“But that doesn’t mean we can be careless,” Luc put in. “This is the kind of situation the GP will likely stay out of—too much bad press, too many ways for their hands to get dirty, which they don’t care for. But keep an eye out anyway. Just because action by the GP is unlikely doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
“Luc and Juliet are about to leave for Grey House,” Ethan said. “Malik will stay at the House, in the event the rioters are looking for other targets. Lindsey is not to leave his side under any circumstances. Kelley’s got command of the guards in our absence. Notify the humans at the gate. I want them on full-alert status. The tunnels are prepared?”
“Cleaned, stocked, and ready,” Luc answered. “I’m going to say good-bye to Lindsey; then I’m heading to the car.”
My heart clenched. Luc was saying good-bye—not just because he was leaving the House, but because he was leaving the House for possible battle.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“Wait for me,” Ethan said. “I’m already en route, and I’ll meet you there.”
The last place I wanted my boyfriend—and the Master I’d taken an oath to protect—was in the middle of a war zone.
“I suppose there’s no point in arguing with you about this?”
“There is not,” Ethan said, his tone firm. “So don’t bother.”
“Where should I meet you?”
“I’ll talk to Luc and select a spot. We’ll text you coordinates. Where are you currently?”
“At a coffeehouse with Catcher, across the street from Bryant Industries.”
“Stay put until we send the location,” Luc said. “I don’t want you heading in blind.”
“Roger that,” I said. I didn’t want to head in blind, either.
The call ended, and I looked at Catcher. “I suppose you got the gist?”
He held his phone out, revealing a message from my grandfather: GREY HOUSE UNDER ATTACK.
“Word moves quickly,” I said.
“As does violence,” Catcher said. “And we all have our parts to play.”
Fear in my heart, I looked at him. “Did we do this? By questioning her, by letting her get away, did we make this happen? Did we scare her into it?”
“Did we scare her, within an hour, to organize a riot of three hundred people? No. This would have been on the books before we talked to Pope, maybe even before the riot last night. It’s too big to be anything other than a planned attack. But I’ll bet your ass and mine that she’s got a hand in it, and she knows how to stop it.”
Catcher stood up and rebuttoned his coat.
“Where are you heading?” I asked.
“I can’t use magic in the middle of the riot,” he said. “Too many witnesses. But I can manage the perimeter. Pick off the stragglers now and again.”
“Pick them off?” I asked. I assumed he didn’t mean it literally, but I thought I should perform the due diligence.
“I’m not going to kill them,” Catcher said. “Incapacitating them will be enough. And it’s a creative venture that I’m going to enjoy. With gusto.”
“I haven’t seen you this excited about magic in a long time.”
“The world is changing,” he said. “The old ways don’t work anymore. For better or worse, Mallory’s been a good reminder of that.”
I nodded. “Then good luck, and thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck at the House. And I wouldn’t be a friend of your grandfather’s if I didn’t ask you to please be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” I promised. “It’s other people I can’t be sure about.”
—
Ethan sent me the address of the rendezvous spot—a pharmacy a few blocks away from Grey House. From there, we’d get a sense of the scene from the other end of the riot, then plan our approach and how best we could divert the rioters from the House. Luc and Juliet would drop him off, then proceed to the House, or as close as they could get.
Wrigleyville wasn’t terribly far from Wicker Park. I arrived at the rendezvous point before Ethan and got out of the car, belting on my katana and ensuring the fit was perfect. With an imperfect fit, I wouldn’t be able to draw the sword cleanly from its scabbard.
The street was quiet, but I could hear the now-familiar sounds of the riot—chanting, glass breaking, rhythmic drumming—a few blocks away. A gut-wrenching column of smoke lifted into the sky, visible even blocks away from Grey House.
I was seeing only the margin of the violence, and it was still enough to make me nervous. After all, I was immortal, not invincible. But my fear was irrelevant. This was battle, and I was Sentinel of my House. Being brave meant fighting through fear.