Slaying It (Chicagoland Vampires)

by Chloe Neill

  I stumbled, world spinning above me as I fell. When I reached out a hand to stop my fall, the gun popped away and skittered toward the bushes at the edge of the sidewalk.

  Before I could lever myself back to my feet, his car was zooming away.

  2

  I muttered a curse as another car door slammed.

  Afraid he’d circled around for round two, I glanced back. But this time, I found a friend.

  Jonah was tall and lean, with shoulder-length auburn hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and features that perfectly straddled the line between chiseled and delicate.

  He was captain of the Grey House guards and my partner in the Red Guard, an organization dedicated to keeping an eye on the country’s Master vampires. Given the current peace, Chicago hadn’t needed the Red Guard much lately. In the meantime, I’d been trying to fix Jonah up with Cadogan’s brilliant and gorgeous chef, Margot. The matchmaking hadn’t worked, for reasons I didn’t yet understand.

  “I’m okay,” I said, but extended a hand so he could help me to my feet. I’d learned to ask for help.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I think a very poor kidnapping attempt.”

  “A—what?” He looked in the direction the car had disappeared. “By the pizza guy?”

  “Apparently so.” I glanced around, pointed to the butt of the gun still visible beneath the hedge. “There’s the weapon. It probably has prints on it.”

  “I’m sending a message to Cadogan,” Jonah said, pulling out his phone.

  “Tattletale,” I muttered. Ethan was going to be very displeased.

  “Yup,” he said with a smile. “I have no interest in incurring your House’s wrath—which will be enormous—when they find out what happened, especially if they believe I failed to help you.” He typed a message, waited for the response, and smiled as he put it away again.

  “Your husband is less than thrilled,” he confirmed.

  I growled. I probably couldn’t have slunk back into the House with torn leggings and scraped palms without anyone noticing, but I would have liked the opportunity to try.

  “Ethan’s sending Luc and the others to sweep the area. I’m going to help you into my car, and then I’m going to stand out here and wait for them.”

  “I could walk back to the House,” I muttered, but just for form. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and residual fear was replacing the fury.

  Jonah was too kind to make me confess that. Instead, he walked to his car, opened the door, and smiled. “Get off your feet for a few minutes. Then I’ll get you home.”

  I found I couldn’t argue with that.

  * * *

  * * *

  When Luc and the others arrived, Jonah drove us back to the House.

  Ethan met us on the sidewalk outside, a tempest of emotion in his eyes. Beside him was Malik, Ethan’s second in command, and Lindsey, one of the House guards.

  Malik had brown skin and pale green eyes, and wore a suit similar to Ethan’s. They were colleagues and friends, and Malik would soon be one of the baby’s godfathers.

  Lindsey was my closest friend in the House. She was a sassy blond with pale skin and a biting wit.

  “What happened?” Ethan asked, cupping my face in his hands as he searched my eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I said, putting a hand over his. “We’re both fine.”

  “Liege,” Lindsey said, glancing around, “let’s get her inside and talk there, just in case.”

  “You’re right, of course.” He put an arm around my shoulders and let Malik guide us to the House. Lindsey and Jonah followed us.

  Ethan waited until we were in his office and I’d been levered down onto the sofa, then sat on the coffee table in front of me, hands clasped. “Report, Sentinel.”

  “I was going for a walk, and a car pulled up at the house I’d just passed. It had a pizza delivery light on top. A guy climbed out with pizza boxes, and he tripped on the sidewalk. The boxes flew and he hit the ground. I walked over to help him up. And then he grabbed my hand, pointed a gun at me.”

  Ethan’s brows flew up. “You didn’t know he was armed?”

  “I didn’t even know he was a vampire. He told me he was a Very Strong Psych, could hide his magic.” I looked at Lindsey, who had her own variety of psychic skills. “I didn’t know that was possible. Have you seen it?”

  “Very rarely,” she said with a considering frown. “It’s a kind of joint psychic control. You control the magic you shed, the other person’s perception of you. What did he look like?”

