[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
than simply the absence of sound but it was
clear he meant it as a compliment.
Thank you, I said with as much sincerity as I
could push into those two words.
George watched me for a moment. Thinking.
Evaluating, maybe, before he finally nodded.
The act seemed to carry more significance
than just an acceptance of my thanks like I d
been approved by him. I nodded back, my act
just as significant. We were two paranormal
creatures members of different tribes, but
nevertheless linked together by the city s drama
and an Ombudsman trying diligently to stem the
tide accepting each other.
The connection made, George disappeared
again.
Soft-spoken, I commented when he was
gone.
They are, Jeff said. The RTs keep to
themselves, except when the nymphs request it.
And even then, they appear, they work the task,
and they head back beneath the bridges again.
What kind of things do they do?
Jeff shrugged. Generally they do the heavy
lifting. Playing muscle for a nymph along her
chunk of the river if there s a boundary dispute,
maybe enforcing the peace, maybe helping clean
up that chunk of the river if the waters are
moving too quickly.
Apparently done with his explanation, Jeff
stretched out to straighten a silver picture frame
now on one corner of his desk. I d previously
seen the many-tentacled plush doll that sat atop
one of his monitors, but the frame was new.
I walked over and peeked around his desk to
get a glimpse of the picture. It was a shot of him
and Fallon Keene. They d apparently hit it off
when the Keene family and representatives of
the rest of the Packs had come to Chicago to
decide whether to stay in their respective cities
or head off to their ancestral home in Aurora,
Alaska. The Packs had voted to stay, and the
Keene family hadn t yet returned to their HQ in
Memphis. That respite must have given Jeff and
Fallon time to get to know each other.
In the picture, Jeff and Fallon stood beside
each other in front of a flat brick wall, their
fingers intertwined, gazing at each other. And in
their eyes something weighty and important.
Love, already?
You look very happy, I told Jeff.
Crimson rose on his cheeks. Catcher s giving
me crap about moving too fast, he said, keeping
his gaze on the monitors in front of him. But
he s one to talk.
He is already living with my former
roommate, I agreed.
Still in the room, Catcher said. And
speaking of things in the room, what brings you
by?
Just the usual door-darkening crap. First item
on the agenda some kind of G.I. Joe wannabe
organization, led by a man named McKetrick.
They set up a roadblock not far from the House.
They had full military gear combat boots, black
clothes, black SUVs without license plates.
No black helicopters? Jeff asked.
I know, right? McKetrick has styled himself
as some kind of human savior from the vampire
invasion. He thinks fangs make us a genetic
mistake.
A mistake he s going to remedy? Catcher
asked.
I nodded. Precisely. He says his goal is
getting vamps out of Chicago and, I assume,
filling that vacuum with his sparkling
personality.
We ll do some digging. Find out what we
can. Catcher tilted his head curiously. How d
you get out of the roadblock?
Ethan called our favorite Pack members.
Keene brought the family and then some.
Nice, Jeff said. Um, was Fallon there?
She was. But in a Cardinals cap. Can t you
do something about that?
He shrugged sheepishly. I know how to pick
my battles. So no. Oh and did you hear? Tonya
had the baby. A nine-pound boy. Connor
Devereaux Keene.
I smiled back at him. Tonya was Gabriel s
wife; she d been quite pregnant the last time I d
seen her, and they d already decided on
Connor as a name. Nine pounds? That s a big
boy.
Jeff smiled knowingly. That s what she said.
Catcher cleared his throat. What s the second
thing?
Raves.
They both looked up at me.
What about them? Catcher asked.
That was actually my first question. At best,
we have raves popping into the public eye for
real this time.
And worst? Catcher asked.
We have something with the markings of a
rave, but that actually involves psycho-vamps
committing atrocities against multiple humans.
Three supposed deaths so far, but there s no
physical evidence.
There was silence in the office.
You re serious? Catcher asked, voice grave.
Aspen serious. I gave them the details on
Mr. Jackson and his experience, on the mayor s
investigation, and on our visit to his home. It
worried me that they didn t already have these
details; my grandfather, after all, was the city s
supernatural Ombudsman. He should have been
the first person Tate called.
Is it because of me? I asked. Is Tate
keeping information from him because I m his
granddaughter? Because I m in Cadogan?
