couch, crossed his ankles on the coffee table and slouched back, remote control in his hand. He flicked on the television and tuned it immediately to the Lifetime Channel.

Mallory and I stood there, heads c.o.c.ked, watching this incredibly s.e.xy, incredibly masculine man, whose eyes were glued to a made-for-TV movie. He slid us an annoyed glance, rolled his eyes, and turned back to the television.

"You know I love this s.h.i.+t," he said, then made a vague gesture at Mallory, "and she lives with me." That apparently being defense enough, he sniffed, settled the remote control in the crux between his legs, and crossed his arms behind his head.

"My life," Mallory said. "My love. The keeper of my heart."

"The keeper of your remote," I pointed out, then enveloped her in a hug. "I love you. Call me if you need to."

"I love you, too," she said, and when we'd released each other, nodded her head in Catcher's direction.

"He's making dinner Sat.u.r.day night, kind of a pre-training deal. I don't really need a going-away party anymore, but far be it from me to complain when someone tries to make dinner in my honor. We'll call it a not-going-that-far-away party. Come over, maybe bring Morgan?"

I offered back a sardonic look. "A not-going-that-far-away party?"

"Jeez," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're as stubborn as he is. Call it a kickoff party if that makes you feel better. I am a burgeoning sorceress. We haven't celebrated that yet, and I figure I'm due."

With that, we made our final goodbyes, and I headed back to my car. When I arrived back in Hyde Park, I parked outside the Cadogan gate, then moved through the House and back to my second-floor room.

I dropped off my keys and unbelted my sword, then glanced around. I'd planned on a long shower and a little reading in my pajamas before the sun hit the horizon. But since I'd been here nearly forty-eight hours and had hardly seen the other ninety-seven resident Cadogan vampires, I decided to opt for something considerably less geeky, and a lot more social. I flipped off the light in my room and headed for the stairs.

Noise leaked from Lindsey's room on the third floor, a cacophony of voices and television sounds. I knocked, and at Lindsey's invitation ("Get your a.s.s in here, Sentinel"), pulled it open.

The tiny room, already crowded with furniture and Lindsey's expressive decor, was stuffed with vampires. I counted six, including Lindsey and Malik, who were reclining on her bed. Kelley and newbie vampire (and Lindsey's current paramour) Connor sat on the floor beside two vampires I didn't know.

All six of them faced a small round television that sat atop Lindsey's bookshelf. On TV, thin people with strong accents berated the fas.h.i.+on choices of a large, fl.u.s.tered woman who wore a dress of eye-bruisingcolors but who was giving back as good as she was getting.

"Door," Kelley said without looking at me. I obeyed and closed it.

"Cop a squat, Sentinel," Lindsey directed, patting the bed beside her and shuffling farther from Malik, giving me room to sit between them. I stepped carefully among vampires and over a half-eaten box of pizza that made my stomach grumble in a way blood didn't, and climbed onto the bed. I had to go in headfirst, then carefully turn around, apologizing to Malik and Linds for kicks and pokes along the way. I heard grunts and moans, but a.s.sumed they were related to the show, which seemed to be heading for some kind of b.i.t.c.hfest climax.

"This is Margot and Katherine," Lindsey said, pointing at the unfamiliar vampires on the floor in turn.

Margot, a strikingly gorgeous brunette with an angular crop of dark hair and bangs that curved into a point between amber-colored eyes, turned and offered a finger wave. Katherine, her light brown hair piled into a high knot, turned back and smiled.

"Merit," I said, waving back.

"They know who you are, hot s.h.i.+t. And you obviously know Connor and Kelley," Lindsey added when I'd settled myself, a pillow between my back and the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, tiny, glowing reality television show half a dozen feet away.

Connor glanced back and grinned. "Thank G.o.d you're here. I was the youngest person in the room by at least fifty years."

"Hate to break it to you, Sweet t.i.ts," Lindsey said, "but you aren't a person anymore." She called for a piece of pizza, and the box was pa.s.sed up. Eyes on the television, she grabbed a slice, then handed over the box. I settled it on my lap and tucked into a piece, pausing only long enough to make sure it was covered in meat. Bingo. While it was barely warm, and consisted of an offensive New York hybrid crust that could have used two more inches of dough and sauce and cheese, it was better than a kick in the face.

Malik leaned toward me. "You heard she's been released?"

In the two months that I'd been a Cadogan vampire, this was the first solo conversation I'd had with Malik. And while we were on the subject, it was also the first time I'd seen him in jeans and a polo s.h.i.+rt.

I swallowed a mouthful of Canadian bacon, cheese, and crust. "Yes," I whispered back. "Ethan told me yesterday."

He nodded, his expression inscrutable, then turned back to the television.

As first conversations went, it wasn't much. But I took it for concern, and decided I was satisfied with it.

A commercial came on and the room erupted in sound, Margot, Lindsey, Connor, Katherine, and Kelley rehas.h.i.+ng what they'd seen, who was "winning," and who'd cry first when the results came in. I wasn't entirely sure what the contest was, much less the prize, but since vampires apparently delighted in human drama, I settled in and tried to catch up.

"We're rooting for the b.i.t.c.hy one," Lindsey explained, nibbling the crust on her pizza slice.

"I thought they were all b.i.t.c.hy," I noted.

After a few minutes of commercials, Malik began the process of getting off the bed.

"Is it me?" I asked lightly. "I can shower."

He chuckled as he took to his feet, the glow of the television glinting off the medal around his neck, and something else-a thin silver crucifix that dangled from a thin silver chain. So much for that myth.

"It's not you," Malik said. "I need to get back." He began to step between the vampires, who were completely unmoved by his effort not to step on them.

"Down in front!"

"Out of the way, vampire," Margot said, tossing a handful of popcorn in his direction. "Let's move it."

He waved them off good-naturedly, then disappeared out the door.

"What did he have to get back to?" I asked Lindsey.

"Hmm?" she absently asked, gaze on the television.

"Malik. He said he had to get back. What did he have to get back to?"

"Oh," Lindsey said. "His wife. She lives here with him. They've got a suite on your floor."

I blinked. "Malik'smarried ?" It wasn't the "Malik" part that surprised me, but the "married" part. That avampire was married seemed kind of odd. I mean, from what I'd seen so far, the vampire lifestyle was pretty comparable to dorm life. Living in a would-be vampire frat house didn't seem conducive to a long-term relations.h.i.+p.

"He's always been married," Lindsey said. "They were turned together." She glanced over at me. "You live down the hall from them. It's not real neighborly of you not to say h.e.l.lo."

"I'm not real neighborly," I admitted, recognizing that Malik was the only other vampire that I knew had a room on the second floor, and I'd only learned that four seconds ago. "We need a mixer," I decided.

Lindsey huffed. "What are we, soph.o.m.ores? Mixers are excuses to get drunk and make out with people you hardly know." She slowly lowered her gaze to the back of Connor's head and smiled lasciviously.

"On the other hand . . ."