  “Pale skin, probably five foot eleven or so. Short dark hair, but most of it was covered by a ballcap. So was most of his face. No facial hair, no scars, no tattoos, no unibrow, at least not that I could see. And he was strong,” I added, and looked down at my wrist, saw the crescents his fingernails had dug into my skin.

  “I don’t recognize the description,” she said. “I’m only aware of a handful of vampires with that level of psych ability. None fit your attacker.”

  Ethan nodded, looked back at me. “So he pulled a gun on you.” Anger bit through each word.

  “He said he was going to kidnap me, ransom me back to the House for money. He didn’t say how much, but he said he owed powerful people.”

  “He admitted that?” Lindsey asked.

  “Yeah. He wasn’t shy. And he smiled a lot.”

  “He smiled?” Malik asked.

  I closed my eyes, pictured the scene. “I couldn’t see his eyes, but he seemed excited, like this was an adventure. Or a treasure hunt.”

  I opened my eyes, looked at Ethan again. “I got the sense he thought we owed him the money—I mean, not you specifically. But people who had money to spare. I waited until I could distract him, then got the gun away. He pushed me down, drove off. Jonah found me on the ground, rolling around like a turtle.”

  Ethan looked back at Jonah. He hadn’t been entirely comfortable with my and Jonah’s Red Guard partnership, because most RG partnerships were romantic, but Ethan had dealt with it. And there was gratitude in his eyes now. “I owe you a boon.”

  Jonah shook his head. “You don’t. I helped a friend in trouble. There’s no debt in that.” He smiled at me. “And you didn’t look like a turtle. Maybe a wounded kangaroo?”

  Malik bit back a laugh.

  “What about the vehicle?” Lindsey asked.

  I frowned, trying to think back. “Compact car, four-door. I’m not sure of the make or model. The light on the roof just said ‘pizza.’ It didn’t name a company.”

  “License plate?” she asked.

  I thought back. “There wasn’t one,” I realized. “Just temporary tags.”

  Lindsey looked at Jonah, who shook his head.

  “Nothing to add. The vehicle was too far away by the time I pulled up.”

  “He dropped two pizza boxes, but I didn’t smell anything.” And God knew I had a nose for crust and meat and sauce. “Maybe they didn’t really have pizza in them.”

  My good mood had evaporated with the man’s threat against me and my child. And now I felt irritable and unreasonably angry about being tricked with pizza.

  Ethan, who’d become very familiar with the seemingly random, hormonal oscillation of my moods, put a hand on my knee. Then he rose, walked to the refrigerator tucked into the bar, took out a bottle of Blood4You—the House’s preferred brand of bottled blood—and brought it back.

  “Drink,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “You’ll feel better.”

  I showed my fangs, but since I knew he was right, I uncapped the bottle and downed it.

  “Pizza box logo?” Lindsey asked.

  “I didn’t see anything,” I said. “Looked like plain white boxes.”

  She nodded. “We’ll check that, too. Just in case there’s something we can use to trace.”

&n
bsp; “What the hell?”

  The words erupted from the doorway, and she came in like a tornado—a petite dervish of pale skin, blue hair, and magical energy. Mallory Carmichael Bell was my best friend and a powerful sorceress.

  She sat down beside me on the couch, took my hand, squeezed. “Who hurt you?”

  “No one. I’m not hurt, and neither is the baby. We’re both fine.”

  “Apparent kidnapping attempt,” Ethan said. “Fake pizza delivery man falls down; she tries to help.”

  Mallory’s eyes widened beneath her bangs. She was trying a long, shaggy bob with bangs she kept pushing out of her face. “Man, he knew how to pull you right in.”

  “What?” Ethan asked.

  “He knew how to get her. With pizza and a klutz who needed help.”

  It wasn’t until then that I remembered his comment. “He said I was predictable.” I looked at Ethan. “You think he knew I liked pizza?”

