Drink Deep (Chicagoland Vampires #5)

Drink Deep (Chicagoland Vampires #5) Page 18

WHICH WITCH IS WHICH?

Ten silent minutes later, we'd reconvened in the Ops Room. Al except Frank, who'd gone upstairs to make a phone cal , undoubtedly to the GP.

The Maleficium was gone.

The ashes were gone. No -  Ethan's ashes were gone.

"How could she have done this?" Luc quietly asked. "Not only to take the Maleficium, but to steal the ashes? Such a thing isn't done. It's not right. It's sacrilege."

"It is what it is," Malik calmly said. "However horrendous the act, we shouldn't convict her of the crime without facts.

We don't have any evidence she's done it. Most important, why? Why would a burgeoning sorceress do such a thing?"

"I can't tel you why she did it," Lindsey said, turning back from her computer station, her face unusual y pale. "But I can confirm that she did it."

We al moved to her computer, where Lindsey had pul ed up two segments of security video. "We don't actively monitor the basement camera because it's right beside the Ops Room," she said, "but we record the video. It's motion activated, so it didn't take long to find what we were looking for."

The video was black and white and grainy, but there was no mistaking Mal ory Delancey Carmichael, ad exec turned sorceress, taking the Maleficium from the vault.

"How did she get the vault open?" I quietly asked.

"Magic," Lindsey said. "I fast-forwarded through that part.

It gives me the wil ies."

"She only has the book," Malik pointed out, but Lindsey shook her head.

"No, she only has the book this trip. She takes the ashes four days later. Runs the same play both times - the same magic, I mean."

"Why the delay?" Malik wondered. "Why take the risk?

Why not take them both at the same time?"

In the silence, I'd been piecing together the quilt of my experiences with Mal ory and Tate over the last few days -

what I'd learned from Tate about magic, and what I'd seen of Mal ory.

The finished product wasn't looking good.

"Because she didn't know she wanted the ashes," I quietly said, then glanced at Malik. "She profunt oodbably learned about the Maleficium while working with Simon.

She'd used black magic before. Maybe using it made her curious."

"That only explains the book," Luc said.

But I shook my head. "When I visited Tate, he listed some spel s that might require the mixing of magic we've seen this week. One of them," I said, "is making a familiar."

"A familiar?" Luc asked.

"A kind of magical assistant," I said. "They help sorcerers funnel the magic they have to wield. A familiar gives them extra capacity, like an external magical hard drive."

"That's a frightening benefit," Luc said. "But I'm confused

- you think Tate's making a familiar?"

"Not Tate," I said, nerves and stomach rattling. "I think Mal ory might be. She's used black magic before, and she's created a familiar before. A cat. But it's not right -

there's something wrong about it. She gave me an excuse, but now . . . I don't know. And she's mentioned she wished there were more of her to help work the magic."

The room was quiet, everyone considering what I'd said.

"A sorceress is being tested this week," I continued. "A sorceress who understands how to make a familiar, at least on a smal scale, and who's stolen a book of magic that can help her do more than just dabble in black magic. Ethan's ashes are gone, and now the city is fal ing apart because good and black magic are being mixed."

"That's a far-fetched idea," Keley said. "Attempting to revive a vampire to make them a familiar."

"Unfortunately," Malik said, "it's not entirely far-fetched."

He looked at me. "Do you know why there are no sorcerers in Chicago, Merit?"

I shook my head.

"It is an anachronism from the days when relationships between vampires and sorcerers were more strained than they are today. If things have progressed the way you suggest, it is not the first time sorcerers have made such an attempt."

The room went silent, al eyes on Malik.

"The making of a familiar requires the application of powerful magic to something - or someone - who the sorcerer desires to make a familiar. The capacity to make that kind of magic is rare, and the capacity of the familiar depends upon their power."

"So a vampire can hold more magic than a cat," I offered.

Malik nodded. "And a Master vampire can hold more power than a stil -pink Initiate. The last time a sorcerer tried to make a vampire into a familiar, a Navarre House vampire was kidnapped. She was discovered later in the sorcerer's lair, a mindless, slathering thing."

I shuddered involuntarily.

