Wild Hunger

by Chloe Neill

  “You’re welcome.”

  “If we don’t find anything before dawn,” Theo said, “we should get together at dusk. Give everyone an update.”

  “Arrange it,” Yuen said, then glanced at me. “And in the meantime, if you could stay out of Dearborn’s line of sight, all the better.”

  * * *

  • • •

  I left the Ombuds to their work and took an Auto back to Lulu’s place, where I’d had my mother messenger the suitcase I’d left at the House.

  She’d seen the news about Grant Park and had waited up for me. Even Eleanor of Aquitaine seemed a little mellower—hissing at me only once as I walked past her.

  We turned on some Blondie, sat down in the rainbow of light that reflected off the windows, and worked on a box of crappy wine.

  She sipped her mug of rosé. “Times like this make me wish I’d chosen the magic route,” she said, ankles crossed on the coffee table. “That I could snap my fingers, and everyone would act the way I wanted them to. No one would get hurt.”

  The rosé was terrible. So I drank some more. “I don’t think magic works that way.”

  “Do you know why I say no to magic?”

  “Because of your mom?”

  “That’s part of it. Because magic—the entire world of supernatural drama—makes me feel powerless. It makes me feel like that little kid who was mortified by her evil-villain mother, who didn’t have a choice.”

  “Your mother is a good person.”

  “With an addiction, and who hurt a lot of people because of it.”

  “No denying it,” I said. “I think it’s all about choice. About decisions. For a really long time, I felt like I didn’t have any. So I decided to make some, starting with going to Paris. And, I guess, staying here while the rest of them ran back. Those are just choices. You make the choice, and you take the next step.”

  She nodded. “And what’s the next step? Using the magic? Staying away from it? Being myself or being someone’s daughter?”

  I regretted that I’d brought these questions to her door, that my coming home forced her to face questions and issues she’d clearly tried to put aside.

  “I think,” I said after a minute, “that the next step is just to be Lulu. Whatever that means to you. Whatever feels right to you. I like you either way.” I looked at her, smiled. “And, to be honest, it’s kind of nice to have a safe place without magic. Where Steve and Eleanor of Aquitaine are the only disturbing things.”

  “Hell of a night,” she said again.

  And I thought that summed it up pretty well.

  NINETEEN

  I woke to pounding on the bedroom door.

  “What?” My voice sounded as irritable as I felt.

  Lulu looked in. “You awake?”

  I swore under my breath. “I am now. What time is it?”

  “Dusk. Get your ass up. We have stuff to do.”

  “Saving the city from mysterious fairies?”

  “Chores.”

  “What?”

  “This isn’t a hostel for underprivileged vampires. You stay in my house, you work for the privilege.”

  I opened my mouth, itching to argue, but couldn’t really think of anything to say. “Please don’t make me clean a toilet.”

  * * *

  • • •

  No toilets, and no cleaning. But there was an assemblage of bowls and ingredients and a steaming waffle iron on the kitchen island.

  “Waffles? Nice.” I sat down on a stool, then frowned at her, because her expression was very serious. “Are you making me breakfast, or are you preparing me for something?”

  “Both, kind of.” A buzzer sounded, and she opened the waffle iron, pulled the waffle out with a pair of tongs, and put it on a plate that she slid to me across the island.

  Then she poured batter into the iron’s now-empty wells from a large glass measuring cup. She closed the lid, turned the dial on a timer, and looked at me.

  “I’ve done some thinking,” she said, then lifted her gaze to me. “If you’re going to live here, we need to have some ground rules.”

  I lifted my brows. “Am I going to live here?”

  Her lips quirked. “Do you have a better alternative at the moment?”

  “I do not. I mean, I’m not even entirely sure if I’m going to stay in Chicago. I promised Dumas a year, assuming they’d actually take me back, and who knows about that? Their leaving without me wasn’t exactly a vote of confidence.”

  “But you made a promise, and that matters to you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s assume for the purposes of this conversation that you’re going to live here.” The timer buzzed again, and she pulled out the second waffle, then proceeded to bury it under syrup.

  “So assumed,” I said with a smile as she passed me the syrup, began to cut into her breakfast.

  “One, no more pity parties. We might be emotionally damaged, but we aren’t going to dwell on it. We’re going to be who we are, and that’s fine.”

  Lulu didn’t have a clue how much I was grappling with that.

  “Two, you’re going to share the work, the rent, and the responsibilities.”

  “Okay. How much is the rent?”

  “Less than it could be, more than it should be.”

  “That is vague and unhelpful.”

  “Three,” she said, “Steve lives here. And so does Eleanor of Aquitaine.”

  “They’re going to gang up and murder us in our sleep.”

  “So assumed,” she said with a grin, and then chewed contemplatively. “And finally, we get to have some normal.” She cut another cube of waffle, held it up. “Breakfast. Conversations. Food we cook ourselves. Trips to the zoo. Self-damn-care. Stuff that’s completely mundane. We both grew up surrounded by supernaturals and magic. If we live together, we’re probably signing up for more of it. I’m probably committing to more of it.”