  “And where you walked,” Lindsey said. “He targeted you.”

  That made sense—and didn’t make me feel any better. That he’d been watching me was as real a violation as the gun pressed into my abdomen had been. But somehow even more intimate and disturbing.

  Mallory moved incrementally closer so our shoulders touched, a unified wall against the threat.

  “Review the House’s exterior cam footage of Merit taking her nightly walk,” Ethan said. “Go back a week, and further if necessary. Look for anyone watching, common vehicles, common individuals.”

  “Will do,” Lindsey agreed with a nod.

  “We will find him,” Ethan said, shifting his gaze back to me. “That is our new goal.” He glanced at Malik, then Jonah. “I’m on this until it’s resolved. If you could take the lead on contract negotiations with the mayor, I’d appreciate it. They requested a response this week.”

  “Done,” Malik said.

  “Ditto,” Jonah said, and clapped Malik affectionately on the back. “Let’s look at that contract,” he said.

  As they walked out, Luc came in. He was pale, with tousled blond-brown hair and a cowboy’s build, which he showed off in tight jeans and a plaid button-down he’d rolled nearly to his elbows. His boots were well-worn, his grin crooked.

  He was followed by Catcher Bell, Mallory’s husband and one of the men who worked for my grandfather, the city’s supernatural Ombudsman. Pale skin, shaved head, well-built, and a handsome face that was usually scowling. Catcher had resting Grinch face.

  Catcher, in turn, was followed by a woman I didn’t know. She looked young, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, with strong shoulders topping a slender body. Her skin was light brown, her hair short and dark. She wore a fitted short-sleeve button-down in dark gray, and slim black pants over black-and-white brogues. A tweedy gray messenger bag fit diagonally across her chest.

  “Kat of Grey House,” Catcher said. “Your sketch artist.”

  “I’d get up,” I said with a smile, “but that would require levering myself onto my feet again.”

  “No problem,” she said with a grin, and strode forward, offering a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same,” I said, and introduced the others in the room.

  “Kat’s done some work for us before,” Catcher said. “She’s very skilled.”

  “I don’t know how helpful I can be,” I said. “He had a ballcap on, and the light wasn’t great.”

  She took a seat on the couch across from me, pulled the bag over her shoulder, and took out a tablet and stylus from her bag. “People often see more than they remember. Getting to those details is my job.”

  “And her talent,” Catcher said.

  “It will just take me a minute to set up,” she said, and began tapping the screen.

  “Did you find anything outside?” Lindsey asked, while Kat got ready.

  “We got the gun and pizza boxes,” Catcher said. “They’ll be reviewed by our forensic team.”

  “The vehicle’s gone,” Luc added, “and we made a few passes through the neighborhood to be sure he hadn’t ditched it.”

  Catcher nodded. “The CPD will canvass tomorrow, talk to people in the neighborhood in the event they’ve seen him or the vehicle before.”

  “He may have been watching Merit,” Ethan said. “Or at least was familiar enough with her to think she’d stop to help a human in distress.” He looked at me fondly. “Especially one with pizzas.”

  “Am I really so predictable?”

  There was a chorus of yeses around the room that made me feel both old and loved.

  “Even Piper would agree,” Luc put in.

  “We aren’t calling her Piper,” I said flatly. Luc had been suggesting names since week one.

  “Phoebe? Prue? Paige?”

  “Those are characters from Charmed. I’m not naming my kid after television characters.”

  “It’s a good show,” he muttered, but let it go. No doubt temporarily.

  “Double the guards,” Ethan said. “It seems unlikely he’ll try to breach the wall, but until we have him locked down, there will be no chances.” He looked at me, a warning in his eyes. “No chances.”

  I just nodded. I wasn’t even up for the argument. I shifted on the couch, the impact of my fall and the tiny kicking vampire in my abdomen making me achy and uncomfortable.