"The sorcerer exerts a measure of control over the familiar," Malik said. "They become service animals, in effect. Mindless, without free wil ."

Even as a part of me was thril ed by the idea that Ethan could return at al , hope curdled at the thought that Mal ory was attempting to turn him into a mind-control ed zombie. I suddenly had a little less sympathy for her stress - and a lot more sympathy for the cat.

"The sorceress was identified, and she was dealt with by Navarre House. And when that was done, vampires forbade the Order from working in Chicago.orking icag="3

That explained why the Order hadn't wanted Catcher to visit Chicago, and why they'd kicked him out when he insisted. It also said a lot about Ethan - that he'd been wil ing to take Catcher in upon his arrival despite what sorcerers had once done.

"If a sorcerer tried this before," Luc asked, "why didn't we see the same kind of effects? The natural disasters?"

"We did," Malik assuredly said. "We saw the Great Fire."

The Great Fire of 1871 had destroyed huge swaths of the city.

"The Order argued it was a coincidence," Malik said, "but having seen what we've seen this week, there's a strong argument they were equal y in denial then."

"But you're talking about turning a living vampire into a familiar. Ethan is gone," Luc quietly said. "There is nothing left of him but ash. How could she make that happen?"

"If he was human, she probably couldn't," Malik said. "But vampires are different than humans.Geneticaly.

Physiological y. The ties that bind the soul are different -  which is why the body simply turns to ash."

"This is real," Luc said after a moment of silence, crossing himself. It was an odd move for a vampire, but there was no doubting the sincerity in his expression.

Malik stood up and pushed back his chair. "I'm going to alert the Order to the possibility that a sorceress is attempting to create a familiar, and has done so using the ashes of a Master vampire. I wil also alert them that she may be using the Maleficium to do so, and that her attempts may completely disrupt the order of the natural world. Does that sum it up?"

Guilt heavy on my shoulders, I nodded.

He looked at me. "I know that she is practical y your family. But this is a crime the GP wil not let go unpunished."

I nodded my understanding, and hoped I wouldn't have to be the instrument of her destruction.

I waited in the darkened cafeteria for a phone cal . I hadn't been able to reach Jonah or Catcher, and I'd left frantic messages for both of them.

And now . . . I was waiting.

Of course I had to stop her. I had to keep her from finishing whatever magic she was attempting to work. I had to keep the city safe, and I had no doubt that life as a mindless familiar under Mal ory's control wasn't a life Ethan would want. He was too independent to be under the thumb of anyone, let alone a woman so focused on achieving a magical end she was wil ing to destroy Chicago to do it.

How had Catcher missed this? Why hadn't he seen what she was doing, what she was becoming? Why hadn't he stopped her before it got this far . . . before I had to be the one to clean it up?

I put my elbows on the table and my forehead in my hands, and I rued my luck. It was a catch-22, and I was the one who had to pul the trigger.

My phone rang, and I glanced over at the screen.

But it wasn't Jonah or Catcher.

It was Mal ory.

With shaking fingers, I opened the phone. "Hel o?"

"I'm behind the House. Meet me outside. Alone."

I shut the phone again, but one"

She stood in front of Catcher's car, a hipster sedan. The blue of her hair seemed to have faded even more since I'd seen her earlier; it was now nearly completely blond. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hands were chapped and shaking. She looked like an addict in the middle of a wicked craving.

Maybe she was.

My temper rising, I had to remind myself that she was the same person, blue hair or blond, black magic or good.

Mal ory pushed off the car and walked forward, carrying an oily breeze of magic with her. I stood my ground. I'd expected at this moment to feel fear or regret, but neither was at the top of the list. Most of al , I was pissed that she'd invaded my home, stolen precious things, and determined to use them for her own narcissistic purposes.

"What have you done?"

"Are you accusing me of something, vampire?"

"I trusted you. I asked you to stay with me when he died because I needed you there. You violated that trust twice over."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bul shit. You stole things from us, Mal ory. From me.

Where's the Maleficium, and where are his ashes?"

"Gone."

My knees shook, and I had to lock them to keep myself upright. "So you could make him a familiar?"

