Wild Hunger (An Heirs of Chicagoland Novel)

by Chloe Neill

  She looked up at Connor, at me. “Get him out of this. Whether we work together or not, he’s being used, and that’s not fair.”

  “Working on it,” I said, and put my hand over hers, squeezed. But when I went to pull away, she didn’t let go.

  “I love you,” she said to me. “And I tolerate you,” she said to Connor. “But I’m going to bow out of any further fairy-related adventures.”

  “You held your own,” Connor said, which was high praise from a shifter. But Lulu wasn’t moved.

  “Oh, I know. I’m a Bell, and I can handle a blade. And tonight I did what needed to be done. Hopefully it actually gets us somewhere.” She glanced at me. “But I think I got it out of my system. I just want to make art and drink good wine and binge unhealthy television. Is that so wrong?”

  I smiled at her. “That’s the cool thing about being a grown-up. You get to set your own boundaries.”

  “A novel idea,” she murmured, and I guessed she was thinking about our parents. Then she pushed back her plate and slid me a glance. “I think we also need to talk about the elephant in the room.”

  “What elephant in the room?” I asked. But I could see it in her eyes, the concern and worry . . . and the thread of fear behind it. They mixed shame and guilt in my belly.

  Her fingers stayed tight around mine. “The . . . berserker thing.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Your eyes went red. Really, really red.”

  I had a moment of panic. She’d just told us she didn’t want to be involved in any more magical drama. I couldn’t tell her now, couldn’t confess that I was brimming with magical drama. Wouldn’t that just push her farther away?

  “Fairy magic,” Connor said, looking completely unruffled by the lie. He’d always been very good with a bluff. He stretched his legs under the table and nudged my foot with his to keep me from talking—and to offer comfort.

  She tilted her head. “What?”

  He lifted a shoulder, the move utterly casual and confident. “It does freaky things to vampires.”

  Connor Keene, former teenage punk, had lied to protect me. I stared at him—equally shocked by the action and suspicious that it was part of some ploy.

  But then again, he’d protected me the first time, too.

  We’d been in high school—or Connor and Lulu had. I was still homeschooled by tutors at night at the House. There’d been a party at Cadogan our parents were attending, so we’d gone to get pizza at a place called Saul’s, one of my mother’s favorites.

  Lulu had left her phone in the Auto, and she’d gone outside to grab it. “Two minutes,” she’d said, and made us promise to order her favorite twisty breadsticks if the waiter returned while she was outside.

  Five minutes later, she wasn’t back yet.

  I’d gone outside to check on her. And I’d found her on the ground, eyes closed and skin pale.

  I’d had a bad moment of panic, thinking she’d been killed. But her chest was still rising and falling, so she was still breathing.

  A man had stood over her, rifling through her backpack while his partner in crime yelled through the window of the apparent getaway car for him to hurry up and get in. But he didn’t move. Just looked down at Lulu with lust in his eyes as his fingers rifled blindly through her bag.

  The rage rose so suddenly, so blindingly, that there’d been no way to fight back against the monster. I’d jumped forward, sent us both to the ground. I’d ripped Lulu’s bag out of his hands, tossed it aside. And then I’d pummeled him. Beaten him for hurting her, for stealing her stuff, for the look in his eyes as he’d surveyed her small form. And for whatever reasons the monster had had, whatever had fueled and driven its rage.

  I couldn’t stop.

  Connor found us outside, pulled the driver out of the car, then pulled me off the attacker. And he’d held my arms while I screamed and writhed, until the monster receded and I could breathe again. Until I was just me again.

  And then the shock set in as I’d stared down at the man on the concrete with a mix of horror and fear.

  Connor hadn’t been horrified, only worried about Lulu, about me. “You protected her,” he’d said as he’d waited for me to calm down, and then as we waited for the cops.

  In the hospital, the attacker had raved about monsters attacking him, and the CPD assumed he’d meant vampires and shifters. He’d been partially right.

  Connor was the only one who’d seen my eyes, who’d seen my rage. And for seven years, he hadn’t spoken a single word about it.

  Lulu sat back and crossed her arms, looked between me and Connor. “I think I knew it did something, but not to this degree.”

  “It was the blood,” I said quietly, hating the omission but making it, anyway. “The fairy blood. It has a different kind of lure to vampires. It’s more powerful, harder to resist.” That part, at least, was absolutely true.

  “Could be your genetics, too,” Connor said. “Magic helped make you, after all.”

  Possible contender for Understatement of the Year. “Could be,” I said, sipping my beer and hoping Lulu hadn’t noticed the blood had probably drained from my face.

  Connor still hadn’t shifted his legs, broken that connection between us.

  “He’s into you.”

  I jerked, looked up at Lulu. “What?”

  “Ruadan.”

  It took a moment for my brain to switch gears. And when it did, her confirmation of my fear didn’t make me feel any better. I’d seen his interest, too, of course. But I knew it wasn’t romantic, even if I couldn’t explain to her how I knew.

  “Explain,” Connor said, with more than a little force behind the word.

