Wild Hunger (An Heirs of Chicagoland Novel)

by Chloe Neill

  “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.”

  Yuen nodded. “Anticipating that, we’ve posted guards.”

  “Guards may not be enough,” my father said. “Notwithstanding their disappearing act, they have no compunction about violence. They would have only backed off tonight because they chose to do so—because they decided that’s what was in their best interest. Not because they were afraid of a fight.”

  “Precautions will be taken,” Yuen said. “But we can’t simply concede the ground and let them make their magic, especially when we don’t know what magic it is. That puts humans, supernaturals, and the city itself at risk.”

  “The Pack is aware of the situation,” Gabriel said. “We’ve kept them apprised in the event they need to be ready to respond.”

  “Good,” Yuen said.

  “When are you leaving?” my father asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Gabriel said, and the word settled in my gut like a stone. “But I’m not leaving. Other members of the Pack are, and Connor is leading them. And they’ve expressed some concerns about leaving before Riley’s exonerated.”

  “We need direct evidence,” Yuen said.

  “So you’ve said.” This time Gabriel’s tone was short.

  “What about the European delegates?” Theo asked.

  “We have not been able to convince the delegates to reconvene the talks,” my father said. “Since the most recent attacks occurred in France, they believe the French Houses need to be present for any further discussions to be productive. I’m inclined to agree with them. But they haven’t left yet, so there is still a chance.”

  Petra’s pocket began to buzz. She pulled out her screen, checked it. “They found the fairies’ SUV—the one we saw Claudia in. It’s parked outside”—she paused to swipe and review—“looks like St. Adelphus Church.”

  “She’s in a church?” I wondered. “That seems odd. I mean, fairies aren’t religious, are they?”

  “St. Adelphus is abandoned,” Theo said, rising. “I’ve been inside on an architecture tour. There’s legal wrangling about its disposition, so it hasn’t been torn down yet, but it’s not in good shape.”

  “Where is it?” Yuen asked.

  “Near West Side,” Theo said, “not far from the United Center.”

  “The vehicle hasn’t moved since it parked there,” Petra said, gaze on her screen.

  “Did they really abandon the vehicle?” I wondered. “Or are they staying there to keep an eye on her?”

  “It’s not unusual to keep alive the regent you’ve deposed,” my father said. “Killing her risks turning the rebellion against them.”

  “So they’re keeping an eye on her,” Yuen said, “taking care of her, at least minimally. And keeping her out of Ruadan’s way.”

  “We go in quietly,” Theo offered. “No CPD, no uniforms. We incapacitate the guards, get her out, get gone.”

  “Do it,” Yuen said, nodding at Theo.

  “Sending tracking data to you,” Petra said, and Theo’s pocket beeped.

  “I could use backup,” Theo said, and looked at me.

  “Sure, I’ll go,” I agreed. I’d started this and was ready to finish it. And I didn’t mind getting out of Cadogan sooner rather than later. There was too much magic here.

  I looked at my parents, who’d managed to stay silent at my offer. “I can help.”

  “It’s not our objection to make,” my mother said, putting a hand over my father’s and squeezing. “You’re an adult, and it’s your decision.” She slid her gaze to Yuen. “Assuming the Ombudsman’s office approves.”

  “Go,” Yuen said with a nod. “But try to stay out of trouble. And away from cameras.”

  * * *

  • • •

  We got coffee to go, checked weapons, and coordinated reporting. Theo was popping his screen onto the dashboard of his car while I slid my scabbarded katana inside. I looked up, found Connor a dozen feet away, putting his helmet on his bike.

  I realized this was probably the last time I’d see him before he left for Alaska. It might be the last time I’d see him at all. And that possibility put a hollow feeling in my chest.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Theo, and walked toward Connor.

  “Hey,” I said when I reached him, and kept a safe distance between us. Not that it mattered. Magic still buzzed in the air between us, tense and heated and angry and sad.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

  He looked at me. “The Pack needs to go, and they need someone to lead. That’s me.” His tone was defensive.

  “Because you want to be Apex.”

  “Because I will be Apex,” he said.

  I tried for a smile. “There will probably be wine, women, and song on the way. So that doesn’t hurt.”

  I’d meant it as a joke, as a way to loosen the tension between us. But I regretted the words the instant I’d said them, and especially when I saw heat flash in his eyes.

  “You know this isn’t about partying.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. It was— I’m sorry. I find myself saying that a lot lately, because I’m feeling a little unbalanced here.”

  “You aren’t the only one,” he said. “I didn’t expect . . . I didn’t expect you, Lis.”

  “Not a big deal,” I said with a smile I forced into position. “I’ll probably be heading back to Paris soon, and you’ve got the Pack to focus on. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.

  “Elisa?”

  I glanced back at Theo.

  “You ready?” he asked. “We don’t know how long the SUV will be there. We need to go.”

  “Yeah,” I said, then looked back at Connor, gave him as much of a smile as I could manage. Which wasn’t much. “Goodbye, Connor. Stay safe out there.”