She looked away, but I saw the guilt in her eyes. And that's when I knew this was the real deal, and she'd done it knowing ful wel what she'd gotten into.

"Black magic isn't what we thought it was," she said.

"There's not an excuse in the world you can make to me right now."

"It's unfair!" she screamed into the night. "Do you think it's right that there's this entire body of magic that I'm not supposed to use? That I'm not supposed to access? Do you know how that feels? Wrong, Merit! It feels wrong to funnel magic that's only half right. That's only half made.

Good and evil should be together. And if this is a way to do it, then by God it's what I'l do. I cannot live like this."

"You very wel can fucking live like this, just like every other sorcerer in history. You do not come into my House and steal a book of evil, and then steal the ashes of my Master and try to turn him into your servant!"

"But it would bring him back to you."

I stopped cold, biting my lip to stop tears from fal ing. "I don't want him back. Not like that. It wil not be him. And not if I have to lose you to it, Mal ory. You are my sister in every way that counts."

She made a snort. "You traded me in for him, and you know it."

"Not any more than you traded me in for Catcher." I softened my voice. "Neither one of us traded the other in.

We grew up, and we grew to love others. But I don't want him, not like that. And he wouldn't want it, either." I watched her for a moment, truly wondering if that was the reason why she'd done the things she had.hinot As much as I loved her, I wasn't sure.

"You didn't do this for me," I said.

"Bul shit," she threw out, but the word lacked force. Ethan was a pawn in the game, an excuse for her to dabble in black magic. Maybe Simon was stupid enough, na?ve enough, that he honestly didn't know what she'd been doing. Maybe he hadn't known he'd poisoned his star pupil on black magic, and like a junkie needing a hit, she'd do anything to get a little more, the consequences be damned.

"You did this for you." I recal ed what she'd said about black magic, about people misunderstanding it. "You tasted black magic and you liked it. Not at first, maybe, but eventual y you decided that you liked it. Ethan might have been a handy side benefit, but he's an excuse. Your excuse for tearing the city apart."

"What would you know about it? About the forces inside me? I know the origin stories. Magic separated - good from evil - like twins forced apart." She yanked at her Tshirt. "I can feel them, Merit, and they need to be back together."

She closed her eyes and raised her hands, and magic began to flow in a great circle around us. I could feel it spinning at my back like a centrifuge, the motion pul ing me back against it.

"Mal ory, stop whatever you're doing. You are kil ing Chicago."

"The harm is temporary," she said.

Watching her there, perform magic that felt greasy, uncomfortable, evil, I knew the repercussions would be anything but temporary.

"This wil fix things," she said.

"This wil destroy things," I corrected.

But as the magic surrounded us in a tighter and tighter spiral - the centrifugal force pushing the air from my lungs

- she shook her head.

"I am tired of worrying about what everyone else wants.

You. Catcher. Simon. I was not responsible for the separation of good and evil. But I wil be responsible for closing the loop. Stop being so goddamned shortsighted."

I tried my final strategy. "Mal ory, I've been dreaming about Ethan. You've been hurting him. And if you finish this spel , if you set the city on fire, it wil be me and the rest of the Houses that pay for it."

She smiled a little sadly. "Honey, by then, I'l be long gone."

She lifted her arms, and the magic squeezed into a knot.

My vision dimmed at the edges, and then went dark completely.

For the second time in a year, my best friend in the world knocked me out cold.

I sat up just in time to see Jonah running toward me. I rubbed the back of my head, sore from where I'd fal en to the ground, but relieved that I'd been out only long enough for him to get here.

That meant I might stil have a chance.

He crouched in front of me, panic in his eyes. "What happened?"

"She confessed. She stole the Maleficium and Ethan's ashes to try and bring him back as a familiar. She thinks I want that - but mostly she's obsessed with black magic.

She's addicted to it, and she thinks completing the spel wil help bring good and evil back into balance."

He helped me to my feet.

"She worked magic onork in me, knocked me out." I looked over at him. "She's made up her mind to go through with it. We have to find her, and we have to stop her. If she completes the magic . . ."