  Lulu studied me, gaze narrowed in concentration. “I don’t know. He just looks at her . . . I guess, maybe, covetously? But I thought he was with Claudia.”

  Connor’s body wasn’t relaxed anymore. He shifted, too, sitting up and leaning over the table, icy blue eyes intent on mine. “Covetously?” he asked.

  “It’s the same old, same old,” I said. “He’s political, and probably thinks there’s something I can get him.” And that was all I was willing to say aloud.

  Connor clearly didn’t believe me, but he was wise enough not to push the issue.

  “We have to talk to the Ombudsman, my parents. Tell them what we’ve got, and what happened tonight.”

  “We don’t have anything,” Connor said. “We have a pin, some speculation”—he glanced up, gaze settling on my face—“and a bruise. None of that is going to free Riley. None of it is going to convince the Ombudsman that he’s got the wrong man, especially if the other option is creating a supernatural war.”

  I didn’t disagree that our case was weak, but we couldn’t sit on this.

  “Your dad will freak out,” Lulu said.

  “She’s twenty-three,” Connor said.

  Lulu snorted. “Like that matters. You’ve met him before, right?”

  “He’s more than four hundred years old,” I said. “A lot of ego accumulates in that time. And, no, he won’t like it. But he’ll get over it. Something’s going on. Something bigger than Riley or the talks. Something involving the fairies. They need to know.”

  Then it would all be out in the open. Which I realized I’d prefer. I didn’t mind investigating carefully. But this was an entirely different kind of sneaking around, and it felt beneath all of us.

  “I think we’re ready to go here,” Lulu said, glancing around.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  “I’ll pay,” Connor said, and pressed the credit chip on his key fob against the circle on the table. It beeped, then glowed green.

  Lulu frowned at it. “I wonder if the chip reader finds satisfaction in its life.”

  “Would you?” Connor asked.

  “That’s a pretty profound question for a shifter.” But when Connor
narrowed his eyes at her, Lulu lifted her hands. “All in fun, my friend. All in fun. You’re like the protective older brother I never had. And never really wanted.”

  FIFTEEN

  “The burger was good,” Lulu said, when Connor joined us again in the parking lot.

  “They have a good hand with food,” he said, then looked at me.

  Time to do the right thing, I told myself, even if it stings a little. “I’m not admitting we needed you, but thanks for helping us out there. It was . . . moving toward ugly.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  I nodded, feeling like there was more to be said, but not entirely sure what that should be.

  “Lis will be right there,” he said, and walked a few feet away, gravel crunching underfoot. Apparently, I was supposed to follow obediently. Which I did, eventually.

  Lulu watched us with lifted brows, but went to the car, climbed inside.

  “Thanks for being cool about Lulu. About the breakup.”

  His expression was amused, but there was mild insult in his eyes. “What did you think I was going to say to her?”

  “I don’t know. The point is, you didn’t.”

  “I like Lulu,” he said. “She’s like the little sister I never really wanted.”

  “Well, thanks. I’m still getting used to mature Connor.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “Thank you.”

  His expression went flat. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  I didn’t think it had been. And I braced myself for a conversation I didn’t want to have.

  “Does it hurt you?”

  I blinked. That’s not what I’d expected him to ask. “No. It’s fine, and I’m handling it.”

  “Are you? Because you aren’t acting like you’re handling it. If you were handling it, you wouldn’t be hiding it.”

  I looked back at Lulu. She’d pulled out her screen and was making a big effort to look everywhere else except at us.

  “I’m handling it,” I said again, each word a battle that I struggled to win. I turned away, but he grabbed my arm.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, eyes shifting as he searched my face. “Even I can see that you’re walking a very dangerous line.”

  I just looked away.

  “Trying to ignore it, to push it down, isn’t going to help you. Not in the long run. But maybe you could learn to control it.”

  Irritation began to buzz along my skin. I knew he was trying to help, but that didn’t make me any less angry at his polite suggestions. I’d been living with the monster, had been fighting the monster, since I’d been old enough to recognize its voice. To understand that I wasn’t just angry or psychotic, but . . . invaded.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His eyes went dark and he moved a step closer. “I know better than anyone, Elisa. I’ve seen what it can do to you.”

  Memory flashed, sharp as a dagger, and I could all but smell blood in the air. “Destruction is what it can do for me. Pain.”

  “That’s true of any power. It just has to be managed. Look,” he said, his voice softening, “if you don’t want to do that, maybe there’s a way to strip it out again. Someone who can use magic to remove it.”

  That someone was dead. Sorcha—the one who’d created the Egregore—had been killed by her own creation.

  “I don’t need advice, and I’m not going to apologize for who I am.” Not when it wasn’t my fault.

  His eyes went hard, jaw tight with frustration. “No one asked you to apologize. And there is no mistaking who you are. You’re stubborn and brave and goddamned dumbfounding at times. And it’s not like you to give up.”

  The anger turned up to a full boil. “I’m not giving up anything, except this conversation. But next time I’m looking for magic advice, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”

  I walked back to the car, leaving him standing behind me.