Catcher pushed away his plate of fruit,
propped his elbows on the table, and rubbed his
temples. I don t know, and I really don t like
that idea. But I do know Chuck won t be pleased
at the possibility that we re a figurehead group,
an office Tate keeps open to make sups think he
gives a shit
While he s keeping important information
from us, Jeff finished.
On the other hand, Catcher thoughtfully
said, it wouldn t be our job to investigate.
That s the role of CPD detectives. But he d
normally give us a heads-up so we could make
contact with the Houses or the Rogues. He
shook his head. We always thought Tate was a
little cagey. I guess this proves you have to keep
one ear to the ground even when you re
supposedly in the loop.
And speaking of keeping an ear to the
ground, what s the word on raves? Anything new
in the ether?
He frowned. I assumed you ve talked to
Malik or Ethan and you know about the three we
tracked?
I ve heard, I growled out.
With a nod, Catcher rose and went to a
whiteboard newly installed on one end of the
office, uncapped a green marker, and began
writing. Accompanied by the squeak of the pen,
he started by drawing what looked like an angled,
limp fish.
What s that?
Chicago, he said without turning around.
Seriously? That s how you represent the city
you work for? As a fish?
It really does look like a fish, Jeff said
excitedly. Oh, maybe it s an Asian carp. Are
you making a metaphor about raves and invasive
species?
Clever, I said with a smile for Jeff.
He leaned back in his chair, smiling proudly.
That s what the ladies say.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Catcher,
who was glaring at both of us above his Buddy
Holly glasses. I had to bite my lip to keep from
laughing aloud.
As I was saying, he continued, before
placing stars on the map in different locations,
we know about three new raves in the last two
months.
Intel from the secret vampire? I wondered
aloud.
Two of them, Catcher admitted. The third
from Malik. All were second- or thirdhand
reports.
Okay, so that pretty much blew my Malik-
is-the-secret-source theory.
There s also the rave we visited along the
lakeshore, Catcher added, placing another star
on the board.
We didn t find out about that one until after
the rave was over and the vamps had closed up
shop. As a result, we only walked away with a
guess about the number of attendees and a clue
as to who d also investigated the Red Guard [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
than simply the absence of sound but it was
clear he meant it as a compliment.
Thank you, I said with as much sincerity as I
could push into those two words.
George watched me for a moment. Thinking.
Evaluating, maybe, before he finally nodded.
The act seemed to carry more significance
than just an acceptance of my thanks like I d
been approved by him. I nodded back, my act
just as significant. We were two paranormal
creatures members of different tribes, but
nevertheless linked together by the city s drama
and an Ombudsman trying diligently to stem the
tide accepting each other.
The connection made, George disappeared
again.
Soft-spoken, I commented when he was
gone.
They are, Jeff said. The RTs keep to
themselves, except when the nymphs request it.
And even then, they appear, they work the task,
and they head back beneath the bridges again.
What kind of things do they do?
Jeff shrugged. Generally they do the heavy
lifting. Playing muscle for a nymph along her
chunk of the river if there s a boundary dispute,
maybe enforcing the peace, maybe helping clean
up that chunk of the river if the waters are
moving too quickly.
Apparently done with his explanation, Jeff
stretched out to straighten a silver picture frame
now on one corner of his desk. I d previously
seen the many-tentacled plush doll that sat atop
one of his monitors, but the frame was new.
I walked over and peeked around his desk to
get a glimpse of the picture. It was a shot of him
and Fallon Keene. They d apparently hit it off
when the Keene family and representatives of
the rest of the Packs had come to Chicago to
decide whether to stay in their respective cities
or head off to their ancestral home in Aurora,
Alaska. The Packs had voted to stay, and the
Keene family hadn t yet returned to their HQ in
Memphis. That respite must have given Jeff and
Fallon time to get to know each other.
In the picture, Jeff and Fallon stood beside
each other in front of a flat brick wall, their
fingers intertwined, gazing at each other. And in
their eyes something weighty and important.
Love, already?
You look very happy, I told Jeff.
Crimson rose on his cheeks. Catcher s giving
me crap about moving too fast, he said, keeping
his gaze on the monitors in front of him. But
he s one to talk.
He is already living with my former
roommate, I agreed.
Still in the room, Catcher said. And
speaking of things in the room, what brings you
by?
