Biting Bad_ A Chicagoland Vampires Novel(35)

“None. But I want to visit the one that was nearly destroyed. Let’s see what Ms. Bryant has to say about her former employee.”

—

I got into the car and rolled back into traffic and away from the scene, trying my best to look completely uninterested in the CPD cruisers that passed me, lights blazing.

I hopped onto the freeway, heading northwest for Wicker Park, and didn’t stop checking my rearview mirror until I’d reached the Milwaukee Avenue exit. I pulled into the first parking lot I could find, then took a breath and picked up my phone.

There was no message from Jonah, which I took as a good sign, even with the blacklisting. If he’d discovered something really important, he’d have found a way to get the information to us.

I called the Ops Room, hoping to get Luc, and possibly Ethan, on the phone.

“Jimmy’s House of Vampires,” Luc answered, in a really poor Bronx accent.

“That was unimpressive,” I said, “but our visit with Robin Pope was not. She thinks the Bryants are involved in a conspiracy—paying off government employees and maybe sleeping with them to stay open—and she bolted when we mentioned it.”

“That’s good stuff,” Luc said. “Except that when you say ‘bolted,’ it sounds like she got away from you and Catcher. A vampire and a sorcerer with extreme magical powers.”

“Which, it turns out, don’t work that well indoors,” I said. “And she did get away from us, after a minor battle in her apartment building’s hallway. But her behavior was suspicious enough that Catcher thinks the CPD will be interested. He’s going to make the call.”

“I like the part about the CPD involvement,” he said. “I’m less crazy about the ‘minor battle’ bit. Did anyone see you there?”

“Other than Pope, not that I’m aware of. Security desk was empty.”

“Where are you heading next?”

“The distribution center. I’m halfway there.”

“Be careful,” he said. “It sounds like you’ve already had a full night.”

“Fuller than I’d intended,” I admitted. “And feel free not to mention that to Ethan. He’d only worry.”

Luc snorted. “He’ll worry regardless. It’s his job to worry. But you’re right—no sense in adding to the night’s list. And keep us posted.”

I assured him I would, and I hoped the next report would leave me feeling considerably less guilty.

—

Unlike the hallway of the building in Greektown, Wicker Park actually looked better than it had last night. Broken windows had been boarded up, battered cars had been moved, and streetlights had been repaired. It was surprisingly quick work for a city often slogged by bureaucracy.

I hadn’t seen Bryant Industries the night before, or ever that I recalled. The building was easy enough to spot—a large, low structure surrounded by a tidy hedge.

The damage was easy to spot, too. Half the front was a blackened husk, from the door, which sat right in the middle, across one side. Charred interior beams were visible through the gap in the front, and they hung down at odd angles. The rest of the building bore marks from the fire and smoke, and the small lawn in front was littered with blackened debris. Yellow police tape kept members of the press and curious onlookers away from the building.

I pulled into a parking spot on the street. Snow and ice crunching beneath my feet, I quickly crossed the street toward the building and the crowd. The smell of smoke and charred wood grew stronger as I moved, along with something else . . . the copper smell of blood.

I was walking toward a blood distribution center, and I hadn’t bothered to drink blood before leaving the House. The croissant I’d grabbed on the way out wasn’t doing much. I felt a sudden perk of vampiric interest, and my stomach rumbled ominously. I’d been so busy thinking about the motivations for the crime that I hadn’t prepared myself for it. That had been thoughtless, but there was nothing to do about it now except try to maintain control and hope I didn’t fang out in front of the human bystanders.

I sucked in a breath, promised myself a liter of blood when I made it back to the House, and waved at Catcher, who stood at the edge of the crowd, scanning it as if looking for clues.

“Enjoying the show?” I asked.

“As much as one enjoys watching idiocy,” he grumbled, then gave me a sideways glance. “Do you notice anything unusual here?”

I glanced around, assuming I was being tested, and trying to figure out exactly what he was looking for. Ironically, I guessed he wasn’t referring to anything present at the scene, but what was missing.