  * * *

  • • •

  “You all right?” Lulu asked when I climbed into her car. “That looked like a pretty heated argument.”

  “Just a difference of opinion.”

  The car was silent and still while she looked me over, evaluated.

  “That’s what you’re going with?”

  “Yep.”

  “All right, then. Buckle up, buttercup, and we’ll hit the road.”

  “Can you take me back to the hotel? I need to check in with Seri.”

  “Sure thing.”

  We were halfway back when my screen beeped, signaling an incoming message.

  I pulled it out, found Seri’s number. “Hey, Seri. What’s up?”

  “We’re leaving, Lis.”

  “What do you mean, leaving?”

  “We’re going to the airport. Leaving Chicago tonight.”

  “Who is we?”

  “The delegates of France.”

  I was floored. If the delegates walked away, that was it for the talks and the chance for peace. And I didn’t know where it left me.

  “Seri, you can’t leave. Not now. If we want peace, we have to keep working at it. We can’t just walk away. That’s probably what they want, anyway—to break up the talks. We can’t give in, even if it’s dangerous.”

  “Lis, there was no peace to find here. But there is work to be done at home.”

  I needed to do something, although I had no idea what that would be. Because even if I wanted her to be wrong, I understood her fear. I had to believe she wasn’t right, that there was always a chance Europe’s vampires could put aside self-interest and think about the future.

  “Just hold on, Seri. Okay? Wait for me at the airport.” I didn’t know what I’d do at the airport, how I’d make them change their minds. But I had to try.

  There was silence for a moment, then: “I’ll stall as long as I can, Lis. But I must go.”

  The call ended, and I stared at the screen for a moment, my mind racing like my emotions. Then I looked at Lulu. “I need a favor.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Fifteen minutes later, Lulu squealed to a stop outside the private terminal. I climbed out of the car, a little shocked we hadn’t gotten crushed along the way, and ran inside.

  It was late, and the building was empty. The plane waited outside. Seri and Odette, the only vampires in sight, were climbing the stairs.

  “Ma’am?” asked the desk attendant as I blew past toward the door, then rushed outside and into a plume of heat and wind. “Ma’am!” she yelled, and I heard her chair squeak as the door slammed behind me.

  I ran toward the plane. “Seri!”

  She turned, a black pashmina around her shoulders, leather leggings and black stilettos below. A dark ribbon held her hair at the nape of her neck, the long ends of grosgrain blowing in the wind.

  “Attends,” she said, and offered her bag to Odette, then climbed down to the tarmac.

  “Marion and Victor believe it is best to return,” she said. “The French delegates have voted, and we must abide by that decision.”

  “Seri, I know this is hard for everyone. But if you leave, the other delegates will follow. The entire summit will fall apart, and Tomas’s death will have been for nothing.” I looked up at the open door. “I should have reported to Marion sooner, but it’s been a long night, and I haven’t had a chance. I could talk to her, explain what’s happening, what I think the next steps should be—”

  Seri leaned in close to look at my face. “You are injured!”

  “I’m fine. It’s nothing. It was . . . there was . . .” How was I supposed to tell her that the thing she feared—more violence—was exactly what had happened?

  “A difference of opinion,” I settled on. “And we’re getting closer to figuring out what happened. We�
�ve been investigating and gathering evidence. Riley didn’t do this.”

  She looked surprised. “You have another suspect?”

  I had a video of a fairy who looked nearly exactly like every other fairy. “Not exactly,” I said. “But we’re working on it. Just—talk to Marion and ask her to give me some more time, to give the process one more chance. I stayed in Paris,” I reminded her. “Even when there was violence, I stayed. Because I wanted to help.”

  For the first time, I saw guilt in her eyes. “I am sorry. You are braver than me, Elisa. Perhaps you are braver than all of us.”

  I dropped my arm, stared at her. “And what about me?”

  They weren’t just leaving Chicago; they were leaving me behind. I was the escort, the vampire who was supposed to accompany them here and back again safely. But they hadn’t given me a heads-up, or time to pack, or a ticket for the ride. I didn’t know exactly what this meant for my service, my tenure with Maison Dumas. But it surely didn’t mean anything good.

  This time, Seri’s smile looked forced. “You will follow us when you are ready, of course.” Then she leaned forward, pressed a kiss to my cheek. “We will see you in Paris, Elisa. Be safe.”

  “Seraphine!” One of Marion’s assistants, a skinny man in a dark suit, leaned out of the door and waved his hand. “Allons-y!”

  With an apologetic smile, she strode quickly back to the plane, offered a wave as she took the first step, then disappeared up the stairs.

  * * *

  • • •

  I made myself walk back inside, forced my feet across the terminal and back to Lulu’s car.

  “Bad news?”

  “They’re leaving. Going back to Paris. The entire French delegation.”

  “Didn’t you fly over here with her?”

  “I did.”

  “And they’re going home without you?”

  “They are.”

  “And . . . how do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t entirely know. You are braver than me,” I muttered, even doing a pretty good imitation of Seri’s accent.