  His eyes were dark, stormy, and unfathomable. And he didn’t say a word.

  TWENTY

  Seconds later, I was in Theo’s car, replaying every word I’d said to Connor and wondering if they’d sounded as lame aloud as they did in my head.

  And berating myself for sounding ridiculous was somehow easier than dealing with the possibility I might not see Connor again. So I stayed in that space.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. We were driving west on Madison, the United Center a long, hulking building in front of us. It was time to focus.

  Just as I made up my mind to do that, the road ahead seemed to shimmer. I looked at the sky, thinking clouds had passed over the full moon and I’d just seen a mirage, some kind of optical trick. But the moon was high and clear.

  I blinked, looked down again . . . and watched solid asphalt ripple like water.

  “Theo,” I quietly said, leaning forward with hands on the dashboard.

  “I see it,” he said, and leaned forward over the steering wheel to peer into the darkness.

  The ripple started again thirty feet in front of us, and the road waved . . . just like grass.

  “What the hell is that?” Theo asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  He pulled the car to a stop, and we both climbed out and walked into the path of the headlights.

  “Oh, shit,” Theo said quietly.

  A carpet of thick and waving grass had grown over the road, which was no longer really a road, but a soft and undulating hill that stretched a full quarter mile in front of us.

  In that stretch, the streetlights were gone. The electric poles, the asphalt, the sidewalk, the yellow lines. All of it replaced with waving grass and air that felt like magic.

  “We are not seeing this,” I said quiet
ly. “We are not seeing this.”

  “Elisa.”

  I ripped my gaze away to look at Theo, followed the direction of his gaze.

  The problem wasn’t just this quarter mile of Madison. The grass, the hill, the absence of everything modern, was spreading. It reached the United Center, and the building began to simply . . . disappear. Floor by floor, the concrete and glass were replaced by waving grass, then empty air. Another hill, soft and rounded, began to rise, arcing into the space where the enormous arena had stood.

  And above it all, the cold and heavy weight of old magic.

  “That’s not . . . this can’t be real.” I didn’t dare move close enough to touch the grass, afraid the magic would infect me, just as it had spread down the road, across the street, and over the building.

  “Do you know what this is?” Theo asked quietly. His tone said he already knew.

  I didn’t know, not for sure, because I couldn’t figure out how I was seeing what I was seeing. But hadn’t we heard my mother’s story? Hadn’t she told us about exactly this? And hadn’t the fairies been trying to work some unknown, big magic?

  “It’s the green land,” I said quietly, afraid the words would disturb it, would make it aware of our presence, and we’d be sucked into the spell. “The ancient home of the fairies.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Theo pulled out his screen, scanned what had been the easternmost half of the building, sent pictures and video to Yuen.

  We ran back to the car. With the squeal of rubber on asphalt, Theo made a U-turn and hauled back down Madison until he found a clear path north toward the church.

  “Is this why they were in Grant Park?” I asked, gripping the tiny dashboard as the car swung around. “Using the ley lines? To bring the green land here?”

  “I don’t know,” Theo said. He found a strip of asphalt, and we skirted the hills in silence, watching. “Maybe. But the fairies aren’t in Grant Park right now. So how are they doing it?”

  “A different ley line? A different conjunction?”

  “There isn’t another conjunction near Chicago. There’s the vehicle,” he said as the light on the tracking program blinked faster.

  The church, a rectangle of white stone with a domed top, squatted in the corner of a two-block span of parking lot. In the front, two pairs of columns flanked the front doors and were topped by a triangular pediment. The entrance faced a park. The side of the church faced another parking lot, which made the building—with its boarded windows and overgrown trees—seem even lonelier.

  The SUV sat outside, dark and empty.

  Theo parked a block down, and we climbed quietly out of the car. I belted on my katana in the light of the moon. And that was a disadvantage on this cover-free street. We wouldn’t be able to hug the shadows to get closer to the building. On the other hand, no lights shone from inside the church, so it might give us more visibility once we made it in.

  Theo checked the chamber on the gun he’d holstered at his waist.

  “What’s the layout of the church?” I asked quietly.

  “Doors on the front, east side. Doors open into a lobby, and the sanctuary’s directly behind that. It’s a big space with a domed ceiling and arches along the sides. The basement has classrooms and offices.”

  “Most likely location?”

  “I’m honestly not sure,” he said, hands on his hips as he looked over the church. “What’s the most likely place to store the fairy queen you’re attempting to peacefully depose?”

  “Fair point.”

  “Side door?”

  I scanned the building, looking for easy ingress. An open window, missing plywood—something that would get me in quietly. “Let me get closer. I might be able to work something.”

  “Then let’s move,” he said quietly. And we got low and jogged quickly toward the building, hands on our weapons to keep them from bouncing.

  We crossed the street, ducked into the shadow of the building. “Follow me,” I said, and slipped quietly down the sidewalk. Everything on this side of the building looked carefully boarded, so I turned the corner. There’d once been a fire escape, but it stood in a hulking pile of steel behind the church, the exits boarded. But fairies had gotten into the building, and with Claudia, so there had to be a way.