  I frowned, put down my fork. “Lulu, I don’t want to put you—”

  But she held up a hand. “I can’t run from it, Elisa. I can’t hide away and pretend it’s not out there. I don’t have to use my magic. But I have to acknowledge it exists. Maybe I can live on the outskirts of it. We can be roommates, and you can tell me about your adventures. I get the good stories, but don’t actually have to immerse myself in the drama.”

  She flipped off the waffle iron. “I think we’re entitled to some normal. And I think maybe that’s the kind of thing I can help with. I can do the normal. I can try to make sure you have breakfast and all that other stuff.”

  I smiled at her. “Are we dating now?”

  Lulu snorted a laugh. “Girl, you are not my type. And you’ve only got eyes for Connor Keene.”

  “I do not have eyes for Connor Keene.” But I didn’t even sound convincing to me.

  “Liar,” she said, taking another bite. “You are a dirty, stinking liar.”

  I put down my fork, appetite gone. “He touched my wrist yesterday.”

  She paused midchew. “Is that a euphemism for . . . anything?”

  I shook my head. “We were talking, and he took my wrist and looked at me, and he’s so damn sexy, and he cares about the Pack and his family and . . . I’m falling for him.”

  “No shit, Watson.”

  I ignored her. “He’s leaving. And I’m maybe going back to Paris—or who knows—but he’s definitely leaving for Alaska. Twenty years I’ve known him, Lulu. Twenty damn years, and I hated him for most of those. Arrogant little punk who drove me crazy just because he could.”

  “You can’t drive someone crazy unless there’s emotion there to begin with. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cared.”

  I gave her a narrowed stare. “Is that intended to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t.”

  “I’m just over here
, eating my waffle,” she said, taking another enormous bite.

  “Why did he have to get so hot? And why did he have to get so damn noble?”

  “Fucking shifters,” she said.

  “Fucking shifters,” I agreed.

  My screen buzzed, and I checked it. “That’s my Auto. I have to get to Cadogan House.” I rose, stuffed a final bite of waffle in my mouth. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Have a good evening, honey!”

  “You too, sugar. Don’t wait up.”

  * * *

  • • •

  When I’d been a kid, my father’s office had been a place for playtime, for watching television while my father held open-office hours, or for just taking in a few innings of a Cubs game with the House’s senior staff. If I’d gotten in trouble, my parents handled it in our apartments. They hadn’t wanted me to dread being in the office—or dread talking to my father if something came up.

  Despite all that prep work, I stood outside his door for a full five minutes, not yet able to walk in.

  All the while, I could feel my mother’s sword buzzing, which was one of the reasons I hadn’t yet knocked. Not the only reason, but one of them.

  “You should have learned by now,” I murmured to the monster, “that I’m not going to let happen what you want to happen.”

  I don’t know if it was chastised or merely biding its time, but the throb of magic turned to a dull roar that I could manage. As ready as I was likely to be, I knocked.

  “Come in,” he said, and I opened it, found him alone and at his desk. He wore a dark suit with a crisp white shirt beneath, the top button opened to reveal the gleam of his Cadogan medal.

  He smiled when I walked in, but there was caution in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. And that broke my heart a little.

  “Is it already time for the meeting?” he asked, and glanced at his wristwatch. As with his vehicles, he preferred the old-fashioned kind.

  “Not yet. I’m a little early.” I closed the door. “Can we talk?”

  “Of course.” He rose, came around the desk, and gestured to the sitting area.

  There was something formal in his manner that made me sad and uncomfortable. Had I completely screwed up our relationship?

  He sat down on the leather couch, and I did the same, sitting at an angle so I could see him.

  “I wanted to apologize for the Cadogan House Novitiate thing. I’d meant to talk to you about it before it came up with the Ombudsman, but I didn’t, and that was my fault, and it was a really crappy thing to do. And I’m really sorry.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said.

  And a heavy and awkward silence filled the room.

  “Did you have a good childhood?”

  The question startled and appalled me. “What? Of course I did.”

  “We didn’t exactly have good role models for parenting, your mother and I. And we tried so carefully to think of everything a human child would need, and everything a vampire child might.”

  Tears blossomed and I worked to push them back, afraid if they fell I’d slip into full sobbing. “I had a great childhood,” I said again. “I know I was loved and supported. That if I fell, you’d help me back up. Mom helped me get past my chocolate chip cookie phase and learn the joy of a balanced diet, and you helped me understand the joy of rules and procedures.”

  He knew I meant that mostly seriously, and his grin was full and utterly relieved. “Without rules, chaos.”

  “No argument,” I said, thinking of Connor and his penchant, at least as a kid, for doing whatever the hell he wanted.

  “I was thrown,” my father said. “We didn’t fail to Commend you because of an oversight, because we forgot. We believed—considered—you to be a full member of the House. And I am monumentally sorry that we were wrong, even if only technically.”

  He cleared his throat. “Do you want to be Commended?”

  And I thought we’d gotten through the awkward part. For a moment, silence hung heavily in the air. I didn’t have an honest answer, and I didn’t want to lie.