  “I’ll talk to Chuck,” Catcher said, meaning my grandfather. “You’ll also want to increase monitoring of communications coming in. Given he apparently needs money and his first attempt failed, he might try the direct extortion or blackmail route.”

  “We’ll track,” Luc said, then glanced at Ethan. “We’ll also limit deliveries and visitors. No one gets inside the gate without confirmation and approval.”

  “Good,” Ethan said, then glanced at Kat, who was poised on the edge of the table, tablet in hand.

  “Ready?”

  “I am,” she said, then glanced at me. “How about you?”

  “Sure,” I said, but felt a little tug of fear that surprised me. I guess I wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of seeing my would-be attacker again. But it was the next step, so I’d take it.

  * * *

  * * *

  First, she walked me through the event. Getting a sense of the location, available light, and where the man and I had been positioned, before we got to the details of his build, his clothing, his face.

  “The clothes will change,” she said, eyes on the tablet. “But if he had watched you, he might have used the same disguise before. The context can be helpful in finding other witnesses.”

  Forty-five minutes later, we gathered around to look at the two sketches she’d prepared—a full-length portrait with the clothes he’d been wearing and a sketch of his face.

  And even though I was safe inside the House and was flanked by Ethan and Mallory, seeing his face again—or what I’d remembered of it—still gave me a jolt.

  “That’s him?” Ethan asked.

  “It’s what I remember,” I said. I didn’t think the likeness was perfect—his ballcap and the darkness had obscured the details—but it was close. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure how much help it would be. He looked . . . average. Not especially handsome, not especially unattractive. No freckles or piercings or tattoos or facial hair. Just a guy.

  “Does anyone recognize him?” Ethan asked, and there were head shakes and murmured noes.

  “We’ll use the sketch when we canvass the neighborhood,” Catcher said. “If he really was watching Merit, there’s a good chance someone saw him.” He met my gaze. “We’ll find him.”

  I nodded, looked around the room at the people who’d gathered to help me and felt ridiculously thankful they’d become my family. And then I got to the other business.

  “Does anyone feel like pizza?”

  3

  It was two long hours before Jo
nah left Malik’s office.

  That had been just enough time to walk through the mayor’s eighty-page proposal and outline a counter. They’d turn the actual drafting over to the House’s attorneys. And given how unfavorable the city’s demand had been, Jonah anticipated there’d be a lot of negotiating to come.

  In the hallway, he rolled his shoulders. He was a guard captain, and he’d rather have spent the time training his people or keeping watch over his House instead of poring over a contract. He’d need a good run and a sweaty round with weights in the Grey House gym to clear his head. He’d do that as soon as he got back. But first, he wanted to check on Merit . . . and say hello to someone.

  Because Jonah was pining.

  Yeah, he’d had a crush before. He’d gotten a little too invested in Merit, and she hadn’t caught the same feelings. The timing also hadn’t been right.

  This . . . was different. Not just interest. Not just attraction. It was bone-deep and visceral, and it called to something in the core of his being. In the core of his vampire, that ancient and animal urge. And it struck him as hard as a fist.

  Margot was gorgeous—curvy in all the right places, with amber eyes that were a shocking contrast against her dark hair and generous lips. She was funny and kind and had a way with food that made him hungry in an entirely different manner. Margot also had darkness. She had pain. And he could admit those things attracted him.

  Margot had declined a relationship, and the “no” was hers to offer, and his to respect. But he saw something in her eyes, the same yearning he felt in his gut. Which made the fact that she was holding back that much more frustrating.

  She’d offered friendship. If he couldn’t have her completely—every lush curve and sweep of pale skin—he’d take what he could get. If he was being honest, they made pretty damn good friends. They’d had coffee, gone on a few runs together, had even taken in a few of the old Hepburn and Tracy romcoms Margot loved.

  Jonah knew he walked a fine line—making the most of his time with her while keeping his feelings in check. But he’d walk that line as long as he needed . . . and hoped it wouldn’t take an eternity.