  If it were me, I’d have found a way to sneak in, then unlocked the front doors from the inside so she could be carried in. That’s what I was looking for: the sneak.

  I found it around the next corner. A plywood sheet covering a basement window had been pulled away. It still leaned against the window, but wasn’t attached. The fairy had probably taken it down, slipped inside, then come back later to move it back into position, but hadn’t bothered to reaffix it to the facade.

  That’s all we needed.

  We each picked up a side, maneuvered it away from the window. The glass was dirty, and the room behind it was dark.

  It was a single-hung window with a simple sliding lock. Theo offered a pocket knife before I could ask for it. I flipped it out, inserted the blade between the sash and the lock. Old paint chipped away and fluttered to the ground like snow, until I heard the click, then handed the knife back to Theo.

  I confirmed he was ready, and pushed open the sash.

  The window’s screech was loud as a banshee’s cry. Instinctively, we flattened ourselves against the building, waited for the bob of a flashlight, the sound of movement and investigation. But there was only silence, only darkness.

  Surely the fairies weren’t all sleeping. Not when they were supposed to be guarding Claudia—or imprisoning her.

  I slipped into the window, dropped soundlessly to the floor, offered a hand as Theo followed. It was a classroom for kids. The toys and materials were long gone, but there were still marks on a chalkboard that stood in the corner, still a faded wallpaper border of cartoon pencils along the top of the wall. It smelled like dust and mold and rain.

  We emerged into the hallway, cleared each room as we moved toward the stairs. There was no sign of the fairies down here. No movement, no sound, no footsteps in the dust and detritus on the floor.

  They weren’t in the basement, so they had to be upstairs. We waited at the edge of the staircase, straining to listen for sounds.

  And then I heard singing somewhere above us. A man’s voice, too far away to figure out the words. But the sound was sad and quiet, like an old-fashioned lullaby. And it made standing in this dilapidated church basement, with the remnants of childhood, even creepier.

  I looked at Theo, cupped a hand behind my ear.

  He nodded, and looked as disturbed as I felt.

  “I’m going to need a drink after this,” Theo whispered, then put a hand on the butt of his weapon and pointed to the stairs.

  Being immortal, I took point. I wasn’t about to sacrifice Theo—or incur Yuen’s wrath—if the fairies heard us coming.

  The stairs opened into the back of the sanctuary. The room was large and open, moonlight filtering through the stained glass in the dome to spread red and gold and green across the floor. There was no furniture, just detritus and decay. Paint flaked away from murals on the walls, tufts of drywall where animals had scraped through, and scraps of paper that blew in from other parts of the building.

  Claudia lay on a cot in the middle of the room, strawberry blond hair spilling onto the floor, hands pressed together atop her chest like a princess waiting for a kiss to interrupt her slumber. There were tall candelabra at the end of the cot, probably borrowed from the church. A fairy in black fatigues and boots and carrying a very large gun stood between Claudia and the front door, body alert.

  He was the only guard I saw. But it was unlikely there’d be only one. Even fairies had to sleep; there’d have to be someone to take a shift here and there.

  I didn’t realize where the second fairy was unt
il a muzzle was pressed against my back. “Hello, bloodletter.” The voice was female, and carried a whisper of Ireland in it.

  Theo was only a couple of feet away but was steady enough to watch, to wait. I met his gaze, gave him a small smile.

  “Move forward,” she said. “Both of you.”

  We stepped into the sanctuary, her gun still at my back, Theo beside me.

  “Two feet to your left,” I said quietly.

  He didn’t need to ask why. Theo was moving before the fairy understood what I’d asked for: space to move. I turned with lightning speed, slapped away the fairy’s gun, and threw up a side kick that had her stumbling forward in surprise.

  “I think you’ve got this,” Theo asked, picking up the gun. “You want?”

  “I’m good,” I said, and used a forearm to block the jab the fairy attempted with her left hand.

  Theo pulled out his weapon, strode toward the other fairy and the queen who lay before him.

  The fairy advanced, fury tightening her features, as I moved backward into the sanctuary. If we were going to fight, I wanted more room to do it.

  “You won’t win this,” she said, with what sounded like deep-felt loathing. “Bloodletters never do. Not when we’re involved.”

  She stepped forward, tried a right cross. I bobbed to avoid it, then turned into a crescent kick that she met with a high-handed block.

  Bone met bone and sent pain ringing up my shin. But the monster didn’t mind pain. Pain was proof of life, of existence. A reminder that it was, even if it was trapped inside me.

  “You’ve got some skills,” she said, advancing again. She was a sturdy woman with pale skin, dark hair in a sleek bun, and brown eyes. Barrel-chested and strong, she put some force behind her blocks. “But so do we. And we need it more.”

  “Need what?”

  “Our lives back. Our kingdom back. We’ve been under your thumb too long.”

  By “kingdom,” I assumed she meant the green land.

  “How are you under our thumb?” I asked, stepping backward. She was moving me closer to the wall, and I was fine with letting her believe she was controlling my retreat.