I didn't finish the prediction; saying it aloud wasn't going to make the choice any easier.

"Do you have any idea where she's gone?"

I racked my brain, but couldn't come up with anything.

The only places I knew she'd visited recently were her house in Wicker Park and the hardware store. She trained somewhere in Schaumburg and at Catcher's gym in the River North neighborhood, but neither seemed like likely spots for her to perform big magic.

But if I couldn't find Mal ory, maybe I could find the book . . .

I pul ed out my cel phone and dialed the librarian.

"The Maleficium is gone," I told him, without introduction.

"Mal ory Carmichael stole it from the vault when she was staying at the House with me. I don't suppose you've got a way to track it?"

Mal ory would not have been pleased at the slew of words that erupted through the phone - or the unflattering comments about the ethical propensities of sorceresses.

But once he'd gotten that out of his system, he got down to business.

"One does not guard the Maleficium without a contingency plan," he said, and I heard rustling on the other side of the phone.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you have a tracking spel or something?"

"You could say that. I slipped a GPS chip into the spine. I didn't mention that to the Order, of course, as they would have crucified me for damaging the book, but that is neither here nor there. This is exactly why I did it. Let me pul up the location."

While he worked the tech, I glanced up at the sky.

Midnight blue was beginning to tint a sickly shade of red. I didn't doubt the water had darkened, and mountains were moving somewhere in the city.

She'd already started.

"Found it," he said. "It's nearby, and not moving."

"This is a big city. 'Nearby' isn't going to help me."

"Hold on, I'm narrowing." He paused. "The Midway!" he final y exclaimed. "It's in the Midway."

I thanked him, hung up, and pointed down the road.

"She's at the Midway. I'm going there now. Find Luc and Malik and Catcher - tel them what's going on."

"I don't want you to face her alone."

I looked back at him and smiled rueful y. "Sixty-seventh rule of the Red Guard - trust your partner."

"That's actual y rule number two."

"Even better," I said, faking a smile.

Jonah's jaw clenched, but he relented. "Then find her.

Stop her. By whatever means necessary."

That's exactly what I was afraid of.

I jogged four blocks down the street, and then stopped in the middle of it, mouth agape.

The entire Midway Plaisance was on fire. Not with the orange and gold flames of a basic, secular fire, but with flames of translucent blue that reached toward the sky with pointy, clawlike curls. However they loowee orange oked, their effect was the same as regular fire: The trees on the edge of the Midway had begun to crackle and spark from the heat.

The sky above had gone ful y scarlet, an angry pulsing red, bloody like an open wound, and unlike anything I had seen before. Lightning flashed across it, raising goose bumps along my arms.

Beneath me, I felt a dul tremor. Mountains were undoubtedly springing up somewhere. As Mal ory worked her magic every element was spinning wildly out of balance.

Fire trucks screamed down the street, sirens blaring.

They parked on the edge of the Midway and immediately began shooting water cannons at the blaze; little good they did. The flames roared like a tornado, updrafts of heat that pushed across the park, hotter and harsher as the fire grew.

I found Mal ory in front of the Masaryk statue, a pile of books and materials at her feet. The largest item - the Maleficium - was open and glowing, the text swirling on the page. Her blond hair whipped around her face in the hot wind thrown off by the fire.

She seemed oblivious to the danger she was creating, so I had little doubt she'd destroy the city if she could. I just wasn't entirely sure what to do about it. I had no sword and no dagger. Maybe I could get close enough to knock her out or at least disrupt the magic, although I doubted she'd let me get that close. But until the cavalry arrived, I had to try.

There was no way I was going to walk between her and the fire, so I ran around the statue and approached her from behind. When I was close enough to see the chipping, matte blue paint on her fingernails, I cal ed out her name.

She glanced back with little evident concern, mumbling words as she spel ed her magic. "Little busy here, Merit."

"Mal ory, you have to stop this!" I yel ed over the roar of the flames. The earth beneath my feet was shaking now, and I stumbled forward. "Can't you see what you're doing to the city?"

A tree popped, cracked, and fel forward, and the inferno rushed toward it, engulfing it in flames. It wouldn't be long before the tree line was breached completely and the fire spil ed onto the streets.

