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The one closest to Ethan ran a napkin across
his dripping mustache, his gaze shifting from me
to Ethan.  You two look familiar. I know you?
Since my photo had been smeared across the
front page of the paper a couple of months ago,
and Ethan had made the local news more than
once since the attack on Cadogan, we probably
did look familiar.
 I m a vampire from Cadogan House, Ethan
said.
Our area of the restaurant, not full but still
dotted with late-night munchers, went silent.
This time, the man looked suspiciously at the
sandwich.  You like that?
 It s great, Ethan said, then gestured toward
me.  This is Merit. She s from Chicago. She
decided I had to try one.
The man and his companion leaned forward to
look at me.  That so?
 It is.
He was quiet for a moment.  You had deep
dish yet? Or a red hot?
My heart warmed. We might have been
vampires, but at least these guys recognized that
we were first and foremost Chicagoans. We
knew Wrigley Field and Navy Pier, Daley and
rush hour traffic, Soldier Field in December and
Oak Street Beach in July. We knew freak
snowstorms and freakier heat waves.
But most of all, we knew food: taquerias, red
hots, deep dish, great beer. We baked it, fried it,
sautéed it, and grilled it, and in our quest to enjoy
the sunshine and warmth while we could, we
shared that food together.
 Both, I said.  I got him pizza from Saul s.
The man s bushy eyebrows popped up.  You
know about Saul s?
I smiled slyly.  Cream cheese and double
bacon.
 Oooh, the man said, grinning ear to ear. He
dropped his napkin and threw his hands into the
air.  Cream cheese and double bacon. Our
fanged friend here knows about Saul s Best! He
raised his giant paper cup of soda in a toast.  To
you, my friend. Good eats and whatnot.
 And to you, Ethan said, raising his sandwich
and taking a bite.
Hot beef in the name of peace. I liked it.
 I m surprised you told him we were vampires,
I told Ethan on the way back to the car.  That
you admitted to it, I mean, given what we saw
earlier tonight.
 Sometimes the only way to counter prejudice
is to remind them how similar we are. To
challenge their perceptions of what it means to
be vampire . . . or human. Besides, he wouldn t
have asked who we were if he hadn t at least
suspected, and lying probably would have
irritated him further.
 Quite possibly.
He smiled magnanimously.  Besides, you
clearly wooed them with your cream cheese and
double-bacon talk.
 Who wouldn t be wooed by cream cheese
and double-bacon talk? I mean, other than
vegetarians, I guess. But as we have thoroughly
established, vegetarianism is not my gig.
Ethan opened my car door.  No, Sentinel, it is
not.
I d climbed inside and he did the same, but he
didn t start the car right away.
 Problems? I asked.
He frowned.  I m not sure I m ready to return
to the House. Not that I d prefer to be at Creeley
Creek, of course, but until I go back to Hyde
Park, the drama hasn t quite solidified. He
glanced at me.  Does that make sense?
Only a four-hundred-year-old Master vampire
would wonder if a grad student could understand
procrastination.  Of course it does.
Procrastination is a very human emotion.
 I m not sure humans have a monopoly on
procrastination. And, more important, I m not
sure this counts as procrastination. He turned
back again and started the ignition.  Unlike what
you re doing.
 What I m doing?
He smiled just a little a tease of a smile.
 Procrastinating, he said.  Avoiding the
inevitability of you and me.
 How long does  inevitability take when
you re immortal?
He grinned and pulled the Mercedes away
from the curb.  I suppose we ll find out.
One summer night in Chicago. Three sets of
battle lines drawn.
The protesters were still outside when we
returned, their apparent hatred of us
undiminished. On the other hand, their energy
did seem to be a little diminished; this time, they
were sitting on the narrow strip of grass between
the sidewalk and street. Some sat in pop-up
camping chairs. Others sat on blankets in pairs,
one s head on the other s shoulder, given the late
hour. Late-night prejudice was apparently
exhausting.
Malik met us at the door, folder in hand; Ethan
had given him a heads-up call in the car on the
way back to the House.
Malik was tall, with cocoa skin, pale green
eyes, and closely cropped hair. He had the regal
bearing of a prince in training shoulders back,
jaw set, eyes scanning and alert, as if waiting for
marauders to scale the castle walls.
 Militiamen and arrest warrants, Malik said.
 I m not sure it s advisable for you two to leave
the House together anymore.
Ethan made a snort of agreement.  At this
point, I d tend to agree with you.
 Tate indicated the supposed incident was
violent?
 Exceptionally so, according to the firsthand
account, Ethan said.
Once we were in Ethan s office and he d
closed the door behind us, he got to the heart of
it.  The story is, the vamps lost control and killed
three humans. But Mr. Jackson s description rang
more of uncontrolled bloodlust than of a typical
rave.
 Mr. Jackson? Malik asked.
Ethan headed for his desk.  Our eyewitness.
Potentially under the influence, but sober enough
that Tate was apparently convinced. And by
convinced, I mean he s threatening my arrest if
we don t fix the problem, whatever it is.
Malik, eyes wide, looked between the two of
us.  He s serious, then.
Ethan nodded.  He s had the warrant drawn.
And that makes this problem our current focus.
Tate said the incident occurred in West Town.
Look through your rave intel again. Any
connections to that neighborhood? Any talk
about violence? Anything that would suggest the
scale the witness talked about?
That assignment given, Ethan looked at me.
 When the sun sets, talk to your grandfather.
Ask him to track down what they can about the
Jackson incident the vampires involved,
Houses, whatever and any new information
they ve gotten about the raves. This may not
actually be one, but at the moment it s the best
lead we ve got. And one way or the other, he
added, looking between us,  let s close these
things down, shall we?
 Liege, I agreed with a nod. I d definitely
visit my grandfather, but my circle of friends had
grown a little wider over the last few months. I d
recently been asked to join the Red Guard, a kind
of vampire watchdog group that kept an eye on
Master vamps and the GP. I d declined the
invitation, but I d made use of the resource,
calling on the RG for backup during the attack on
the House. This might be the time to make that
call again. . . .
 And this McKetrick fellow? Malik asked.
 He ll wait, Ethan said, determination in his
eyes.  He ll wait until hell freezes over, because
we re not leaving Chicago.
I d visit my grandfather when the sun set. But
first, I had a couple more hours of darkness and
many hours of daylight to get through.
All the bedrooms in the House, which
accommodated about ninety of Cadogan s three-
hundred-odd vampires, looked like small dorm
rooms. A bed. A bureau. A nightstand. Small
closet, small bathroom. They weren t exactly
fancy, but they gave us a respite from vampire
drama. Given the messes we tended to get into,
drama free was definitely a good thing.
My second-floor room just like the rest of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]