  Finally, he held up a hand, smiled. “Don’t answer that. I will apologize for putting you on the spot. I love you and I love your mother with all my heart. I love this House, as well. It is neither my child nor my wife, but it is . . .” He seemed to struggle with the word.

  “It’s yours,” I said simply, and offered him a smile. “And that’s all there is to it.”

  “Yes,” he said with a relieved smile. “It is mine. And while your mother and I would both love to have you as an official member of this House, that decision is yours to make as you prefer.”

  “And if I choose Navarre?” I asked with a grin.

  He was silent for a moment, lip curled just a little bit. “There’s no accounting for taste.”

  I grinned at him. “Typical Cadogan response.”

  “Come here,” my father said, and opened his arms. And I went willingly.

  * * *

  • • •

  The tension had evaporated when Margot, the House’s chef, rolled a wheeled cart into my father’s office. It was stacked with gorgeous trays of food and smelled like sugar and bacon.

  My mother stepped into the room behind her.

  “As always,” my father said, “your mother’s timing is impeccable.”

  “She followed the scent of bacon,” Margot said, offering me a wink as she began placing trays and baskets on the conference table.

  “You’re all hilarious,” she said, snatching a piece of bacon from one of Margot’s baskets. She glanced at us as she chewed, and I gave her a nod and a smile.

  Outside there was chaos. But our family was okay.

  * * *

  • • •

  Since coffee would only improve things, I fixed myself a mug and moved to the sitting area while we waited for the cavalry to arrive. They showed up in increments. Petra and Yuen, then Theo, then Gabriel, Connor, and Miranda.

  I wasn’t sad to see that Dearborn had skipped the meeting, and assumed we’d have to invite the press and the mayor to get him to actually attend. I hadn’t expected to see Miranda, and was surprised she’d walk willingly into a House of vampires, given her issues with us.

  Connor wore his uniform again today: jeans, boots, and a snug T-shirt under a fitted motorcycle jacket. There was dark stubble on his face, which made his eyes glow brighter. And he carried his dark motorcycle helmet.

  He headed straight for me, and I wasn’t entirely surprised by the quick flash of emotion in Miranda’s eyes. Suspicion, anger, and maybe some hurt. So Miranda had feelings for Connor, the man she wanted to best for control of the Pack. Or maybe share control of the Pack.

  I could sympathize, and shifted my gaze back to Connor. He looked like a model in a cologne ad. Sexy and seductive and arrogant. These were not comfortable feelings for me, especially in my father’s office.

  He put his helmet on the coffee table and looked down at me, expression unfathomable. “You keep taking on the fairies.”

  “Not by choice. What’s wrong?”

  He sat down on the opposite couch. “With what?”

  “With you. You look tired, and you sound grouchy.”

  “It’s been a long night.” He ran a hand through his hair, which shifted muscles in his arms. “Riley’s managing, but that’s putting a shine on it. It’s not a great situation.”

  “I think we’re getting closer. We just need a little more time.” And a little more luck wouldn’t hurt.

  Gabriel walked to the sitting area, stirred his coffee with the familiar clink of spoon against ceramic. “Facing down fairies on network television?”

  “Wrong place, wrong time,” I said.

  “Or right place, right time,” Yuen said, smiling as he walked toward us. He glanced at my parents. “You have a very thought
ful and capable daughter.”

  “And she’s a very good fighter,” Theo added with a grin.

  “Agreed on all counts,” my father said, then nodded at Yuen. “We’re here to support your efforts, so we’re ready when you are.”

  “We’re ready,” Yuen said. Then he nodded at Theo, passing the figurative torch.

  “I’ll go,” Theo said. He verbally reviewed our visit to the castle, the fight in Grant Park, and what we’d seen on the surveillance video.

  “We need to find Claudia,” Connor said, and Yuen nodded.

  “We suspect this might be Ruadan’s reaction to the fairies’ diminishing magic,” Yuen said. “Maybe he isn’t satisfied with how Claudia’s managed the fairies since the Egregore, and thinks they should be doing more to increase their power, not let it slip away.”

  Gabriel looked at the photograph of the chained fairy queen Petra had uploaded to the monitor. “And he’s shoved her aside so he can do what he wants.”

  “That’s the current theory,” Yuen said.

  “It’s logical,” my mother said. “But why the ley line conjunction? Why do they need that much power? What are they planning to use it for?”

  “A weapon?” Connor suggested. “A spell?”

  “Whatever it is,” Yuen said, “it’s big. Something that requires a lot of power, and something it appears they haven’t yet managed to pull off. They do appear to have figured out how to move along the ley lines—to appear and disappear by accessing the lines’ power.”

  “That’s a new skill,” my father agreed. “I’ve never seen it. I presume you haven’t been able to narrow down their location?”

  “Not yet,” Yuen said. “The castle and tower are empty. Officers have traversed the city above the ley lines several times, but the fairies haven’t been spotted inside the city limits, or outside it in the jurisdictions we’ve convinced to check.”

  “They have to be somewhere,” Connor said. “They can’t just disappear.”

  “They’ll go back to Grant Park,” Gabriel said. “If they need the conjunction, the power, to pull off whatever they’re planning for, they’ll try again.”