"You'l kil us al !"

"Not when the spel is done," she cal ed back. "You'l see.

The world wil feel so much better when good and evil are joined again. The world wil be whole."

Her hands were shaking as she dipped them into jars of powders and sprinkled the contents above the open pages of the Maleficium . I scanned the detritus of her magic, but saw no sign of the urn that had held Ethan's ashes.

They were gone, maybe used to trigger some previous part of the spel . And when we stopped the spel  -  if we could stop the spel  - I wouldn't even have his ashes as a memory.

"Please, Mal ory, stop."

She kept right on working, but another voice stopped me cold.

"I knew vampires were at the heart of this!"

I glanced back. McKetrick was moving toward us, a big gun in his hands, pointed at me. "Why don't you step away from that girl, Merit?"

"That girl is attempting to destroy the city," I warned him, but he rol ed his eyes. Mal ory had been blinded by her addiction to black magic. McKetrick was blinded by his ignorance, his unwavering confidence that nfi, bvampires were to blame for every il in Chicago.

"It looks to me like she's trying to stop it," he said.

"You couldn't be more wrong," I told him. "You're an ignorant fool."

"I got the registration law passed."

"Because you lied and failed to mention you attacked me on a public street. You fight things that mean no harm to you and are completely blind to the real threats."

Lightning crashed into one of the trees on the other side of the Midway, splitting it in half and sending it crashing down into the flames.

Mal ory was stil murmuring spel words, and the flames were growing higher by the second.

Yes, he could have used the gun. And yes, an aspen sliver to the heart would probably have done me in. But I was tired of McKetrick, and I didn't have time for his shenanigans right now.

"You are helping her do this," I said, not real y concerned that I was outing sorcerers. They were total y on my shit list.

"Liar," he muttered. And hand shaking with fury, he pul ed the trigger.

The gun backfired, the barrel exploding, sending wood and metal shrapnel through the air. I instantaneously ducked, and stil felt the shock of pain as shrapnel caught me in the back.

But I was stil alive.

I looked up. McKetrick was alive, as wel , but he hadn't been so lucky. His face was dotted with blood spots from shrapnel hits, and his right hand was a mess of blood and bone. He lay on his back, blinking up at the crimson sky, his hand pressed to his chest.

It probably said unflattering things about me that I had trouble gathering up any sympathy, but McKetrick would undoubtedly blame his injuries on us anyway.

A bolt of lightning struck a light pole nearby, drawing my attention back to the unfolding magical drama. The flames were tal er than the trees now, their fingers licking up toward the red sky, which was now covered by a haze of blue smoke.

"Mal ory!" I cal ed out, stepping toward the plinth again.

"You have got to stop this."

She lifted her hands into the air, and I could feel the magic gathering and swirling again.

"Why should I stop? So you can gloat about how you nailed the screwed-up little sorceress? No, thank you."

"This isn't about you and me!" I yel ed ful -out over the roar and crackle of fire and the swirling wind. "It's about Chicago. It's about your new obsession with black magic."

"You don't have a clue, Merit. Keep living in your tidy little vampire dorm. You're oblivious to the world around you - to the energy and the magic. But that's not my fault."

Catcher emerged through the smoke on the other side of the plinth. "Mal ory! Stop this!"

"No!" she yel ed out. "You wil not interrupt me!"

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I can't let you do this."

"If you stop me now, you'l kil Ethan." She pointed at me.

"Tel her that, Catcher. Tel her that you'l keep me from bringing him back."

But he kept walking closer and closer toward her. "If you bring him back, it whiml keep me on't be him. He'l be a zombie, Mal ory, and you know that. I know why you're doing this. I know how good it feels, and how bad it feels, al at the same time. But you can learn to control it, I swear to God you can."

"I don't want to control it," she said. "I want to own it. Al of it. I want to feel better."

But Catcher persisted. "Simon was an awful tutor, and I'm sorry I didn't recognize it. I'm sorry I didn't see how dangerous his stupidity was. More sorry than you'l ever know. I didn't know you were going through this. I just thought you were pul ing away from me. I thought he was turning you away from me. This is my fault, Mal ory." Tears streamed down his face. "My fault."