Just the usual door-darkening crap. First item
on the agenda some kind of G.I. Joe wannabe
organization, led by a man named McKetrick.
They set up a roadblock not far from the House.
They had full military gear combat boots, black
clothes, black SUVs without license plates.
No black helicopters? Jeff asked.
I know, right? McKetrick has styled himself
as some kind of human savior from the vampire
invasion. He thinks fangs make us a genetic
mistake.
A mistake he s going to remedy? Catcher
asked.
I nodded. Precisely. He says his goal is
getting vamps out of Chicago and, I assume,
filling that vacuum with his sparkling
personality.
We ll do some digging. Find out what we
can. Catcher tilted his head curiously. How d
you get out of the roadblock?
Ethan called our favorite Pack members.
Keene brought the family and then some.
Nice, Jeff said. Um, was Fallon there?
She was. But in a Cardinals cap. Can t you
do something about that?
He shrugged sheepishly. I know how to pick
my battles. So no. Oh and did you hear? Tonya
had the baby. A nine-pound boy. Connor
Devereaux Keene.
I smiled back at him. Tonya was Gabriel s
wife; she d been quite pregnant the last time I d
seen her, and they d already decided on
Connor as a name. Nine pounds? That s a big
boy.
Jeff smiled knowingly. That s what she said.
Catcher cleared his throat. What s the second
thing?
Raves.
They both looked up at me.
What about them? Catcher asked.
That was actually my first question. At best,
we have raves popping into the public eye for
real this time.
And worst? Catcher asked.
We have something with the markings of a
rave, but that actually involves psycho-vamps
committing atrocities against multiple humans.
Three supposed deaths so far, but there s no
physical evidence.
There was silence in the office.
You re serious? Catcher asked, voice grave.
Aspen serious. I gave them the details on
Mr. Jackson and his experience, on the mayor s
investigation, and on our visit to his home. It
worried me that they didn t already have these
details; my grandfather, after all, was the city s
supernatural Ombudsman. He should have been
the first person Tate called.
Is it because of me? I asked. Is Tate
keeping information from him because I m his
granddaughter? Because I m in Cadogan?
Catcher pushed away his plate of fruit,
propped his elbows on the table, and rubbed his
temples. I don t know, and I really don t like
that idea. But I do know Chuck won t be pleased
at the possibility that we re a figurehead group,
an office Tate keeps open to make sups think he
gives a shit
While he s keeping important information
from us, Jeff finished.
On the other hand, Catcher thoughtfully
said, it wouldn t be our job to investigate.
That s the role of CPD detectives. But he d
normally give us a heads-up so we could make
contact with the Houses or the Rogues. He
shook his head. We always thought Tate was a
little cagey. I guess this proves you have to keep
one ear to the ground even when you re
supposedly in the loop.
And speaking of keeping an ear to the
ground, what s the word on raves? Anything new
in the ether?
He frowned. I assumed you ve talked to
Malik or Ethan and you know about the three we
tracked?
I ve heard, I growled out.
With a nod, Catcher rose and went to a
whiteboard newly installed on one end of the
office, uncapped a green marker, and began
writing. Accompanied by the squeak of the pen,
he started by drawing what looked like an angled,
limp fish.
What s that?
Chicago, he said without turning around.
Seriously? That s how you represent the city
you work for? As a fish?
It really does look like a fish, Jeff said
excitedly. Oh, maybe it s an Asian carp. Are
you making a metaphor about raves and invasive
species?
Clever, I said with a smile for Jeff.
He leaned back in his chair, smiling proudly.
That s what the ladies say.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Catcher,
who was glaring at both of us above his Buddy
Holly glasses. I had to bite my lip to keep from
laughing aloud.
As I was saying, he continued, before
placing stars on the map in different locations,
we know about three new raves in the last two
months.
Intel from the secret vampire? I wondered
aloud.
Two of them, Catcher admitted. The third
from Malik. All were second- or thirdhand
reports.
Okay, so that pretty much blew my Malik-
is-the-secret-source theory.
There s also the rave we visited along the
lakeshore, Catcher added, placing another star
on the board.
We didn t find out about that one until after
the rave was over and the vamps had closed up
shop. As a result, we only walked away with a
guess about the number of attendees and a clue
as to who d also investigated the Red Guard [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]