"You know nothing," she spat out, and hefted up the Maleficium . "No one understands this - how important it is."

"It's not that important," Catcher calmly said. "You're just high on it. On the power. On the potential. But it's false, Mal ory. That sense that you have in your chest?" He beat a fist against his heart. "It's false. Doing evil won't make the world a better place. It won't make that feeling go away. It wil only make it stronger, and you'l have driven away everyone you love."

He raised his other hand, and I could feel the pulse of magic as he prepared to whip something toward her.

"You can't stop this," she said evil y. "You can't affect my magic."

"No, I can't," he said with resignation. "But I can affect you." Magic began to glow and swirl in his palm as he prepared to strike.

Realizing that she'd have to face him down, she changed up her strategy again. "But that wil hurt me," she said, her voice more like a child now than a woman of twenty-eight.

"Please don't do that."

"If you're tel ing the truth, then I pray it wil only hurt for a moment," he said. He lobbed his hand at her; a diamond-sized glint of light flew in her direction, growing into a giant blue orb.

As if in slow motion, it flew through the air past me. But Mal ory dropped the book and batted away the orb. With an explosion of light and rock, it hit the statue and knocked a chunk out of the knight's shoulder.

"I hate you!" she screamed at him, and while I had no doubt the sentiment was just magic and exhaustion talking, the pain in Catcher's face was clear.

"You'l get over it," he said, and threw another orb at her.

This one landed, and struck Mal ory square in the chest.

She flew backward and hit the ground.

Al that magic she'd created, al that energy she'd gathered together, was suddenly released. With a freezing cold rush, Catcher's orb exploded, expanded, and spread into a blue plane of light that flew across the Midway with the roar of a 747, extinguishing the flames as it moved.

Extinguishing the spel as it moved.

Extinguishing hope as it moved.

For a moment, there was mostly silence. Smoke rose from the charred grass and singed trees in the Midway, and crackles of leftover magic sparked across the ground like miniature lightning. The haze lifted, and the red in the sky spread and dissolved, a few stars peeking through the haze of smoke. The outer edges of the park stil glowed with cinders, but the firemen would be able to make headway now.

It t sh the hazewas over.

Mal ory was unconscious, her prophecy having come true. She'd been bested by Catcher, the White City at risk no more.

And Ethan was gone for good.

I shook my head to keep the tears inside, refusing to give in to grief. She'd have created a monster, and there was no point in grieving for something that never should have existed in the first place. I'd rather have memories and grief than a perversion of who he was. I'd just have to get back to living the life I had accepted was mine.

"I can do this," I whispered, the tears fal ing down my cheeks. I stood up, looking over at Catcher and Mal ory. He was winding glowing strands of magic around her unconscious body as if to bind her when she awoke.

Magical restraints, maybe. I didn't know what the Order would do to her now, but I couldn't imagine it was going to be nice.

I felt pressure at my elbow and glanced around. Jonah stood behind me, gaze scanning my face. "You're bleeding again."

"I'm fine. Just a little shrapnel. McKetrick's gun exploded  - he's over there."

Jonah nodded. "I'l make sure the cops find him. Are you okay? I mean, aside from the bleeding?"

"I think so - " I began, but was interrupted by the crackle of a particularly loud bit of residual energy. I ducked a little as it flashed across the park before petering out and sending a prickle of magic through the air.

"Merit," Jonah quietly said. "Look."

I glanced up.

A dark figure moved through the blue haze across the Midway, approaching us. The hair at the back of my neck stood on end.

"Get back," Catcher said, moving toward us. "That thing is walking evil. The spel was interrupted, which means that's the remainder of magic."

But I held out a hand. "Wait," I said, the word fal ing from my lips even as I began moving toward the figure.

I was compel ed forward. Without explanation, every atom in my body was intent on moving to meet whatever was emerging from the fog of fal ing ash. That move could have been deadly, but I didn't care. I kept walking. And when the fog cleared, bril iant green eyes stared back at me.

Tears sprang to my eyes.

My knees suddenly trembling, I ran toward him.